#classmates are nice people but the connection I feel with them is so superficial.

[wishmkr-jirachi]

...

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙎𝙐𝘾𝙆 & 𝘽𝙇𝙊𝙒 ☆ 𝙨𝙖𝙥𝙣𝙖𝙥 𝙨𝙢𝙪𝙩

∘ request: 

goddamn your writing is so good 🥵 any chance you’d be able to write something with sapnap where you’re both at a party and know each other through friends but not well and you’re both a bit tipsy and he just can’t control himself and drags you into a bathroom? kinda fluffy where there’s lots of kissing but also desperate and accidentally rough (because the idea of someone wanting me so much that they lose control is a major thing of mine)

∘ pairing: sapnap x fm!reader

∘ warnings: nsfw (18+),  party scene, drinking, crude language

∘ links: ao3

∘ word count: ~2000

a/n: Thank you so much for the request! I literally have the exact same thing so i think we’re soulmates or something. I hope you enjoy!

For the duration of the day, you’d been waiting for this moment. Your hair tangling amongst itself as you danced to the music with a group of your friends was almost a baptism for you. No longer were you restricted into your business casual attire and socially acceptable behavior. Now you were free to forget your name and responsibilities as mashups of different genres of heavily bass boosted music pulsed in your ears.

The large house was swelling with people, melding together as if their lives depended on the superficial human connection the beat could bring them. Many of them you recognized from some of your lectures; it had been a day where your classmates had planned a party for someone’s birthday. You hated to admit it, but you didn’t know or care whose party it was, you were just happy to have an excuse not to study.

You’d already lost one of your rings and your clothes were sticking to your body from the layer of sweat glistening against your skin, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. As cliché as it sounded, going to random college parties had equated to your own kind of religion. These senseless addresses were homes to a different kind of worship, but one you had quickly become devoted to. The smell of another girl’s perfume rubbing off on you and the nameless identity of the boy that offered you hard liquor were your new sacraments.

As the song died out, beginning a new string of beats to thunder around the room, you found yourself out of breath. You gestured to your friends that you were refilling your drink, but really you were in search of air that was a bit fresher. You wove through the heavy crowd, ending up in the kitchen and beelining for the fridge. There was a small group of boys standing around the keg, one of them filling his cup as they discussed something a few of them were getting heated about.

You tucked a cold water bottle against your side and grabbed a clean solo cup. As you got closer, you would hear what they were talking about. “I don’t know how you don’t remember that. It was like a big thing a few years ago?” One of them grumbled as his eyes narrowed at the liquid streaming into his cup.

“Sorry, Nick. I forgot they were selling kids on eBay. I honestly don’t see-” They continued on into overlapping ramblings that you couldn’t help but laugh at. One of them, that had been referred to as Nick, looked almost too familiar to you. Yet as you stood there, you couldn’t remember even if your life depended on it.

Nick’s eyes drifted to you as if just realizing you were standing there. “Sorry, do you refill?” He asked, mustering a somewhat shy smile. You snapped out of your train of thought, handing your cup to him.

“I didn’t mean to seem like a creepy, sorry,” you stated, sending him an awkward laugh. His lips parted in a smile. His dark hair was slightly ruffled, probably just from the weather earlier in the day. You weren’t sure if it was your slight buzz or the close proximity, but God, he looked good to you.

“No, I was hogging. It was my bad,” he answered. You brushed your hair off of your warm forehead and he looked up at you from what he was doing, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. “I think I know you from somewhere,” he mumbled before something clicked behind his eyes as he handed you your cup back. “Oh, you’re Clay’s friend, right? I’m his roommate, Nick.” At his words, your brain clouded with embarrassment as memories of him finally fled your brain.

You smirked slightly. “Oh! Yeah, sorry I didn’t recognize you. You look…” You paused for a second. Where were you going with this statement? Hotter? “Grown-up,” you wheezed, making him chuckle again. “- I mean, since freshman year English, I guess.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek, attempting not to grin wider. “Yeah, you look… grown-up too,” he offered, sending you a slight smirk. “It’s weird how close you and Dream are and I never see you around anymore,” he continued.

You chuckled a bit, wetting your lips. “Yeah, I told Clay I had a crush on you and he kicked me out,” you joshed, making him laugh. For as quiet as you remembered him being, you were shocked he was engaging with you in the way he was. Maybe it was just the atmosphere and the alcohol that had him loosened up. Whatever it was, you found yourself partnering with him in beer pong and spending most of the night at each other's side.

You sat closely to him on a couch in one of the several living rooms, your heads set close together as you listened to what he was saying over the music. “Hey, you too found each other,” a deep voice bounded, making you jump slightly, almost spilling your drink on Nick. Clay plopped down on the other side of you, wrapping his arm around the back of your section of couch to tug on Nick’s ear.

“Why didn’t you tell me Nick was a stud now?” you joked, slightly cringing about how bold you sounded. Nick chuckled at your words, swatting Clay’s hand away from him and taking another sip from his cup.

Clay setted further into the spot beside you. “You guys wanna play ‘suck and blow’?” He stated, more to the group of people around you guys. You furrowed your brows at him, almost wanting to roll your eyes at Clay’s blatant mission to set you and Nick up together. But who were you to avoid his attempts.

The card was passed successfully around the group, until it got to Clay, whose breath you could practically feel on the other side of the thick paper. You turned to give it to Nick but dropped it at the last second, making his lips press against yours. It was almost like he was expecting it because he was utterly calm at your action, nearing leaning in on his own accord. There were cat-calling noises made from the group as the kiss ended briefly. “Ope, looks like you guys are gonna have to leave the circle,” Clay stated with an almost sing-song tone in his voice. You were thankful that you had turned towards Clay enough that Nick couldn’t see your jokingly scornful look.

“Well, that’s just too bad. We were so good at this,” Nick chided as the two of you stood to leave. You ruffled Clay’s hair as the two of you left, following Nick into another room. “Would you want to… go somewhere quiet?” Nick asked, his eyes flashing to yours. Your eyebrow perked in his direction before you wordlessly slipped your hand into his.

You found yourself in the bathroom, Nick's hands settling on your hips as he pressed his lips against yours. You let out a sharp moan as he ground his hips against yours, yearning for more friction. Your fingers dug into his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth, hungry for your taste. His breath was like a drug for you as he groaned into your mouth, moving against you.

His lips left your mouth but only to caress your jaw before settling against your neck, sucking on the skin with a slight sting. You tilted your head back, giving him more access to you before wrapping a leg around him, begging him to go further with you. He chuckled at your neediness, his warm breath fanning over your neck. He tugged the strap of your dress down your arm, pressing his lips against the newly exposed skin, grinding against you. The taste of cheap beer passed between the two of you.

