#but it was so out of pocket and terminally online i wanted to respond

[butch-reidentified]

no please do show your Tumblr screenshots to law enforcement, anon. I'm sure they're gonna take that super seriously

in the interest of honesty and accuracy: you said you don't follow me, then immediately proceeded to claim I treat radical feminism as an identity rather than a set of actions. maybe do your homework before making claims then? bc I swear I talk soooo fucking much about how the only thing that truly matters is irl action, I talk about so many of the irl actions I take and how I'm organizing in my community. this is just a ridiculous claim, I'm sorry.

second, I've never even been to Arizona lmao. at least get the shit right if you're gonna threaten to go talk to ~law enforcement~ you said you had screenshots of all my posts but got basic shit wrong 🤡

"don't bother deleting/erasing this stuff bc I have screenshots." I do not delete things. I also do not send on anon (ever). It simply goes against my beliefs. I own what I say and do 100%. I wouldn't have posted the shit in the first place if I was worried about people taking screenshots and doing whatever with them. use your brain honestly. and speaking of irl action, how exactly is running to the cops over the death of a pedophile feminist action? got me fucked upppp with this one fr

[genericpuff]

on the closure of MochaJump, and why we're our own worst enemies in this industry.

"MochaJump? What was that?" is probably your first question, and I'm gonna simply respond with, "Exactly."

MochaJump was a small startup platform made by /u/nunojay2 and a second site engineer (whose name I am not informed of) on reddit. It wasn't anything extraordinary, just a startup site that aimed to offer a more viable alternative to Webtoons and Tapas, with a focus on offering equal visibility to creators, focused recommendation algorithms, loosened restrictions on NSFW content, and bigger cuts for creators on their generated revenue.

Of course, such promises are a tall order, but the creator did their best to host regular discussions with creators in art and webtoon communities to get feedback on what creators really wanted out of their platforms, and they researched what they would need to make in order to keep the site afloat (it came out pretty low at $2 per user per month). Hopes were high and the site launched with a small but eager userbase.

It stayed small. The site shut down in November 2022, just 6 months after launching in May 2022.

Now, I'm not gonna sit here on some soapbox and blame anyone for the site closing down. I unfortunately didn't get much chance to use the site myself so there's surely more I could have done on my own part to help it gain traction. But this is a regular occurrence for start-ups like this, especially in an industry that's as notoriously unprofitable as webcomics. We've seen titans such as SmackJeeves and Inkblazers fall, and MochaJump was merely an infant by comparison.

But it makes me think of how we view and treat these startups as a whole. How we as readers and creators alike have become so trained to exclusively use corporate platforms like Webtoons and Tapas on the promise of "bigger gains". Unlike these bigger companies, platforms like MochaJump depend on building a strong userbase as quickly as possible, and need to find ways to generate revenue to keep things running, otherwise it's only a matter of time before they close down. They don't have a massive conglomerate like Naver or Kakao to pad their pockets through their failures. They don't have the money or reach to inject themselves into society through bus terminal ads and convention sponsorships. They don't have the investors to sink money into their platform until it becomes profitable in return.

So we don't use them. Readers don't use them because we don't see the point in using a platform that has no content... and thus creators don't use them because we don't see the point in publishing our content on a platform with no userbase. Creators seek a place that's "tight knit" and "easy to get seen", but will only post to places that come pre-loaded with massive audiences; because it's not enough anymore to have a couple hundred followers, we're in 2023 now, in the year of consumer bloat, where we expect to now pull in thousands if not millions to be considered a "success". And readers seek a place that offers high-quality high-amount content at the tip of their fingertips, but don't want to pay for the access to these works, and in the case of apps like WT, have given up in trying to support these creators through the platforms themselves because they know that those artists they want to support will likely never see a dime.

The fact of this problem is simple, yet many people seem to ignore it - we cannot expect to have a platform that is tight knit, profitable, and sustainable. These places do not exist, not so long as we continue to raise the bar on what makes a "successful" subscriber count, not so long as we continue to patronize platforms that exploit their artists and writers, and not so long as we keep chasing the dragon of "what these websites used to be". These platforms never used to 'be' anything, they merely existed in one point of time that is now long gone, when owning a smartphone was a luxury and not a need, when online video content wasn't being tethered together by ads, and when the Internet wasn't owned and entirely managed by the same three corporations, the likes of which we haven't seen since cable TV.

Platforms like Tapas and Webtoons are - besides unsustainable - unable to exist and profit in the way they do without undercutting someone along the way. Whether it's underpaying their creators, undercutting their communities, or underexposing the works that have been buried, someone will get the shit hand in the deal and that someone is usually ALWAYS someone who will rarely ever stand to gain anything in the long run from using these platforms despite their issues. The 1% got theirs, and the 10% are barely getting by, while the remaining 89% are pushing onwards, because they have faith in the systemic online enshittification that demands conformity to a single formula for "success".

We are our own worst enemies in this industry. Webcomics are one of the few online mediums that still truly belong to the people - anyone can make them, anyone can find joy in them, but we're letting platforms like Webtoons and Tapas and all the other massive corporate apps rob us of that joy and accessibility in the pursuit of "success" and profiting. Webtoons was never the sole way to profit off this medium and yet I still see people every day who underestimate the existence of legitimate publishing houses and self-publishing, who think that publishing on Webtoons and landing an Originals deal is the only way to find success in this industry. This is meant to be the era of creators, of self-starting and self-actualization, and yet we're still handing all of that control over to corporations that only seek to exploit our art, bodies, and labor, while convincing ourselves that this will somehow all be worth it. We stick with Webtoons, despite the numerous controversies it's been involved in and the lack of support it's given even its own hired creators. We stick with Tapas, despite the undercutting of its most core components such as its community and the outlier genres it used to be known for hosting. We find new ways to justify using platforms that are steadily going downhill - Patreon, Twitter/X, Youtube, Instagram, Facebook - because we've been convinced that these are the routes to success, so if we acknowledge their failures, then "success" can no longer exist.

Because we need to pay rent. Because we need to eat. Because we need to survive. Because it's a lot more complicated than just "stepping away". Because the startups just don't have any of the surface level potential for us to immediately identify and get on board with, so we don't give them a chance.

I realize this post got very existential and depressing. I've been creating comics for well over a decade now, largely unnoticed, and I've fallen victim to these same limiting mindsets that we have to stick to one way, one "formula" for success - a formula that changes with the wind and only works for those who get in on the ground floor. It's been slowly killing me from the very beginning, robbing me of my joy to create, of my reason to even do this in the first place - to tell and share stories with others, to express myself creatively, to live my life surrounded by art and stories and creations made by and for others. It's made me tired and miserable, and I can tell it's done the same to those who have shared that boat with me.

But there's one silver lining I can always be sure of, and it's one I was reminded of after realizing I was still in the MochaJump Discord, with one announcement post that I hadn't yet read.

Webcomics are one of the few online mediums that still truly belong to the people. Corporations are trying their hardest to take that power away. Let's not continue to let them.

If you want to help sustain, patronize, and contribute to the growth of sites that are still being operated by small teams (or even one man armies), please, consider checking out the following websites, some of which serve as platforms or publishers, others which operate as link directories for independent sites run by creators.

ComicFury GlobalComix TopWebcomics The Webcomic List The Webcomic Library Hiveworks SpiderForest SmackJeeves Archive Inkblot.art And whoever wants to use the GitHub source code used for MochaJump (RIP)

Let's do our part to decentralize webcomics again. We may not be able to leave the platforms that weakly sustain us, but we can still support those that strengthen and support us.

[simplybakugou]

Dial Tone

↝ Following the death of your sister you have a habit of texting her phone number in an attempt to ease the pain you’re feeling. After some time, someone finally responds to your texts.

BINGO SPACE: Wrong Number

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!kirishima x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: slight angst; talks about the death of a loved one; fluff  ⋆ WORD COUNT: 2818

A/N: yes this is another @bnhabookclub​ bingo piece lmao. this was inspired by the time that i received a text from a dad who had told me his late daughter owned my phone number and it broke my heart. i’ve seen similar stories to this on twitter and i wanted to do my own spin on it but through a fic!

thank you to the anon who requested for kirishima for this prompt! and the transparent kirishima cap in the banner is from the bnha bookclub google drive.

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.15.2020✐

The air felt heavy as it usually did whenever you visited that dark and eerie place the same time every month. The sky was filled with dark grey clouds and soft rain droplets began pelting your body as you clapped your hands and bowed your head in front of the tombstone. You rose to your feet, placing the fresh bouquet of flowers you had purchased in front of the urn beside the tombstone and dusted off the dirt on your kneecaps.

Each raindrop harshly attacked you as they fell as soon enough you were drenched as you walked towards your car, your tears melding with the droplets streaking your cheeks. Finally you arrived by your car, sitting in the driver’s side as the leather seat became wet from your body.

This time of the month was always the hardest for you, the suffocating feeling that always remained in your chest never left since you had visited your sister’s grave.

Nonetheless you knew you had to keep moving on, knowing that if you sat around with your thoughts you would just make yourself more upset than you already were. You started your vehicle and pulled out of the cemetery and onto the main road, making your way home.

Although it didn’t seem like it, life wasn’t always so miserable for you. There was a time when you were happy, a time where you could look back at with adoration.

When you were starting high school, you were attending the esteemed U.A. High, pursuing your dream of becoming a hero just as every other kid your age attending a hero school was aspiring to do. Your parents had both passed away in a car accident when you were young and you were left in your older sister, (S/N)’s care. She supported you all the way, acting as the mother and father you had no memory of but desperately wanted as you could only feel envious of the other kids who had their parents attend all of their ceremonies and functions.

But it wasn’t so bad, having your sister supporting you as best as she could to make do with the unfortunate situation you were both put in.

Although things were bright for a short period of time, you were granted a heartbreaking and life changing call one day after school. You were just about to finish up your first year at U.A. and if constantly dealing with the League of Villains or schoolwork wasn’t enough, you found out about (S/N) having a terminal disease.

The doctors gave you and your sister their condolences, explaining that (S/N) was undergoing a disease as a result of her quirk not being able to maintain her body as it was slowly killing her from the inside out. Since you were informed of this unfortunate event, you dropped out of the hero course in U.A., having to pursue a part time job on top of taking online classes to balance paying for your sister’s medical bills as well as wanting to still be able to have a high school diploma (even if it wouldn’t be as a hero).

It broke your heart to have to leave your friends and not be able to chase after your biggest dream but nothing meant more to you than your sister’s health. She had taken care of you for so long; now it was your turn to return the favor.

Although you had left U.A. High, your friends that you had gotten quite close to made sure to visit the hospital in which you were temporarily staying at from time to time after school. Sero, Kirishima, Mina, and Kaminari were the ones who visited the most and they would even get Bakugou to come along on certain days as well. It made you feel reassured to have people being there for you during a difficult time in your life.

But as the years passed and your previous classmates graduated, their frequent visits turned to occasional texts here and there as their lives took a full 180 as they were thrusted into the craziness that comes with being a pro hero. You understood the position they were in and would often watch the news with your sister, feeling proud as you heard story after story of your friends saving people during their times of need.

Unfortunately with time, (S/N) lost her long battle with her terminal disease and even though you knew it was bound to happen, there was no way you would ever be able to subsidize the pain you were feeling following her passing. 

For the longest time you felt alone and there were times you still felt bedridden with sorrow and desolation, still feeling the pain of your sister’s passing as it had only been a year since her death. 

In order to feel somewhat at peace, you would still text your sister’s old phone number everyday. When you were still in school and she was looking after you, you had to let her know if you were eating, what time you got home, and things in this similar nature as (S/N) was often working and wanted to check up on you when you were home alone. This became a force of habit and you didn’t want to stop, using this new texting method as a way for you to settle your own mind and give yourself some peace by not breaking this procedure that your sister had you do.

You would even call her phone every now and then, wanting to hear her sweet voice through her voicemail. It was silly, you knew it was, but this was the only thing that was keeping you sane. When you lose someone you love in your life, someone who was by your side at all times, they don’t dissipate in thin air right when they die. You lose them slowly. From when you wake up and realize breakfast isn’t ready or when you realized you didn’t have anyone to talk to, that’s when it hits you. Your sister was gone and now you had to learn how to live without her.

You pulled into the parking lot of the bookstore, letting out a sigh as you exited the vehicle. The first day of every month for the past year since your sister died you would visit her grave for a little chat. It gave you a peace of mind to be able to speak with her in what seemed like the closest thing to “a talk in person” as you could. Sometimes texting her number or listening to her voicemail on repeat wasn’t enough.

“(L/N)! You’re here!” Aiko, one of your employees, exclaimed as you walked inside. “I thought you weren’t going to come in today.”

You shrugged, slipping off your soaked coat onto the hanger by the front desk. “I didn’t feel like staying home alone so I might as well sell some books instead.”

Aiko nodded, getting up to put back some misplaced books that customers had strewn around randomly. You sat down as she went to the back, leaning back in your chair as you stared up at the ceiling.

The emptiness inside you, a feeling that you had grown accustomed to by now no matter how much it hurt, felt stronger than usual that day. You pulled your phone out from your pocket, sending a quick message to your sister to let her know you had gotten to work safely. Within minutes, just as you were about to put your phone away and get to work, the usual “delivered” sign under your message changed into “read,” indicating that someone had seen your message. That’s weird… maybe a glitch?

Still it was unsettling so you decided to call (S/N)’s number, waiting patiently as the phone began to ring. With each ring your suspicions lessened as you assumed the read receipt was a mistake. Just as you were about to hang up, you could hear someone pick up their phone from the other line.

“Hello?” A man’s voice asked from the other side and you nearly slipped off your chair from shock, not expecting to hear a live voice. You immediately hung up, looking back at your sister’s number as you were completely discombobulated from what had happened. You assumed that one of these days (S/N)’s number would be given to another person but you still were taken aback to hear another person’s voice.

***

The events from the day before were quickly vanished from your mind as you had to tend to customers right after the mysterious man picked up your call. You returned home, already tired from visiting your sister and working the whole day didn’t help with that. You even sent the number a message about what you had eaten for dinner, the lack of a reply making you forget once again.

In fact, you couldn’t even remember what had happened yesterday as you absentmindedly texted (S/N) as you usually did.

Y/N: I’m heading out. Hopefully today will be better than yesterday. Love you and I miss you!

Just as you hit the “send” button for the message, realization sets in as you wanted to smack yourself for forgetting that another person had gotten the number. Right when you were about to send an apology message, the unknown man sent you a message back.

MAN: Um… Who is this?

You were quick to write up an explanation.

Y/N: Sorry, my older sister used to own this phone number. She used to make me text her whenever I ate or left the house so I got used to sending these messages. She passed away a year ago and I still send the texts. I’m sorry for bothering with these silly texts. You won’t have to deal with them from now on.

You sent your explanation, deciding to delete the messages and shoving your phone into your pocket. It was nice to maintain this habit of yours while it lasted but it was time to let bygones be bygones. You didn’t bother to read the man’s response as you left for another day of work.

***

The rest of the day passed like every other day did, slow and filled with your own loneliness. You bowed to and thanked your last customer of the day and let out a big sigh as you began closing up the shop, putting away any books dispersed around the shelves and taking the cash from the register.

You turned the small TV in the corner off as well, smiling at the sight of Bakugou and Kaminari finishing up a mission and successfully catching a villain as they were acknowledged for their bravery on the news. You couldn’t express how proud you felt when you saw your friends, or any of your classmates really, on the news for their achievements as they continued to save as many people as they possibly could. 

Just as you were grabbing your things to leave, your phone buzzed on the table. You glanced at it, furrowing your brows at the sign of your sister’s name, which you still hadn’t removed from your contacts, sending you a message.

MAN: Did you eat dinner?

You were beyond puzzled. Did he mean to send this to you? 

Y/N: I think you have the wrong number…

MAN: You’re the one who sent me a message about my number belonging to my sister, right?

How odd… It wasn’t a mistake then.

Y/N: Yes, that’s me. But why did you ask if I ate dinner?

MAN: Oh well I saw your text from two nights ago talking about what you ate for dinner. At first I didn’t think about it but then you explained why you texted this number and I just wanted to know if you ate dinner? Since you usually let your sister know if you did.

You smiled at the message. Whoever this man was, he seemed genuine and considerate. 

Y/N: You’re very sweet. You don’t have to worry about those texts I used to send. It was a force of habit and I won’t bother you with them again.

He almost immediately responded.

MAN: Don’t worry about that. I’m gonna take that as you didn’t eat dinner.

You didn’t reply initially as you were trying to figure this guy out and before you could muster up a response, he beat you to it.

MAN: From your area code you must be from Musutafu, too. This might be a lot but do you want to grab some dinner? There’s a great place on the intersection by U.A. High School. 

The request was definitely an odd one. You’d never been asked out in this manner, then again it was rare to be asked out like this, but you didn’t want to say no. The mystery man seemed nice and it would be good for you to actually make a friend instead of being alone all day long. If it weren’t for Aiko or your customers, you probably wouldn’t meet another human at all.

Y/N: That sounds nice. Can we meet in an hour if that works for you?

MAN: Sounds good! I get off work then so I’ll see you soon.

***

It got colder just an hour after you closed the bookstore. Miniscule snowflakes fell from the sky, littering the roads and the outside with a white blanket. You waited outside the restaurant that the mystery man told you about. As it was close by U.A. you and your close friends would stop by after school so you knew exactly where he was talking about. You smiled as the memories of the times you spent with your friends whom you missed dearly flooded your mind, reminding you about how lonely you truly were now.

A shiver went down your spine as you rubbed your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up. You checked your phone for the time, realizing that he was an hour late. Maybe he got busy at work, you told yourself as you let out a sigh, preparing to leave and go home.

“Hey!” A voice called out from down the road. You turned to the source of the sound, squinting through the snowflakes as you identified a man waving at you with his blinding red hair being the one thing that stuck out like a sore thumb.

As he got closer and closer and you got a better look at his face, your eyes widened as you realized who the man was. “Kirishima?”

Kirishima stood in front of you, giving you a perplexed expression. Usually when people recognized him, they addressed him as Red Riot due to his popularity as a pro hero. But there was something about you that seemed so familiar, something that he couldn’t quite figure out. “Do we know each--” He stopped mid sentence as his eyes grew into the shape of saucers. “Y/N?!”

Before you could say anything else, Kirishima’s face lit up as he was stoked to finally see his old friend again. “How have you been? You look great! Even better than how you did back in U.A.!”

“T-Thank you.” You grew flustered, not expecting to be praised in such a manner. “So you’re the one who got my sister’s number?”

“Yeah. I had to get it changed after a fan ended up leaking my number and I kept getting a ton of messages from random people,” Kirishima said with a laugh, rubbing the nape of his neck sheepishly. His expression faltered into a more serious one as he glanced down at you. “And I'm sorry to hear about your sister. I know she meant a lot to you and I should’ve visited you guys more after graduation.”

You shook your head, a small smile on your lips. “It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy being a hero and all.”

He looked down at you, taking his scarf from his neck and wrapping it around yours. You looked up at him, moving to remove the fabric from around your neck. “Oh no, it’s okay. You don’t have to—”

“You look cold. It’s the least I can do for making you wait so long.” Kirishima smiled, wrapping the end of the scarf over your shoulder once more. “Well I’m glad to see that you’re okay. To be honest I did miss you after all this time.” 

Kirishima opened the door to the restaurant, gesturing for you to go in. “Come on, we can catch up over dinner.” You grinned, entering the building as he followed suit. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt genuinely happy like this and you couldn’t ask for a better person to bring back the happiness that you had been lacking in your life for quite some time. 

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[shirlleycoyle]

Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum

Long before the witches of Gen-Z claimed TikTok as their digital coven, and even before the Geocities-scattered digital landscapes of Web 1.0, a thousands-strong community once formed via the world’s phone lines to trade spells, advise on sigils, and correspond on spiritual guidance. It was called the Pagan And Occult Distribution Network, or PODSnet: a slice of occult internet history that helped pioneer mass online collaboration.

Today, it’s easy to take for granted that online communities are only a few taps away, but in the 1980s and early 1990s, finding like-minded individuals in niche subject areas was practically revolutionary. And in the case of PODSnet, it provided an unusually free space to discuss the esoteric arts—for many of its members, for the first time ever.

"In the 1990s and 1990s, accessing the social media of the day was very different than it is today,” Farrell McGovern, a PODSnet cofounder who came to Paganism through books about quantum physics such as The Dancing Wu Li Masters, told Motherboard. “It was louder, slower, and connectivity was perilous.”

In the early 1980s, computing enthusiasts began using Bulletin Board Systems (BBS) to communicate with each other. These systems were a precursor to the World Wide Web, and although relatively primitive, paved the way for the always-on communication of today.

Because BBS ran on phone lines, discussions were asynchronous and often confined to local groups due to the dramatic costs of dialing farther afield than your own state. What’s more, the boards were isolated from one another: an analogy might be if every single subreddit needed its own website, and you could only speak to users in your immediate area.

But in 1984, artist and technician Tom Jennings created FidoNet, a network that could connect all of these BBS systems. With the advent of cheaper modems, FidoNet’s popularity exploded into a huge 20,000-node network that connected users all around the world. Eventually, something called Echomail was introduced by a system operator, or sysop, called Jeff Rush, allowing for the support of public forums.

Instead of simply picking up your smartphone, BBS users would have to connect their computer to a modem, which was linked to a phone line—translating digital 1s and 0s into audio information and back again to the modem and terminal operating the BBS.

Popular BBSes would frequently return a busy signal: unlike today, actually logging off was necessary because only one connection was allowed at a time. A successful login returned a screen of text and a list of messages grouped into categories, with the software tracking the ones you had read. Here, users would respond to text, download what they could, and hang up.

Here, a BBS called "Magicknet" flourished, but one problem in particular spurred its users to found their own splinter network: Christian fundamentalists had infiltrated the group to spy on members.

This infiltration led to a number of incidents, including McGovern being written up in the magazine of infamous cult figure Lyndon Larouche as a “well-known witch from Toronto”. Given the various tabloid-led "Satanic panics" at the time, founding an independent BBS was not only right for promoting lively metaphysical discourse, it was a matter of safety too.

“People were losing their jobs, child custody, etc,” McGovern told Motherboard. “People had to move to escape persecution in some areas: very much so in the Bible Belt, but in other places, too. Unless you were in a major metropolitan area, and even then, you ran some degree of risk if you were outed.”

McGovern was first involved in his local BBS scene around Ottawa in the mid-1980s. Working at a local computer store that sold Apple and IBM PC clones, McGovern set up the Data/Sfnet BBS to advertise the business. In doing so, he became a SysOp—a system operator who ran, maintained, and in many cases built a network—granting him honorary entry to the computing elite at the time.

Being based in Canada, McGovern was the first to help Magicknet go international before it split into PODSnet, which would swell to 10,000 members who accessed the BBS by dialling into the 93 "zone number"—a reference to Thelema, the spiritual movement developed by Aleister Crowley.

The logo of the PODSnet bulletin board system.

For author and occult store supplier Dorothy Morrison, who was raised Catholic but eventually joined a coven of practicing witches in California before forming one of her own, discovering PODSnet was an “incredible way to find so many people of like mind at one place”.

“It was a place where I could be myself, regardless of the fact I really was living in a very conservative, buttoned-down state,” Morrison told Motherboard. “It wasn’t just a safe haven for me, it was an escape from having to appear to be someone I wasn’t for safety reasons."

“When someone wants to burn you at the stake—at that time Missouri was not a place that would’ve taken kindly to Witches—you certainly don’t tell them where you keep the gas can,” she said.

The atmosphere on PODSnet was typically collaborative and friendly, said Morrison, and the most arresting dramas on the board she was aware of usually related to the enormous phone bills that came from connecting to the network. (Although once or twice these charges “damned near landed some folks in divorce court.")

But, like the internet today, there were hints of gossip, rumours, and fake news. One popular cause for the community was the supposed persecution of 9 million witches by Christians (The whole idea was based on bad scholarship, according to McGovern). At one point, there was a six-year-long debate on whether or not Kate Bush is Wiccan—perhaps one of the most heated internet disputes of its time.

Whatever the topic, much of these PODSnet discussions would have been lost to time were it not for a community effort to archive the cherished message board. Still accessible in its archived ASCII form today, PODSnetters worked together to produce what was perhaps the first mass collaborative online project of its type: a massive, crowdsourced digital grimoire  called the Internet Book of Shadows.

The name of the enormous seven-volume text references the catch-all "Book of Shadows," a name commonly used for tomes of spells and rituals, and the text covers the A-Zs of alternative spirituality from "Asatru to Zen Buddhism." Chapter one alone is 70,000 words long, and there’s a varied store of stuff available within, including an essay about bashing fluffy bunnies (the tendency among some well-seasoned practitioners to troll newbies, as opposed to bashing actual rabbits), a guide to cleansing rituals called "smudging," and an introduction to the suppressed traditions of Gnosticism.

Plenty of contributors to the Book of Shadows remain involved in esoteric spiritual communities today, and some, like Morrison, became authors in their own right.

One of Dorothy Morrison’s favorite contributions to the Internet Book of Shadows.

Morrison says the book of rituals, spells, stories, legends, and “other magic-related miscellany” took seven 5-inch loose-leaf binders to contain it when she once decided to print out the information the community had amassed. The community then began compiling the grimoire into downloadable digital files.

Once it was finished, PODSnet users agreed to offer the Book of Shadows as a gift, free of charge, to the community. While they were copyrighted, they were free to use and copy under the proviso that there was no charge for their acquisition—leading to later frustrations about unauthorized reproductions of the manuscript for profit.

“It’s probably the largest collection of pagan thought that was freely available to copy for non-commercial use,” McGovern added.

According to Dan Harms, an author and librarian at SUNY Cortland, magick practice has thrived on community-produced documents throughout history. Even during the print era, there was a “tremendous sort of traffic in books, manuscripts being passed back and forth between people,” chopping and changing aspects of the manuscripts they liked before copying them out.

“What was really different here, is that when the material was copied or created, it’s put up online for everybody to see,” Harms said. “It becomes a collective memory. It’s not something that’s stuck on somebody’s shelf, it’s something everybody can get into.”

Harms told Motherboard that communities like PODSnet were of enormous importance for establishing networks of occult practitioners and helped lay the groundwork for driving a boom in occult publishing.

“I was growing up in rural Kentucky with an interest in these kinds of arcane topics,” said Harms, who wasn't involved in the occult internet at the time of PODSnet but was an active Usenet user. “It was just so hard to find any sort of information – you would have to rely on the local library.  But the local library in rural Kentucky is probably not looking to fill up its shelves with books about magic and paganism and things like that.”

Today, what was once a recondite pocket of the primordial internet has hit the mainstream, with even the Financial Times covering the "WitchTok" phenomenon. Speaking with PODSnetters, there’s a sense that in today's online spaces, community and information exchange can often take a backseat to clout and hostility. “[But] how much of that is getting older and yelling ‘get off my grass’,” asks McGovern, “or true insight – only time will say.”