One of his hands slipped beneath your dress to squeeze your ass, pulling you tighter against his jeans, encouraging you to ride his thigh. "I want you," he moaned unevenly in your ear, sending heat straight to your core. You wanted him to completely ruin you, to show you what was hiding beneath the surface of his reserved nice guy barrier.

You answered his words by attending to his zipper, slipping your hands into his jeans and stroking him against his boxers. A moan broke through his teeth, his lips crashing against yours as you egged him on. His erection grew stronger with each of your movements. You could tell he was becoming desperate to ravage you with each of his restrained breaths.

Your teeth dug into his bottom lip, your fingers pushing his pants to the ground as he pressed himself against you. He pushed your underwear aside, answering your silent pleas. Pressing his lips against your neck again, he drove himself into you, earning a blissed out moan from you. A breath of pleasure and relief escaped his chest at the feeling of you instantly tightening around him.

He thrusted into you, as if testing the waters as you moaned his name against his skin. One of your arms tightened around his shoulder as he held you in place, setting his pace. The mix of alcohol and pleasure you were feeling with each snap of his hips was sending your head reeling. He pushed his tongue into your mouth, fingers digging into your skin. You moaned against his lips, sending him to speed up his movements. A sense of roughness came out in him as he pounded into you harder, and you were eating it up. You fingers dug into his hair, pulling tightly to earn a groan from him.

Your hands slipped beneath his shirt, raking against his back, urging him to use you like a flashlight. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, voice husky with some type of forced restraint as if he wouldn't let it come out evenly. You tightened around him, moving in what little space he'd given you to grind against him.

With that, he began to thrust into you harder, as if he was finally giving into whatever he was attempting to hold back. His teeth dug into your shoulder with each pulsing movement, driving himself deeper into you. Ungodly moans left your lips, only confirming his actions as he hungrily chased his high, dragging you with him.

His paces became less rhythmic and more sloppy as he gripped onto you, your fingers digging into his skin as you felt your orgasm was just within reach. You tightened your leg around him, your head swimming as he began to hit your sweet spot repeatedly. With a nearly choked out moan of his name, your body flushed with relief, your climax ripping through you. Nick succumbed to his own as if he'd been waiting for you, the two of you leaning against each other for support as you rode out your highs.

After you caught your breath, you reapplied a layer of lipstick, eyeing Nick through the reflection of the mirror as he stood behind you, straightened his clothes. "Let's not tell Clay about this, purely because he'll make it weird," you stated, turning and evening out his hoodie strings.

He chuckled slightly. "Oh, I agree completely. Don't tell Clay." His sly smirk nearly drew you in as you pressed your lips against his again, a promise that you'd definitely be seeing each other again.

[dee--eer]

I'm gonna join and ask; Higo and Shiho

Because coai is cute in a mature way, but I can never get enough of Ai being blissfully happy with her celebritiy crush and I want to see her that happy everyday for the rest of her life 😆

Ahhh this one is a hard one because I'm very conflicted about it 🤣🤣🤣 on one hand, I very much agree with that sentiment! I'm willing to literally give anything for her as long as she's happy, and if Higo truly could made her happy then so be it!

But on the other hand... well, it is a celebrity crush, and for me a celebrity crush is, well, just that, a crush. It's like imagining Kogoro getting together with Yuuko, in that the affection is completely one-sided. And well, the nature of a celebrity crush is that it's simply unreachable, like it's just something to daydream about to make you happy in the moment but you know that it's just your brain playing imagine.

Of course, there are lots of cases where celebrity crush can develop to genuine relationship. Easiest example that I could think about for now will be Harry and Ginny. However, there are 2 important element in their case: 1) We as a reader know Harry personally. As a main character, we get to look at how his mind work. We know about his characters, his temper, his habit, etc etc. And 2) Ginny got a chance to be acquainted with him personally, as the sister of Harry's best friend and as his junior. And so by the time they do start going out, it's no longer a celebrity crush because at that point they're already friends.

In Higo and Shiho case, both of these elements aren't present. All we know about Higo is pretty much just like what we know about, say, Ariana Grande, for example. Or in short, only things that the media is able to report. Sure, we get a glimpse about his character from that case where he was involvedーbut all we got from that is that he's a good guy who's willing to go around asking his old classmates to give a gift for their old teacher.

The problem with shipping Higo and Shiho for me is that celebrity crush are pretty much superficial by its nature. She doesn't know him personally and vice-versa. Having a celebrity crush implied that the one you like is the 'public image' of said crush, i.e the persona that they chose to show to other people. Will she still be as enamored if she gets to know him personally?

I know that Shiho start to get interested with Higo after that whole 'traitor to the team' incident and she feel a sense of kinship between them, but again, it's pretty much superficial. It's kind of like saying I sympathize with, say, Lee Taemin (Shinee) for getting bullied when he was in highschool. And yeah, that's part of the reason of why he's my favorite. But does that mean that I know him personally? Does that mean that I genuinely thought that if we get to meet we'll be immediately 'connected' and able to form a genuine relationship? Like, just because we share a moderately similiar situation doesn't mean we automatically bonded to each other, right?

According to dcw site, so far Higo only made 17 appearances, and among all 17 the one where he's physically around are just 4 timesーliterally on one case. The rest are either a TV appearances, a flashback, or just mentioned in a passing. I didn’t watch the anime so idk if there's more material there, so for now I'll only use the manga as reference point. There really isn't enough information about him for me to start seriously considering him in any ship, really. In conclusion.... I might be willing to be more open about them only if we get to know more about Higo personally or if both of them get to be acquainted personally.

I'm okay with it as a crack ship tho! Crack ship is basically a fan playground after all. It will require completely inventing Higo's background and personality and how he interact with Shiho, of course, but if I found a story that can pull that off nicely I won't be opposed to read that! But shipping them for real will be a no for me, at least for now 😅

(I kinda feel like Elsa to Anna and Hans ajsjskkska sorry this got too long, but I love to discuss anything if it's concerning Shiho 😆😆)

[argylemnwrites]

Live And Die This Way

Pairing: Colt Kaneko x MC (Ellie Whitnall)

Book: Ride or Die (post book 1)

Word Count: ~5900

Rating: R (language, brief 30 diamond content - N*FW, referenced violence)

Summary: How do you create the life you crave? And what is the cost?

Author’s Note: Written for @rodappreciationweek Day 4 - MC. This is a direct companion piece to my Colt entry “He Knew” and will reference many of same events covered there, but it does stand on it’s own. This piece was envisioned first, with my Colt piece kind of springing forth from the future I saw for those two while crafting this fic. In addition to the content mentioned in the rating, content warning for infidelity.

Ellie didn’t know how to feel about college. Not so much about her coursework - that always made perfect sense after years of AP and honors classes. More about her “college experience” or whatever cliche phrase described how it was to just live as a freshman in Turren Hall on the west side of Langston’s quad.