Whatever the case, PODSnet—which closed around the turn of the millennium before hopping to Yahoo Groups, LiveJournal, and now with its remnants on Facebook—proved that digital technologies can bring disparate people together in a meaningful way, where they are happy to create and produce for the good of their communities.

“I remember those I met along that journey, what they taught me—not only about the Craft, but about myself—and the connections I made," said Morrison.“I remember how fortunate I was that PODSnet was there for me. To a large degree, that experience formed the person I am today, and I'll be forever grateful.”

Before TikTok, Witches Traded Their Spells on This Ancient Internet Forum syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[imagineteamfreewill]

Pairing: Reader x Dean

Word Count: 4,626

Prompt: Fake Dating

A/N: This was meant to be a drabble, but here we are, 4k words later... Please enjoy, and leave feedback!

25 Days of Tropes Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

________________

The prospect of having to go alone to Christmas breakfast at your aunt’s house was becoming more and more daunting as the day neared. This would be the tenth Christmas since going away to college that you’d come home alone, and your aunts and cousins wouldn’t let you live it down. Coming home for a few years without a man by your side wasn’t bad, but ten years? Unheard of in your family. All the other cousins were either engaged or married already. So when your phone lit up with your aunt’s name, breaking your concentration and distracting you from your work, you knew that you had to do something. Posting an ad online for a fake boyfriend wasn’t an option, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized you didn’t have any other option.

My life is turning into a frigging Hallmark movie, you thought, groaning quietly.

Sighing, you stood up from your desk and stretched before heading around the corner towards the bathroom.

“Y/N! Y/N, hey!”

You stopped, turning around and grinning when you saw Dean standing up in his own cubicle, grinning back at you.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re coming to Game Night tomorrow, right? I’m sick of losing, so we need to beat Charlie and Sam,” Dean said. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, the fabric tight against his muscles as he crossed his arms and leaned against the dividers. You had to admit that his physique was distracting, but only a little bit. A little bit was all you allowed yourself.

You groaned. “I forgot Game Night was tomorrow! I have to get to the airport—I’m flying out to Ohio right after work.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve, Y/N! You’re telling me you’d rather go to Ohio than spend time with your friends?”

“I wish I could stay, but I—” You stopped as a plan started to form in the back of your mind. “Hey, you still owe me that favor. That big favor.”

Dean watched you warily, clearly confused about the sudden change in subject. “Yeah… I mean, I didn’t think it was that big of a favor to watch Sam after his surgery— Okay, fine, it was a big favor,” Dean relented, seeing the annoyed look on your face.

“I’m cashing in,” you told him. After a quick glance around the office to make sure there were no obvious eavesdroppers, you continued, “I’ll take care of everything, but I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for Christmas.”

“What? Y/N, stop mumbling.”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for Christmas,” you mumbled again, slightly louder this time.

“What are you saying?”

“I need you to be my boyfriend for Christmas, okay?”

The words came out as a half-shout and one of your co-workers from down the row stood up, surprised at the outburst. You felt your cheeks go hot and you hid your face with one hand, avoiding eye contact with Dean.

Grabbing your elbow, Dean pulled you away from his cubicle and led you down the aisle to the empty copy room. You stepped away from him as soon as he dropped your arm.

“Y/N, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean asked. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend? Like a chick flick or something?”

You wiped your palms on your slacks, nervous. “Yeah. My aunt has this big Christmas breakfast thing and I— I go alone every year. It’s hell with all my cousins either married or engaged now, and I don’t think I can stand another year of the questions and the teasing and the torture. I just need you to pretend to be my boyfriend for three days, and then you’re off the hook. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’ll pay for your airfare and a room of your own and all your food.” You stopped rambling and took a breath, watching Dean as he processed your request.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay. I owe you one, and after all the other things you’ve done for me that I’ve never paid you back for… This sounds like a fair deal.”

Relief flooded you and you felt the tension in your shoulders melt away. “Really?” you asked, and he nodded again. “Thank you, Dean. Really.”

He shrugged. “It’s no problem, Y/N. Just, uh, text me some of the details. You know, things I should know for the breakfast and stuff.”

You nodded, watching him as he rubbed the back of his neck, then turned and walked back to his cubicle. Closing your eyes, you leaned against the wall and tried to collect yourself.

I can’t believe I just did that.

______________

Dean walked with you to the parking garage the next afternoon. He was quiet as you pulled your suitcase from your car to his, handing it off to him before climbing into the passenger seat of his Impala. 

“You don’t have to do this,” you said as he got in on his own side. “You can change your mind.”

He shook his head, glancing over at you. “I gave you my word that I would, Y/N. Besides, I’m not about to turn down a free trip. Sam’s gonna be with Jess and Charlie’s gonna be with her girlfriend… This’ll be good. My only regret is agreeing to flying... I’m not really a big fan of planes.”

“Me neither,” you agreed. “But it’s faster than driving, and I try not to draw this kinda thing out.”

“I don’t blame you,” Dean said. He pulled his car out of its spot and headed out of the garage, and soon you were on your way to the airport.

The airport wasn’t far from your office building. Dean parked in the garage and helped you with your luggage like a perfect gentleman, and you smiled as you took it from him.

“You don’t have to act like my boyfriend now, Dean. We’re not there yet,” you told him. “You can tease me like you normally would and let me get my own stuff out of the back.”

He shrugged a little and closed the trunk with his free hand. “Consider it practice.”

Not wanting to argue, you followed him inside and through security. The lines were long, and by the time the two of you reached your gate, your flight was already boarding. Thankfully, there were two seats next to each other near the front of the plane. Dean sat down and immediately closed his eyes, clearly anxious.

“Hey,” you said as the flight attendants moved past you to check for seatbelts. Dean glanced over at you, his hands gripping the armrests. Hesitantly, you placed your hand over his. “We’re gonna be fine. It’s a short flight—only two hours.” When he didn’t respond, you continued, “I downloaded one of the newer Star Wars movies on my phone. Watch it with me?”

After a second, Dean let out a slow exhale and nodded tightly. He opened his eyes, giving you a tense smile when you held out an earbud for him. It was accepted without comment, but you felt Dean slowly start to relax beside you as the flight attendants went through their regular safety speeches. When the plane began take-off, he tensed again. You remained silent, letting him do what he needed to, until finally the aircraft leveled out and he focused on the movie once more. Turbulence was minimal the entire flight, and your movie was almost over as the plane landed in Cleveland. 

“You doing okay?” you asked as you and Dean headed through the terminal to the rental car office. 

“I’m fine, babe,” he answered, wrapping an arm around your waist. You tensed, stopping for a moment before forcing yourself to relax and walk with him.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” you laughed, and Dean laughed along with you.

Two hours later, you and Dean pulled up outside your hotel, both of you equally exhausted. The rooms were ready for you, thankfully, and as soon as you were unpacked enough to get ready in the morning without any issues, you knocked on the door separating your room from Dean’s.

“It’s unlocked,” Dean called to you. 

You pushed the door open, standing in the doorway as Dean continued to unpack his things. “So… What’s the plan? Did you read that text I sent you?”

Dean nodded, only glancing up at you for a second before gathering up some shirts and carrying them to the closet. He began to hang them up with his back to you as he replied, “Yeah. I got the whole run-down on the family, and I checked out your Facebook pics to put faces with names.”

“You have a Facebook?”

“I made one last night,” he said. Dean turned and looked at you. “I sent you a friend request, I think. I’m still figuring it out, Sam wasn’t around to help.”

Dean made a Facebook for this?

You stared at him for a second, dumbstruck. “Right. Um, well, we should figure out some sort of story.”

Shrugging, Dean stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the dresser with the TV. “Easy. We’ve been friends for a long enough time that we know a lot about each other already, so we can just say that we met at work. I thought you were cute and invited you to Game Night and the rest is history.”

“Well… I guess that’s not too far off from the truth,” you answered. “I made a list of things that you should probably know. You know, things that I don’t normally tell people I’m not super close with.”

You dug the list out of your pocket and held it out for him. Dean took it in silenced, unfolding the paper and looking it over for a minute before nodding and slipping it into his back pocket. 

“I’ll make a list or something, too. Can I just text it to you?”

You nodded, suddenly uncomfortable as you thought of the next thing on your mental to-do list. You knew that this would be weird, but you’d been hoping it wouldn’t be this weird.

“We should talk about some other things too, Dean. Like kissing and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

Your face felt warm. “Yeah, and stuff. What exactly are you comfortable with?” He shrugged again and you sighed. “Okay, how long have we been dating, according to your story?”

“About four months,” Dean replied after a moment. 

“Okay… So we’ve probably only kissed, then.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up again. “Whoa, wait. Four months is a long time, Y/N. You’re saying that we’ve only kissed? Isn’t that a little… I don’t know… middle school?”

“I dated my last boyfriend for over a year and we hadn’t done anything other than kissing a little… touching,” you told him.

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Talking about your last relationship with Dean was weird enough, but talking about how physical you’d gotten—and not gotten? Mortifying.

After a long moment, Dean finally nodded. “Alright. Just kissing, then.”

Dean’s phone chirped on the nightstand and you looked over at it. “Okay. I should probably head to bed, then,” you said, looking back at him. “We should probably leave around seven to get to my aunt’s house.”

“Okay. See you in the morning, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

You gave Dean an awkward smile before backing into your room and shutting the door, locking it on your side. Your stomach gurgled and you sighed, knowing that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. Anxiety would most certainly keep you awake and as you went through your nightly routine, you tried not to think about what the next morning would hold for you. Nonetheless, the thoughts filled your head and you crawled into bed fully aware that you wouldn’t sleep a wink.

_______________

“Aunt Cindy, it’s so good to see you!”

Your aunt pulled you into a tight hug, leaving you breathless and already overwhelmed by the time she let go. Quickly, before she could grab you again, you stepped out of the way to reveal Dean standing in the doorway.

“Aunt Cindy,” you began with a smile, “This is Dean, my boyfriend. I hope you don’t mind that I brought him…”

She smiled wider, shaking her head and pulling Dean in for a hug. He grunted and you held back a laugh as you shucked off your shoes and coat.

“Not at all, dear! It’s so wonderful of you to finally have someone to bring along!”

“That’s one way of putting it,” you mumbled as she released Dean. Almost immediately, he stepped out of arm’s reach and began removing his coat and shoes as well.

“Thanks for having me,” Dean said, smiling politely. “I know it’s last minute, but when I found out that there’d be cinnamon rolls…” He trailed off and you knew by the way your aunt’s eyes lit up that she’d taken the bait.

“Oh yes, my cinnamon rolls!” she cried. “They’ve won awards all over the county. Come along, Dean, I’ll serve you one while you tell me all about yourself.”

Before he could get out any kind of response, Dean was being dragged to the kitchen, leaving you alone. You grinned at the pleading, helpless look he gave you on his way out.

“Guess it’s just you and me, Rocky,” you sighed, crouching down to pet the old basset hound who’d come to greet you. He was normally your only companion during Christmas and as much as you loved him, you were relieved that Dean would be accompanying you this time.

Rocky barked, accepting your gentle pets before heading off to find a new person to occupy him. You stood and followed Dean’s path into the kitchen, smiling tightly when your cousin Jane made eye contact with you from her spot by the sink. She set down her drink—a mimosa with more champagne than juice, probably—and made her way towards you, grabbing her fiance on the way.

“Y/N! It’s so good to see you!” she cheered, and you let her pull you into a hug.

“So you good to see you, too,” you replied. “I didn’t think you’d be so excited to see me, considering I couldn’t come to your bridal shower…”

More like wouldn’t come, you thought.

Jane laughed, throwing her head back in a way that looked like it hurt. Her fiance smiled politely, his hand on the small of her back. “Don’t be silly, Y/N! Of course I want to see my littlest cousin! Besides, I need to hear about all the cute boys at your new office. Surely you’ve had the chance to go out with all of them by now?”

She raised an eyebrow at you and you felt sick to your stomach. Of course. What would Christmas be if Jane wasn’t torturing me about how she always got more dates than me?

“Actually—”

“Hi, you must be Jane.” Dean’s voice and his hand on the small of your back almost made you jump, but you were immediately filled with relief that he’d found you. He held out a hand, shaking with Jane and her fiance, and when you glanced back at him, he smiled charmingly. So charmingly, in fact, that your heart skipped a beat.

“Indeed I am. Who are you?” Jane replied, raising an appreciative eyebrow as she looked Dean over from head to toe.

You held back a disgusted scoff. Surely her fiance was seeing this. Does he know she’s been cheating on him from the start?

“I’m Dean, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s nice to finally meet you, she talks so much about her family. I didn’t know you were engaged—when she showed me your Instagram, it looked like you weren’t even in a relationship.”

Jane’s face transformed into one of horrified shock as her fiance slid his arm around her waist, his eyes cloudy with anger.

“Would you excuse us?” he asked.

Dean nodded, trying to hide a smile as the two of you watched Jane and her fiance walk away, whispering fiercely as they headed to the empty side of the house.

“Dean, oh my God,” you laughed, looking up at him. “That was insane, how did you know that she was cheating on him? I’ve never been able to find her on Instagram, her account’s super secretive!”

Shrugging, Dean dropped his hand from your back. “I have my ways. Did you wanna eat? I can distract your family while you get some food.”

You shook your head, giving him a grateful smile. “I had something back at the hotel, but thanks. For all of this, really.”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, only to be cut off by your aunt yelling your name. You winced and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You wanna get out of that?” he asked, his voice low. You nodded. “You trust me then, right?” 

You nodded again and Dean took your hand, leading you in the direction that Jane and her fiance had left. You followed him blindly, grinning a little when you saw the dumbfounded looks your other cousins were giving you as Dean led you out of the kitchen. They were blatantly ogling him, but you couldn’t blame them. The red shirt and dark jeans he was wearing made you want to ogle him too, and you definitely had that morning at the hotel. He’d been getting coffee while you waited for him at the tables in the lobby and man, what a view you’d had. Your face went red at the thought and you couldn’t wipe the giddy smile off your face as Dean slowed.

He led you into your uncle’s empty office, closing the doors behind you.

“What are we doing here?” you asked, looking around. It had been ages since you’d spent time with your uncle, but you had fond memories of reading and sketching by the big windows along one office wall.

“Nothing. Talking. Whatever you want to do,” Dean answered. He perched himself on the long edge of the desk, watching as you walked along the built-in shelves, trailing your fingers across the spines of the books.

“I haven’t been in here in forever,” you murmured. “I spent so much time here as a kid.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing over at Dean before returning to the books. “Yeah. My uncle and I were close when I was little, but not so much anymore. I realized as I got older that I didn’t really agree with him on a lot of important things, and it kinda created a rift between us.”

“That must be hard.”

Shrugging, you stopped and looked over at Dean. Down the hall, you heard someone say your name, then knock on another door. Your eyes grew wide, but Dean only grinned and gestured for you to come closer.

“What are we gonna do? My aunt doesn’t like people snooping around—she’s always been possessive of her stuff,” you hissed.

Dean shook his head, spreading his legs slightly and gesturing for you to stand in between them. You did as he instructed, feeling heat spread to your cheeks as you realized just how close you were.

“Can I kiss you?” Dean whispered.

“Dean, now’s not the—” You stopped, realizing his intentions. Slowly, you nodded.

Smiling softly, Dean reached up and cupped your cheek with his hand, gently pulling you closer. “Relax,” he murmured, and then his lips were on yours.

It took you a second, but you found yourself relaxing and leaning into the kiss as if you’d kissed Dean a thousand times before. Your hands went immediately to his red overshirt, clutching the edges of the soft fabrice as his other hand wound around your waist and pulled you closer. You moaned against his lips, deepening the kiss and letting him slide his hand up into your hair as the office doors opened behind you.

“Y/N!” your aunt gasped.

You pulled away, your eyes searching Dean’s for a moment before you turned and looked over your shoulder at your aunt, who looked positively scandalized. Your brain was still processing the kiss—the very good kiss, it helpfully reminded you—but thankfully, Dean’s processing time was shorter than yours. He slid his hand into yours and stood, forcing you to step away from him.

“We’re so sorry,” he apologized, but you could hear the smile in his voice. “We got a little caught up. Y/N was telling me about how much she used to love this room as a kid, and then I wanted to see it, and we—” Dean gestured with his free hand and the shocked expression on your aunt’s face lessened slightly.

“Yes, she and Tom always did get along. I’m glad that you have such fond memories here,” your aunt replied, casting a glance your way. You smiled nervously and tried not to think about how sweaty your palm was against Dean’s, or how his lips had felt so good against yours.

“Well,” Aunt Cindy continued, clapping her hands together, “if you two are… done… We’re serving up more drinks in the dining room. There’s coffee, if you want it.”

“We love coffee,” Dean answered. He squeezed your hand as your aunt left, then looked back at you. “You okay?”

Swallowing hard, you nodded and tried not to look as dumbstruck as you felt. “Me? Oh yeah. I’m great. Never better.”

Dean chuckled and tugged on your hand till you walked with him. “I could get used to this,” he said.

“Used to what?” you asked.

“This. Us. You.” He lifted your joined hands for emphasis. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it before.”

“About what? Dating me?” 

“You say that like it’s surprising,” Dean replied. He stepped out of the way of some children running past, pulling you up against him so you were out of the way. Your breath caught in your throat when you felt the way his arms wrapped around you so easily, like he’d been holding you for years now.

“It’s—” You stopped and shook your head, stepping away from Dean when the coast was clear.

“It’s what, Y/N?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I just figured you’d go for someone more like the girls who work in PR,” you said after a second.

The corners of Dean’s lips turned down slightly. “Why wouldn’t I go for you? You’re the most beautiful girl on the whole floor, and I knew from the second you helped me beat Sam you first game night that I wanted you.”

“Really?” you laughed. “Dean, that was like, two years ago.”

“I know. We were playing Clue and you were one of the most competitive people I’d ever met. You still are.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. “I can’t believe you still remember that. Besides, I’m pretty sure we only won because you told Sam and Charlie to go easy on “the cute girl from work”... Yeah, don’t think I didn’t hear that little conversation when I got up to go to the bathroom”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning red when he realized you’d caught him. “That’s what you remember?” he asked.

Still smiling, you took his hand and laced your fingers together, leading him the rest of the way to the dining room. Your aunt had set out mugs and glasses across the table and you laughed a little when Dean made a beeline for the coffee.

“He’s a nice guy.” You jumped in surprise, turning around to find Aunt Cindy standing close by. “He hasn’t tried to hit on any of your cousins yet.”

“Yet?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“It was a compliment, Y/N, don’t be so—”

“It wasn’t a compliment and we both know it,” you huffed, not wanting to hear whatever else she had to say. “Thanks for inviting me, Aunt Cindy, but I think Dean and I are gonna head out.”

“So soon?” she asked.

You gave her a tight smile. “We have other plans today. Dean!” You turned on your heel, heading towards your “boyfriend”.

“Everything okay?” he asked, seeing the frustration on your face when you got closer. He was holding your uncle’s old coffee mug and you took it from him, setting it on the table.

“We’re leaving. We have to get to your brother’s party, remember?”

Dean nodded, immediately recognizing the phrase from your conversation earlier. He’d agreed to leave, no questions asked, should you mention going to Sam’s party, and in this moment, you were more than thankful. No one had to know that Sam was currently a two hour flight away.

“Right, I forgot,” he said. Dean smiled politely at the man he’d been starting to talk with, then let you lead him out of the dining room and to the door.

Your aunt was waiting with your coats. “I’m so sorry you have to leave so early!” she cried. You could tell she was putting on the works for Dean’s sake, and you realized after glancing at him that he could tell too.

“I don’t think my mom would be too happy if she didn’t get to meet Y/N before lunch,” Dean said good-naturedly. “Thanks for having us.”

“Anytime, sweetheart. And if you wanna come over without Y/N, we’d love to have just you. It would be nice to get to know you more…” You held back a gag when she laid her hand on Dean’s arm.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Dean replied, and your heart stopped in your chest. Your aunt was staring at him, clearly about to comment on his rude answer, but he continued, “You treat Y/N like she’s dirt, but she’s worthy of more than I can give her. I’m lucky to have her, and you’re lucky that there’s some so amazing in your life. Y/N works hard at her job, loves her friends more than anything, and values family so much that she comes to your breakfast every year, regardless of how much you torture her or put her down.”

Your aunt stared at Dean, speechless, as did you. After a second, he slipped on his coat and took your hand. “You ready?” he asked.

Nodding dumbly, you let Dean pull you behind him until the two of you were back in the rental car.

“Dean—”

“Before you say I shouldn’t have done that, let me say something—”

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” you interrupted, smiling a little. “I was just gonna say thank you.”

Dean nodded, his hands on the steering wheel. “You deserve it. Someone’s gotta tell them how great you are, since they clearly don’t see what I see.”

You ducked your head, your cheeks warm. “Dean… After this…”

“If you just wanna go back to being friends, we can make it work, Y/N. Game Night’s always been open to you and it always will be,” Dean said.

“And what if I don’t wanna go back to being friends?” you asked, risking a glance at him. He was smiling, and the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his boyish grin.

“Well, then I guess we’ll have some ‘splainin to do.”

You laughed, shaking your head at him as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. “Dean Winchester, did you just quote I Love Lucy?”

“Maybe, but if you try and tell anybody, I’ll deny it.”

Grinning, you sat back in the seat and watched as Dean drove back to the hotel. When you passed a movie theater, you sat up and pointed out the window.

“Wait, Dean! Let’s go see a movie!” you cried.

“On Christmas?” he asked, glancing over at you before merging into the turn lane.

“It’ll be emptier than normal, and we can see that new movie you’ve been wanting to see…”

Dean’s grin matched yours as he pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. “Deal. I’ll get the tickets, you get the snacks?”

“Deal.”

_______________

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[twiddlebirdlet]

https://www.wired.com/story/chris-evans-starting-point-politics/

Chris Evans Goes to Washington

The actor's new project, A Starting Point, aims to give all Americans the TL;DR on WTF is going on in politics. It's harder than punching Nazis on the big screen.

It’s a languid October afternoon in Los Angeles, sunny and clear.

Chris Evans, back home after a grueling production schedule, relaxes into his couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. Over the past year and a half, the actor has tried on one identity after another: the shaggy-haired Israeli spy, the clean-shaven playboy, and, in his Broadway debut, the Manhattan beat cop with a Burt Reynolds ’stache. Now, though, he just looks like Chris Evans—trim beard, monster biceps, angelic complexion. So it’s a surprise when he brings up the nightmares. “I sleep, like, an hour a night,” he says. “I’m in a panic.”

The panic began, as panics so often do these days, in Washington, DC. Early last February, Evans visited the capital to pitch lawmakers on a new civic engagement project. He arrived just hours before Donald Trump would deliver his second State of the Union address, in which he called on Congress to “bridge old divisions” and “reject the politics of revenge, resistance, and retribution.” (Earlier, at a private luncheon, Trump referred to Chuck Schumer, the Senate’s top Democrat, as a “nasty son of a bitch.”) Evans is no fan of the president, whom he has publicly called a “moron,” a “dunce,” and a “meatball.” But bridging divisions? Putting an end to the American body politic’s clammy night sweats? These were goals he could get behind.

Evans’ pitch went like this: He would build an online platform organized into tidy sections—immigration, health care, education, the economy—each with a series of questions of the kind most Americans can’t succinctly answer themselves. What, exactly, is a tariff? What’s the difference between Medicare and Medicaid? Evans would invite politicians to answer the questions in minute-long videos. He’d conduct the interviews himself, but always from behind the camera. The site would be a place to hear both sides of an issue, to get the TL;DR on WTF was happening in American politics. He called it A Starting Point—a name that sometimes rang with enthusiasm and sometimes sounded like an apology.

Evans doesn’t have much in the way of political capital, but he does have a reputation, perhaps unearned, for patriotism. Since 2011 he has appeared in no fewer than 10 Marvel movies as Captain America, the Nazi-slaying, homeland-­defending superhero wrapped in bipartisan red, white, and blue. It’s hard to imagine a better time to cash in on the character’s symbolism. Partisan animosity is at an all-time high; a recent survey by the Public Religion Research Institute and The Atlantic found that 35 percent of Republicans and 45 percent of Democrats would oppose their child marrying someone from the other party. (In 1960, only 4 percent of respondents felt this way.) At the same time, there’s a real crisis of faith in the country’s leaders. According to the Pew Research Center, 81 percent of Americans believe that members of Congress behave unethically at least some of the time. In Pew’s estimation, that makes them even less trusted than journalists and tech CEOs.

If Evans got it right, he believed, this wouldn’t be some small-fry website. He’d be helping “create informed, responsible, and empathetic citizens.” He would “reduce partisanship and promote respectful discourse.” At the very least, he would “get more people involved” in politics. And if the site stank like a rotten tomato? If Evans became a national laughingstock? Well, that’s where the nightmares began.

It took a special serum and a flash broil in a Vita-Ray chamber to transform Steve Rogers, a sickly kid from Brooklyn, into Captain America. For Chris Evans, savior of American democracy, the origin story is rather less Marvelous.

One day a few years ago, around the time he was filming Avengers: Infinity War, Evans was watching the news. The on-air discussion turned to an unfamiliar acronym—it might have been NAFTA, he says, but he thinks it was DACA, or Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, an Obama-era immigration policy that granted amnesty to people who had been brought into the United States illegally as children. The Trump administration had just announced plans to phase out DACA, leaving more than half a million young immigrants in the lurch. (The Supreme Court will likely rule this year on whether terminating the program was lawful.)

On the other side of the television, Evans squinted. Wait a minute, he thought. What did that acronym stand for again? And was it a good thing or a bad thing? “It was just something I didn’t understand,” he says.

Evans considers himself a politico. Now 38, he grew up in a civic-minded family, the kind that revels in shouting about the news over dinner. His uncle Michael Capuano served 10 terms in Congress as a Democrat from Massachusetts, beginning right around the time Evans graduated from high school and moved to New York to pursue acting. During the 2016 presidential election, Evans campaigned for Hillary Clinton. In 2017 he became an outspoken critic of Trump—even after he was advised to zip it, for risk of alienating moviegoers. Evans could be a truck driver, Capuano says, and he’d still be involved in politics.

But watching TV that day, Evans was totally lost. He Googled the acronym and tripped over all the warring headlines. Then he tried Wikipedia, but, well, the entry was thousands of words long. “It’s this never-ending thing, and you’re just like, who is going to read 12 pages on something?” Evans says. “I just wanted a basic understanding, a basic history, and a basic grasp on what the two parties think.” He decided to build the resource he wanted for himself.

Evans brought the idea to his close friend Mark Kassen, an actor and director he’d met working on the 2011 indie film Puncture. Kassen signed on and recruited a third partner, Joe Kiani, the founder and CEO of a medical technology company called Masimo. The three met for lobster rolls in Boston. What the country needed, they decided, was a kind of Schoolhouse Rock for adults—a simple, memorable way to learn the ins and outs of civic life. Evans suggested working with politicians directly. Kiani, who had made some friends on Capitol Hill over the years, thought they’d go for it. Each partner agreed to put up money to get the thing off the ground. (They wouldn’t say how much.) They spent some time Googling similar outlets and figuring out where they fit in, Kassen says.

They began by establishing a few rules. First, A Starting Point would give politicians free rein to answer questions as they pleased—no editing, no moderation, no interjections. Second, they would hire fact-checkers to make sure they weren’t promoting misinformation. Third, they would design a site that privileged diversity of opinion, where you could watch a dozen different people answering the same question in different ways. Here, though, imbibing the information would feel more like watching YouTube than skimming Wikipedia—more like entertainment than homework.

The trio mocked up a list of questions to bring to Capitol Hill, starting with the ones that most baffled them. (Is the electoral college still necessary?) They talked, admiringly, about the way presidential debate moderators manage to make their language sound neutral. (Should the questions refer to a “climate crisis” or a “climate situation,” “illegal immigrants” or “undocumented immigrants”?) Then Evans recorded a video on his couch in LA. “Hi, I’m Chris Evans,” he began. “If you’re watching this, I hope you’ll consider contributing to my new civics engagement project called A Starting Point.” He emailed the file to every senator and representative in Congress.

Only a few replied.

In hindsight, Evans realizes, the video “looked so cheap” and either got caught in spam filters or was consciously deleted by congressional staffers. “The majority of people, on both sides of the aisle, dismissed it,” Evans says. Many “thought it was a joke.” Yet there are few doors in American life that a square jaw can’t open, particularly when it belongs to a man with many millions of dollars and nearly as many swooning Twitter fans. Soon enough, a handful of politicians had agreed to meet with the group.

On the morning of his first visit to Capitol Hill, as he donned a slick gray windowpane suit and a black polka-dot tie and combed his perfect hair back from his perfect forehead, Evans felt a wave of doubt. “This isn’t my lane,” he recalls thinking as he walked through the maze of the Russell Senate Office Building. Here, people were making real change, affecting the lives of millions of Americans. “And shit,” Evans said to himself, “I didn’t even go to college.”

“This isn’t my lane,” Evans thought as he walked through the maze of the Russell Senate Office Building.

The trio’s first stop was the office of Chris Coons, a Democrat from Delaware. “Which one is the senator?” Evans asked.

Coons, having never watched any of the Avengers movies, didn’t know who Evans was, either. But in short order, he says, he was won over by the actor’s charm and “very slight but still noticeable” Boston accent. The thing that got Coons the most, though—the thing that would lead him to pass out pocket cards on the Senate floor to recruit others, especially Republicans, to take part in the project—was how refreshing it was to be asked simple questions: Why should we support the United Nations? Why does foreign aid matter? Coons saw real value in trying to explain these things, simply and plainly, to his constituents.

“Look, I’m not naive,” Coons says. He is the first to admit that one-minute videos won’t fix what’s wrong with American politics. “But it’s important for there to be attempts at civic education and outreach,” he adds. “And, you know, his fictional character fought for our nation in a time of great difficulty.”

Evans stiffens slightly when people mention Captain America. The superhero comparison is, admittedly, a little obvious. But again and again on Capitol Hill, the shtick proved useful: Sometimes it’s better to be Captain America than a Holly­wood liberal elite who defends Roe v. Wade and wants to ban assault weapons. When Evans met Jim Risch, the Republican senator from Idaho joked about catching him up on NATO, “since he missed the 70 years after World War II.” When he met Representative Dan Crenshaw, a hard-line Texas Republican and former Navy SEAL who lost his right eye in Afghanistan, Crenshaw lifted up his eye patch to reveal a glass prosthetic painted to look like Captain America’s shield.

Eventually, Evans loosened up—at least he lost the tie. Since that first round of visits, he and Kassen have returned to Washington every six weeks or so, collecting more than 1,000 videos from more than 100 members of Congress, along with about half of the 2020 Democratic hopefuls. Evans has conducted every interview himself. Kassen, meanwhile, managed the acquisition of a video compression startup in Montreal. About a dozen of the company’s engineers are building a custom content management system for A Starting Point, which is slated to go live in February. They’re running bandwidth tests too—just in case, as Kassen worries, “everyone in Chris’ audience logs on that first day.”

“We have to do this now,” Evans says. “It’s out there. We have to finish this. Shit.”

Back in LA, Evans pulls up the site on his iPhone. He hesitates for a moment and covers the screen with his hand. It’s still a demo, he explains, in the same bashful tone he uses to tell me the guest bathroom is out of toilet paper.

On the homepage, there’s a clip of Evans explaining how to use the site and a carousel of “trending topics” (energy, charter schools, Hong Kong). You can enter your address to call up a list of your representatives and find their videos; you can also contact them directly through the site. The rest is organized by topic and question, with a matrix of one-­minute videos for each—Democrats in the left-hand column, Republicans on the right.

Early on in the development of the site, Evans and Kassen fought over fact-checking. Kassen, arguing against, was concerned about the optics: Who were they to arbitrate truth? Evans insisted that A Starting Point would only seem objective if visitors knew the answers had been vetted somehow. Ultimately he prevailed, and they agreed to hire a third-party fact-checker. They have yet to put their thousand-plus videos through the wringer, so for now I’m seeing first drafts. If they’re found to contain falsehoods, Evans says, they won’t appear on the site at all.

Kassen showed me a sampling of some of this raw material. Under “What is DACA?” I found dozens of videos, offering dozens of different starting points.

One representative, a Republican whose district lies near the Mexican border, describes the program’s recipients as “1.2 million men and women who have only known the United States as their home.” They go to school, he explains; they serve in the military; they’ve all passed background checks.

Sometimes it’s better to be Captain America than a Hollywood liberal elite who defends Roe v. Wade and wants to ban assault weapons.

Another Republican representative says, “So, DACA is a result of a really bad immigration system … We’re seeing record numbers of families crossing the border because a kid equals a token for presence in the US. All right? We have all of these people come over, we can’t process them, they’re claiming asylum. I just heard from the secretary of Homeland Security this week, about nine in 10 don’t have valid claims of asylum. Meaning they’re not political—there’s no political persecution going on. OK?”

These two responses (from politicians on the same side of the aisle, no less) illustrate some of the quandaries that Evans, Kassen, and their fact-checkers are likely to encounter. The first representative, for instance, says there are 1.2 million DACA recipients, when in fact only 660,000 immigrants are currently enrolled in the program. The higher number is based on an estimate of those who could be eligible published by the Migration Policy Institute, a Washington think tank. The “nine in 10” statistic, meanwhile, is a loose interpretation of data from 2018, which shows that only about 16 percent of immigrants who filed a “credible fear” claim were granted asylum. But this does not mean, as the representative implies, that the other claims weren’t “valid”—merely that they weren’t successful. Nearly half of all asylum claims from this time were dismissed for undisclosed reasons. These are fairly hair-splitting examples, but even the basic, definitional questions are drenched in opinion. What is Citizens United? “Horrible decision,” says a Democratic senator in his video response.

Evans doesn’t want to spend time refereeing politicians. To him, A Starting Point should act more like a database than a platform—rhetoric that rhymes with that of Facebook and Twitter, which have mostly sidestepped responsibility for their content. He’s just hosting the videos, he says; it’s up to politicians to decide how they answer the questions. There’s no comment section and no algorithmically generated list of recommended videos. “You need to decide what you need to watch next,” Kassen says.

One of the assumptions underlying Evans’ project—and it’s a very big assumption—is that the force of his fame will be enough to attract people who otherwise would have zero interest in watching a carousel of videos from their elected officials. This, by all accounts, is most people: Only a third of Americans can name their representatives in Congress, and those who can aren’t binge-watching C-Span. “Celebrities bring an extraordinary ability to get attention,” says Lauren Wright, a political researcher at Princeton and author of Star Power: American Democracy in the Age of the Celebrity Candidate. But Evans, she says, is “not taking the route that a lot of celebrities have, which is: The solution to American politics is me.” It would be one thing if Evans were guiding you through the inner workings of Congress like a chiseled Virgil. But why would someone watch a senator dryly explain NAFTA when they could watch, say, a YouTube video of Chris Evans on Jimmy Kimmel?

Without its leading man in the frame, A Starting Point begins to look uncomfortably similar to the many other platforms that have sought to fight partisanship online. A site called AllSides labels news sources as left, center, or right and encourages readers to create a balanced media diet with a little from each. A browser plug-in called Read Across the Aisle (“A Fitbit for your filter bubble”) measures the amount of time you spend on left-leaning, right-­leaning, or centrist websites. The Flip Side bills itself as a “one-stop shop for smart, concise summaries of political analysis from both conservative and liberal media.”

The underlying idea—that there would be a new birth of civic engagement if only we could wrest control of the information economy from the hands of self-serving ideologues and deliver the news to citizens unbiased and uncut—is an old one. In 1993, when the modern internet was just a gleam in Al Gore’s eye, Michael Crichton wrote in this magazine’s pages that he was sick and tired of the “polarized, junk-food journalism” propagated by traditional media outlets. (This was three years before Fox News and MSNBC came into being; he was talking about The New York Times.) What society needed, he argued, was something more like C-Span, something that encouraged people to draw their own conclusions.

But does any of it work? Not according to Wright. “We have many years of research on these questions, and the consensus among scholars is that the proliferation of media choices—including sites like Evans’—has not increased political knowledge or participation,” she says. “The problem isn’t the lack of information. It’s the lack of interest.” Jonathan Albright, director of the Digital Forensics Initiative at Columbia’s Tow Center for Digital Journalism, agrees. “All of these fact-­checking initiatives, all of this work that goes into trying to disambiguate issues or trying to reduce noise—people have no time,” he says. “Some people care about politics, but those are not the people you need to reach.”

Naturally, this sort of talk makes Evans a little nervous. But he takes refuge in what he sees as the core strengths of the concept. For one thing, he argues, snack-size videos are more accessible than text. Also, those other sites rely on a translator to interpret the issues, while A Starting Point goes straight to the source. It’s not for policy wonks. It’s for average Americans, centrists, extremists, swing voters—everyone!—who want to hear about policy straight from the horse’s mouth. (Never mind that most people hold horses in higher regard.)

Evans has all kinds of ideas for how to keep people coming back. He might add a section of the website where representatives can upload weekly videos for their constituents, or a place where policymakers from different parties can discuss bipartisan compromise. He talks about these ideas with an enthusiasm so pure and so believable that you almost forget he’s an actor. The whole point, he says, is giving Americans a cheap seat on the kinds of conversations that are happening on Capitol Hill. That’s a show that Evans is betting people actually want to see.

The worst thing that could happen isn’t that nobody watches the videos. That would suck, but Evans could deal with it. What gets him riled up most is thinking about what he might have failed to consider. What if the site ends up promoting some bizarre agenda that he never intended? What if people use the videos for some kind of twisted purpose? “One miscalculation,” he says, “and you may not get back on track.” (See: Facebook.)

Evans knows his idea to save democracy can come off a little Pollyannaish, and if it flops, it’ll be his reputation on the line. But he really, really believes in it. OK, so maybe it won’t save America, but it might piece together some of what’s been broken. A fresh start. A starting point.

“This does feel to me like everybody wins here. I don’t see how this becomes a problem,” he says, before a look of panic crosses his face, the anxiety setting in again.

[omgjasminesimone]

The Hot Exchange Student Part 5

Logan x MC (Ellie)

Previous Part: Part 4

Author’s Note: Final part! Thank you to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this story! And happy RoDAW Epilogue day! What an appropriate time to conclude this story.

Rating: Implied NSFW at the end

Summary: Ellie graduates from high school and makes decisions for her future.

Word Count: ~3000

18 months later:

Ellie wakes up to the sound of her phone buzzing. She rolls over, blindly groping for the phone on her nightstand. She struggles to pick it up. “Logan?” She asks sleepily.

“What? No, it’s Riya. Where are you?” Her best friend asks, Ellie can hear a lot of commotion in the background through the phone. “Graduation is about to start!”

Ellie’s eyes fly open. She’d completely forgotten about her high school graduation for a moment. “Crap! I’ll be right there!”

Ellie hurriedly gets dressed in her cap and gown, hastily brushing her teeth as she fights with her hair. Ellie orders a ride from Dryve (her dad still won’t let her drive even though she’s legally an adult now) and hurries off to make it to graduation before she misses giving her valedictorian speech.  

Ellie arrives in the nick of time, taking a seat on the football field beside Riya and Darius. Ellie barely listens to the principal give his opening remarks, she’s too nervous about her own speech. Ellie has written at least 20 drafts of the speech over the school year. This is her big moment. She’s sacrificed a lot for the honor.

Before she knows it, the salutatorian, Ingrid, is introducing her with a smile. Once Ingrid lightened up on her after Logan’s sudden departure, the two had become friendly, if not exactly friends. Ellie steps to the podium and glances out at the audience. She spots her father in the front row of the bleachers, smiling proudly. Over the last 18 months, they’d rebuilt their relationship for the most part. Detective Wheeler hadn’t really changed much, still as overprotective as ever, but Ellie has better learned how to deal with him. And soon, she’ll be all the way on the other side of the country, free from her father’s ‘my house, my rules’ mantra for the first time.

As Ellie glances down at her prepared statement, she thinks better of it and speaks from the heart instead. Her speech is well received, and she basks in the cheers and hollers of her classmates and their families for several moments, before retaking her seat.

They start calling names, and they finally reach her own. “Ellie Wheeler!” Principal Suarez calls. Ellie walks onto the stage proudly. She sees tears in her dad’s eyes as she grasps her diploma, shaking Principal Suarez’ hand. 

…

..

.

The week between graduation and when she needs to leave for her summer program passes in a blur. She spends most of her time with Riya and Darius, but she and her dad also try to fit in a lot of family time when he’s not working. Ellie worries about what Detective Wheeler is going to do without her. He’s been so focused on Ellie’s life since her mother died, that she fears he forgot to create a life of his own.

As they eat their Ellie specials at the kitchen table, Detective Wheeler assures her that he’ll be fine. “I’ll pick up a hobby.” He promises.

“That’s great. But you know what else might be good?” Ellie prompts. Detective Wheeler winces, knowing what she’s going to say. “Maybe….you could start dating?” Ellie tentatively proposes.

“Honey, I don’t need a girlfriend. I’m married to my job.” Detective Wheeler insists.

“Yeah, but your job isn’t going to grow old with you. Or make sure you get out of the house every once in a while when I’m gone.” Ellie insists.

Detective Wheeler rolls his eyes. “I’ll consider it.” He finally acquiesces. “But on one condition.” He adds.

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Detective Wheeler smiles. “One last game of Infestation before I drop you off for your flight.”

Ellie smiles back. “You’re on.”

One very competitive game of Infestation that Ellie just barely manages to win later, the father and daughter drive to LAX. Detective Wheeler has tears welling up in his eyes, but he tries not to let them fall. “You know, there’s an online version of Infestation we can play together. Only if you have time of course, after your classes.” Her father chokes out.

“Dad, I’d love that.” Ellie reassures him.

“And you’ll call me when you land in Boston? And then when you make it to Langston from the airport?” Detective Wheeler continues.

“I promise Dad.”

“And you don’t need any money Ellie? I have $60 in my wallet.”

Ellie rests her hand on his shoulder as he drives. “Dad, I’ll be fine.”

Detective Wheeler sighs, merging into the exit lane as they approach LAX. “I know. I’m just…going to miss you more than you can ever know. It’s just been me and you for such a long time.” He glances at Ellie, and it’s almost like he sees her as an adult for the first time. “But I know you’ll make me proud.” He concludes.

“I’m going to miss you too Dad. But it’s not like I’m going to be gone forever. I’ll be back for breaks.” Ellie promises.

“You’re right. I just have to make it to Christmas.” Detective Wheeler responds.

The Wheelers pull up to the curb at LAX, and Ellie grabs her luggage from the trunk. Her father steps out of the car, giving her a big hug. “I love you Ellie.”

“I love you too Dad.” Ellie squeezes tight before letting go.

“Have a safe flight!” Her dad calls out, getting back into his car.

Ellie nods, waving as she walks into the terminal. She pauses just beyond the automatic doors, turning to see her dad driving off. She gives it a few moments, and then Ellie turns, walking back outside.

A yellow and black Devore GT pulls up to the curb. Logan steps out, smiling at her. Ellie smiles back, launching herself into his arms and allowing herself to get lost in his passionate kiss.

“Hey, move along! No sitting!” A security guard yells, signaling for them to move the car immediately.

Logan smirks, giving his girlfriend another quick peck before grabbing her luggage and putting it in his trunk. “Ready troublemaker?” He asks, holding the passenger door open for her.

“Always.” Ellie assures him, sliding into the vehicle.

…

..

.

9 months ago

Ellie wanders through the casino, sipping on a diet coke. She’s never been to a casino before, and it’s louder than she expected. Ellie also suspects she might be overdressed in her short, tight, and pink dress, based on the casual attire most of the gamblers don. Ellie was surprised Riya wanted to come to a casino for her 18th birthday. Ellie tried to tell her the odds, and how the house always wins based on statistics, but Riya was having none of that.

Most of the friends invited are already 18 so they can gamble, but Ellie doesn’t turn 18 until March. However, of course Riya insisted Ellie come anyway, there’s no way she’s leaving out her best friend. The security had marked Ellie’s hand with a giant black ‘X’, indicating that she’s not allowed to gamble.

She did get to enjoy dinner at the casino restaurant with the group, and she’d enjoyed watching Riya, Darius, and Ingrid play black jack for awhile. But then they switched to the slots, and Ellie was bored. She’d taken to wandering the casino, killing time.

Ellie pauses when she sees a familiar face at the roulette table. Mona, stunning in a short dress of red lace. What is she doing here? Ellie can’t help but be curious. It’s been almost a year since she met the MPC. She hasn’t seen Logan since their fight in the van, despite the strong urge she’s had to call, text, randomly show up at the sideshow hoping to find him. She’s resisted, telling herself it’s for the best.

Ellie moves behind a marble column where Mona can’t see her, but Ellie can see Mona. Ximena and Colt approach her.

“Can we get this show on the road already?” Colt asks impatiently, loosening his blue tie.

“What, did you fill your diaper already?” Mona retorts, passing some chips to the dealer as she places her bet.

“Stay cool. The handoff isn’t for another half an hour.” Ximena tries to soothe.

Colt sighs, irritated. “I hate standing around and waiting.”

“Well, this job is a lot of that Kaneko Junior. If you don’t like it, maybe you should have gone to college after all.” Mona antagonizes, smirking at him mockingly. Then, Mona freezes for a moment, looking in Ellie’s direction. She quickly moves further behind the column, no longer able to see Mona.

“Mona, what is it?” Ximena asks.

“Do you see the Brotherhood?” Colt questions.

“..No…just thought I recognized someone. Come on. Let’s get in position.” Mona replies. The three of them walk off, and Ellie peeks her head around the column, watching them walk into a roped-off room.

They’re clearly up to something. Ellie wonders if they’re in any danger but shakes off her concern. They’d made their choice. It’s really none of her business. Ellie quickly turns back in the direction she had been going, coming face-to-face with Logan. “Ellie?” He questions, obviously surprised to see her.

He looks so handsome in his suit. Ellie has never seen him dressed up before. She shakes her head, telling herself to focus. “Logan.” She finally responds.

Logan looks around anxiously, grabs Ellie’s hand, and pulls her into a private lounge. Once they’re alone, Logan stares at Ellie for a long moment before speaking. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

“Riya’s birthday. What are you doing here?” She turns his question around.

Logan shoves his hands in his pockets. He clearly knows that she already knows. “A job.” He answers anyway.

“I see you’re still with the Mercy Park Crew then.” Ellie responds, trying not to sound too judgmental.

“Yeah, I am.” Logan admits. “Does…does that upset you?” Logan asks softly, looking at her guiltily.

“I just think you could be better than this Logan. You’re going to get yourself in some serious trouble someday if you keep this up.” Ellie admits.

“I know you’re right Ellie. Salazar got caught by the police after our last job and they gave him 20 years, 10 with good behavior but we both know that’s not gonna happen. It was a wake up call for me. I’m turning 18 soon, and then I could get serious jail time if I ever got caught. I don’t want that. It’s not worth it.” Logan explains.

Ellie’s breath hitches, wondering if he’s saying what she thinks he’s saying. Is she just putting words in his mouth because she wants this so desperately. “What are you saying Logan? Are you going to get out?” Ellie asks for clarification.

“Not today, or tomorrow, but yes Ellie. Soon. I’m saving up for mechanic trade school. I should have enough in a couple of months. I’m working on getting my GED. I’m…I’m working on being a better person. One who deserves you.” Logan answers.  

Tears well up in Ellie’s eyes. “Really Logan?”

Logan pulls her into his arms, hugging her tightly. “Yes, really troublemaker. If this lifestyle means I can’t have you, then I don’t want it. I still love you Ellie. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. I love you too.” Ellie admits out loud for the first time.

Logan freezes, in disbelief. Somebody loves him? Somebody like her can love him? “Can…can you say it again?” He pleads.

Ellie laughs, tears streaming down her cheeks. She pulls away far enough so that she can look up at him. “I love you. I love you. I love you Logan. I lo-“ She’s cut off when he captures her lips, kissing her like he’s trying to make up for the last 9 months he’s spent not kissing her. He only pulls away when the need for air becomes too much.

He looks at her with so much love that she knows that he’s serious about leaving the Mercy Park Crew, about getting his mechanic certification and doing right by her. “I love you Ellie. More than I thought I could.”

..

Since that day, they’ve been together. She still has to hide her relationship from her father, and Logan can’t bring her to the garage because the crew doesn’t really trust her (daughter of a cop and all), but they make it work. Logan even takes her to prom, picking her up at Riya’s. Ellie has to hide their prom photos in her school locker, and she makes sure to get some pictures with only Riya and Darius to show to her dad when he asks.

Despite the obstacles, they’re now stronger than ever. Logan decides he’ll follow Ellie to Boston, and after Ellie decides she doesn’t need the dorm room experience (after hearing Colt’s horror stories of living in the dorms during orientation week before he quickly dropped out), the couple decides to get an off campus apartment together.

They’re both excited for the future, to put Los Angeles and all the adversity they faced here behind them. Logan takes Ellie’s hand and squeezes, and she smiles softly as she gazes out the window, the distinctive LAX pillars fading behind them.

..

A motel somewhere in Arizona

Logan is awoken by Ellie’s loudly vibrating phone. He rolls over, glancing at the clock on the night stand. Why is anyone calling her at 3:23 AM? He rubs at his eyes, grabbing the phone and peering impatiently at the screen. Logan rolls his eyes when he reads the screen contact info, ‘Dad’. Of course it’s him. 

Logan briefly imagines answering the phone. Detective Wheeler would be none too pleased to learn that Logan and Ellie are back together. He can just imagine the huge blow up that would follow. As much as he would love to rile Detective Wheeler up now that he can’t do anything to stop them, he knows Ellie isn’t ready to tell him. And Logan loves her much more than he hates her father. 

Logan rolls back onto his left side, kissing Ellie’s bare shoulder as he gently shakes her awake. “Your dad is calling baby.” He announces when her brown eyes open, blinking blearily at him. 

“Oh! I forgot to call him when my plane should have landed!” Ellie exclaims, quickly taking the phone.  

“Dad?” She answers, sounding sleepy. 

Logan can just make out the sound of her dad’s voice through the receiver. “I got worried when you didn’t call. I know you had that long layover in Texas, but I remembered your plane landed hours ago.”

“I’m sorry. It was just a really long day of traveling and I was so tired I forgot.” That’s not a total lie. They drove 10 hours before stopping at the motel. 

“That’s okay, I’m just glad to know you got there alright. How was your flight?” Detective Wheeler asks.

Ellie rolls onto her back as she chats with her father. “It was fine. I had a middle seat both flights, so that kind of sucked, but I survived.” Ellie lies. 

Detective Wheeler murmurs something else, and Ellie laughs, but Logan is no longer interested in listening. He trails his fingers over her belly, gradually moving his hands up towards her bare breasts as he kneads her warm skin. 

She shoots him a warning look, mouthing ‘Stop’. “Yeah, the dorms are nice. And my roommate won’t be here until school starts so I currently have a single.” Ellie responds to her father. 

“Stop what? This?” Logan questions softly, hands reaching their destination and squeezing her breasts. 

Ellie pushes his hands off and rolls to her side, leaving him facing her back. “No, the room and board check isn’t actually due until 2 weeks into the semester.” She continues conversing with her father. 

Logan’s lips move to that spot behind her ear he knows she likes, and she shivers involuntary as his tongue traces slow leisurely circles. He places his right hand on her bare hip, drumming his fingers dangerously close to where she clearly wants them.

“Dad, I have to go. I’ll call you back at a decent hour your time. Okay. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” Ellie hangs up quickly, rolling back over to capture his lips in a searing kiss. She pushes him to his back, crawling on top of him. 

“You’re a jerk.” She complains between kisses. 

“Me? He woke me up at 3 in the morning! He’s the jerk.” Logan counters.

Ellie shrugs. “It’s 6:30 East Coast time. But now that we’re up...”

Logan grins as they lose themselves in each other for the second time that night. 

..  

The cross country road trip from LAX to Boston is exhausting, but there’s no one else either of them would rather do it with. They stop at the Grand Canyon, countless diners (they dance to Frank Sinatra at each one), wake up in each other’s arms daily (a new and pleasant change, with her previously living at home and him in the loft above the garage she wasn’t allowed to go to), and watch America blur by from the Devore’s windows.  

After a week of driving, they finally make it to Boston just in time for her summer immersion program. 

In Boston, Logan makes good on his promise to learn a legitimate trade, enrolling in a trade school program in the suburbs. When he gets his certification after 2 years, Ellie finally feels like she can reveal their relationship to her father. Despite the changes Logan has made, Detective Wheeler is still not pleased, He’s convinced Logan just wants to open a shop to use as a front for some criminal enterprise.

But they don’t need her father’s approval, not anymore, and they live happily ever after.

…

..

.

@choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart @brightpinkpeppercorn @regina-and-happiness @choicelogansbitch @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @lahelable @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl @iplaydrake @sinclaire-made-me-sin @hazah @lovehugsandcandy @desiree-0816 @cora-nova @justdani14 @lady-dianelewis @emceesynonymroll @emichelle @badchoicesposts @client-327 @riverrune @liamzigmichael4ever @princessstellaris 

[no-other-words]

later is now

synopsis: two years worth of photos on Hinata’s Instagram and not a word from kageyama. you’d think after an entire high school career spent with the most sociable human on earth, he would’ve pick up some communication skills but here he is—sitting alone in the locker room crouched over his phone, brooding over the fact he can’t even press ‘like’ on a harmless picture, let alone comment. #major manga spoilers ahead #post chapter 370 #slight angst? and fluff? #pre-relationship

Don’t be dramatic, dumbass. You’re making it sound like I died.