She liked her independence. She could eat what she wanted, go where she wanted, do what she wanted. If the end of her senior year had been more traditional, she probably would have been buzzing from all of her freedoms. She had her first taste of alcohol. She made out with a cute boy at a house party. She ate ice cream for dinner and ordered pizza with Rebecca, her roommate, at midnight. She was enjoying herself.

But her new friends acted like these little things were the pinnacle of independence, and it was hard for her to relate to that. Not when she’d experienced the thrill of pushing the speedometer up over 100 MPH, felt the power of an engine revving at 5000 RPM, and jumped from moving vehicle to moving vehicle at highway speeds.

She liked her new friends and classmates well enough, but she never talked to them about who she’d been in Gramercy Park. She didn’t bring up the MPC and her brief time with them. She certainly never mentioned Colt.

It’s not that she disliked college, she just was struggling to put it all together, the person she was in New Hampshire with the person she’d become in LA. On the weekends, she found herself just going on drives, trying to reclaim that thrill, that rush. She found a county highway about 20 miles from campus where she could floor it and feel the speed settling deep into her bones. She always went on these trips alone, even as she started seeing Chris more and more often. He wouldn’t get it.

Chris wanted to officially be her boyfriend. She’d sensed it for months, but he finally asked her one Saturday in April. His roommate had gone home for the weekend, so Ellie had spent the night in his room. She liked Chris well enough. He was a chemical engineering major, he was cute, and with his short, curly, blond hair, he looked nothing like either of the guys that had turned her life upside down one year earlier. 

The trouble was any connection between them was superficial. On paper, they seemed so similar - both of them had been valedictorian, science and math nerds, only children raised in protective Catholic households. But he only saw “Langston Ellie,” he only liked that part of her. He didn’t have this drive for something more - more thrilling, more adventurous, more stimulating. So she kept things between them casual, and when summer break rolled around and she made her way back to LA, she didn’t feel any guilt about trying to track down Colt.

He must have gotten a new phone with a new number as part of his plan to “lay low” and evade arrest, and Kaneko Auto Shop was still a boarded up shell, scorch marks visible along the walls. But she eventually found him, less than 36 hours before she was leaving, of course. It was almost fitting, seeing him at the sideshow, the place where she’d first met him. She wasn’t sure if he saw her, but she spotted him right away, standing off in the shadows, talking with a couple of men, wearing that same leather jacket.

At some point, he must have noticed her, because he couldn’t just let her dance with Darius and Riya. Instead, he’d wrapped his arm around her waist, and it was like stepping into a time machine, as if no time had passed, as if they’d seen each other last week, not last year. Riding back to his new place and falling into bed with him was the first time she’d felt truly awake in ages.

Any illusion that sex with Colt just seemed better than sex with Chris because he’d been her first and she hadn’t had a point of comparison went straight out the window. It wasn’t that sex with Chris was bad, but with Colt… it was raw and primal and intense, and those were not ever words that could be used to describe Chris. Chris in bed seemed scared he would hurt her, so he just tried to coax her to the peak of pleasure. Colt wanted to stake claim, to possess her, to drive her higher and higher. He knew how strong she really was, and it made her heart soar.

She knew she was heading back to New Hampshire, and that tonight with Colt would be just that - one night. It’s why she didn’t ask him about the Brotherhood. Hearing about his inevitable ventures into bloody vengeance would just lead to a fight, and there was little point in ruining this little moment in time with that. This was a reprieve, not a promise, and that meant some things were better left unsaid. 

So the sun came up and Colt drove Ellie back to her father’s home, but not before adding his new number to her phone. She packed up her suitcase and tanked up the Shokai Fourier and made the drive across the country, back to Langston and a world of academics and being a “good girl.” But now she had another outlet. Anytime she craved that thrill, she would text him. Sometimes it was a bratty little insult. Sometimes it was a barely clothed selfie. But he always responded. And as she started sophomore year, it felt like she might be figuring out a way to merge the two sides of her life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Texting Colt became a new form of an adrenaline rush when she somehow stumbled into a relationship with Chris. She knew it was wrong, that Chris didn’t deserve the way she was treating him. Being kind of dull was not failing. But the problem was that “Langston Ellie” didn’t have a reason not to date him. So over Valentine’s dinner, he became her boyfriend. 

It was a balance, that thrill that came from sneaking out for a drive or shooting Colt a dirty little text versus the pit of guilt that sat in her stomach. She tried to justify it to herself when the guilt got to be too much, telling herself that nothing physical had happened with Colt while she and Chris were together, but that was a flimsy excuse.

The issue was that she felt like herself, vibrant and happy, and the more she pushed the boundaries on what was acceptable in her personal life, the more she excelled elsewhere. She was setting the curve in almost all her classes. Her research was going well enough to get approved for the Summer Scholars Program, which came with a generous stipend. It’s like she had to be doing something “wrong” to feel complete, and since stealing cars wasn’t an option at the moment, this is what she settled for. She wasn’t sure what that said about her as a person.

But she kept living her double life for months and months until one day in October, things all came to a head. She got a call from a number with a 310 area code, but she didn’t recognize it, so she let it go to voicemail. When she finally got a chance to listen to it an hour later, after her meeting with Dr. Frisch, it felt like the world might just swallow her whole. Her father was too young, too healthy to have a heart attack, to need bypass surgery, to be in the ICU.

It had taken her 15 hours to email her advisor, request a leave of absence, and receive approval, email Dr. Frisch to withdraw from his research group, and to pack up her room in the off-campus apartment she and Rebecca were renting and load up the Shokai Fourier. She spent far too much of that time breaking up with Chris.

It hadn’t even occurred to her to let him know about Dad until he’d texted her after dinner time, asking if she was still on for an ice cream run to Gilly’s. What followed was him coming over, with hours of talking, of him trying to calm her, tell her everything was going to be fine. She’d gotten frustrated, asked him how he could possibly know her dad was going to be okay. It was messy and awful, their first and last fight, all culminating with her kicking him out and sending him back to his apartment when he dared to suggest she was too emotional to be making these decisions in the moment.

The drive to LA was a long one, filled with tears and regrets. It felt like her fault. She’d put him through hell senior year, only to leave him all alone to flit off to college, where she had just coasted by, chasing down the high of adrenaline in destructive ways. Instead of stopping at a motel to rest, she drove the 3000 miles basically straight through, resting for a few hours in a parking lot in Iowa, but otherwise relying on Red Bull and coffee to get her through the drive. She’d gone to drop off her stuff at her father’s place, but when she arrived, she couldn’t bring herself to unlock the door. Even though the latest update from Dr. Ginde had been that her father was improving, she couldn’t bear to go inside, to see memories of him and her mother plastered everywhere, all by herself.