‘then where have u been? where did u fuck off to kageyama?

---

His thumb hover dangerously close over the heart sign, frozen in mid-air just like how he’s been frozen in time for the past years. There’s a calm before the storm until the nerves eventually get to Kageyama and his hand recoils as if the photo he’s staring at is a violent wake up call.

Hinata’s gotten a bit more tanned from the last time he posted a picture. Darker around the arms and legs, it highlights the toned muscles developed over the years. He’s got an even larger presence than the one Kageyama holds onto in his memories. Still the same smile though—vibrant, bigger than life, and nothing held back.

It makes his chest hurt.

The photo is of Hinata posing on a beach alongside a fellow volleyball player. He’s wearing a sleeveless tank and Kageyama finds himself staring at the biceps bared to the world. His account is private right? It better be private. Thirsty messages should not be welcomed in the comments.

He hears his name being called from outside the locker room. It’s time for practice.

Stolen moments are just that—fleeting minutes playing catch-up with Hinata picture by picture. Then, it’s back to reality and the court in front of him.

In the end, Kageyama decides on doing nothing and shuts off his phone. He pockets it in the jacket, his last name printed gloriously over the V.League team’s red and white jersey.

Two years’ worth of photos on Hinata’s Instagram and nothing from Kageyama.

You’d think after an entire high school career spent with the most sociable human on Earth, Kageyama would’ve pick up some communication skills but here he is—sitting alone in the locker room crouched over his phone, brooding over the fact he can’t even press ‘Like’ on a harmless picture, let alone comment.

Pathetic.

---

Thinking back, he should have said something. They were once partners for god’s sake, and now they might as well be strangers from the gap Kageyama’s unwittingly carved between them.

His last interaction with Hinata from the chat box, when Kageyama follows him on Instagram a few months after he’s landed in Brazil. He’d been immediately DM’d, Hinata calling him out for being late on the social media game.

‘ur now a part of a professional team! u need to make ur presence known or ur fans will be real sad’

Kageyama hadn’t responded.

He hasn’t done anything, in fact. No messages, no likes, no comments, no replies. The only thing that holds to his account is a profile picture of a Mikasa volleyball on the old Karasuno jersey. He’s here to play volleyball on the national stage, his game can speak for him.

By the time he’s realized his mistake, Kageyama finds himself frequently checking Hinata’s Instagram page and revisiting old posts. That—he’s allowed to do, no? And it’s an impressive curation—hundreds of photos narrating his two years stay in Brazil. Two years’ worth of change, growth, learning, and memories that Hinata’s making.

Two years without him.

Kageyama finds it hard to keep up sometimes. Following his life in the form of mere pictures and captions doesn’t really fill the void.

---

The only wisp of connection he has to his old team is through Tsukishima—the salty bastard of all people. When the blonde messages him though, Kageyama is already aware.

For the first time, Hinata has posted a video. It’s short—capturing only a few seconds but those seconds are enough. The pants Hinata wears are tight and moves enticingly with his quads. They bend, expand, and hup—from the sands, Hinata soars above the net, his wings in the form of haloed sun-rays, and passes the volleyball to his spiker.

Hinata has learned to set. And what a beautiful set it is.

Kageyama smirks. Nothing less from a starved crow.

He re-watches several times, unable to let go of the breath he’s been holding. If he does, the magic will go away. Something tightens in his chest. It spreads and grabs hold of his stomach and twists and turns and evolves into a fierce wanting.

Tsukishima’s text repeats in his head.

Looks like he’s aiming for FIVB World Cup. Maybe you’ll see him in the next Olympics?

He watches the video again. Memorizes the form of Hinata’s jump, the curve of his spine, the reach from his arms. His hair floats airily in a poof orange cloud, his lips slightly opened in concentration.

Alluring in every possible way.

This time, he doesn’t hold back. kageyama.t leaves a heart on the post along with a simple comment.

You can do better.

---

‘kageyama? omg zombie-yama has resurfaced from the dead!’

‘both a like AND a comment? wow did i do to deserve this? has hell frozen over?’

The twelve-hour difference between them has never had an impact for Kageyama. They don’t even talk anymore so what’s it to him if he misses a few instant messages from the person he’s been silently following (stalking) online since forever?

Apparently, a great deal.

It’s already 11PM in Brazil, Kageyama impatiently notes. He should know better than to wait until it’s a better time for Hinata. But like a landslide racing towards the end, the compulsive words are typed and sent before he knows it.

Don’t be dramatic, dumbass. You’re making it sound like I died.

‘then where have u been?’

Kageyama almost drops his phone, not expecting the quick turnaround from Hinata. His heart beats annoyingly loud and it’s the only thing he hears in the room.

Why are you still awake? Isn’t it late over there?

‘i cant sleep. u know how i am. a ghost from my past decided to come back to life’

The sad thing is he’s right. Kageyama knows him all too well. He swallows the hard lump in his throat.

‘dont u dare ignore me. where did u fuck off to kageyama?’

He also knows Hinata rarely gets mad. This is one of those rare times. His head starts to buzz.

Nowhere. Volleyball’s been keeping me busy.

‘too busy to talk to a friend?’

His breathing quickens in short and shallow bursts. Questions, fears, and doubts swell into his mind and he needs to look away from the screen for a bit. Calm down—Hinata has all the right to call him out.

Maybe it’s a mistake to like his post.

No. Hinata deserves that and way more.

Maybe that’s why he should’ve reached out earlier. Ease it in. He should’ve responded to that first message.

He should’ve done a lot of things.

‘dont ignore me. ur not a coward.’

Kageyama stares at Hinata’s words. Damn him for always being right, for pulling him back. For saying things as is and pushing him to further ends.

I don’t know what to say.

‘well ur in luck. u can practice whatever u need to say with me soon. can u pick me up from the airport this weekend?’

What

‘im coming home for a visit. plane arrives at 4:30pm jst. terminal 1’

Home. He likes the sound of that.

Why me?

‘y not? my fam’s out of town and u owe it to me.’

Sneaky little turd.

Kageyama bites off a smile.

Fine.                                                            

‘come prepared. u and i have a score to settle’

You and I. Him and Hinata. Sounds familiar.

Sounds fitting.

---

When they meet, every memory made at Karasuno comes rushing like a giant wave riding the high winds.

First year nationals when they suffered a defeat with Hinata off-court. Hinata’s struggles in the academics and Kageyama’s equally abominable grades. Their makeshift practices during lunch on the school rooftop and late-night snack runs after training. Second year’s expected yet satisfying loss to Dateko and a hard-won third place in third year. The utter thrill of the orange court, the intensity of the game. The fleeting glances, the accidental touches.

The implicit words. Unspoken feelings.

The unequivocal promise after a splendid receive from Kageyama’s serve.

See you later.

Hinata unabashedly marches up to Kageyama, suitcase in tow, and punches Kageyama hard on the chest.

He expects it just as much.

The shorter man doesn’t pull back, instead spreads his hand wide and presses against Kageyama’ body. In the middle of a large, well air-conditioned airport, the spot where Hinata’s touching him is blazing hot.

“Damn it,” Hinata hisses through his pout, “you’re still bigger than me.”

Kageyama snorts. Figures he’d say something stupid first.

He’s stumped at what to do next. Two full years of going radio-silent on the man (man, not boy anymore) has him doubting again. What’s acceptable, what’s appropriate, what’s allowed?

He starts to open his arms and Hinata jumps into him instantly, strong arms over his shoulder and his face buried in the crevice of Kageyama’s neck.

A fresh whiff of his hair and Kageyama softens. Things are…alright. A void is being filled.

Hinata’s voice is muffled against his neck, absolute yet frail. “I missed you.”

He did too.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know.”

“We have a lot of things to iron out.”

Kageyama gulps. “Okay.”

“Kageyama?” Hinata pulls back, determination flashing in his eyes. “It’s later.”

He still remembers that perfect form Hinata had embodied on the other side of the court, meeting him halfway in both passion for the sport and a knowing smile.

See you later!

Someone probably has already recognized him as a member of a V.League club, but he doesn’t care. Tightening his hold around Hinata, feeling the defined muscles hot under his grasp, Kageyama lays his forehead on Hinata’s shoulder in an act of release.

“Yeah, later is now.”

---

a/n: because the way i cope with the recent chapter is creating headcanons and writing them out

[needdl]

Distance

“I think you should go.”

Rated M

Read on FFN or AO3

this has actually been up on ffn and ao3 for a while-  along with another piece, actually. i will be posting that one on tumblr as well, probably tomorrow.

“I think you should go.” Neji’s voice was tired- they had been up talking for hours now, but were both unwilling to go to bed.

“But-”

“Tenten.”

She fell quiet, staring at him with such raw emotion in her eyes that his chest echoed dully in response.

“This is such a huge opportunity for you.”

“But- five months.”

“I know.” Neji pulled her into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “But it’s not as though we won’t be in contact. And I can come visit you a few times.”

“Yeah.” She clung to him tightly, hands gripping his shirt in clenched fists. “I’m going to miss you like crazy.”

“I’ll miss you too. But you’re really going to love the work that you’re doing.”

“Mm.” If possible, she held him even tighter. “Still gonna miss you.”

“You won’t leave for another three months. We have some time before we part.”

“‘Before we part.’ You’re very dramatic, my love.”

“And you’re very good at taking the tension out of a situation. Let’s go to bed.”

Tenten used her grip around his neck and shoulders as leverage to raise her legs and wrap them around his waist. “Only if you carry me.”

“Fine.” Neji hooked his hands underneath her thighs and turned them around to walk towards the bed. “Don’t get used to this. You have perfectly fine legs.”

“You certainly seem to think so.”

Neji stopped in the middle of the room, thrown off by the remark. “Pardon?”

He could feel Tenten smirk against his neck. “Don’t to deny it, you ogler. Every time I wear tights I’m twenty minutes late to work because you get all handsy.”

Neji had a brief moment to recollect flashes of tanned skin through sheer black fabric, and realized somewhat grumpily that he couldn’t even deny her statement.

Tenten left for China in February.

They spent their last evening together in their apartment, cooking dinner together and eating it in front of the fireplace. They were both unusually attached to one another- Tenten wound up curled in Neji’s lap, arms around his neck and shoulders as they rested their foreheads together and conversed in low voices.

They mostly ignored the meal they had cooked, although dessert- they had planned on having chocolate fondue- was… used, if not for the purpose they had initially intended.

Neji brought Tenten to the airport the next morning. They restrained themselves from causing too much of a scene, just embraced one another for a minute and separated with a short but warm kiss.

“I’ll text when I land, then again at the hotel,” Tenten told him. Her eyes were glimmering, but true to Tenten, she did not cry. Neji tenderly ran his thumb along her cheek.

“I love you,” he told her, resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you too,” she whispered. She leaned up and kissed him again, very softly, before stepping away from him and grabbing her suitcase.

“I’ll miss you,” she said. Neji nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and clenching them into fists.

She gave him one last smile and turned towards the terminal, a white-knuckled grip on the handle of her suitcase. Neji watched her go until she disappeared in the crowd.

It certainly wasn’t easy adjusting to their long distance relationship- the first two weeks Tenten was gone, Neji felt a yawning chasm in his life where she normally filled it.

They quickly set a routine- Tenten called or video called him every night after she was done with her work from the day- and from her elated gushing over the phone, it was work that she loved.

They texted each other constantly, with the understanding that they wouldn’t always be able to respond immediately- the time difference between Konoha and Beijing wasn’t too difficult, but Neji’s days operated a few hours ahead of Tenten.

Once a week, they’d set up a Skype date and talk for hours at a time.

(Well, sometimes they did things… other than talk.)

There were the few nights when one of them had a difficult day and wasn’t in the mood for a long conversation, or had something occupying their time. Those nights, they’d settle with a simple text exchange before saying goodnight.

Gradually, the distance between them felt more normal- Neji still missed his partner, of course, very much- but he looked forward to talking to her at the end of the day. At one point he realized that there had been a large uptick in the frequency that Lee invited him out, and strongly suspected a collusion between him and Tenten to keep Neji socialized.

He had to admit that it was working- he and Lee either sparred in the dojo or got drinks together about once a week, which was certainly more than they had previously.

Still, Neji was looking forward to March, when he would be visiting Tenten for a long weekend in Beijing and celebrating her belated birthday.

The weekend after Tenten’s birthday, he took a cab to the airport at about 5:00 AM. His initial flight out was delayed, so he sent Tenten a quick text and settled into a seat to read his book.

He had just absorbed himself in the chapter when Tenten texted him back several sad-face emojis in a row, then sent a quick follow up text.

‘will watch flight info online and meet up w u at airport when u land. i’m excited!!! ❤️❤️❤️’

Neji smiled to himself and tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Naturally, Neji was in first class for his flight- it was a luxury he had grown up with, and he liked it far too much to give it up. His first and only time flying economy class- with Tenten, of course-  hadn’t been terrible, but he was too accustomed to first class and had actively avoided economy class ever since.

It may or may not have been a minor point of contention between himself and Tenten- she disliked spending money when there was a cheaper option available, and would pointedly roll her eyes at him when she thought he was being frivolous. He would retort that just because something was less expensive didn’t mean it was a better choice. Tenten tended to buy things that broke down after a very short period of time, and constantly had to replace them. All in all, she was spending just as much, if not more than him on a product.

It was one of the things they fought about most, but once they’d moved in together it had settled over somewhat. Even if their apartment’s rent was more than the rent at Tenten’s old place, splitting it between their two incomes actually meant she was paying less than she had before, and could actually invest in her necessities.

(Neji had taken her to the store where his family bought most of their winter clothes, and Tenten had actually expressed shock over how warm her coat was. It gave Neji some mixed feelings- she definitely could have afforded warmer coats in the past, and he hated that she had just let herself be that cold for the sake of saving money.)

But still- Neji indulged and traveled almost exclusively in first class. (If Tenten was with him, they’d fly business class; a grudging compromise between them.)

Neji tried to do some work on the flight, but he was too distracted to get much done. He was mostly thinking about Tenten.

He hadn’t seen her in almost three weeks, and was eagerly anticipating seeing each other face-to-face again. He knew Tenten had some things she wanted to do with him in the city, and they’d likely spend the second and third days of their time together spending time with Tenten’s group of fellow students, who by all accounts she was becoming close with. But their first day reunited…

The flight attendant handed Neji his drink, stirring him from his (admittedly slightly risque) thoughts. He took it with a nod of thanks and turned his attention to look out the window.

Four hours, then he’d finally see her again.

Tenten chewed her lip in anticipation, eyes fixed to the entrance of the baggage claim area. Neji’s delayed flight had thrown her off a little. She’d been a bundle of nerves all week, unable to focus on her work and even getting a few inquiries from her colleagues about her behavior.

They’d all smirked a little bit when she told them her boyfriend was coming to visit her- apparently, she talked about Neji more than she realized. She’d left the night before amid wolf-whistles, knowing looks, and one loud, “Enjoy your weekend!”

And she was planning to, but first her boyfriend needed to arrive.

A flood of people came through the doors, and Tenten perked up eagerly only to sulk in disappointment when it became clear that Neji wasn’t among them. His flight had landed about half an hour ago, he should be at the baggage claim any second-

A few stragglers from the last crowd entered, but still no sign of Neji. Tenten was tempted to go through and find him herself.

Her phone buzzed, and she checked it hastily in case it was from Neji. It was just an email notification- once upon a time, Ino had nagged Tenten into signing up for a clothing store’s membership program, and now she was constantly getting spam.

Scrunching up her nose in vexation, Tenten tapped her way through unsubscribing from the store. She never used the discounts anyway; there really wasn’t a point to it anymore. Task complete, she put her phone back in her pocket and glanced back up at the entrance.

Her heart stopped in her throat. In the minute she’d been distracted, Neji had entered, and he was walking towards her now with his eyes fixed to her face.

For a few seconds, Tenten couldn’t get her feet to move at all.

Logically, she knew his appearance hadn’t changed- she had video called him two days ago, after all, and he looked much the same as he had then.

But something about seeing Neji in person- for the first time in three weeks - made her want to cradle his face in her hands and memorize its nuances.

(He was so handsome - how did she not fully remember that?)

After those first few seconds spent drinking in the sight of him, Tenten lurched into movement. She didn’t quite run to him, but they reached one another with a flurry of movement that ended with Tenten clinging desperately to Neji's shoulders as he leaned her back and kissed her with such urgency that she was left gasping for air.

He pulled back slightly and shifted her so she was upright again, pressing a few slower, more controlled kisses to her lips. Her head was swimming, but she did her best to reciprocate, feeling rather like one of the trembling maidens on the covers of the books Sakura pretended not to read.

Neji parted from her and rested his forehead against her own, eyes staring into hers.

“Hi,” Tenten whispered, biting her lip in an effort to contain the wide grin stretching across her face.

“Hi,” he echoed. He kissed her again, very softly, before finally stepping away and slipping his hand into hers. They stood and grinned at each other like idiots for a minute, before remembering the crowd around them and the luggage that still needed to be collected.

They were getting a few fish-eyed looks from the people around them, but as Tenten tucked herself against Neji's side while he grabbed his luggage, she realized that she definitely didn't care.

Tenten drove them back from the airport in a colleague’s borrowed car, filling up the air with excited chatter about her work, and showing him around, and how happy she was to see him.

He couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise if he’d tried- Tenten still maintained that she didn’t talk as much as, say, Naruto or Ino, but once she got started on something, it was hard to stop her.

Not that Neji wanted to. He was, quite frankly, starstruck at the sight of her, and was still drinking in the fact that he was back in her presence. He sat quietly in the passenger’s side of the car and watched her speak, letting her words wash over him and feeling the gap in his life slowly fill up again.

He must have been gazing at her like a man starved, because every time she glanced over at him she’d quickly dart her face away again, a flush slowly rising on her face.

They reached the building where Tenten was staying and parked in the alloted spot, then sat in the car and kissed one another for a good half an hour.

Neji was a little embarrassed when he pulled apart from Tenten- for a brief moment, he needed to catch his breath- and realized how much time had passed since they had arrived. The sight of Tenten’s face easily persuaded him to lean over again, her mouth a puckered red and her hair a tousled mess from where he had been cupping her head. She also had such a languid, wanton look on her face that Neji really had no choice but to swoop back in and tease a moan from her throat.

They finally got out of the car- both flushed red and feeling a little light-headed- and went up the stairs and towards Tenten’s apartment. They committed to some level of decorum once they entered the building and kept themselves the slightest bit apart. Tenten had fallen rather quiet, but based off the expression on her face- biting her lip, a dark flush, brows just the slightest bit cinched- she was filled with anticipation.

They entered the apartment quietly, and stopped a few feet into the foyer. Tenten seemed a little awkward now, as if she hadn’t planned for what they’d do after they got back to her place.

Fortunately, Neji had some ideas.

He set his bags down carelessly and snagged Tenten by the waist, stepping closer and ducking his head down to mouth at her pulse. She inhaled sharply, throwing one hand over his shoulders and wrapping her other arm around him to grip the fabric covering his mid-back.

They spent several more minutes like that, kissing rather desperately and with quite a bit of tongue. Finally, Tenten pulled away with a gasp.

“O-oh-” She panted against his shoulder for a minute, her grip slowly easing where her hand had twined itself into his hair. Sensing a shift in their affection, Neji relaxed his own stance so he was cradling her close to him, slowly rubbing her back.

There was less tension between them now, replaced by tenderness and- fulfillment. After a moment, Tenten lifted her head again and pressed her lips very gently against his.

They kissed sweetly for a minute or two, then Neji slowly eased back. “Give me the tour?”

“Sure,” Tenten said, somewhat breathlessly. She grabbed his larger suitcase and dragged it behind her as she went further into the apartment. Neji grabbed his other bag and followed her into the kitchen silently.

It was small but well furnished, with surprisingly new-looking countertops. Neji could see another room and a hallway leading off from where he was, but the door was partially closed and the lights dimmed, making the contents difficult to make out.

The kitchen flowed into the sitting area, which held a plush-looking sofa, a coffee table, a bookshelf, and the TV on the armoire. There was also a side table with a lamp and a few knickknacks, as well as a shelf holding a few plants and a couple of picture frames.

He couldn’t see them perfectly, but one of the pictures was definitely a picture of them from Temari’s birthday party a few years ago, both dressed nicely and looking- well, Tenten looked beautiful, Neji supposed he had looked handsome.

It was towards the end of the evening, and they’d both had a few drinks in them when Sakura had snapped the picture. They were seated at the table and Tenten was leaning into Neji’s side, head propped up on one hand with the other tucked into the crook of her elbow. Neji was sitting with one arm over the back of her chair and the other resting on the table. Sakura had told them to “say cheese!” before she took the photo, and in an unusually public display of affection Neji had pressed his lips to Tenten’s temple before turning to face the camera.

Sakura had photographed the moment Tenten had understood his actions, and so the picture showed her smiling impossibly affectionately up at Neji as he in turn smiled warmly up at the camera.

Lee had said, once he saw the picture, that Tenten had “heart eyes”, which Neji didn’t really understand but made Tenten flush and get all squeaky.

It was one of his favorite photos of them, and it filled him with fondness that Tenten seemingly liked it so much as well.

“Well, this is the kitchen-” Tenten gestured around them rather vaguely- “then the sitting area, and through there is the office slash laundry room, and then that hallway leads to the bathroom and bedroom. Oh, I cleared out some space for your stuff, I know you’re only here for four days but I know how you like to organize your things…”

Neji hummed in agreement.

“Speaking of which, let’s go have sex.”

Neji was mid-agreement hum when he realized what she said, and choked off rather abruptly.

Tenten snorted. “Dork. But also, I’m serious. I put on silk sheets and everything.”

“Tenten, it is-” He paused and checked her watch. “A little after 1:00.”

“I’ve always found that to be a particularly sexy time of day…”

“It’s practically lunchtime.”

“Mmm. And I know what I want to eat.”

Neji's responding flush made Tenten laugh and kiss his cheek. Fondly, she told him, “C’mon, babe. I want to stretch you out and admire you.”

Neji’s flush made its way down his neck and over his ears, but it certainly didn’t stop him from following Tenten into the bedroom.

Tenten woke up the next morning with sun streaming in through the window and Neji’s mouth on her clit.

She threw her head back into her pillow and let out a hiss, her hands flying up to twine into the hair on Neji’s head and pull. He responded in kind, sucking at tender skin and squeezing her hips hard in his hands.

She came undone almost embarrassingly quickly- but they’d been up all night after an entire month spent apart, so she was admittedly a little tender and her stamina was lower.

But Neji was trying his damndest to increase it as much as he could in a single week. And though at the moment Tenten wasn’t able to walk without her knees wobbling, she certainly was enjoying herself immensely.

Neji pulled away from her, but she didn’t dare to look at him- she just knew he’d be licking at his lips and looking insufferably smug.

After a moment of silence, he said amicably, “Good morning.”

“Yeah. Uh, hi.”

Neji’s hands pulled away from her thighs, and a few moments later he was shifting himself up so he was propped over her on his elbows. His hair fell over his shoulders in a tousled mess, and Tenten was a little regretful she hadn’t woken up in time to see it tangled across his shirtless back- one of her favorite sights in the world, and one she had been badly missing in the past month.

But then again, she thought to herself as Neji dipped his head to thoroughly kiss her breathless, this was nice too.

Neji pulled away from her and shifted so he laid on the bed next to her, one arm draped over her waist. He tucked his head back against her neck and collarbone, then, after a moment of consideration, grazed her warm skin with his teeth.

Tenten wiggled at the sensation. “Neji-”

“I meant to ask you last night,” he interrupted with a murmur (and normally she’d be irritated, because she hated it when people interrupted her, and when Neji did it she disliked it even more- but right now she was still riding the high of her pleasant awakening, and Neji smelled quite good, and it was just post-coital talk, nothing important, so she’d let it slide) “This necklace-” he reached to hook his fingers under the delicate gold chain that was tumbling down her neck and over the tops of her breasts. “You didn’t have this when you first left, did you? I don’t recognize it.”

Oh. Tenten flushed a little, because that was true, and the way she had gotten it was one of the most embarrassingly sentimental, lovelorn, sappy things she’d ever done.

“Uh-” her mind stuttered for excuses. “It’s, uh-”

Neji waited patiently, running his fingers over the chain (and coincidentally, her skin). He wasn’t looking at her face at all, which made it easier for her to blurt out, “Okay, you can’t laugh.”

His fingers never ceased stroking her skin. “All right.”

“Well-” Ugh, this was so cheesy. Tenten kept her gaze on the ceiling, refusing to look at Neji. No way would she be able to get it out if she had to actually look at him. “It was the first couple of weeks after I had left Konoha, and- I mean, you remember what it was like, I missed you a lot-”

The movement of Neji’s fingers slowed minutely, and Tenten got the impression he was listening very intently. “And- well- I was out with a few colleagues just touring around, and a few of us wanted to check out some shops and we went into this little jewelry shop and I just- I saw it, and I was thinking of you, and then I bought it.” She glared defiantly at the ceiling.

Neji’s hands stopped moving completely, and after a moment he said, “I missed you too, Tenten but I still don’t see how the necklace has anything to do with that.”

Tenten rolled her eyes at the brusqueness of his statement, but reached up and pushed his hand away to grab the necklace and show him the tiny, minuscule capital N that dangled off the delicate chain.

Neji lifted his head from her neck to look at it closer. “That’s- an ‘N’? Why...”

Tenten waited for his genius brain to kick in.

Neji paused, then asked haltingly, “Is that… is it… does the ‘N’...”

Tenten’s cheeks burned, and she muttered, “It’s really not too difficult of a connection, Nnnneji.” The emphasis was a tad obvious, but she wanted to get the conversation over with.

“I- I see.” Neji’s hand, which he had settled over her hip when she moved it, minutely tightened its grip. In the next few seconds he flipped them both over so Tenten was lying haphazardly under him while he buried his face in the space between her neck and shoulder, holding her in his embrace so tightly it was almost painful.

Tenten blinked a few times, a little startled at the reaction. Cautiously, she raised a hand to smooth down the strands of hair at the base of his neck. “Neji?”

If possible, he held her even closer. After a moment he lifted his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, then abruptly got up and walked out of the room without a word.

Tenten squinted after him. “Neji? You okay?” He’d had only his briefs on, so he definitely wasn't planning on just walking out of the apartment.

He came sweeping back in a minute later and sat back down on the bed, then leaned over her and set something down on her stomach.

“Marry me.”

Tenten’s head, which she had been craning awkwardly to see what he had brought her, snapped back up. There wasn’t a trace amount of anything other than seriousness in his expression- but then, she hadn’t expected there to be anything else.

“Huh,” she said, grabbing what she now realized was a small velvet box off of her stomach and popping it open. The ring wasn’t extravagant- just a simple band of platinum with diamonds, rubies, and aquamarines studded into it.

(Keyword being extravagant- that’s not to say it wasn’t expensive.)

“I will.” Tenten said absently, picking the ring out of the box. “Marry you, I mean,” she clarified, sliding it onto her ring finger and giving an experimental wiggle. It didn’t have any parts that would stick out and catch on anything, which she appreciated.

“We should have a longer engagement, though- maybe a year and a half? That way I can finish up in China, then we’ll have time to plan things out- I’m sure your family has a lot of traditions, so we’ll have to haggle that out with them...”

She glanced up at Neji for the first time since she’d put the ring on. He was staring at her ring finger, seemingly transfixed, looking so open and vulnerable that her heart clenched.

“Hey.” Tenten leaned over and placed her left hand over his. He jerked his head up to meet her gaze, and she grinned at him.

“We’re engaged.”

Slowly, he grinned back, looking both triumphant and boyishly sheepish. “We’re engaged.” He turned his hand over to lace their fingers together, then brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it tenderly.

Tenten could only stand the affection for a few seconds before she had to jump up and get away from him to hide her flush. “You want breakfast?”

She peeked at Neji out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with his head tilted to the side, that same exultant smile tugging in his lips.

“If you’re making it dressed like that, definitely.”

Tenten paused and glanced down at her fully nude figure, then shrugged and continued towards the kitchen. “Fine, but I’m going to wear an apron for protective purposes.”

“Even better.” She could hear him shuffle around on the bed, presumably swinging his legs over and standing up.

Three steps out of the bedroom, Tenten paused and stared at the contents of Neji’s suitcase where they were scattered across the floor. “Uh-”

“Ah.” Neji placed a hand on her waist and looked over her shoulder at the mess. “I was in a hurry to get the ring. I’ll put my things away while you make breakfast.” He paused for a second, then thoughtfully dropped his head down and pressed a kiss to her neck.

The slightest shiver went up Tenten’s spine. “That eager to get me affianced, huh?”

“You have no idea.” Neji stepped back from her and knelt in front of his luggage. “I started ring shopping after our six-month anniversary.”

Tenten’s foot caught itself over the air, and she stumbled. “What?”

Neji just smirked up at her. “It was a good date.”

“I mean-” Tenten thought back to the sight of her office filled with flowers in the morning, followed by a delivery of her favorite lunch, and Neji picking her up at a little after five to take her to dinner at a very nice restaurant. (Plus, well, they’d gone back to his place- to exchange gifts, among… other things.)

It was a good date, but it wasn’t as if it had so spectacular that she was suddenly irresistible to Neji- after all, he’d informed her a few weeks prior to their anniversary that he loved her.

(She was on her way out of her apartment that morning, already running a few minutes late because someone didn’t want to let her out of their shower. Neji didn’t have to leave for work until later, and was making a point of walking around clad only in a towel, his wet hair dripping some very distracting trails of water down his chest. Tenten had paused to kiss him goodbye, and after he pulled away he told her, “You should know that I love you.”

“’Kay,” she replied, and left, clicking the door shut behind her to make sure it latched.

She was halfway down the stairs before she realized what he said.)

Tenten frowned at Neji in contemplation. “What was so significant about our anniversary? It was a nice night, but it wasn’t super unusual for us.”

Neji’s attention was suddenly diverted with laser-like intensity to neatly folding a sweater. “Hn.”

Tenten let out a little sputter, half amused and half offended. She hadn’t heard him say that in a while.

“Excuse you-”

“It was the first time you’d spent the night at my home.” Neji’s sweater was extremely folded. “It just… made me realize… that I wanted you in my life for as long as you would have me in yours.”

Ugh, Neji . Every once in a while, he’d turn a phrase that made her heart go pitter-pat in her chest. And he always meant them so earnestly- Tenten knew that her presence in Neji’s life had lightened it considerably, but he was still one of the most serious people she knew. But it meant that everything he did, he committed himself to fully. Romance included.

She didn’t tell Neji this, of course. Tenten got all flushed and squirmy when Neji’s intense affection was directed at her for too long.

Instead she leaned over and patted his head. “Save it for the vows, babe.” She turned around and started to walk into the kitchen, only to let out a shriek as Neji suddenly looped his arms under her ass and sort of tackle-dropped her on the ground.

“‘Save it for the vows’,” he muttered, hooking one of her thighs around his waist. He laced her left hand with his right and pinned it to the ground near her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Tenten grinned up at him. “I’m one-hundred percent original, bay-beeee.”

Neji very effectively used his mouth to shut her up.

[quiveringbunny]

Making Merry - An Olicity Holiday Story (G - 1/3)

Hello friends! 

Here is the first chapter of my holiday fic for this year. I hope you enjoy it. Special thanks to the most overqualified and lovely beta imaginable. @tinaday3w, for encouragement and assistance. 

This is chapter 1 of 3. It will be completed by Christmas Eve. It’s a fluffy story. Not my usual tone, but I wanted to do something romantic. 

While you are reading, maybe you want to listen to a new holiday song written and performed by a pal of mine... 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScX_QFlNpo

Read on A03. 

CHAPTER ONE: The Tree

Every year, Queen Consolidated, one of the most prosperous companies in Starling City, conducted a holiday fundraiser to benefit after school programs for children in The Glades. The efforts typically ranged from $500-a-plate galas to company raffles.

This year’s scheme, masterminded by Thea Queen herself, was a sale of Christmas trees and greenery. This was how her brother, Oliver, found himself driving a borrowed pick-up truck after work one Friday night several days before Christmas, to deliver a Christmas tree to an employee who lived just on the edge of town.

At first, Oliver groused at the request. Perhaps that was because as the CEO of the company, he thought they “had people” for this kind of chore. But more likely, he was just annoyed because Thea – his only living relative, his baby sister – was not in town herself to oversee the completion of her project. No, she was in some remote part of Switzerland skiing with a young man who looked like a catalog model and she wasn’t going to be home until the day after Christmas. Sure, she had apologized profusely and he knew she was genuinely gutted that transportation was not cooperating.  Oliver even offered the company jet, but Thea insisted it would be wasteful.

“Ollie, use the money we’d spend on a plane and put it towards the afterschool fund. That would be the best Christmas present, really,” she had pleaded via Skype. Thea deployed the eyes then, the ones that looked like they belonged in a Keane painting.

Oliver sighed. “I guess that means I can take back your other presents, Speedy.”

“Other presents?” she chirped, grinning into the phone.

“Maybe,” he said solemnly. Oliver didn’t want to make things too easy.

“Yes!” Thea pumped her delicate fist in the air. “I have presents for you too. And we’ll just spread it out one more day?”

He could hardly begrudge his sister companionship during the holidays. Since they lost their parents, they had drifted together, but holidays were hardest. Each year, without deliberately admitting it, they found reasons to spend Christmas apart. The day was a reminder of loss, more than anything, so individual distractions were preferable to shared pain. To strangers it might have seemed like an odd arrangement, but they were Queens and accustomed to making up their own rules.  

"Okay." He nodded. “Call me on Christmas though?”

“Of course, Brother.” Thea blew him a kiss and then the call terminated.

Oliver rolled his eyes and chuckled at his sister, setting about putting his tablet into the messenger bag that served as his “hipster CEO briefcase.” It had been a gift from his fashionable sibling and he carried it to the office every day.

Just before he closed the flap, Oliver’s tablet lit up again. He dug it out and accepted another call from the younger Queen.

“Yes?” He eyed her with trepidation.

“Ollie, there’s one more thing.” Thea gave him a sweet smile. She even blinked a few extra times to seem more adorable. Oliver grimaced back.

“Just tell me, Thea.”  

“It’s the Holiday Greens sale. I kind of need a big favor tonight.”

And now Oliver was driving down a dark street lined with weathered duplex houses, a 7-foot Douglas fir and stand nestled in the truck bed, gazing at house numbers. Gratefully, there was no one parked in front of 5824. He was able to maneuver Tommy Merlyn’s massive F-150 into the space. He much preferred to drive his own car, but the delivery crew had dispersed and his best friend had kindly stepped up to offer his pickup.  Sort of. Don’t get any tree sap on it, Oliver, he had remarked. It’s a truck, Tommy, he countered, not an Aston Martin. You’re supposed to haul dirt around in it and get it muddy as hell. Tommy smirked. When you get your own truck, you can keep it as filthy as you want.

Soon after, Oliver picked up the tree from a designated area in the Queen Consolidated parking garage. He was grateful for the cover. It was an unusually cold night for Starling City in December and the frigid wind was whipping past the buildings in the business district. He was also grateful that Tommy had left warm gloves and a balaclava on the passenger’s seat following a snowboarding adventure. They were probably Armani, Oliver surmised. Nothing but the best for his friend.

With thoughts of how he would later tease the crap out of his best friend by finding an online photo of a mud-caked truck and sending it to him with an apologetic text, Oliver pulled on the warm wear. It was much colder out now and he still had to wrangle his prickly cargo. Oliver headed to 5826, a printed delivery form clutched in his leather-gloved hand, and knocked after he scaled the stairs and reached the door.

The door opened and a shape was illuminated in the light-filled frame. Then, the shape (his eyes were still adjusting from the brightness) yelped sharply, filling Oliver’s ears. It threw him. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Oh my God!” the figure shouted, then stepped back into the house and slammed the door shut. It didn’t actually hit him in the face, but his eyes registered the breeze as it closed in front of him. Oliver stood there for nearly two minutes trying to process what had just happened. He pulled the order form up to his face and checked the house number again. He was in the right place. He tentatively knocked again. The door did not open.

This time, a small female voice called out, filtered by the wooden door.

“I have the police on speed dial.”

“Really? Speed dial? Most people would just dial 911,” Oliver responded without thinking.  

“I’m not most people. I work with the police. They know me. So, I can contact them whenever I want. Directly. It’s much faster.”

“Wait. I thought you worked at Queen Consolidated.”

“Okay, I’m definitely going to call the cops now, Mister Stalker Home Invader.”

“I have no idea what-“ Oliver was getting exasperated now and Thea was never going to hear the end of it when next he saw her. No good deed goes unpunished, indeed.

It was only then that he touched his head and realized he was wearing Tommy’s designer ski mask. Letting out an exasperated groan, Oliver pulled the garment off and stuffed it in his coat pocket.

“Miss, sorry for freaking you out. I’m here from QC to deliver the Christmas tree you ordered.”

There was a beat. Maybe two. Then he heard the woman’s voice again as it distinctly muttered, "Oh crap."

The door slowly swung open again. This time, Oliver was more prepared for the change in brightness. But he was less prepared for his first real look at the young woman standing inside the entryway. She had wavy blonde hair and…lips. Of course, she had lips. Everybody had lips. But hers were the color of cranberries, he thought. She was wearing glasses. No-nonsense frames that did nothing to make her any less cute. But behind them her brilliant blue eyes looked…puffy. He had seen that look enough on Thea to recognize when a woman had been crying. He must have really scared her.

“I’m really sorry for surprising you like that. I borrowed my friend’s truck to bring your tree and I put his ski mask on because it’s really cold. I don’t even own one of these stupid things. They are pretty creepy, even with a designer label.” Oliver snagged the offending headwear from his pocket and waved it around.

The girl with the azure eyes laughed quietly and tilted her head, sizing him up.  He was more than a head taller than she was and broad in the shoulders. His hair was sitting up a little on top, in disarray from the ski mask. But his eyes were…pretty. Blue. And he had gorgeous eye lashes. A faint shadow of scruff along his jaw, combined with his leather jacket and jeans gave him a sexy tradesman kind of look.

“That was a great ramble,” she volunteered.

For some reason he couldn’t explain, Oliver blushed a little. He didn’t go off like that in front of women, but somehow, with this one, he was already on the ropes. “Sorry.”

“No, it was wonderful. It’s usually me doing that.” She smiled at him, a genuine smile, but it rushed away and her demeanor changed.

“Oh, what am I thinking? Please come in!” She retreated from the door and motioned for Oliver to enter. It was as if there was a string tied between them and he advanced on command. She maneuvered around his large frame and closed the door to stop more chilly air from coming through.

The woman was dressed for serious weekend lounging on this Friday night. A fluffy pink robe. Loose QC t-shirt underneath. Snug-fitting Star Wars leggings tucked into panda slippers. She was kind of adorable. Not the type of woman he usually met these days. They were decidedly…slinkier. Usually clad in sexy designer gowns or club dresses. Truthfully, the harder they appeared to try to get his attention, the less interested he seemed to be. Apparently, he felt more at ease around soft and cuddly. And slightly whimsical.  

“So, you are…” Oliver glanced down at the order form. “Felicity Smoak?”

“Yes,” she responded with deliberate enthusiasm. “That is me.” She began moving, so Oliver trailed behind her into a space that was likely her living room. Oliver tried to school his expression as he surveyed the sparsely appointed room. There was a nice sized TV, a sofa, several lamps, and numerous unopened IKEA furniture boxes scattered around the room. At least two were being used as end tables. No decorations. No paintings or tchotchkes of any kind, but he did notice a box of Kleenex tissues and a menorah. Curious.

“I think it would be nice to put the tree in the bay window. Isn’t that what people do?” Felicity seemed sincerely curious. She also appeared to be fidgeting with her hair a bit, subtly checking on whether it was sticking out. Her skin was creamy except where a handful of freckles dotted her nose and he wanted to count them. Yeah, that didn’t sound creepy at all in his head.

Oliver disengaged from the urge to stare at her by moving to the open space at the window, his eyebrows raised as he surmised the location. “I have definitely seen that done.” He turned around and thought for a moment that Felicity Smoak might have been checking him out while his back was turned. Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe it was his ego. He was wearing one of his favorite pairs of jeans that fit well and the leather jacket Thea assured him was flattering. Suddenly, he hoped she was checking him out. It would make him feel less weird about noticing how attractive she was.  

Felicity definitely looked caught when Oliver turned around, but she tried to cover it. “Great. Let me get my coat and help you bring it in. I know it’s big. I ordered the extra-large one. I liked the idea of having something huge in front of my window.” Felicity was moving toward a door that was most likely her coat closet as Oliver folded his arms across his broad chest and choked on a laugh. There was an implication that he was currently the huge something in front of her window. He didn’t think she realized the gaffe. Then, he watched her reach the closet door knob and he returned to his senses.

“Oh no,” he replied with some urgency. “You should stay here. It’s too cold out for…” Oliver pointed downward with a grin. “Panda bears.”

Felicity glanced at her feet and her eyes went wide with embarrassment. “Oh, my God. I…”

“They look really comfortable. Please stay here and hold the door for me when I come back?”

Oliver headed back toward the front door.

“But I feel bad. You’re not my personal Sherpa.”

“I could be a Sherpa,” he smiled slyly. “You haven’t seen my resume.”

Felicity chuckled.  “Thank you so much. I really do appreciate you doing this.” She followed behind him. Yes, it was a nice view. This Sherpa really knew how to wear jeans.

As Oliver opened the door, he pulled the balaclava out of his pocket. “Just warning you. I’m putting the ski mask back on because it’s cold. You aren’t going to freak out again, are you?”

Felicity responded with a breathy laugh in the doorway. Oliver liked the sound of it and headed across her porch towards the stairs. The cool air made everything seem quieter outside. Peaceful. He liked it.

“Hey, I didn’t get your name,” she called out, watching him descend.

He didn’t even turn around as he reached the sidewalk.

“Oliver Queen.”  

He had to stifle a chuckle when he distinctly heard her gasp behind him.

“Oh crap.”

///--->>>>

The tree looked pretty straight. Not absolutely straight. The trunk was crooked.  The bottom half was perfectly aligned, but things went awry about three feet from the top. Oliver and Felicity both knew this, but neither acknowledged it. They had spent nearly thirty minutes adjusting the Douglas fir monster with Oliver on the floor finessing the trunk in the stand while Felicity provided directional guidance from above. His face was red from effort and the awkward position he had maintained under the bottom branches as he tightened the screws. Several minutes in, Oliver stood momentarily to toss his leather jacket on the sofa because there was unexpected exertion. Felicity uttered no complaints at this development.  

When Felicity came to grips with the fact that she had been ordering the top executive of a Fortune 500 company to scramble around on the floor until he was rendered vaguely less handsome due to the blood rushing to his otherwise perfect face, she announced unqualified success with suitable fanfare. She knew that Oliver knew she was settling, but he appeared grateful to be able to crawl out from under the beast and shake stray needles from his hair.

The tree was, as expected, huge. But it filled the space perfectly. Oliver couldn’t help but recall his childhood and the ornamented wonders that were scattered around the Queen Mansion each holiday.    

“It’s beautiful…” she announced, deliberately avoiding saying his name aloud because…what was she supposed to call her employer? Mister Queen? Sir? She had only been working at QC for a few months and during that time she was either away at a client site or holed up in her office working on cybersecurity algorithms, unaware that this delicious, kind and generous man was right on top of her. Well, not on top of her.  She was under him, really. Oh, dear Lord this was awkward.

Felicity noticed Oliver doing that thing people do with their hands when they feel gross and want to wash them. Of course. He had been wrangling a tree.

“There’s a powder room down the hall, if you would like to clean up,” she offered brightly. Oliver nodded with relief.

“Thanks.”

He moved quickly towards the open door at the end of the hall. The liquid soap was a welcome sight and it lathered up his hands. He hoped it was strong enough to remove the dirt and sap.

“Would you like a coffee? Or cocoa? Or a glass of wine?” He heard her call out. Oliver caught himself smiling in the mirror above the sink.

“Wine would be nice, actually. But only if you have something open,” he replied, loud enough to be heard through the apartment.

Felicity sprang into action, rummaging in the kitchen and pulling a bottle from a low cabinet. She admired the label and decided it was an acceptable wine to offer a guest. Then she quietly loosened the screw top before snagging two wine glasses from another cupboard. She quickly poured a garnet-colored red blend into the first glass and took a few gulps before refilling it and then pouring the second glass. She took breath. It wasn’t weird to be having a glass of wine with Oliver Queen, was it? He was just a person, after all, one who had done a very nice thing for her. And it wasn’t like she could slip him a $10 bill for a tip. That would be weird. No, a glass of wine was appropriate.  

Oliver strode back into the living room with a smile on his face. His hands were no longer dirty and covered with sap. He also managed to get the last of the pine needles out of his hair. Felicity moved around the counter and offered him a glass, which he accepted gratefully. They found seats on the sofa, a healthy distance apart.

“So, I noticed that you have a menorah, Felicity. Is that for your boyfriend?”

The blonde genius tilted her head, suddenly flustered. “No. It’s mine. I mean, I don’t have a boyfriend. Is that…does that answer your question?”

“Good,” he responded without thinking. Then he walked it back. “Now I guess I don’t understand. You’re Jewish, right?”

“Mmm hmm,” she singsonged back before taking a sip from her glass and folding herself comfortably in the corner of the couch to face him.

“But you bought a Christmas tree. Most Jewish people don’t put up trees, do they?”

“I guess not. It just seemed like such a good cause. After school programs. And I thought it would be fun to see what it was like to have a tree. And I have this huge window.”

“Right.” Oliver took a sip of the wine and found it warmed him up a little. Or maybe it was just the company. He wasn’t sure. Didn’t care.

“I was kind of on the fence about it,” she continued. “I mean, I know it’s a wonderful charity. I guess I could have just made a donation. But the sweet young woman who came around with the sign-up sheet was very persuasive.”

Oliver’s sibling spider-sense perked up. “A young woman persuaded you to buy this tree? I’ll bet she was wearing exceptionally nice shoes.”  

“Ohmygodyes. They were boots, actually. Drop dead gorgeous. She just talked about how wonderful they smell…trees, not the boots, and how festive they make everything. And when I mentioned I had never had a tree before, she looked kind of stricken. She had these big green eyes…”

“Oh, I know that look.” Oliver chortled into his glass. Thea was good, but this was a whole new level – selling a 7-foot Christmas tree to a single Jewish woman. This story would be told for years to come. Tommy would love it.

“That sweet young woman is an unrepentant hornswoggler, Felicity. I can say this with love and admiration because she’s my sister, Thea.”

“Oh, Oliver,” Felicity giggled. It was the first time she’d referred to him by name and she immediately regretted letting it slip, burying her head in her lap. Oliver noted her cute mortification and grinned. He liked the way she said “Oliver.”

“Thank you for not calling me Mister Queen.”

Felicity raised her head slowly and met his eyes. They were twinkling. It was kind of hypnotic.

"Okay," she said, returning his smile.

“How long have you worked at Queen Consolidated? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you in a meeting or even on the elevator.” I would have noticed you was a phrase that might have hung in the air if he had the courage to say it out loud.

“Are you sure? Maybe I just don’t stand out that much.”  Felicity brought her wine glass up to her lips and took a generous sip.

It was Oliver’s turn to tilt his head in disbelief. Then he playfully tugged on her panda slipper. “Don’t believe that for a second.”

Felicity’s face felt warm all of a sudden. She knew she should speak, but she waited until she was confident her voice would remain…normalish.  

“I started in October. Part of the team that got acquired from Kord Industries. I’m usually off-site. It’s almost a miracle that I was in my office the day your sister came around about the sale. I just stopped in to pick up some hard drives.”

“Right. Okay. That’s why you said you work with the police. The cybersecurity initiative.”

Felicity nodded. “That’s me.”

“Well, I’m really grateful you didn’t call the cops on me earlier. That would have been harsh.”

“You have no idea. Captain Lance and the guys at Headquarters are like my own personal crew of Lost Boys. You’d be in the pokey as we speak.”

Oliver couldn’t help but wince. He had a history dating Captain Lance’s daughters in his high school days. It wasn’t pretty and Lance would like nothing better than to throw him in, to use Felicity’s vernacular, the pokey, and throw away the key.  Felicity noticed his discomfort, but didn’t ask any questions. She just smiled and took another sip of wine. Oliver put his glass down on an IKEA box and turned to face her. His expression was serious now.

“Felicity, I’m really sorry I scared you earlier.”

“Oh, um, Oliver, it wasn’t a big deal. Really it wasn’t.”

“No. It was. I’m pretty sure I made you cry.”

Oliver looked absolutely gutted. Here in front of him was a delightful woman who was making him laugh for the first time in ages and he had freaked her out very badly. Damn Tommy Merlyn and his couture knitwear.  

Felicity was confused at first. Then she connected the dots. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

“I did cry earlier. But it wasn’t anything you did. It was before you got here. And it was ridiculous. I was watching a movie. Little Women. Jo just collapsed in front of Marmie and sobbed about not fitting in anywhere and I completely lost it.”

She looked to him with a sincere, quiet smile. He met it, his blue eyes warm, kind and full of understanding.  “We all feel that way at some point, don’t we? At least, I have,” she continued.

“Yeah,” Oliver replied. “I spent a lot of energy when I was younger not liking who I was. Trying to be other people. It wasn’t a good time. But then I had some experiences that showed me what I was good at…that I had leadership skills. Things turned around for me after that.”

“I was the same way. I was accepted to MIT early and got lost for a while. The wrong guy. Misguided choices. Eventually, I found myself in my work. But when you’ve moved around for your career like I have, you still get twinges when you come to a new town and don’t know anyone.”

Oliver picked up his glass and gently swirled the wine inside. “But here you are in Starling City. Already tight with the police force and…”

Felicity eyed him over her glass. “My boss’s boss’s boss?”

Hearing those words pained Oliver a little. He shook his head. “I was going to say me. Just me.”

She felt herself full-on blushing this time. The attention of this man in front of her was overwhelming. “That sounds even better,” she replied with a blinding smile. Flirting a little could go both ways.

“And you have a tree.”

“It smells incredible.”

“That’s one of the best things about buying a live one,” Oliver noted. “How are you going to decorate it? Lights? Garland?”

Felicity shrugged. “I honestly hadn’t thought about it. I guess I should.”

Two things happened a short while later that signaled it was time to wrap up the evening. Oliver emptied his wine glass and Felicity yawned. She looked apologetic about it, at least. Oliver huffed a laugh, rose, and slipped into his coat. Felicity shuffled behind him to the door until he stopped and turned to look down at her.

“Felicity, can I ask you something? It’s kind of selfish.” He actually worried his bottom lip. This made her focus on his mouth, which was kind of dangerous. She only met him a few hours ago and a part of her was hoping he wanted to kiss her. Did this make her shameless? Wanton? She did not care.

“Sure,” her voice may have cracked a little.

“I noticed you have some furniture still in boxes.”

“Yeah, it turns out I can build a PC in thirty-eight minutes, but anything requiring an Allen wrench is a serious challenge.”

Oliver chuckled and then shifted from foot to foot. “I just thought, if you weren’t busy tomorrow, maybe I could come over and assemble it for you. If you like…”

“Oh, sure! Yeah, I mean, I don’t have any plans, really. Usually, on Saturdays I just go to the coffee shop up the street for a latte and then come back here to read. Rituals are comforting.”

“I get that. I go to the gym.”

“Of course, you do. I mean…” she stammered. Oliver raised an amused eyebrow in her direction, which only made things worse. “Obviously, you work out. Not that I noticed.”

“Eleven?”

“Great.” She smiled warmly. “Thank you for everything tonight, Oliver. And thank you for tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet,” he countered with a grin.

“I know. But I have a feeling it’s going to be nice.”

Oliver fixed his gaze on her. “Good night, Felicity Smoak.” Then he leaned down and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her soft cheek. The stubble on his own might have brushed against her skin as he retreated. Felicity’s gasp reverberated in Oliver’s ears and his brain and his heart clenched for a second.  

“Night.”

He kept his eyes on her as he pulled the balaclava from his pocket and pulled it back over his head. Felicity giggled and raised her hands up, clawing the air with her fingers. She made an adorable “grr” noise.

Oliver stepped into the cold with a grin clearly outline by the ski mask on his face. He felt lighter than he had in a long time.  When he got to the sidewalk he looked at the tree filling the bay window. He turned and signaled a “thumbs up” to Felicity, still standing in the doorway. She waved, then closed the door to the frosty night air.

To be continued.

Friends, I hope you don’t mind me tagging you here for this story. Please disregard if fluff is not for you and rest assured, I’ll be back to the photo edit posts soon. 