So she’d driven over to Gramercy Park. The shop was open now. She knew that was the plan, but it was still nice to see it with her own two eyes. She locked her car and went inside, taking in the bustle and the activity, cars hoisted on jacks, an air compressor hissing in the background. If she had recognized any of the people working in the shop, she almost could have believed that no time had passed.

Some guy with dreads went to go find Colt for her as she stood there, feeling both out of place and at home at the same time. Finally, he emerged, grease streaks on his t-shirt and jeans, his hair just a little shorter than she remembered. He took her into his office and listened as she told him what happened. No questions, no platitudes, no infantilization. Just understanding and comfort, and when she told him she didn’t know how to go home alone, he’d just told her to follow him back to his place.

Staying with Colt was like falling back into a former life. She hung around the garage, reconnected with Ximena, and went out racing and to sideshows. She visited her dad every day in the hospital and then in the rehab facility, taking notes on all his doctor’s instructions and researching new, heart-healthy recipes for them to eat as she got him settled back in at home. And even though she and Colt never talked about it, suddenly they were together, with her toiletries tucked into his medicine cabinet, a second towel hung in the bathroom, and her favorite yogurt stocked in the fridge. It all felt comfortable, and she felt at peace with her life for the first time in a long time. She could get that adrenaline rush she craved so badly as she drag raced through the streets, getting to know Colt’s new crew, and she wasn’t hurting anyone to do so. She felt happy, so as October bled into November, she emailed her advisor, preparing to extend her leave of absence.

She never thought Colt would object to her plans to stick around, but he was cruel and livid when she told him she wasn’t heading back. At first, her anger flared, righteous and indignant. How dare he try to tell her what to do. She’d thrown her clothes that were scattered around his place back into her duffel bag and headed straight to her father’s home. He didn’t comment when she tossed her bag into her old bedroom, just pulled out the Parcheesi board and sat down at his usual spot at the kitchen table.

The next morning, she awoke to the smell of bacon sizzling, so she made her way into the kitchen.

“Dad, you can’t have bacon anymore. It’s not on your ‘safe foods’ list.”

“I figured whatever sent you here yesterday might warrant an ‘Ellie special,’” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’s turkey bacon.”

She bit her lip as she sat down at the table, wondering if she should risk stressing him out by bringing it up, but he crossed the bridge first as he set her plate in front of her.

“I suppose you were staying with that boy with the yellow GT?”

She shook her head. “No, the boy with the motorcycle.”

Dad just let out a sigh and gave his head a little shake. “They’re all still wanted criminals, Ellie. The statute of limitations hasn’t run out. But I suppose you already know that.”

“Dad…”

“Look, I know you’re an adult, and you can make your own choices. But I hope you know what you’re doing here. If you get caught up with him in something again… I won’t be able to spin it that you were just a kid who got roped into the whole thing by a dirty cop who convinced you that you could be an informant and help him.”

“I know what I’m doing, Dad. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you aren’t. That’s what scares me the most. Oh well, you’ll be back at Langston soon enough, I suppose.”

It was Ellie’s turn to sigh as she filled him in on how her plan had been to stay, to work in LA and to help him recover, at least for one more semester. When she finished, Dad just stared at her for a few seconds, eyes narrowed, before he spoke.

“So, let me see if I have this right. This… Colt told you to go back and finish your degree?” As she nodded, he just shook his head. “Never thought I would be on the same side as a little punk.”

She shoved her chair back from the table, abandoning her breakfast. “Dad, it doesn’t matter whose side you’re on, because it doesn’t matter what you think or what he thinks. This is my choice.”

But as the days ticked by, and her dad seemed stronger and stronger, she had to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She’d gotten upset because it felt like Colt was trying to decide what was best for her, but as she thought back on their fight with a clearer head, that wasn’t really a fair assessment. He wasn’t trying to control her; he was trying to push her. At the end of the day, he liked her strong and sharp, ready for the next challenge. And while being back in LA felt good and right in so many ways, just hanging around after her father’s medical emergency wasn’t the way to go about it. She wanted to come back here, but she needed to do so the right way, as an active choice, not a passive situation that just happened.

So she went back to school and worked her ass off, taking summer classes to make up for the shitty schedule with not enough engineering credits she had to settle for after she registered late for classes. She was a semester behind now, but that was manageable. She lost her research position, but that was okay. She didn’t need to build her resume anymore. She had a job lined up already.

When she signed papers granting her 50% ownership of Kaneko Auto Shop, everyone in her life thought she was crazy. Rebecca had pestered her for months with info about engineering firms that were hiring and master’s programs. Riya had told off Darius for telling her she was being foolish, but as soon as he left to go get them takeout, she’d told her she must be out of her mind to legally tie herself to that Kaneko boy in any way. Her father just shook his head and went into his bedroom, closing the door with a thud. But Ellie didn’t care. It was the first time she’d felt fully alive in almost five years.

It was invigorating, to finally be living a life that was 100% her choosing. She wasn’t held back by her father’s restrictions, her peers’ perceptions, her own perfectionistic expectations of herself. She was just… Ellie. She wasn’t bound by anything or anyone. All her fears, concerns, and worries were nothing in the face of all the possibilities ahead of her. Ahead of them.

Colt had always seen her. It was why she’d been drawn to him in the first place. He didn’t treat her like a child that needed protecting. He respected her agency, her autonomy, her abilities. He respected her opinions and suggestions, and slowly but surely, they were able to expand and grow the shop and their territory. Not too fast, as that would attract the attention of both rivals and law enforcement, but steady enough that people had to take them both seriously. He wasn’t just coasting on his father’s reputation, and she wasn’t some sheltered little girl who had slept her way into this world. They proved themselves, and they were thriving. And finally, Ellie felt like she was living the life she was supposed to be. She felt like herself, fully realized and alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s not that she and Colt lived in some bubble of pure domestic and professional bliss. They disagreed about how aggressive to be when rival crews inched in on their turf, about whether a drop would be worth the payout, about whether or not the new mechanic was trustworthy enough to drive on their next big job. And when they disagreed, they disagreed. It was never violent, but it was loud and passionate. They pushed each other time and time again. It was just how they worked things out, and they always were able to come to an understanding in the end.

Ellie never questioned their arrangement until she was pregnant. In their four years as equal partners, both personally and professionally, she’d never had any qualms about the life they were living. It was exciting and thrilling, but their risks were always calculated, or so it had seemed. They were smart about things. It’s why their territory had nearly doubled in size over those four years with only one misdemeanor arrest for petty theft for their entire crew over that time.

But when she heard that heartbeat over the sonogram, Ellie knew that she had to change the way she thought about risk and reward, because risks that were acceptable to take when it was just her and Colt, conquering south LA one block at a time, where not okay when there was going to be a child at home depending on them. Colt, on the other hand, seemed to take the opposite approach. He was hungrier and more ambitious than ever. He wanted to move more volume, expand to new neighborhoods, to grow bigger more quickly than ever.