@scu11y22, @tinaday3w, @dettiot, @mel-loves-all, @andjustforthismoment, @aussieforgood, @florence-bubbles, @flailykermit, @lerayon, @diggo26, @olicityaddicted, @thewidowpazzy, @melsanfo, @emilybettqueen, @yourviewingparty, @lynslogic, @tanyaslogic, @angelalafan, @coal000, @triciaolicity, @choiceofluthien, @emilybuttrickards, @seaolicity, @supersillyanddorky06, @swordandarrow, @watsoncroft, @jsevick, @readerkas, @yespleasehawkeyee, @geniewithwifi, @befitandchase, @caedmonfaith, @myhauntedblacksoul, @casydee, @jamyfan-blog, @awesomeziziblr, @bigdeesmallworld, @alemap74, @angelicmisskitty, @almondblossomme, @callistawolf, @miriam1779, @imusuallyobsessed, @vaelisamaza, @mochababychristy, @juliesioux, @pjcmfalcon, @josephine-in-mirkwood, @i-m-a-fan-world, @ms-mags, @red-devilkin, @ah-maa-zing, @itshandledd, @olicityandsteroline, @turn-thy-paige, @wildirish23, @nlh03, @alanna-the-lionheart, @charlinert, @amytosh, @stygian-omada-fan, @multi-fandom-crazy-fangirl, @machawicket,  @biermank, @i-am-wordaholic, @hope-for-olicity, @memcjo, @jaspertown, @itchiygo, @oliverfel4, @tolivers, @ccdimples88, @ap-n, @pleasantfanandstudent, @emmilynestill,  @kainesbitt77,  @anthfan, @lyricalarrow, @laurabelle2930, @ellefraser17, @ireland1733, @mammashof, @chachurka, @somewhatinvisible, @tdgal1, @buffaleen, @suziesammy-blog, @missyriver, @lovelycssefan, @kh2o, @codebreakinsmoak, @letsnevergrowupfan, @memcjo, @bwangangelic, @arrowolicity88, @thebookjumper, @arrowlainie05, @pineprincess, @saebrfan, @olicityinmyheart, @razorbladenitro, @letsnevergrowupfan, @1106angel, @xflarrowbeforebloodx, @omglovechrissie, @benisa1608, @simonona-blog, @blindspot-fanatic, @hecatesan, @hope-for-olicity, @fangirlingkitten, @scandalnewbie

[heckin-good-holland-blog]

In Real Life

Request: 

Warnings: None!!

Pairing: Reader x Peter Parker

Genre: Fluff ~

Word Count: 2.7k holy moly

A/N: I'm so sorry this took like a million years but I hope you like it :D I'm thinking of making a part 2 so let me know what you guys think!! Also I didn’t get around to proofreading so if you see mistakes PLEASE let me know xx

Ever since middle school you had been watching your friends find dates and get into relationships. They teased you about being a third wheel sometimes, but you didn't mind. You did feel lonely once in a while without someone there to hold you, but you didn't feel that way very often. Even though technically you weren't dating anyone in real life, there was a boy thousands of miles away that had your heart. He was constantly texting, snapchatting, and even video calling you to the point where he knew more about you than your friends in real life did. You had the biggest crush on him and wished more than anything that you could see him in person one day.

You met Peter online, seeing his nerdy blog recommended for you and deciding to follow him. For a few days you just kind of liked each other's posts occasionally and that was it. That was up until you saw his post about the Avengers. Being a big fan of them, you built up the courage to shoot him a message and you two immediately hit it off. Peter knew a lot about all of the superheroes you idolized, which gave you plenty to talk about. As it turned out, Peter actually worked for Tony Stark. You almost didn't believe him, but the things he knew and said would have been impossible to make up.

Over time you and Peter got to be a lot closer. Even though you had never actually talked to him in person you felt as if he was your best friend in the whole world. Your feelings for him grew even more than that though and you eventually wound up being in a relationship. Peter actually asked you out during one of your traditional all-night Skype calls.

"I've got something I have to ask you," he said as he slid into frame on his rolling chair. He had his wireless headphones on underneath his hoodie and was busy trying to get his mic in the right place. He had a lot of nerdy technology stuff and was always finding new electronics to play with.

"Sure what's up?" you asked. You turned up the volume a little bit, butterflies filling your stomach. That happened a lot when Peter talked to you. Even though you loved seeing him and hearing his voice, you still preferred texting since he couldn't see the way that the things he did affected you. Luckily the lighting in your room was bad so he couldn't tell if you were blushing.

"Ok so," he said, letting out a long breath. "We've been talking for a while and uh... It's sorta weird isn't it? That we've never met? I mean I don't think that it is... Unless you do."

"I don't think it's weird at all," you replied. He nodded, his mouth curling up at the sides. He had a habit of hiding his smiles like that but you didn't really know why since his smile always made your day.

"How do you feel about trying a long distance relationships?" he asked suddenly, hiding his face from the camera by leaning over slightly. You were a little taken aback. Sure, you had been crushing on him but a confession like that was the last thing you were expecting.

"I-I think it's worth a shot," you said. "I mean, we talk more than a lot of the couples that I know... Besides, maybe we can finally meet soon."

"Wait, seriously?" he exclaimed, getting super close to the camera. You laughed and nodded.

"Let's do it!" you said. He grinned, unable to disguise the pure joy on his face. And that was that. You and Peter cared for each other so much that the distance didn't even matter. You started to forget that it was even strange to date someone online. Every time your phone went off your heart sped up since there was a high chance it was going to be Peter. Some nights you even cancelled your plans with friends just to call him.

Two years passed, and you were still going strong. One day after school you logged onto your computer to see if Peter was online when you noticed that you had a new email. You almost screamed when you read that it was from Stark Enterprises. Apparently there was a youth convention thing being held in New York and you had been selected to go. You reread the email at least 50 times before your parents got home and you practically recited the entire thing from memory as you begged them to let you go. It had always been a dream of yours to work for Tony Stark since you were really interested in science and, let's face it, you thought Iron Man was awesome. You were super jealous of Peter and his internship. Realization hit you like a truck as you were in the middle of guilt tripping your parents into letting you go.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed. "If it's in New York then that means... I could finally meet Peter!" Your mom and dad knew about your online relationship and although they were skeptical at first they ended up really liking Peter. You had let them talk to him a bit one day when he was on Skype and he made such a great impression that they absolutely loved him.

"I don't think there's any harm in letting you go," your mom finally said, giving in. "You did say that the airfare is payed for, right?"

"Yes!" you said quickly. "I just need food money and that's it."

"Alright, fine," your dad agreed and just like that you were going to New York. After some careful consideration you decided not to tell Peter right away. There was a part of you that was afraid of meeting him because you were scared that he wouldn't like you as much in real life. It was ridiculous since you'd been talking for so long, but you couldn't help but feel nervous. As the days went by and the trip got closer you felt more and more anxious.

When it was finally time to leave, you headed off to the airport by yourself. Your knees trembled as you entered the terminal and you spent the whole flight thinking about Peter. You tried to snap out of it since the real reason you were there was for the youth convention, but he was really the only thing on your mind. The two of you had talked many times about how great it would be when you met and you were just so terrified of letting him down.

After landing you hung around the airport for a while trying to figure out your next move. You decided to text Peter and try to catch up with him since you didn't have to go to Stark Tower until the next morning.

Heyo, what are you doing right now

He read it right away, the three dots that showed he was typing popping up.

Parker 💘: I'm doing some homework at that sandwich shop I talk about all the time. Sorry I can't call tonight, I gotta study

You grinned despite yourself. Peter talked about Mr. Delmar's shop constantly and had described it to you a million times. You flagged down a taxi and told them to take you there right away. Sure enough, when you arrived it looked exactly the way you had pictured it. You checked how you looked in your phone camera, fixing your hair a little before going inside. It smelled absolutely delicious, and you quickly scanned the small restaurant for Peter. Your heart fell when you didn't see anyone you recognized.

"Um hi," you said to the man working, thinking that as long as you were there you might as well get something to eat. "Can I have the number 5? With extra pickles?"

"Absolutely," he said with a friendly smile. He must have been Mr. Delmar.

"I have a question," you said timidly. "You wouldn't happen to have seen Peter Parker around recently, have you?" He looked at you for a moment before shaking his head.

"No, I haven't seen Peter in a few days," he replied. "Why? Do you know him?"

"Yeah I do," you said, blushing. "We... We're really close uh... friends."

"Ah, you his date?" he asked with a wink. "Pete's a good kid but if you ask me you're a little out of his league. He's a bit of a brat." You laughed as he handed you your sandwich.

"Good luck tracking him down," he said and waved as you left. You stood out on the street eating your food for a while, wondering why Peter had lied to you about where he was. Curious, you texted him again. It was just a short 'wyd?' but you felt weird about it. Maybe you seemed a little clingy but all you wanted was to see him. It took him a few minutes to respond, but when he did you were ready to read it right away.

Parker 💘: I'm at the library doing some work. Now's not a good time, sorry

You frowned, disappointment washing over you. He must have been really busy. You shoved your phone in your pocket and headed to your hotel, giving up on Peter for the time being.

The next morning you woke up early since you couldn't sleep. The excitement for the convention had kept you awake for a long time and you were really looking forward to the day. You got ready quickly and hopped into another cab to Stark Tower. When you arrived, there were loads of other kids your age funneling into a large lecture hall. You followed the crowd, finding a seat towards the back. After everyone had arrived and settled in a hush fell over the crowd. You looked up to see Tony Stark himself standing in the front. Forgetting everything about your troubles with Peter, you listened intently for the duration of the presentation.

Towards the end Tony had left and another guy was talking for a while. You saw your phone light up from inside your bag and against your better judgment you checked it to find a message from Peter.

Parker 💘: Hey! Tony's busy rn and I'm just waiting in the tower, do you want to call me?

You sucked in a breath, your heart pounding. Peter was here. You typed a response as best as you could with your shaking hands.

Where are you waiting?

Parker 💘: Um in a room in the west corridor. Why?

You didn't bother answering before stuffing your phone in your bag and rushing towards the door. A man was blocking the door since he must have been a security guard.

"I... I think I'm gonna puke," you lied. He wrinkled his nose but let you pass, and you practically ran through the door. It dawned on you that you had absolutely no idea where the west corridor was, so you just started wandering around. You walked all over the first floor but found nothing, so you climbed up a flight of stairs. You were almost to the top when you stopped dead. Tony Stark was standing before you and he looked very intimidating.

"Excuse me, kiddo. I don't think this is where you're supposed to be," he said. You were so shocked that you could only stare with your mouth open. You couldn't believe you were being scolded by your biggest inspiration.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered. "I was just l-looking for somebody-"

"There's someone else walking aimlessly around here?" he asked. "We can't have that, there's a lot of top secret stuff up here. We should go find them, do you know where they went?"

"No!" you said, panicking. "He... He works for you. He's my friend, I just wanted to see him." Tony considered this for a moment. He looked you up and down, his expression unreadable.

"Your friend..." he said as he turned away from you. "You said he works for me?"

"Yes! Yes, he told me he's part of an internship program here. He said he was waiting to talk to you about something and I thought that since I was here I'd try to go and see him. Of course I didn't really think that through because, as you said, there's a lot of top secret stuff and I shouldn't be-"

"Alright kid that's enough," Tony cut you off. You didn't realize you had been babbling so much and felt your face flush. He faced you again and you were surprised to see he was smiling.

"I think I know who you're talking about," he said. "Thanks for reminding me that I need to talk to him. Here, I'll lead you there if you swear not to walk around here by yourself again."

"I promise!" you exclaimed. He chuckled and started walking with you jogging behind him to keep up. It turned out you were going in the right direction and eventually you stopped in front of what appeared to be a break room of sorts. You stood shyly behind Tony, your nerves getting to you.

"Hey!" he said loudly to someone inside the room. "We need to talk. Before that though I ran into someone who I think you know." He moved over slightly so that you could see. There, sitting on the couch with his feet on the table was Peter. He was even more handsome than you thought he'd be. He wore his t-shirt with a joke about telekinesis that you loved so much along with a big flannel. He stood up when he saw you, knocking over the pile of books that sat on the table.

"Y/N?" he asked, his eyes wide. He was taller than you thought, with wider shoulders as well. One strand of his hair was loose and sat limply on his forehead. You felt your eyes begin to water and you nodded slowly. You looked away, feeling like you could burst into tears at any moment. A few seconds later you were being enveloped by his arms. You pressed your head against him and hugged him back, squeezing him gently. You had waited so long to feel his touch and you were scared that if you let go you'd never get it back. He pulled back a little, his arms moving around your waist.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. You looked up at him, trying to memorize the exact colors in his eyes and the freckles on his face.

"I... I was chosen for the youth convention and since it was in New York I came to see you," you told him. He was smiling from ear to ear and seeing him so happy made you even more emotional.

"You're so much more beautiful in person," he whispered as he pulled you in for another hug. You laughed, sniffing a little.

"Peter, I've been waiting for so long to meet you and I just..." You trailed off when he kissed your forehead, your breath hitching. He moved closer towards your lips and it was like everything was moving in slow motion.

You jumped suddenly when Tony cleared his throat from behind you, stumbling back a little.

"Oh crap, uh... sorry Mr. Stark," Peter said awkwardly. You were both suddenly very aware of his presence in the room and you quickly backed away from Peter feeling very embarrassed.

"Yeah, I'm only a little weirded out," he said. "Listen, I'm gonna go since I have a lot of stuff to do. Find me later or just call Happy, ok?"

"Y-yeah alright," Peter replied. "But what if Happy doesn't pick up?"

"I think you'll be a little preoccupied anyway," Tony said with a nod in your direction, causing your face to turn bright red. He smiled and walked away, leaving the two of you alone.

"I've looked up to him for so long and I admire him a lot, but I don't think I could have waited another second for him to leave," you said with a giggle.

"Well, we've waited this long, haven't we?"

[foodreceipe]

The Banana Trick and Other Acts of Self-Checkout Thievery

“Anyone who pays for more than half of their stuff in self checkout is a total moron.”

Rene Chun - The Atlantic

Beneath the bland veneer of supermarket automation lurks an ugly truth: There’s a lot of shoplifting going on in the self-scanning checkout lane. But don’t call it shoplifting. The guys in loss prevention prefer “external shrinkage.”                    

Self-checkout theft has become so widespread that a whole lingo has sprung up to describe its tactics. Ringing up a T-bone ($13.99/lb) with a code for a cheap ($0.49/lb) variety of produce is “the banana trick.” If a can of Illy espresso leaves the conveyor belt without being scanned, that’s called “the pass around.” “The switcheroo” is more labor-intensive: Peel the sticker off something inexpensive and place it over the bar code of something pricey. Just make sure both items are about the same weight, to avoid triggering that pesky “unexpected item” alert in the bagging area.                    

How common are self-scanning scams? If anonymous online questionnaires are any indication, very common. When Voucher Codes Pro, a company that offers coupons to internet shoppers, surveyed 2,634 people, nearly 20 percent admitted to having stolen at the self-checkout in the past. More than half of those people said they gamed the system because detection by store security was unlikely. A 2015 study of self-checkouts with handheld scanners, conducted by criminologists at the University of Leicester, also found evidence of widespread theft. After auditing 1 million self-checkout transactions over the course of a year, totaling $21 million in sales, they found that nearly $850,000 worth of goods left the store without being scanned and paid for.                    

The Leicester researchers concluded that the ease of theft is likely inspiring people who might not otherwise steal to do so. Rather than walk into a store intending to take something, a shopper might, at the end of a trip, decide that a discount is in order. As one retail employee told the researchers, “People who traditionally don’t intend to steal [might realize that] … when I buy 20, I can get five for free.” The authors further proposed that retailers bore some blame for the problem. In their zeal to cut labor costs, the study said, supermarkets could be seen as having created “a crime-generating environment” that promotes profit “above social responsibility.”                    

Whether out of social responsibility or frustration with shrinkage, some retailers, including Albertsons, Big Y Supermarket, Pavilions, and Vons, have scaled back or eliminated self-scanning, at least in some stores. But others continue to add it. Worldwide, self-checkout terminals are expected to number 325,000 by 2019, up from 191,000 in 2013. In some places, meanwhile, the likelihood of being punished for petty shoplifting is decreasing. Even if a manager wants to press charges, many police departments can’t be bothered with supermarket theft. In 2012, for example, the Dallas Police Department enacted a new policy: Officers would no longer routinely respond to shoplifting calls for boosts amounting to less than $50. In 2015, the threshold was raised yet again, to $100.                    

Perhaps it’s not surprising that some people steal from machines more readily than from human cashiers. “Anyone who pays for more than half of their stuff in self checkout is a total moron,” reads one of the more militant comments in a Reddit discussion on the subject.

“There is NO MORAL ISSUE with stealing from a store that forces you to use self checkout, period. THEY ARE CHARGING YOU TO WORK AT THEIR STORE.” Barbara Staib, the director of communications of the National Association for Shoplifting Prevention, believes that self-checkouts tempt people who are already predisposed to shoplifting, by allowing them to rationalize their behavior. “Most shoplifters are in fact otherwise law-abiding citizens. They would chase behind you to return the $20 bill you dropped, because you’re a person and you would miss that $20.” A robot cashier, though, changes the equation: It “gives the false impression of anonymity,” Staib says. “This apparently empowers people to shoplift.”                    

Which isn’t to say that all shoppers feel equally empowered. Frank Farley, a psychologist at Temple University, says that many supermarket thieves have what he calls Type-T (as in “thrill”) personalities: “Shopping can be quite boring because it’s such a routine, and this is a way to make the routine more interesting. These can be risk-taking, stimulation-seeking people.” According to this theory, some Type Ts become base jumpers or Mafia hit men, while others settle for swiping Brie and organic tomatoes from Safeway.              

https://getpocket.com/explore/item/the-banana-trick-and-other-acts-of-self-checkout-thievery?utm_source=pocket-newtab

This post originally appeared on The Atlantic and was published March 2, 2018.

[rdmfavcpls]

I Want The Truth

Title: I Want The Truth

Category: Digimon

Pairing: Possible Ami/Arata

Rating: T

Summary: Yukino Aiba is on a mission, the Central Hospital in Japan called stating that her daughter is a victim of EDEN Syndrome, but Kyoko told her that Ami is released and someone is messaging her using Ami’s digivice

Author’s Note: I don’t know if Japan’s hospitals are the same where a child is put into the hospital, the parents are notified, however, I found it strange that her mother wasn’t more informed. So didn’t a friend of mine. So this story takes place where Yukino is more involved.

Disclaimer: I do not owe any rights to the Digimon franchise

~~Story Begins~~

“My daughter is in a coma, I am going to go back to Japan for a week. I am using a week of my built up vacation for it,” Yukino Aiba spoke to her boss. “I need to see my daughter.”

“I’m afraid, we can’t do that,” her boss spoke over the internet call.

“I have enough vacation build up to where I can take five years off,” Yukino argued. “A week shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Ms. Aiba, I simply cannot allow you to - “

“I’m GOING to Japan for a week to see my DAUGHTER who is in a COMA,” Yukino restated with authority. “You WILL use a week of my vacation time to cover it.”

“How dare - “

“I can easily find another job,” Yukino bluntly told him. It wasn’t a secret that her stories was the only thing keeping her boss’ company skating by. As soon as other programs heard the news that she was no longer working with this company, she will have new coverage stations and shows running to get her to join their team. She has that big of a fanbase internationally and her stories have helped out so many people in the world.  “You don’t scare me.”

“Too bad, you’re fired,” the boss said.

“Excellent, you’ll be hearing from my lawyers,” Yukino said ending the call.

Two years without having a day off, a cut in the paycheck that she wasn’t notified about, harassment and discrimination, and now not letting her use a week of her vacation to go home due to a medical emergency that dealt with her daughter, her only family member in fact. This company that she stayed with due to loyalty will have no choice but to surrender to her.

She paid for a ticket back to Japan as she called her lawyer, “Hello, Mr. Soujo, do you still have all the evidence for my case?”

“Yes, why?”

“Think you can add unlawful termination and another case of discrimination to the list? I’ll send you the recording.”

“Of course, what’s the new discrimination case?”

“Not letting me have a week off to see my daughter who is in a coma.”

“I’m terribly sorry about that, however, if Ami is anything like you, she’ll make it through,” Mr. Soujo said. “However, I will not put that on the discrimination case.”

“Why not?”

“Too lenient on the charges, they could buy their way through it. No, I will add that to the failure of complying with the MLA Act of ‘25 that was passed in Japan stating that a company must allow an employee time off to be with an immediate family in time of crisis. I’m assuming you tried to use vacation and they refuse?”

“Yes.”

“That will go your case of back pay. So, what would you like to do with this case?”

“All the way to the court, no bargaining either. The world needs to know the truth about this company and those in charge. When I get back to Japan, I’ll do some research, see who else is working for them and I’ll give them a part of the money that I’ll win.”

“Of course,” Mr. Soujo said.

She talked with him a few more minutes before hanging up and calling another international TV station. “Hello, this is Yukino Aiba and I was wondering if that position you offered me is still available?”

“...”

“Yes, I am interested in it.”

“…”

“Great, you already have an assignment for me? “

“...”

“I can’t. It takes place in Japan?”

“...”

“Eden Syndrome?” Yukino thought about it. That’s what the hospital said Ami was suffering from. “I accept. I’m heading back to Japan now. Will it be okay if I meet with you after I see my daughter? She’s a victim of EDEN Syndrome too.”

Yukino smiled as the other line offered their condolences and said it would be okay and offered to give her some time to spend with her daughter. “No, I’ll still work since I will be back at home and not abroad. She wouldn’t want me to mope around the whole time. Thank you.”

Yukino boarded the plane two hours later and waited impatiently as she headed back to Japan.

When she arrived in Japan, she instantly headed to Tokyo then to the Central Hospital, just passing by Shinjuku, five minutes before the Digital Shift happen, eight minutes before Ami and Arata started exploring the Digital Shift.

Yukino saw her daughter through the glass which she placed a hand against, “I’ll find the reason why this is happening and I’ll find a cure, I promise,” she said to her daughter.

Weeks passed and Yukino was investigating the Akihabara Disappearances, her reporter instincts knew a story and this was quite the story. An original work that had influences was being credited as a fan story, the author got bullied and had insults of them being a terrible person stealing someone else’s work and crediting it as their own. Those were the first people to disappear and Yukino was curious as to why the police wasn’t investigating it. Bribery? Blackmail?

She’ll look into it later after she decides on what her next story will be, the hacker group known as Judes or the Japan police force. Obvious to Yukino, the police force was corrupted with a few good detectives on the team.

There was a purple light, the world went black before returning to a warped space. She did see one of the people that went missing and tried to speak to them.

“Hello? I’m Kino from anchor news station, can you -” the person obviously wouldn’t respond. They were as still a statue so Yukino caught off her own question and looked around the environment that she was in now. “Where am I now?”

“You are still in Akihabara, dear,” a voice said from her behind her. She turned around and glared at Akemi Suedo. A face she was hoping to never see again. “I was not expecting you to be here, Yukino.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see your face ever again, Akemi,” Yukino replied poison laced within her voice.

“Ah..yes..well, where a Digital Shift happens, I’ll be there.”

“Digital Shift?” Yukino knows she’s been gone from Japan for a while but all the new stories that she could be covering keep making her list grow longer.

“The reality world is being affected by Digital Waves thus causing a shift to happen,” Suedo explained. “We are in one now.”

“Mari? Mair!” a voice yelled close by.

“How many people can enter these Digital Shifts?” Yukino asked.

Akemi shrugged, “Whoever has the bravery to enter it I guess. I never thought about that before. However, I see that my two young acquaintances are here,” he said. “Your daughter has grown up beautifully.”

Yukino’s eyes flashed as she sneered at him. “You leave my daughter alone. You had a chance to be - “

“Suedo I’m not surprise to see you here, but the famous reporter Kino? That’s new,” the boy said shoving his hands in his pockets.

Yukino looked to his companion and her eyes went wide, so didn’t his companion. Her daughter was standing right there, right next to the young man.

How is that possible? Her daughter is still in a coma caused by EDEN Syndrome. She visited her this morning!

Ami shook her head once, she seemed just as surprise to seeing her as well. The head shake was a sign not to give anything away, a sign language that they created when Ami was a child so Yukino could escape dates easily or if Yukino was really into a guy and didn’t want too much information given away. So her companion doesn’t know about Ami being a victim of EDEN Syndrome.

The conversation happened between the three, well mostly between the two boys. Yukino and Ami just sort of took a step back upon hearing all the technical terms. Yukino watched as the two teenagers leave, Ami poking the man’s shoulder. A sign for Yukino that Ami will message her and explain more in person.

The two Aibas did have a very complicated sign language but it got the points across without it being too obvious.

So, hours later, after receiving a message from Ami to come to Kuremi Agency. Yukino found herself sitting in Kyoko’s office as Ami sat on the other couch with Kyoko, because she was a client.

“So, you have a cyber body?” Yukino questioned.

“Yes, it’s weird, but no one truly knows about it,” Ami explained. “The one who might have an idea is Yuuko Kamishiro, but I don’t think she’s put the facts together yet.”

“I see, I guess that makes sense now,” Yukino spoke as everything came into place. No one was lying to her about her daughter’s condition, it was just complicated and the facts were hidden. “You are looking into the connections of EDEN Syndrome and Kamishiro Enterprise as well?”

“Yes, there is no doubt about it that they are connected,” Kyoko said.

“So Mom, why are you back in Japan?” Ami questioned. “I thought you was in Italy?”

So, Yukino explained her side of the story to the two.

“Finally!” Ami exclaimed.

“That is quite interesting, the fact that you are investigating EDEN Syndrome along with doing side reports. I’ll be happy to share some of the information we have already gathered with you.”

“I think I’m caught up to date if not more,” Yukino said causing the two detectives to look at her. “However, more importantly, who was that young man you was with, Ami?”

Ami tensed up and looked away, “Arata Sanada, one of my online friends that I met recently.”

“That’s what I thought,” Yukino mumbled quietly as she watched her daughter try to hide a blush. Even when Ami was little, she had a huge crush on him, not that Ami remembers it.

Months passed and the Tokyo Blackout happened than the disappearances of Ms. Rei Kishine. Suedo kept in contact with Yukino much to Ami’s confusion and Yukino knows she wants to ask, ‘Is he my father?’ but Ami knows now is not the time to ask. Yukino knows Ami deserves the truth over what happened to her father, but she can’t bring herself to tell her.

She was walking to Shinjuku Station late at night and spotted Arata Sanada sitting there sleeping. She remembers hearing about it on the news and Ami asking her for help on what to do, but he’s a fugitive now.

She slightly nudged his side with her foot, she wanted to talk to him but she knows, learned, that information doesn’t come free. She doesn’t want to ask him why he’s a fugitive, she knows from Kyoko, Ami, and Suedo himself so she got both sides of the spectrum.

He wakes up slowly before freezing once seeing her, “Get up and follow me. We need to talk.”

“How do I know you won’t turn me in?” Arata questioned.

“I could have left you asleep, but I didn’t.” Yukino said. “Besides, I want information that only you can give me. In exchange, you can get food and a warm bed without the fear of getting caught with me.”

“What type of information?”

“Judes.”

“How did you -”

“I’m a reporter, I have connections,” Yukino said nudging his side with her foot again. “Come on, let’s go. I would much rather wait until morning before I start getting the information and I’m sure you would like a comfortable bed.”

Arata followed her after getting up, he was warily about this reporter. She seems to know that old man on a personal level, the fact that she knows about Judes and how he’s related to it, so he’s going to play dumb and follow that saying, ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.’

“In price for your information, you can spend three days at my house, avoid windows, and don’t answer the phone, doors, or your digivice. You’ll also get warm food and a bed. Needless to say, my food won’t be as good as my daughter’s but it’s still warm.”

“Won’t your daughter get suspicion?”

“I’ll tell her not to come over for three days, she understands that I deal with shady people some times so when I tell her not to come over, it’s usually in her safety.”

Arata quickly got in the back seat of her car where the windows were tinted. “It seems like this isn’t your first time dealing with a fugitive?”

“No, not by a long shot,” Yukino said getting into the driver seat. “You are actually the easiest fugitive to follow me.”

“I’m still learning.”

Yukino smiled. She wanted information over the Judes and over being a hacker. Even if he couldn’t provide the information she needed for her story, she would still take care of him, Just to help put her daughter's mind at ease. She would save the information later for a different new story, she’s still working on the Akibara Disappearance side story.

After the defeat of Examon, Yukino spotted Eater Arata and went up to him.

“Are you happy?” she asked causing the boy to turn around and face her. “Is the Arata Sanada happy?”

“Of course, I’m happy. I have all this power. I can save my friends.”

“With power comes responsibility,” Yukino said. “I know what Suedo did is wrong but -”

“You knew?” Arata asked outraged.

Of course she knew, Ami was forced to forget the past eight years, five years of her dating Suedo was such an excellent father to Ami even though she wasn’t his child, two of those years overlapped with the EDEN Beta Test. With her daughter being a victim of memory locked by at the time her fiance, how could she not know?

“Of course, I’m a reporter, it’s my job to uncover the dark truth,” she responded with instead. Arata tried to imitate her holding his Eater hand up in front of her but she just crossed her arms. “She’s worried about you.”

“I know a lot of ‘she’s’,” he commented with a snicker.

“Oh, but you know exactly what she I am talking about,” Yukino said and watched as the red eyes turned grey for a millisecond before returning red. “Mind if I give you a warning?”

“Are you going to lecture me over my choices?”

“No. She hits hard.” Short and simple, the message was clear and vague. Yukino wanted the message like that, to give him somewhat of a warning but to also still have the element of surprise. She walked away from him, not fearing Arata would eat her. She wasn’t digital and he wasn’t powerful enough, close, but not quite there.

She watched from the roof of the Tokyo Metropolis Building as Arata rubbed his cheek as he spoke to Ami. She made herself known as she joined them. She was focused on Suedo and she was going to make sure she was heard.

“You’ll bring all five children back safely, won’t you, Suedo?” she asked.

“N-n-no way?” Nokia said. “The famous Kino is here too?”

Suedo scratched his head, “I’m not much of a fighter, you should know this Yukino.”

“Obviously, the children can take care of themselves and each other,” Yukino stated. “But don’t you want to fix the mistakes? Yuugo could have been saved if you didn’t seal their memories.”

“You knew?” Yuuko asked.

“Along with other previous mistakes,” Suedo spoke. “I’ll make sure the ones who aren’t data return safely. The two that are data, I can’t make any promises.”

“You have no shame,” Yukino said so badly wishing she could be as bold as her daughter and punch the scientist.

“OMG! Just kiss!” Nokia shouted causing the two adults to blink. “Sexual tension is bad for you and we can feel it over here!”

“Nokia!” Yuuko exclaimed.

“What’s sexual tension?” Omnimon asked.

“No! No! No!” Arata spoke shaking his head. “That doesn’t put a good image in my mind.”

Alphamon laughed as the reporter turned to look at them, “You humans, never fail to surprise. I expected Ami to have that reaction, not you Arata.”

“Huh?” Nokia questioned. “Why would Ami have that reaction?”

“You two dated for a time, didn’t you?” Ami asked her mother. “I remember memories of me being little and Suedo taking you and me out on dates, he also asked for my permission before you two started officially dating, I think.”

“I told you that she grew up beautifully,” Suedo said scratching his head. “Observant, just like you.”

“Anyway, I do know that you two kissed so much I became immune to it,” Ami said. “Possibly the reason as to why I am never jealous when I see couples.” She pointed at her mother and at Suedo, “The two of you never could keep your hands off of each other. It’s a wonder I’m still an only child.”

“That’s enough out of you,” Yukino said placing her hand on Ami’s head and pushing down on it gently, glaring at her laughing daughter.

“Aw, how cute. You two are blushing,” Alphamon said laughing herself. “Let’s create a new blend of coffee for this moment. How does coffee with chili peppers, dragonfruit, and black bean paste sound?”

“Are you crazy?” Nokia asked.

“Ah, that’s right. You preferred the wasabi in it,” Alphamon said thinking.

Ami got away from her mother and started pushing Arata away, “You have a case for me, right?”

Arata quickly got the message and walked with Ami towards the elevator, “Yeah, of course.”

They entered the elevator and Yukino looked at Suedo. “You had better make sure that all five of them returned, that’s including Ami.”

“There is a large amount of uncertainly, I cannot give you-”

“You WILL bring my daughter back to me,” Yukino spoke. “Five years of dating me, three years being engaged, you know how much Ami means to me! You know that she’s the only family I have left!”

“Ami is your only family?” Yuuko asked surprised. Maybe that was why Ami wanted a connection with her, because they each only have one family member left in their life.

In the elevator going down to the lobby, Arata was still rubbing his cheek.

“Does it still hurt?” Ami questioned.

“It stings a bit, how are you not feeling it?” Arata asked back.

“Possibly because I’m data. I can’t feel any physical pain but I can feel my Digimon’s pain.”

“Makes sense. Damn, your mother warned me too that you hit hard.” Arata leaned back against the railing behind him as they kept going down. “Your mom is really nice, though I really didn’t need all of those images you gave us.”

“You think I wanted them when I was at the age where I didn’t want any cooties?” Ami asked. “However, how do you know my mom is nice?”

“She gave me a place to stay for three days with warm food for information over Judes and being a hacker. Said it was for a story. If I would’ve known you was her daughter -”

“You honestly didn’t think I wasn’t there,” Ami said. “My mom’s cooking is good but there is a reason as to why I can handle some of the coffee blends Alphamon makes. The food you ate was definitely not from my mother.”

“You fixed those dishes than?”

“Every single one. I highly doubt you wanted to try my mom’s weird flavor experiments that don’t work 75% of the time,” Ami said giggling. The elevator doors opened and they walked out. “Mom also did it to help put me at ease.”

Months later, EDEN Syndrome was known as a cyberterrorist attack but six people knew better. Yukino looked at her daughter who was still in a coma, the last one to awake. “Don’t you think you’ve worried your friends enough? It’s time for you to wake up.”

Blue eyes slowly opened and stared at the ceiling as Yukino called to staff to let them know that Ami was finally awake.

“This is one story where the truth will stay in the shadows, away from the people’s attention,” Yukino said to herself.

~~The End~~

[toauw]

LEAVE YOUR FRIENDS AT HOME, YOU’LL COME BACK WITH MORE

If you honestly ask me why I specifically went to Los Angeles, CA for my 24th birthday, I’ll give you the straight answer. It was the farthest place in the continental United States that I had any interest in visiting. A friend that worked for an airline told me they had access to discounted flights anywhere in the “lower 48”. With that discount, plus the fact that I had a friend who was willing to accommodate me for a few days, it became the cheapest option for a quick getaway. I didn't decide to go there for a concert, I had no special objectives, it wasn't a business trip, No. It was just far, and cheap.

I booked the flight about two months in advance, and waited patiently for my departure. I was slated to go away from October 4th to the 9th, so I could come back home and get situated for my birthday on Oct 12th. There was nothing spectacular about the dates I chose, I just wanted the end of the week, and the weekend. When it was finally time to leave, I found myself in a financial crunch due to a car accident I was in about three weeks before. My pockets were less healthy than I expected them to be, and when I came back I had a huge financial expense waiting for me. Something to the tune of $1,500. It wasn't looking good for me, but I already made the purchase, and I knew I would regret staying home instead of trying to make the best of what I had.

As I left my house on the morning of the 4th, I thought about the upcoming week and what kind of shenanigans I would get into. After all, did I mention I was pretty much going alone? I had one real friend in LA, and I hadn't seen her in years. In fact, I never spent time with her in real life before she left to hit the west coast. I was technically going to stay with a stranger I barely knew from highschool, that I only corresponded with online. In addition to that she had work on some of the days that I’d be there, and wouldn't be able to spend much time with me either way. I’d be by myself most of the time, and I didn't know how I’d feel about that. We arrived at the airport and I got out of the car, thanking my dad for the ride. I hadn't gone away in a while, and usually when I did, it was with another family member. I had no fear of traveling alone, but it was different. I walked into the airport, and got on the check-in line despite having checked in digitally on my phone. Amatuer move. After that line snaked to the front and I got my boarding passes, I headed over to TSA where there was a line developing, snaking around the corner. I got to the corner, realized that the line was way longer than expected…

...and promptly skipped everyone.

I felt terrible, but the devastation of waiting behind an extra 35 people broke my heart. Someone tried to tell me the line formed back “there” and pointed to the sad waiting souls, but I acted like I didn't hear them and moved on forward. Horrible, I know. I’m typically all about fairness and doing the right thing, but for some reason I didn't care. Feeling the hateful stares of all those fellow travellers on the back of my neck, I followed the course of the line and went through TSA. Delighted that nobody snitched, but still ashamed, I waited until I boarded the plane.

The flights there were uneventful, but easy. I listened to music and continued writing my second novel. 8 hours after taking off, I arrived in LAX at 12PM.

I contacted my friend, who I’ll refer to as Mya, and made my way towards her. She was rather far from where I exited, and I had to do a bit of walking on airport grounds. Off rip, when I exited the terminal, I was immediately alarmed by how much the real thing resembled San Andreas and GTA 5! Although real Los Angeles obviously came first, I was familiar with it entirely from playing Grand Theft Auto as a preteen and young adult. When I finally got to her, we hugged each other for the first time ever, and made a joke about how long it took me to get out. The ride home was even more surreal as I started seeing familiar landmarks and the iconic, beachy palm-tree-lined streets of LA. It was rather nerdy of me, but I felt like I knew where I was, as if it wasn't my first time being there!I had ran those streets for years, and it all matched up in my head. We talked about what kind of things I should do while I was there, and came to the conclusion that she would only be able to spend one or two days hanging out with me. Between work and prior obligations, she would be too busy to show me around. I’d be rolling solo. On the way home we had California’s famous In-N-Out, and that was elite for the price.

Her home, while nice, wasn't in the most accessible place, and it’d be a 40 minute drive to get anywhere particularly interesting. The first day consisted of me catching up on sleep, hanging out at the house, and looking for people to connect with while I was out there. I met her roommate, and we all got pretty well acquainted. We made a store run and prepped for the rest of the week.

I mentioned looking for people to connect with, something that’d be important if I was going to enjoy myself in the slightest. I didn't want to be a plain old tourist for 4 days, that’d be boring as hell. I prepped before I headed out there, and asked my facebook friends if they had any connects for me, and a few of them came through. I had about 2 solid people to meet up with, and I was scoping for more. I immediately remembered that a good friend of mine had recently visited LA and seemed to have a great time. I contacted him, then hit instagram and looked through my feed for any familiar faces that lived in LA. Being that he was a photographer, he would have tagged his models, so I checked his page and lo and behold, there were about 6 people I could reach out to. Yea, it was a little weird, because I was a stranger asking to hang out, only using a small connection through my friend to validate my personality as a whole. They could all potentially look at the messages, and leave me on seen. If that happened, I’d end up a tourist doing tourist crap for the whole weekend, alone at that. Luckily three of them responded, and we talked about meeting up later that week. With three new numbers from instagram, and two friends from facebook to meet, I felt comfortable about not being by myself. Communicating One of the girls and I made plans to meet the next day, and I let Mya know what I had planned to do.

I spent a part of our 45 min trip to West Hollywood talking to Mya about how she should be a more aggressive driver. I kept getting tired of people boxing her out of traffic when she needed to change lanes, and her getting the short end of the stick. She was a competent driver, just not as assertive as her real life personality was. Something I noticed about Los Angeles driving culture that I thought was funny, was how much they respect pedestrians, and generally don't take gaps in traffic to get where they’re going. Funny enough it seemed like everyone picked a lane, and stayed in it. Aside from the obvious speeders, everyone was pretty much cruising. The driving style of those around me felt timid and nervous in comparison to the wild streets of Manhattan.

When we arrived, she parked in a fancy parking lot overlooking a large part of the city. I was impressed by how spread out everything was. It was my first real taste of how large the city really was, something I’d come to learn in the next few days. I walked her to work and parted ways without going in. Standing on Sunset Boulevard, somewhere I was familiar with in theory, I started walking. Amazed at how much it all really looked like GTA again, I quickly decided to search for something to do. Like an idiot I wore jeans, not respecting the LA weather forecast. I was overheating already, and I hadn't been outside for 20 minutes. I walked to some shade, and decided to find somewhere interesting to go. Hollywood Boulevard with all the stars on the floor was 10 minutes away, and I figured that was as good a place as any to start my journey. I called the first of many Ubers, and coordinated my pickup. Within 15 minutes, I was wandering along Hollywood boulevard. This was the first place being by myself really hit me. I saw the street performers acting like famous Hollywood characters. As I walked past Maverick from Top Gun, and Captain Jack Sparrow, I noticed something. Typically, when you’re out with squad you tap your friends and point to that funny thing you see across the street, or maybe you mention a fancy car you think they’d be interested in. There was none of that. Whatever it was that I observed, unless it was worth me stopping to take a picture, only stuck with me. The first thing I noticed about that, is that things weren’t innately funny, but rather interesting. When there’s no one to bounce jokes off of, you tend not to laugh as much. One I realized that, whenever something did make me audibly laugh, I appreciated it that much more. Walking along the boulevard, I stopped to get some cheap alcohol, and put it in a slushie I bought.

I figured it might make everything more enjoyable, and open up my personality. I finished that rather quickly, as I tend to do with all alcohol, and continued about my business. One of the girls that I was in contact with finally got back to me, and we coordinated to hang out. She was at her friend’s house, in Koreatown. I headed over in a lyft line, and waited for her to get back to me. After waiting 10 minutes for her to check her instagram, she finally got back to me and told me the room number to get in. When I made my way upstairs, I entered a typical college roommate scene. In the midst of a studio scattered with clothes, and shoes, were two pretty young women, one with colorful hair and the other with longer straight blonde tresses. They were both very nice, and apologized for the room being in disarray. I reassured them that my room was probably worse, if not just as bad. We’re all young creatives, nothing to be ashamed about. We naturally went into conversation about the differences between LA and NY, and what we thought about both. I hadn’t had much time to really experience the city, but from what I saw it was definitely a major change of pace. Looking at LA’s huge open spaces, visibly rich and wealthy lifestyle, and beachy” always-summer” vibe, as compared to New York’s harsh, condensed, edgy toughness, it was easy to point out the differences. As the conversation continued, I started to see the similarities in us, despite the 2,500 miles that separated our homes. Young black creatives, trying to make their names in cities that didn't yet care about them. Around this time, two more house guests came in, and I introduced myself to them as well. As they got settled in and continued conversation with us, I noticed the level of friendship this group shared. Despite being from different backgrounds and neighborhoods, they seemed like a small family. It was fun to watch the dynamics between them as an outsider, just taking it all in. From jokes about flat butts, to one pointing out how pretty the other was, it was all positive. I may have been tired, and not the most active participant in their conversation, but I genuinely enjoyed my time with them. The group decided listening to music on a phone wasn't enough, and chose to get a bluetooth speaker from a nearby store. We all got up together, and walked a few blocks to the spot where they bought a $25 bluetooth speaker. When we got back, they turned it up and the fun really began. They started drinking, and playing music I’ve never heard before, most likely from underground west coast rappers. Another friend I had been told to contact on instagram came in the room, and we introduced ourselves. One of his first statements when he came in the room was about the new bluetooth speaker, and how “that shit don't slap”. I was weak. It was somewhat refreshing to hear how they supported their local artists, something I think NY struggles with, but that's another topic for another day. As the night continued and the drinks they shared with me started kicking in, and I was getting tired. Somehow I dozed off like the old man I am, and I woke up to see everyone getting settled in. At that moment it dawned on me. Not only were they great friends that hung out together, more than the original two of them lived together. I recognized a familiar situation that I didn't see reflected in their happiness. They weren’t living the LA dream by any means, but they were happy, and they were making it work with that they had at the time. Everyone in that room was a positive, fun, creative soul, working together to keep it together. Based on the brotherhood, sisterhood, scrappiness and happiness I saw in that room, I know all of them will be out of there and on their own feet in no time. I woke up to a phone call from my friend, who said she was outside waiting for me to go home. I said my goodbyes, and told them I’d see them again.

I fell asleep on the drive home, and woke up at the complex, ready start preparing for my next day.

The next morning we decided to get breakfast at a local spot called Beep’s, which I’m only mentioning to say that it was one of the best breakfast deals I’ve ever encountered. Pancakes, French Toast, Sausages, bacon, regular toast, AND Home fries for $8.99. Amazing.

As we ate, Mya told me about her plans to go hiking, something I’d never done before. There was a popular trail that everyone visited, but we decided to go to a farther more peaceful one that apparently ended with a waterfall. We went to pick up her ex boyfriend from the train station downtown, which took long enough, then headed towards the canyon. I knew her ex from the internet, but never met him before then. As we drove up north, we all got acquainted, and familiar. Hiking was rather strenuous, but nothing insane. Along the 3 mile walk through the valleys of Altadena, CA, I recognized how peaceful the effects of nature were, if you weren't scared of the little rustling of small animals in nearby bushes. Once you got over the irrational fear of being attacked by mountain lions and poisonous snakes, you could really settle in, take a deep breath, and appreciate how untouched it all was. Another thing I recognized while I was out there, was how little I was. While I spend hours and hours in Manhattan among buildings hundreds of stories high, it never occurred to me how little I was in the grand scheme of things. There's nothing specifically human sized in the wilderness. It was all very humbling. If I got lost out there, or tripped over a cliff, I was done for. It wasn't made for me, I was merely a visitor. A speck on this vast planet, trying to enjoy it and experience it while I had the time and energy.   

I won't say I particularly had fun hiking, but I appreciated it. The views, the discoveries, The challenge, the open space, and the fresh air. It’s something I think everyone should try at least once.

When we got back home, we decided to go out and find a party. Mya and her ex decided on a party, and we got dressed up to go. It was a pajama party but you could show up in anything. I would’ve wore pajamas if I could, but I didn't have any, and I realized that it would limit me if I wanted to go elsewhere. When we got there, I immediately knew I wasn't going to enjoy myself. Everyone there was at least 30, and while I’m not opposed to partying with older people, it wasn't the scene I envisioned. I really just wanted to be around people my age, and do 24 year old stuff. No soul train lines, no line dancing, no cupid shuffle. I’m refused to resign to old age that easily. I will admit I had a noticeable attitude, because I paid $15 to get in anyway, but within 20 minutes of being there, I couldn't take it anymore. I started looking for other parties, and found something free not too far away. I told them I was leaving, and bounced on my own. Another lesson. At the point where I was too annoyed to stay there anymore, I recognized a lesson that I would keep coming across on my adventure. It's one lesson but there are two points.

If you don't like something, only you can change it.

You are in charge of your own happiness.

These two lessons in conjunction helped me form the rest of my experiences while away. One without the other doesn't equate to much, they have to be used together.

When I arrived at the next spot, I went in, only to find a completely different club experience than I had found on the flyer. They were playing a mix of electronic dance music, and pop in a rather small venue. The party I had anticipated was advertising Hip Hop, Dancehall, and other associated genres. I was confused and a little annoyed. I just spend $14 on top of the $15 I spent at the other one, to find out I was at the wrong place. I didn't understand how, because the address was right, and the date was correct. I sat down, and contemplated what I’d do. I went outside, because I didn't know what else to do, and asked someone if anything else was going on tonight. Nobody in the immediate vicinity knew of anything, so I decided to go back inside. While opening the door to go in, about 3 beautiful women I hadn't seen inside the first time came out. They didn't go in behind me, and I didn't see them before. There had to be more to the party somewhere. I went in determined to find what I came for, and found a somewhat hidden hallway in the back of the venue. When I rounded the corner, there it was. Glorious black people, 15 feet down through the hallway, I heard a classic Jay-Z hit, and felt right at home.

I got comfortable and bought a drink which I promptly finished. I think the bartender noticed how fast I finished it, because within two minutes she put up another and said it was on the house! I gave her the last $3 I had in my pocket and thanked her. I walked away smiling and finished that one quickly too. With two drinks in my system, I got into the groove of the party, and started enjoying myself a bit more. Looking around, I saw a lady I was interested in, and gathered the courage to make my move. I can't even say I remember what I said to her, but I quickly found out they weren't the magic words. As soon as the immediate conversation died, her friend came and took her away. I was so happy with myself for even doing that, that it didn't matter what the outcome was. I was cool with the calm L. Getting back to enjoying the party and my environment, I saw that it was slowly dying out, and decided to see how Mya and Ex were doing. They had asked me how my party was, and I explained that it was dying, but I’d look for something else to do. I went outside and asked if anyone knew of any after-parties, because it seemed like all the lowkey spots closed at 2. I approached a mixed group with a black and hispanic girl, and asked if they knew about any house parties that still might be going on. Luckily, one of the girls knew of something, and told me an address, and someone to contact at the house when I got there.

I told Mya to link me and head there, and she did.

When we got there, I was supposed to find Angel, a tall Mexican guy with blonde hair. I figured shouldn't be hard to find, so I walked up and paid my dues. They gave me two drink tickets with my entry, so I was pleased with that. Mya and Ex chose to sit outside in the car until I figured out if it was worth staying, so I was alone again. Once I walked in, there were a couple college girls in weird clothes dancing, and a guy making drinks. Nothing too hot. I immediately went to the guy with the drinks and cashed in my ticket. I was going to get what I paid for, whether I needed it or not. I went to the backyard and saw a warm weather house party type scene. A fire pit, a couple benches, and a canopy with people sitting under it.

I found a seat, and listened to what was going on. One guy with long hair was recounting conspiracy theories, and a girl was braiding his hair as he spoke. It was all very funny to see similar scenes from my NY summer nightlife played out in a completely different setting. Before long I remembered that Mya and her Ex were outside, still waiting on me!

I got up, cashed in my second drink ticket, and left the spot with two cups. I was poured up well, and experienced an LA house party, a check off my list. Mya drove us home, and I caught some alcohol induced Z’s.

Another day down, ready for the next.

One of my new friends invited me to a music festival the day before, and said he would meet me there at 3. I took the ride to the city with Mya around 2. I did the same this as the day before and wandered for a while, taking pictures of things I found cool, before checking the time and heading towards the festival.

I got to the festival, and showed them my confirmation. I entered into a walled complex with graffiti all over, art everywhere, and vendors with tables wherever they could fit. There was a food stand in the back, and carnival style games on the sides. It was truly an amazing environment with the opportunity for fun everywhere.

It was 3, and my connect was nowhere to be found. I figured I would walk around and try to look at the vendors while I waited for him and the squad to arrive. While perusing through their wares, I found this asian guy with a dope clothing line, and decided to buy a shirt. We decided on $15, and I got my only souvenir for the entire trip. After walking around for another 20 minutes, I naturally got bored, and turned to my phone, something I was trying to avoid. Still no word from my friends, and it was 4. I tried to enjoy the acts for a bit, but I wasn't really feeling it that much, so I went to find somewhere to charge my phone. I hadn't plugged it in for most of the day and it was dying.

I found a room with strobe lights near the back of the complex, and sat down next to a power strip. There were 3 or 4 girls sitting around it, and I introduced myself to them, because I was in very close vicinity. There was no way not to say something. They all lived in LA, and one of them was working with an artist there I had never heard of. Sooner or later they left, and I was alone again. It dawned on me that I wasn't actually supposed to be back there, but no one had stopped me. There was a lapse in security, and I was backstage in the green room! Not recognizing anyone on the flyer for the event, I wasn't super hype to be there, but it was kind of cool knowing I wasn't supposed to be there. A few minutes after I realized, a guy in all black started laying out a big banner, and putting brackets up to hang it from. He wasn't struggling, but he was moving a bit slowly, and could use some help. I asked if he wanted assistance, and he happily agreed. I got down and started helping him with zip ties, and best figuring out how to hang the banner most appropriately. A small frantic lady came through, and checked out our work.

She looked at him, then looked at me, and asked me who I was. I told her I was just sitting down and decided to help out, and her face lit up. She shook my hand, and said, “idk who you are but I’m going to take care of you. I’m busy but give me some time. She left with her little entourage, shouting instructions to people, and answering questions. Me and the real worker took about 10 - 15 minutes to do it, and stood it up. It was lopsided, and not centered. Off to the side by around 5 feet, we had to do it again. After taking another 20 minutes cutting it down and doing it again, she came back and told me I would get a backstage pass with VIP access to everything and the option to take as many dabs as I wanted.

I got the VIP pass but didn't put it on my neck. I didn't want any unnecessary questions I couldn't answer coming my way, although looking back at it, that could have helped me socialize.

It was 5 and my friend still wasn't there. Around this time, my lesson from earlier had shown up again. I was there, not really enjoying myself, and only I could change my situation. I didn't even know if they were coming, but I couldn't rely on them to make it fun for myself. I decided to get more proactive, and start speaking to whoever I felt was interesting. Without the help of alcohol, I really had get out of my head, and make the moves on my own. It wasn't easy, and I quickly came to the conclusion that whoever said “Alcohol is liquid courage” wasn't lying. I felt like I could use it, but I was happy with the challenge of having to socialize without it. After speaking to people here and there, I found out I was way more comfortable communicating with strangers than I had ever thought I’d be. At first it was very hard to get over the initial hump of saying Hi, but I got used to it.

As time dragged on, I enjoyed some performances, bounced in and out of the backstage area, and awaited word from my friend. They finally showed up at 8, 5 hours later than I was expecting them. By then I was already over the atmosphere, and I was only there because there still performances left, and they just showed up.

We met up and I chastised them for being so damned late. They stranded me for 5 hours without any friends, which was initially a curse but turned into a little blessing. I discovered that I could spend a significant time alone, something I never really did, and make something of it. I had met a few artists in the most natural way possible, and talked to all the girls I thought were interesting enough to warrant the effort. They showed me, someone who’s always around people I know, that I could spend time by myself, and meet new people without it being a huge ordeal. Before that day, I never really spoke to random people in public without a reason. This time, I noticed that the reason doesn't have to be solid, but literally because I wanted to. Typically I have friends everywhere I go in NY, and not having that put me in somewhat of a compromising position. It pushed me out my comfort zone, and trust me. I’ve been VERY comfortable. What I learned is that the hardest part is starting. Once you get over the initial hump of saying hi, you’re in and you can let whatever social skills you have take over. Talking to people you're interested in dating is more complicated, but once again, that's another topic.