“This will be our legacy. All of this, rebuilt and passed on to our kid,” he told her over and over again. And any of her pleas to slow things down, to take a step back, were met with annoyance and frustration. “If we slow down, we won’t be able to keep what we have now. Others will take notice and swoop in. It’ll be a moment of weakness.”

He worked nearly around the clock, always trying to strike a better deal, to find a better score. Part of her had even worried that he would have left her at the hospital with just her father if he got word of a deal on hot merchandise while she was in labor. But when the contractions came, he was at her side the entire time. He was antsy and impatient, sure, but most of that was probably due to having to spend 26 hours straight in a confined space with Dad. Over the years, that relationship had never evolved beyond frosty tolerance.

When Margot Graciela Kaneko came into the world, 6 lbs 4 oz and screaming like a banshee, Ellie swore she saw Colt wipe a tear away. She hadn’t seen him cry since that awful night in May nine years ago, when he’d had to watch his father sacrifice himself. When she forgot all about how horrible it was that Colt had kidnapped and planned murders because he’d looked so broken and human, not at all like a ruthless kingpin wannabe who had no moral code. With all their shared daddy issues, it had felt cruel to bring up her concerns about his moral compass when his world had just shattered to pieces.

For his part, Dad cried openly when she told him his granddaughter’s name, forgiving the use of Kaneko as her surname when he realized she shared her middle name with the abuela she would never get to meet. For a moment, they felt like a normal family. Not a detective father who had to turn a blind eye as his daughter and her boyfriend ran one of the ten largest auto theft crews in LA. Just three adults who loved a little baby girl more than anything.

Colt was always a loving father. He adored Margot, and she wanted for nothing. Toys and clothes and books littered her nursery in their new two bedroom house, a home security system installed with door and window alarms, motion sensors, and security cameras. He took pride in every developmental milestone she reached and bragged about her constantly. The office at the shop was covered with her drawings, and when she started 4K, her first attempts at writing letters and numbers joined her colorings and paintings.

He just didn’t seem to have any desire to strike a work-life balance. It didn’t exactly surprise Ellie. They had both thrown themselves into that shop for years, their only goal and purpose. For both of them, work had been their life. But now, she felt like they needed to handle things a little differently. More cautious, less aggressive in their growth schemes. It was a point of disagreement between them regularly.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, Ellie. I’m building this for us. For her. Since when are you fucking timid about growing the shop?”

“It would be nice if you could eat dinner at home with us more than a couple of times a month.”

“Just bring her for dinner with the crew.”

Round and round, over and over. Her asking him to take a step back and spend more time with Margot while he dove deeper and deeper into his work, acting like bringing Margot into that world as a preschooler was a solution. At times it felt like her own personal Groundhog’s Day, her living the same day with the same damn fight time and time again.

She’d been venting to Mona one afternoon in a coffee shop as she waited for a contact to bring them info about a new shipment that should be passing through over the weekend. It was a little risky, combining her work with a meeting with Mona now that she worked as a consultant on grand larceny cases for the LAPD. Initially it had been a condition of her parole, but it ended up suiting Mona just fine. She was a free-lancer at this point, so she only took the cases that she wanted, and she was well paid for it. Not as well-paid as Colt and Ellie, but without the overhead and without the risk. 

“He just is so single-minded, and he doesn’t understand why it bothers me.”

Mona laughed at that. “He’s Kaneko’s kid, Ellie. I don’t know what else you were expecting when you picked him over Logan.”

It was strange to think about it like that. She knew that Logan and Colt had both wanted her back then. And for a while, she and Logan were happy. But while Logan had tried to shield her from his world, Colt had encouraged her to immerse herself further. He saw potential in her, and it had been so liberating, being seen as a woman, not a child. And once it came out that Logan had only pursued her at Kaneko’s instruction, she’d just been done. She felt like a pawn and a fool, hurt and violated, so she’d turned to the only person she could count on to be blunt and direct, to respect enough at least for that.

“Have you heard from Logan at all?”

Mona shook her head. “I think he made it to Detroit, but that was years ago.”

“I hope he’s doing okay,” Ellie said as she took a sip of her coffee. Mona just raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push that topic any further. She was right. The traits that drew her to Colt in the first place were wrapped tightly with the ones that frustrated her now, all of which were proof that he was very much his father’s son.

“So other than Colt being an ass, how’s life?” Mona asked, drawing Ellie out of her nostalgic musings. She pulled out her phone and showed her a video of Margot cruising around on her new balance bike. For better or worse, this was the life she had chosen, and for all its frustrations, she knew she still had plenty to appreciate. She wouldn’t have wanted a different life, anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Margot was heavy in her arms as she rang the doorbell, praying that he wasn’t working tonight. He really wasn’t supposed to be working nights at all anymore - his cardiologist’s recommendation as part of numerous lifestyle changes - but Ellie knew he would still pick up an overnight now and then. She’d never really felt like she was in a position to question his judgement given her own career choices.

She rang the bell three times before she saw a light flip on the hallway. She let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t wanted to have to pick the lock. A few seconds later, the door cracked open. Her father looked disoriented, his hair sticking out in numerous directions, wearing blue plaid pajama pants and an old Honor Roll Parent t-shirt.

“Ellie? What’s going-” he started, but dropped his voice to a whisper when he noticed Margot passed out against her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Ellie nodded. “We just need a place to stay.”

He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to say more, but after a second, he just nodded and stepped aside, letting them pass through the door. He followed a few steps behind. Ellie could feel him staring at her as she carried her daughter into her old bedroom, tucking her in on the far side of the bed.

“I need to go grab our stuff from my car. Can you stay with her? She’s going to be confused if she wakes up and isn’t in her bed.”

Dad just nodded again, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his hand soothingly over the back of his granddaughter’s head. When Ellie returned with the duffel bag and tote bags she managed to fill, all she knew she could carry at the same time as Margot, she dropped them on the floor. Anytime she had come to stay before, she’d only brought a couple days worth of clothes, so she knew the amount of luggage she’d brought was going to attract attention. He was a detective, after all.

“How long are you staying?”

All she could do was shake her head, willing herself not to cry. She felt lost and heartbroken, but more than that, she felt stupid. Stupid for ignoring everyone’s warnings about Colt, for thinking that she could have the thrills and excitement of that life without causing serious harm, for having a child with a man who could order the murder of someone without batting an eyelash.

Dad stood up and crossed over to her, wrapping his arms around her, and she couldn’t hold back anymore. She started sobbing into his chest, feeling like a child all over again. But the pain kept pouring out of her, and her father just took it all, even after everything she’d put him through over the past 13 years. And when the tears finally slowed, she let him guide her to her old bed and tuck her in right next to her daughter.