With my friends finally there and the main performers up, I started having fun and enjoying the music. It was really nice, there was a tribute for a local rapper, slain in unnecessary violence, and you could definitely feel the solidarity and respect for him in the room. I didn't live there, but I felt the sense of community.

They decided to leave after a while, but they had nowhere to go and I wanted to charge my phone. I went back to the green room and found a working outlet, next to some more cool people. The more I spoke to people around me, the more I realized that it was only as weird as you made it. With adequate charge, I left and met up with a friend from facebook that told me he was Dj’ing at a downtown bar, playing 00’s R&B and Hip Hop. I hopped in another uber there, and went downstairs in a notably empty upscale place. I greeted my internet friend, and spoke to him for a few minutes before my friend from the last party told me he was coming to meet me.

In the meantime, I continued talking to my DJ friend, and the friends he brought out. Around the time my friend showed up, I started speaking to some lady at the bar, who was clearly older, but had a nice shape. Apparently it was her birthday, and she was out trying to enjoy it. I mentioned that my birthday was next week, and it was all good. We were vibing, talking about something funny, when she asked me how old I was turning. I immediately knew I had to lie and throw my age up a notch, just in case she wasn't down for such a big difference. She was turning 32, and 8 years is a big gap. I knew I couldn't sell that I was 27 regardless of the beard, so I told her 26. Before I could finish saying that and whatever my next joke, she said “It was nice to meet you, goodnight” and walked away. I wasn't funny anymore. No Milf action for me. Luckily my friend was right there and we could laugh about it. We chose to head to another club nearby that he knew was lit, all the time, every Saturday. The club, called the Reserve was probably the nicest nightclub I’d ever been in. I’m not a big spender when it comes to nightlife, so I avoid all the high roller spots in NY. Looking at the people on line, I thought it was going to be crazy expensive,  but apparently this spot was only $10. A huge difference compared to the night before where I spent $15 to party with old geezers. I was impressed. Inside, there was a “Vault” that housed the entire party, with gold bricks under glass in the floor, and decor to match the theme all over. It was live in there.

A large variety of beautiful women, people dancing, drinks flowing, and the music was right. My friends were also impressed, but before long I could tell that it wasn't really their scene. They, much like myself, were more the house party and get-together kind of guys. Loud music with no interpersonal interaction wasn't their thing. It also didn't help that one had a girlfriend. I bought one drink, then found out there was a two drink card limit. I was there to stay. I downed my drink in like 3 minutes, and got into the swing of things. I got my second drink, and loosened up some more. For a while they tried to keep up, but me having two drinks to their none, plus the fact they didn't even really care to be there, added up to me being the only one trying to enjoy myself. They decided to leave, and once again, I was alone. Looking at the time, it had just hit 1:15, and the club closed at 2. The two lessons came right back into my face, and hit me. I was in charge of my own fun, and if I didn't do anything, I wasn't going to have any. I needed to get a move on quick. I scoped the joint for interesting groups, and saw two ladies sitting down next to each other, and casually introduced myself. Long story short, I ended up at dinner with four 30 year olds from South Carolina, where the cheapest entree on the menu was about $30. I sure as hell didn't want to spend that much on dinner, but I did owe myself a fancy meal, so I sprung for the cheapest thing I’d eat. After a long conversation over food in which I was reminded that my expletive peppered vernacular was not the norm, we parted ways, exchanged some information and headed home. It wasn't my idea of the most fun I could have, but it was an experience nonetheless. On my long trip home in the Uber, I realized that as much as I was attracted to two of the ladies at the table, I wasn't upset that it didn't turn into anything I’d run home to tell my boys. I was just pleased with the possibilities that arose once I stopped over-thinking about what I was doing, and started doing. Some of the greatest things you’ll ever experience, are hiding behind that moment of hesitation that leads to inaction.

Now that I’ve recognized this, I’m much more willing to take immediate action when I see what I want. Whether that's talking to women in a club, speaking to someone important about an opportunity, or even just making decisions that I’d normally spend way too long on, I see that merely thinking about doing something does not get you anything. This doesn't mean I’m insanely impulsive, but I’m less inhibited by the fear of not getting the results I want. The last thing I wanted from my trip to Los Angeles was to come home wishing I did more.

Another day down, I prepared for my last full day in Los Angeles.

When I got up Mya was getting ready to leave for work, way earlier than I knew I’d ever be ready. I was on my own. I hung around the house for a while, deliberating whether I should go to the observatory, or head out to the Santa Monica Pier. I met a lady in an Uber the day before and asked if she wanted to come to the beach with me, but she claimed she didn't feel good, and wasn't going to be able to make it. It was fine by me, at first I felt weird about doing everything by myself, but I realized I had been alone for most of my journey. I decided to go to the beach because it was cheaper to get to, and there would definitely be much more to do. I got dressed and called my cab to take on a day at the beach. When I got there, I immediately hopped out and made my way straight to the pier. Another thing I noticed about moving on your own, is that there are no delays in action. No drawn out decisions trying to figure out if you want to go right or left, eat at a place or not, it's whatever you decide, and it all happens at your own pace. I walked through a group of relatively young black men, who were still older than myself, and they tried to press me. I ignored them, kept it pushing, and shook my head at the fact that it happened. Disappointed that some things never seem to change wherever you are, I moved forward towards the beach. As I walked through the pier, the countless meetups and shootouts I had engaged in at that very location flashed back to my memory, all courtesy of the Grand Theft Auto series. In reality, it was a beautiful place that deserved none of that extreme violence, and I couldn't be more pleased that I was there taking it all in. I couldn't see an angry soul, and there was a general happiness to be out in the sun by the ocean. I soaked it all in, and continued walking. I went far enough onto the pier to get a quality picture, and headed back to see what else there was to do.

I heard Venice beach was not too far away, and considered heading over there to see what it was like. It was a mile or two down the coast, and I didn't feel like walking there. I checked out the first bike rental company, and they said they closed at 5:30. It was already 5. He suggested another spot a small distance away, and I set off determined to ride down the beach. I rented a bike and headed towards Venice Beach. Considering I hadn't ridden a bike in over 2 years, I was shaky to begin, but quickly locked in my balance. Cruising down the beach on the bike path was amazing. Barely avoiding a couple accidents on the relatively narrow path, I finally made it to Venice beach. You could clearly see the difference in atmosphere, from Santa Monica, to Venice Beach. Venice was way more local, and where you saw classy tourist traps on and near the Santa Monica Pier, you saw colorful homes and quiet alleyways dedicated to parking. There was a community out there, and it showed in how everyone interacted. The skateboarders and bikers congratulated each other over landed tricks and the older rollerskaters did spins as they danced to the tune of 80’s classics, while laughter and shouts of approval filled the air. I love New York City with all my heart, but that right there was something you’d be hard pressed to find in the 5 boroughs. Venice beach was probably my favorite part of my vacation. I can almost say that I’m happy to have gone alone, because it left me no choice but to be present in the moment. I wasn't explicitly having fun, but I was legitimately happy. For a long time, I’d have a hard time distinguishing the two, but I’m glad that I’ve arrived at that conclusion.

I searched up a nearby taco spot, because that's what I was feeling, and went. It took a few minutes, and I scarfed them down as if I hadn't eaten all year.

Luckily after I finished, my white shirt was still icy. Not a stain in sight. I looked at the time, and realized I had to make it back to the rental spot by 6:30. I lost track of how long it took to get there, and figured it’d be best if I rushed back, and rushed I did. Two minutes into riding, I recognized how much nicer it’d be if I put the GTA San Andreas soundtrack on, and did just that. The spotify playlist provided me the classic tunes that filtered through my ears years ago as I spent countless hours exploring the digital world of California. First I listened to “Welcome to the Jungle”, then “Some Kind of Wonderful”, and a few other classic tracks. My favorite song from the game, “Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd” came on without my input, and I enjoyed every single second of the 10 minute song.

Riding along the beach to those songs while the sun set in the background was by far my favorite memory from the trip.

I returned the bike pleased with my experience, and headed to find somewhere I could charge my phone. I asked a guy for directions to the nearest starbucks, and moved. I found an Apple store along the way, and settled there instead. Classic Soho shenanigans. I waited there on facetime with a fellow writer until it was time to head out to the TrapXart event that night, where I’d be meeting a friend.

The strip mall reminded me of a local street mall in downtown Brooklyn, but there were no vehicles allowed. It was all oddly reminiscent of those places that everyone goes when the cruises let out on Caribbean Islands. Street performers, Live music, bars, and plenty of stores.

Eventually I left and made my way to TrapXart, where I found a line of attractive young black people and joined it. Inside, I was immediately overwhelmed. There was sex themed art everywhere, and the venue itself was amazing. In addition to that, there was a HUGE selection attractive people inside that building. Everyone in there was well put together, the best of Los Angeles showed their face. I messaged an exhibitor I knew from Facebook and quickly found her upstairs. She was exhibiting so I felt weird about hovering with her for too long, considering she had a whole job to do.

I didn't want to be annoying, so after a few short minutes of conversation, I parted ways, promising I’d circle back around later. I’d be there for a few hours, so I needed to find something to do. I went and got a drink to start my social side, because I really didn't have it completely under control yet, and got to work. Before long I was using my instagram story as a crutch to meet any and everyone I was interested in. In all honesty it was too easy. As long as I didn't say something stupid in my intro, they’d definitely talk to me and engage in conversation. It didn't matter who it was, artists, exhibitors, models, or the general audience, I spoke to them all while observing the overtly sexual art around me. I met up with another woman I knew from Facebook and her cousin, and we all clicked rather well. We walked around, split up, reconvened, and stopped to talk about how ironic it was to meet someone who lived in New York, while on vacation in California.

They pretty much got bored of the event, and I realized that although I showed up solo, I was having more fun than they were. No it wasn't gut wrenching laughter, but I wouldn't have minded continuing what I was doing, circulating and speaking to the random people I encountered. Once again, I learned that I could make my own fun, by simply deciding to take action towards the things I wanted to do. I didn't have to settle with a boring experience because the situation wasn't ideal, I had full freedom to make as much out of it as I could, within reasonable limits. It might seem like a minor realization, but I learned something important that I plan to take with me wherever I go. New York, Los Angeles, Ghana, Cambodia, it didn't matter. I could keep myself entertained and engaged in any setting I wanted to, as long as I was willing to step out of my comfort zone. I was enough for me. In New York I had only ever gone out by myself once, and that was one of the most eventful nights of the summer. For a long time I feared being alone, not in an existential sense, but in the sense that I felt company was necessary to enjoy myself or have any fun.  Every interesting thing I had done that entire time, was a result of me pushing myself to get what I wanted, even if it was a little awkward at first. Most times I didn't get what I wanted, other times I got some of it, and some times I got something completely different than what I expected to get. The whole trip pushed me to do things I had normally thought were weird. I didn't even intend for it to teach me as much as it did.

One thing you’ve probably noticed this whole time is that I didn't do anything spectacular. I didn't end up in any wild cocaine-fueled threesomes, didn't wake up on top of a casino, didn't get into any cop chases or turf battles, and I didn't even get to smoke because I just didn't find the right setting for it. It was all in all, a pretty regular vacation. Anyone could do the things I did, and as a matter of fact, I think everyone should. I know if I went with my boys, things would have been drastically different and way more fun, but I wouldn't have learned what I learned or experienced any of the odd situations that made me grow as a human being. Even though it wasn't the exact  type of fun I had hoped for, it all ended up being valuable to me for entirely different reasons. With that being said, I encourage everyone to take a trip alone. Pick a reasonably safe place you're interested in, or in my case a place you can afford, set your money aside, and go. Maybe set it up so you can meet a friend or two while you're away, but don't make them the focus of your trip. Don't bring your entire entourage, don't go and stay with family that will expect you to stay by their side the whole time, and don't go with extremely high expectations of what will happen.

<strong> Just go spend some time by yourself in a strange land.

I’m sure you’ll learn something. </STRONG>

[aes-k]

Injected

Characters mentioned: Kim Taehyung, Jung Hoseok

Summary: Kim Taehyung finds a light at the end of the tunnel.

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.5K

“Are you sure you don’t need me to come in with you, this time?” 

“Yes, eomma, I’ll be fine,” he responded, leaving his mother in the nearly empty waiting room, echoes of Judge Judy replays bouncing off the walls.

“You know the way, Mr. Kim, a nurse waved as he walked through the same, dull hallway that led him to his uttermost depressing part of his Wednesdays.

The chemotherapy hall.

Taehyung sighed as he sat down in the brown, worn leather chair, rolling up the sleeve of his hooded jacket and took a deep breath, already knowing the routine of his twice-a-week visit.  Everyone pathetically smiled at him like they always did, unsure of how to react to a kid his age being in the same health situation as some of the seniors in the room, which he annoyingly rolled his eyes at.  It was the same thing every time, really.

He was surrounded by mostly old people who read books, talked with their loved ones, or knitted, some were bald and others wore bandannas, showing Taehyung the ride he was in for during his long duration of treatment to come.

He removed his hat and ran his hands through his hair, ensuring that the strands were still going strong, not threatening to fall out quite yet.

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” a woman’s voice cheerfully greeted in the most forced way possible, “How are you feeling, today?”

You really have the nerve to ask me that question?

“Same as usual,” he bluntly answered, watching her with a blank expression as she wiped down the inside of his elbow with an alcohol cloth.

“Are you at least beginning to feel better?”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, almost insulted in a way, and crossed his arms, causing her to freeze up.

“I have testicular cancer, do you really expect me to feel any better knowing I probably can’t ever have kids?  Do you realize how old I am?  I’m twenty-one, for God’s sake!” he yelled, capturing the attention of others, causing the room to grow painfully silent.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Kim,” he mumbled, discarding the alcohol prep.

“Just get this over with so I can go home,” he groaned, setting his left arm up on the rest.

She nodded and injected the IV, only having the nerve to ask if he needed anything else before walking away in a hurry, shying her eyes from the rest of the patients.

He grabbed his phone, not sure what exactly he had in mind to entertain himself while he was injected with poison for half an hour, as it was his first time without his mother to keep him company.  He knew she wanted to be there for him through all of his treatment, but he also knew the whole diagnosis was hitting her hard, even though it wasn’t anything fatal.

His lock screen lit up blank, no notifications or updates on his favorite shows, meaning there was nothing new to look at or watch, rendering him bored, forcing his eyes to the window outside as he pocketed his device.

It was a nice spring day, outside, the weather was warm with a slight breeze, perfect for spending a day walking or playing catch with friends, but instead he was stuck getting poked with a needle with some old folks.

“Man, that was some entertaining shit, right there,” a voice chuckled.

Taehyung removed his attention from the windows to the boy who plopped down in the chair to his right, looking at him with a wide grin on his face like he had just planned some sort of prank on Taehyung.  

He was tanned like Taehyung was, his face a little long, and his nose slender, he had on a hoodie covering a black hat, which Taehyung could assume was because of the hair loss, which he hadn’t quite experienced, yet.  He adjusted in his seat and rolled up his sleeves, holding out his left for Taehyung to shake.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok.  Jung Hoseok,” he smiled, again, creating his own radiating aura. 

Taehyung eyed him awkwardly, unsure of why the boy next to him was acting like they’d known each other for years, but returned the handshake with a confused look.

“Kim Taehyung.”

“Can I call you Tae?” he asks, resting his chin on the heel of his hand, swinging his feet like a toddler on a high chair.

“Uh, sure...”

“What’s got you down?” he asked, making a sarcastic puppy face.

“If you can’t tell, I have cancer--”

“Everyone in this room has it.  So what?” he interrupted.  “We’re all gonna die one day, anyway,” he shrugged.

Well, that was straightforward...

“Well I don’t exactly want to spend the final weeks of my life attached to poison and whacking my swimmers into a Dixie cup,” Taehyung commented, slightly chuckling at his own words.

“I mean others spend it shitting their pants or on life support, I’d say you’ve got it a little easy,” Hoseok smiled.  “At least you’re not alone, right?”

“I guess,” he shrugged, “I know it’s not fatal since we caught it early, but it feels like the end of my life.  I’ll never be able to have kids, if I want..” he trailed off, feeling that pit of sadness in his stomach, again.

“Well, at least you can buy all the dogs you want.  Plus, you gained a new friend,” Hoseok replied as a nurse approached, prepping him for his own IV.  “Let me guess, testicular cancer?”

Taehyung hummed in response.  “You?”

“Ah, I wish I had it that easy,” he chuckled, “terminal brain cancer.”

Taehyung’s happy expression quickly turned into one of sadness, feeling pained and guilt that he had said such words about it being the end of the road for him, not knowing the boy next to him could die any day.

He remembered the day the doctor gave him the diagnosis.  His parents were in tears, and himself in awe, unsure how to take in all of the information.  His first reaction was that he was just going to have it removed, but his parents made him feel like it was the end of the world, and after reading some experiences by others online, Taehyung was beginning to think it really was.

“I-I’m so--”

“Sorry?  It’s whatever.  I don’t worry about it,” he replied, “It’s not a life worth living if I spend the rest of my days depressed and waiting to die.  I want to live my final days like everything is still normal.  I know I’m going to die, eventually, but I went with the treatment just in case, I like to be optimistic about it.”

“D-Do you know how much longer you have before...?” Taehyung asked, not noticing his eyes were beginning to water.

“About a month ago they told me I had five weeks, which is coming up soon, but I haven’t been told that anything has gotten worse, but I guess that doesn’t mean things have gotten better, either.”

“Is this your first time?”

“It is here,” he smiled, “It’s not my first treatment, though.  From the looks of it, I think I should be the one asking you.”

Taehyung shook his head.  “This is my third, I haven’t quite lost my hair, yet.  I’m wondering how weird it’ll look when it’s all gone...” he trailed off, running his thin fingers through his reddish brown bangs.

“Like this,” Hoseok replied, throwing back his hood and removing his hat to reveal patches of dark brunette hair still left on his head, along with some spots which Taehyung assumed was from treatment.  “It gets pretty cold, sometimes,” he laughed.  “At least you can get a super sweet new do when they give you options for a wig.”

“What color should I get?” Taehyung asked jokingly, pulling up pictures of wigs on the internet.

“Get one that’s firetruck red, you’ll never be forgotten,” Hoseok laughed, pointing to a picture that showed up with the results of a bob cut wig with a fake-colored bright red dye.

“Then red it is,” Taehyung smiled, saving the picture to his phone for future references.  He knew his parents wouldn’t approve, but at least he found someone who would.

“Alright, Kim Taehyung, you are free to go, today,” the nurse called, removing the IV from his hand and covering the hole with a bandage.

“See you in two weeks, Hoseok!!” Taehyung waved, pulling down the sleeves of his jacket and rising from his seat.

“Until then, Tae Tae!!!” he called out, flashing his unforgettable smile.

Taehyung smiled as he walked out of the door and into the waiting room where he was greeted by a hug from his mother, and an odd look on her face as she noticed the change in expression in her son.

“How was today?”

“Eomma, I think this will be a lot easier than I thought.  I’m glad I went today,” he smiled, remembering the boy who resembled sunlight, who seemed to take all of his pain away.

Thank you, Jung Hoseok...

[solia-dreams]

X-Files fanfic: preview for chapter 35 of ‘This Is How The World Ends‘

Author’s note: I didn’t get this finished in time and I fly to New Zealand tomorrow for a family reunion so here are the first few pages of the next chapter, a flashback to post-break-up MSR to fill in some blanks in the timeline. Enjoy!

3rd March, 2014

Departure times were changing again, setting themselves back further and further, but before all times on the screens could be changed, CANCELLED appeared beside every flight number. There was a collective groan from the hundreds of stranded passengers gazing apprehensively up at the giant screens across Chicago O’Hare Airport.

“What? No!” Scully protested, her voice lost among the dozens of louder, angrier voices around her. She was alone in a crowd of many, and looked about in disappointment for some solution to present itself, but nothing did. Nothing conventional, anyway.

“Rotten luck, Scully,” he said from close by, and she turned to see him leaning on a railing behind her, looking up at the scores of cancelled flights on the screens. Her stomach fell away like it always did now when she saw him, half in desperate desire and half in anxious terror of what he might say or not say. It had been over a year now since she’d walked out his door without the intention of ever going back, and while she didn’t regret it, she deeply, sorely regretted it more often than she would ever admit. Her life was satisfying again; her achievements were noted and respected again; she had control again. It was what she had wanted, to escape that dark gravitation pull of his frustrations with the world, and it was the right thing to do. But when he appeared like this, out of the blue and unannounced, with his hair tousled from outside and his strong leather shoulders dusted with residual snowflakes and his eyes casually gazing over her head pretending to be interested in all the flights, he tested her.

He made her want to forget the reasons she’d left and how comfortable she’d been without him.

She forced herself to take a breath and drop her eyes and count to three. One: she knew what he was here for. Two: she knew what he wasn’t here for. Three: she knew it would briefly appear otherwise because he had a gift for that, but letting him in would only start the cycle all over again, and that wasn’t good for either of them.

He dropped his eyes to hers just as she lifted them and his melted her with their warmth, and it was very hard to remind herself of how completely those eyes had ruined her, especially when he smiled.

“What do you want, Mulder?” she asked tiredly, initiating the usual self-talk to keep herself from making a fool of herself. It was exhausting but necessary. She could hardly cross the space between them and throw herself at him, could she? She was the one who’d left; he was the one who’d promised to keep his phone on for her and to answer whenever she called, but had failed to pick up the one time she’d cracked and dialled. Never again.

“Want? I don’t want anything from you,” he said without falter, all the reminder she needed. His smile was light and his eyes momentarily hard, a combination too challenging to read for one who’d torn up the codex and worked so hard to unlearn him. “I was just waiting for a flight and saw you through the crowd. What are the chances of us both being stranded here at the same time?”

“Imagine the odds,” she replied ironically, not buying it. He didn’t have a bag, while she leaned on the extended handle of her carry-on luggage. “Where are you flying?”

“Nowhere now.” He nodded at the screens and shifted over as a disgruntled family bustled past him with zero regard for the people they bumped into. Delayed flights and life’s other inconveniences granted citizens special emergency powers to dismiss the personal space and rights of others, didn’t you know? He came back to the railing that separated them. “What about you?”

Scully sighed and gestured back at the board. Several score of CANCELLED burned red and bright, and beneath it, smaller screens were dedicated to news coverage of the storm that had grounded the entire air fleet, inaudible over angry voices, monotone public announcements and the rumble of the wild weather outside. “That was my connecting flight home. My half-hour stopover just became an indefinite one.”

“And airports are such fun places to wait around,” Mulder quipped, smiling when she cast him a tired expression. He looked up and read the service announcements scrolling along the bottom of the screens. “This cell is meant to pelt us until sometime tomorrow morning. No flights until at least then, and after that, only if the planes aren’t snowed in.”

A group of worried tourists speaking French passed between them and Scully looked back at the screens. He was right, damn him. She’d hoped to beat the building weather event when she’d taken these flights, knowing it was a risk after an abnormally long and heavy winter, but she’d miscalculated, clearly, and now she was stranded.

In the same city as Mulder. Typical.

He must have ducked underneath the rail because she felt rather than saw him approach.

“This has been a very long day,” she confided, and if they were still together he would have wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her neck and kissed her hair. They weren’t, so he didn’t, and she told herself that was for the best.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

She looked up at him, surprised by the forward-sounding query. “With you? Not particularly.”

He didn’t take offence, only smiled wider, seemingly enjoying this game of barbs. She’d never understand him.

“Your plane’s not getting off the ground in this weather,” he reminded her. “What are you planning to do, curl up on some plastic seat and fall asleep to the lullaby of crying babies and whinging passengers? Not to mention that every two minutes,” he added when the PA intoned loudly, followed by another unintelligible announcement about the cancelled flights. “I can’t really be more repulsive than some of these first-class citizens.”

They both watched as an overweight man with a quivering moustache screamed at an attendant behind the service counter. There was a massive and ever-lengthening line behind him of people waiting to do the same.

“Some days, Mulder,” Scully responded finally, and he chuckled lightly, and her heart both clenched and soared. It was so easy to be easy with him, so easy to forget that things had stopped being easy. He reached down to her small suitcase and grabbed her coat from where it lay across the top. He shook it out and opened it up.

“Come on,” he coaxed, offering it to her. Reluctantly she slid her arms into the sleeves, knowing she was letting herself down, letting him win. “I’ve been working in town and I’ve paid up until Wednesday at a little motel. I’ll take the couch. If you wait around here,” he added, noting her hesitation at the idea of spending the night together, “you’re at least fifteen hours away from your next sleep, supposing your flight is smooth enough, and twenty hours away from your next shower. Tell me again I’m the most repulsive option on the table.”

A fruitless all-nighter and long stints of driving, flying and waiting left Scully particularly susceptible to Mulder’s ploy. A shower and a bed did sound excellent.

He sounded excellent.

But he was playing her, like always. Just a toy, something to bat around when he got bored.

“Very generous of you to think of me,” she commented, “but you’ll forgive me for wondering what’s in it for you, since the only times I see you now is when you’ve got a case you expect me to drop everything to help you solve. What is it this time?”

“All that’s in it for me is the pleasure of your company,” he replied instantly. “A few months without your scowling silences and sharp demeaning remarks about my motives and I start to miss you, Scully. There’s no case. Well,” he corrected himself, swaying casually back on his feet, playing innocent, “I am working a multiple murder-suicide, and since you’re here I could use your opinion on it, but how far am I going to get with it tonight in this weather, right?” He smiled up at the television, then back at her, knowing he’d piqued her interest. “No autopsies, I promise.”

She looked around. The terminal was milling with displaced people, many of them on cell phones loudly trying to reorganise their night now that their flights were not happening. Many were heading for the doors, where they would catch taxis to all the nearest empty hotel rooms, leaving few decent options for her.

Logic said if you don’t go with him, you’ll regret it and logic said if you do go with him, you’ll regret it. Her heart said it would hurt her to spend time with him, like it always did, and her heart said it would pay that price later.

“At least let me take you somewhere for dinner. You’ve got to eat, don’t you?” he asked figuratively, turning into her and lowering his arm behind her, prompting her to turn as well and start walking without a thought, obeying his body language. “We’ll check for updates online and I’ll get you back here as soon as they get back in the air, whatever time that is.”

“Should we be on the roads if it’s too dangerous to fly?” She felt her nerves dance to feel his hand settle beside hers and take the handle of her luggage without asking. Classic Mulder, the thoughtless gentleman. She let go, pulling her gloves from her pockets, and went ahead of him when he gestured. The crowd was tight and wayward, people weaving in all directions, and he stuck close behind her so he didn’t lose her. She felt the familiar warmth of him at her back, even in the hot crush of the terminal, and it made her all kinds of nervous.

“Are you questioning my driving prowess, Scully?”

She glanced back at him. Said, “Never,” in her most unconvincing voice.

Author’s note: You can find the rest of this fic on AO3 and FanFiction under ‘This Is How The World Ends’