The next week was filled with rounds of Candyland and Guess Who, drives out for ice cream and donuts, and trips to the park with Abuelo. All things that Margot loved, things that would hopefully keep her happy and from asking questions that Ellie wasn’t ready to answer. How do you tell your four year old that her Daddy, the man she thought was the best on the planet, had decided to make some phone calls to end a man’s life, so they couldn’t live with him anymore? Ellie just wanted to put off that conversation for as long as possible.

But Margot was bright and curious, and all the distraction in the world wasn’t enough to make her forget her home and her father. Ellie stumbled through it the best she could, telling her that Daddy had done something very naughty that he thought was the right choice, but that was actually something really bad.

“Is Daddy in a timeout?” she asked as Ellie tucked her in, her brown eyes wide with wonder.

“Kind of, sweetie.”

“How long do Daddy’s timeouts last?”

“A long time, Margot. A very long time.”

She nodded, like it all made sense to her now. Ellie knew she couldn’t keep her from Colt forever, but until she felt like she had her feet under her again, this was probably the best approach she could hope for. She dropped a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and flipped off the lights, gently closing the door and making her way into the kitchen.

The Mancala board was set up this time. While the days were filled with fun activities for Margot, the nights had been a series of board games, just her and Dad. Just like the old days. He hadn’t asked her many questions. Ellie suspected he was so glad she had left Colt, that he didn’t want to push his luck and say the wrong thing that might send her running back to him. But tonight she was going to have to broach the subject.

“Dad, can you watch Margot tomorrow night?” she asked as she dropped her stones down, one by one, working her way around the board.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Probably to the shop or our house. I’m going to have to talk to him at some point.”

“He’s… been riding by on that... bike of his,” Dad ground out, glancing up across the table, his eyes flitting nervously. Like she hadn’t known that was the case. She knew exactly what his bike sounded like. Besides, she knew it would be his next step. She had dozens of voicemails and unread texts from him.

“I know.”

“Do you… what I mean is… what do you want me… are you… Ellie-”

“We’re done, Dad. I don’t want to see him.” She interrupted his ramblings, and glanced up from the Mancala board at him. His shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. “But we have a kid together. I can’t just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

He let out a little hum as he contemplated his next move. “Ellie, what happened?”

She shook her head. No way he wouldn’t feel obligated to turn Colt in if he heard that he’d ordered Shaw’s shanking. “I really can’t tell you.”

“If he did something that-”

“-I still own 50% of the shop, Dad. Plus, he’s Margot’s father. This is going to be hard enough on her without him behind bars.”

She could practically feel her father’s stare, attempting to bore a hole in the top of her head as she kept her eyes on the board. She knew he wanted to know more, wanted to say more. Finally, he said, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but if you’re looking at a custody battle, him behind bars would be very helpful.”

She turned her head up and frowned. “I’m not going to throw him to the wolves. It won’t make things better, trust me.”

“Honey, you say that now, but when custody battles get going-”

“He’s not gonna fight me for custody,” Ellie interrupted. “Not as long as I let him see her every now and then.”

“How can you know that?”

“I’m gonna let him buy me out of the shop well below market value. That’s always been his priority, anyway.” She’d been mulling it over in her mind, and it seemed like her best move. They both got what they wanted. As long as she promised not to do what his mother had done, to take his kid and move as far away as possible, he would probably agree. He got his father’s legacy and a relationship with his daughter. She got the chance to shield her daughter from the harshest realities of the world where she was born. It was win-win.

She knew she was screwed professionally at this point. She’d spent the nine years since college in a job that would do little for her resume. It was a small price to pay for her daughter’s safety and well-being, though.

“Hopefully I’ll be able to get enough to get a little apartment for us, at least until I figure out what I can do for work-” she started explaining, but Dad reached across the table and grabbed her hand, cutting her off.

“You’ll both stay here as long as you need.”

“Dad, you’ve already dealt with so much of this drama. I’m not going to ask you to house us indefinitely.”

He shook his head, still holding tight to her hand. “I know you could do it on your own if you had to, Ellie. You are bright and resourceful and so determined when you need to be. But I’m your dad, and this something I can do to help you out and keep you safe.”

Tears welled in her eyes at his words. His desire to protect her from a harsh world was still there all those years later. And while it had been the bane of her existence as a teenager who thought she could handle everything that life would throw her way, his attitude felt different now that she had Margot sleeping in her childhood bed, a direct result of her own attempt to protect her child.

“Thank you, Dad,” she choked out, forcing a smile as a couple of tears spilled over onto her cheeks.

“Of course, Honey. You’re both my girls, always.”

He was right, more right than he could know. Because if Colt was cut from the same cloth as his father, well, so was she, at least where it counted. She would protect her daughter and as a family, they would get through the bad times. She hadn’t always made the right choices, but she had her daughter and she had her father. And for the time being, that would have to be enough.

Permatag: @choicesficwriterscreations @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts   

ROD: @mskaneko @burnsoslow​

[aion-rsa]

Why You Should Watch Young Royals

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This article contains some spoilers for Young Royals. 

WIth an overabundance of teenage-oriented romance shows on television at the moment, it can be hard to conjure up a reason to watch yet another one. Every streaming service seems to have something in the genre to fit a need, whether that be a gay protagonist, a female hero, or an ensemble cast. It’s very difficult to stand out amongst the crowd because there are very few places left untapped in exploring adolescent life styles. 

Enter Young Royals, a Swedish-produced LGTBQ romance drama that was released on Netflix at the beginning of July. When Prince Wilhelm (Edvin Ryding) is sent to boarding school by the Queen after getting in some trouble at a nightclub, he feels out of his element and overwhelmed with expectations. His only reprieve from the rigidity of this environment comes when he meets Simon (Omar Rudberg), a kind and charismatic child of an immigrant mother. 

Prince Wilhelm and Simon’s burgeoning relationship eventually turns into one of the most evocative and explorative love stories in contemporary queer TV. A keen understanding from the writers and actors of what can make a show like this stand out amongst a repetitive crowd of competitors is what will hopefully lead to enough viewership for many more seasons. Here are some more reasons you should watch Young Royals.

The Teenagers Actually Look and Behave Like Teenagers

Far too often the young people in coming-of-age entertainment vehicles look, act, and feel a little too mature for actual teens to relate to on any sort of deeper level. The actors who are casted infamously have birth dates well before the people they are portraying on-screen (Darren Barnet, who plays 16 year old Paxton Hall-Yoshida on Mindy Kaling’s hit series Never Have I Ever, is a whopping 13 years older than his character!) Not only does this force an unrealistic standard of beauty on the viewers to live up to, it also breaks up the immersive quality that truly great TV possesses to transport us to different worlds that connect to our own.

Edvin Ryding is 18 and Omar Rudberg is 22. With faces spotted with pimples and makeup sparsely used to mask other superficial blemishes on the actors, the people in this show seem like they could show up at any secondary school in your neighborhood and fit right in. This provides an authenticity to the storytelling that you simply don’t get with the majority of teen romance media. Perhaps the reason for such realism is because European filmmakers strive for higher artistic standards when filming, shunning the degrading expectations of sexiness and maturity that directors in the United States have grown obsessed with. Whatever the reasoning behind it is, the show’s casting is a breath of fresh air. 

The Story Skips the Often-Redundant Coming Out Journey

I want to start by getting one thing very clear: the coming out journey is one of the most important tropes used in LGBTQ movies and television; I wrote a whole essay on how Love, Victor’s exquisite and heartfelt depiction of this plot point helped me come out of the closet in my own life. When done properly, this storyline can be both inspirational and important to the young queer community. The problem is that far too often the coming out process is the only focus, and all of the other dynamics of gay teenage life get shelved and under-examined. 

Young Royals gives you a negligible amount of hand-holding when it comes to spelling out the sexuality of the two protagonists: Simon mentions in one conversation with his dad that he is gay, and Wilhelm’s own musings are so focused on the former that we know immediately how smitten he is with his charming classmate. There is a little bit of internal denial from Wilhelm when he tells Simon he “isn’t like that” after they share an awkward first kiss, but we know he’s kidding neither us nor his lover. 

The intense romantic energy is so new, raw, and real that there is no need for anybody to come out; it’s obvious that these two are gay as hell for each other and that discovery is absolutely beautiful. As mentioned, though, Wilhelm is a part of a royal family and publicly coming out as a celebrity is a whole different topic that the show sets up nicely for in a possible second season.

Sexual Expression is Explored on an Emotional Level

The show is rated TV-MA, but it can’t possibly be for nudity or graphic sexual expression. The passion between Wilhelm and Simon is certainly physical to an extent, but the little things, the tiny moments of young love are so much more meaningful than watching two actors maul one another like wild animals or porn stars. Short kisses in the forest, holding hands while watching a movie, and dropping off a quick breakfast in class are all amongst the enviable acts of emotional desire that are displayed from the characters. 

TV shows rarely understand what actual love looks like in the real world. It isn’t always 12 hours spent in the bedroom or excessive PDA in front of classmates and family. It’s what two people feel about each other that words can’t possibly describe. It’s an emotion that bonds a couple into one. Wilhelm tells Simon when professing his love midway through the season that nothing in his life feels real except for how he feels about him (a line improvised by Edvin Ryding). That’s so much more than a one-night stand or a cheap hookup and it’s something every other teen rom-com should learn from and aspire to emulate.    

A Delicate Discussion on Classism in Relationships 

A melancholy sticking point in the relationship between Wilhelm and Simon is their difference in social class. Wilhelm is the second-in-line to the throne of Sweden while Simon is the poor son of an immigrant mother who cannot afford to live on campus at the boarding school the characters attend. When the two boys are together, money and celebrity status become irrelevant. It’s an absolutely beautiful give and take where both kids get to learn how attraction has nothing to do with societal expectations and pressures, but keeping a relationship definitely does. 

When their love affair gets leaked in a sex tape á la Kim Kardashian, Wilhelm is expected to hide his sexuality and his desire for someone low on the social ladder. The way both young men work together to figure out a common ground solution is simultaneously touching and heartbreaking, as homophobia within the Swedish Kingdom makes the love forbidden and creates the main tension in the finale’s climax. Classism is such an underutilized topic in romance stories and Young Royals does a great job finding that fine line between forcing the issue and exploring it thoroughly. 

A Small, Strong Cast

Many shows that follow a romance struggle to give equal screen time to both parties. It can be tempting to flesh out the main protagonist more fully than divide attention among both characters. If you add in supporting roles around the couple it can get really flimsy in the hands of a shoddy screenwriting team. 

This show only has three true supporting roles: August, Sara, and Felice. This leaves plenty of material for both Wilhelm and Simon to be equals in spite of the central focus being on Wille. When you get to see the POV of each person independent of the other, it becomes a much richer experience and you are more easily able to sympathize with both young men instead of taking sides during a conflict. Their personal lives, especially their unique family dynamics help inform the audience about the romance. By the end of the six episodes, you feel like Wilhelm and Simon are amongst your own social circle because you know them intimately. That just doesn’t happen with most coming-of-age series. 

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All six episodes of Young Royals season 1 are available to stream on Netflix now.

The post Why You Should Watch Young Royals appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[staticscreenwriting]

The vision of your happiness - Billy Hargrove

This is my entry for @lets-hargroove​‘s Valentine’s Day writing challenge. I chose “Are you wearing that for me” as my prompt. This is pure fluff. I hope you guys enjoy & happy belated V-day.

A crisp layer of frost lays upon the grounds, covers the hills and the valleys and wraps the entirety of Hawkins in a sparkling blanket of ice.

It’s february and it’s freezing and (Y/N) wishes herself back to warmer days. To skin glistening in the sun. To the scent of heat and sunscreen. To hanging out by the pool. Watching him. Waiting. Counting down the minutes until it was time for him to clock out.

To fucking in the showers, trying not to get caught. To summer and pleasure and excitement.

It all seemed to exhilarating then. The keeping things hush hush. The sneaking around. It was their secret then and keeping it was an adventure. It was bold and daring and fun. 

But summer soon gave way for the fall and then the cold winds of winter. And with the snow and the cold, came the realisation that whatever it is they have — is an eternal “almost”.

With the pool being closed until may, the two of them had eventually been forced to relocate their tête-à-tête to another place. Gone are the days of spending what felt like an eternity underneath the warm spray of the shower. Nowadays he picks her up somewhere, they drive out to lovers lake. They park somewhere a bit off the path — to make sure their secret stays their secret. They kiss. They make out. They fuck. And once the fogged up windows clear up again, they get out. They share a cigarette. Sometimes they talk.

And then they let the realistation settle deep inside them. They let it consume them. From their hearts outwards. To their brains. Their lungs. Their bones. The realisation that this is just a temporary fix. That what they have is everything and nothing all at once. It’s halfway something. Halfway in love. Halfway happy. 

She thinks that’s what hurts the most. The knowledge that there is something there, it’s just not enough for him. If this was just sex, if it was nothing more, it would be so easy. But there’s a palpable tension between them. A certain kind of connection. A tingling in the air. 

Yet there’s a big cloud that seems to follow them around constantly, hanging above their heads heavy with rain about to pour down on them. She knows what the cloud is made of. Billy knows it too. It’s the knowledge that he hates it here, that he 100% wants to go back to California. It’s made of fears and doubts and the absolute horror that comes with thinking about the future. 

And the biggest part of it all, is the fact that Billy Hargrove doesn’t do relationships. 

So they stay there, on that line of being halfway something. 

Billy is leaning against the Camaro, cigarette dangling from his lips making him look so effortlessly cool it’s almost unfair. His hair sticks to his skin from their earlier workout, she thinks it makes him look like James Dean. That thought scares her. Billy, and this has to be blatantly obvious to him too, is a vision of all things gorgeous in this world. He’s soft golden curls and sharp jawline. He’s wicked grin and sparkling blue eyes. 

He’s an amalgamation of all things beautiful in the world. And (Y/N) is — well, she’s (Y/N). She knows she should be happy about things being the way they are. If sex, and friendship, is all she’s gonna get from him — she should be thankful about that. To even have that is more than she ever deemed possible.

But it doesn’t make her happy. Not all the way. Only ever halfway.

“ You going to the Valentine’s dance thing on friday ? “ Billy murmures around his cigarette.

“ Nope. “ 

“ Why not ? You got something better to do ? A hot date ? “ 

If only, she thinks, if only there was someone else. Maybe things would be easier than. Maybe it would be easier to let go of Billy. Alas there is no one else. Just him. 

“ No. No one’s asked me and I think it would be kinda shit to go by myself. I mean, it’s a Valentine’s Day dance so showing up alone is social suicide. “ 

For a moment, a spark of hope flickers inside of her. Like maybe this is the moment he’s gonna take the next step with her. Pull them out of the shadows, out of the deserted dressing rooms and fogged up cars and into the light. So that anyone can see. And she’s not asking for a love confession or anything. It’s just that dancing along the line of being something and being nothing is awfully exhausting and absolutely confusing.

“ Well, Valentine’s is dumb anyway.” 

Just like that, the flicker is gone. The hope is gone. All that is left is painful emptiness.

It’s not exactly the truth, per say. Someone has asked her but that person is Michael O’Hara and though he’s a nice enough guy, he’s not Billy. In fact, Billy detests him. He’s fairly well off, his dad owns a construction company, his mom does charity work. They have a nice house and a big garden and a golden retriever. They are everything personified that Billy resents. She didn’t tell him no. She didn’t tell him yes either. 

How was she expected to give Michael a proper answer if her heart was all over the place ?

“ Well you sound like a romantic. “

“ It’s all bullshit. “ 

“ You telling me you don’t believe in love ? “

Billy takes another drag from his cigarette, the muscles in his jaw straining as he inhales. If god ever came close to creating perfection, Billy was it, (Y/N) thought.

“ You telling me you do ? Tell me one couple that makes you believe in it ? My parents hate each other. Your parents hardly acknowledge each other. Outlook’s not so good if you ask me. “

He has a point, (Y/N) has to give him that. None of the adult relationships in their lives seem to work out too well. If love had ever been there in the first place, it is gone by now. And yet, to give up on it entirely seems foolish. If you can’t believe in love what else is there to believe in ? 

And what if the one person you love most, thinks it’s but a stupid fantasy.

“ So you don’t ever wanna like — fall in love ? Get married ? “ 

Billy regards her for a moment, barely letting his eyes travel towards her but she can see him glance through the corner of his eyes. “ Waste of time. “

It’s like a dagger straight to her heart. Waste of time. Waste of time. It repeats like a mantra in her mind. Over and over again.

“ That’s good to know. “ 

“ Mmh “.

A silence settles upon them and even though they often find themselves in a situation much like this one, it feel different now. As if the world has somehow shifted, lost the gravity that previously held it all together. Now they’re floating in a limbo. Drifting further and further away. And for the first time in a while (Y/N) doesn’t know how much longer she can hold onto him.

“ What are you doing tomorrow night ? “ Billy asks, dropping his cigarette bud on the ground before facing her properly for the first time since they’ve gotten out of the car. His eyes are intense and sometimes she thinks she can see something in them. Something more. Something that’s certain. Something that’s a definitely, not an almost.

But as soon as it flashed up, its gone again, making her wonder if it’s just a case of wishful thinking.

“ Work. You know the diner goes all out for Valentine’s week. “ 

Billy knows this. In fact it was Valentine’s week last year that the two of them properly met for the first time. 

Billy was bitter, about his move to Hawkins, about the situation with his dad, about life in general. 

And to top it all off, Hawkins Indiana seemed to have been captured by 

the greeting card industry. There were dances and parties themed after Valentine’s and paper hearts in every shop window. It felt like the world was mocking him.

The boy was hasn’t even been loved surrounded by an abundance of superficial displays of affection.

So he ended up at the diner, hoping for some peace and quiet — and some chili cheese fries.

What he go instead, was a diner looking as if Cupid himself had thrown up in there, a jukebox playing 1950s love songs and her. 

Her smiling. Her laughing. Her looking at him, eyes full of wonder and excitement and joy. Her.

Her dressed as a — heart ? 

“ Hi, welcome to Stella’s and happy Valentine’s week. My name is (Y/N), I am your waitress today. Can I start you off with some drinks ? “ 

There was something about her then. About the bliss in her voice. The smile on her face. about how she looked absolutely ridiculous in the foam heart costume that gave her very little room to move her arms. Ridiculous. But also fucking adorable.

“ Are you wearing that for me ? “ 

He expected her to react like all the other Hawkins girls did whenever he paid them even the smallest amount of attention. Blush and get flustered and wrap herself around his finger.

She didn’t though. She smirked and said “ I might be” and winked and then asked for his order of drink again. 

And for the first time in his life he thought that Valentine’s maybe wasn’t all that bad.

“ Hmm… I might pop round then. Get some chili fries. Grace you with my company. “ 

She hates that this makes her heart flutter. It shouldn’t but it does. It also comes with a bitter aftertaste though. Because this affection is only reserved for when they are alone or in the company of people they don’t know all too well. She knows that as soon as one of their classmates shows up, he’s gonna recoil. Pretend like she’s just another girl. Someone he almost knows, but doesn’t.

It hurts. God does it hurt.

And yet she smiles and nods and says “ sure “ and kisses him like she’s not desperately trying to hold together the pieces of her heart slowly crumbling. 

Earth Angel by the penguins is blasting from the jukebox and Billy enters the diner. The bell above the door chimes up and alarms (Y/N) of a new customer.

As soon as he catches sight of her, Billy thinks his heart might give out. She’s not a heart this time. She’s an angel. Maybe a cupid. He’s not sure. She’s in a red tulle skirt, a white shirt with a red heart on it. Red angel wings are strapped to her back and she’s glued little red sequin hearts to her cheeks, just below her eyes.

But her lips. God, her lips are what really make him feel some kind of way. Red and glossy and like they might taste of cherries or strawberries or candy apples. 

“ Hi “ she chirps as she approaches him, a bounce in her step “ Happy Valentine’s week. My name is (Y/N) and I am your waitress today. Can I start you off with some drinks ? “

He smiles back, a smile that he actually means, one he feels in his heart. Which is fucking terrifying honestly. 

“ Are you wearing that for me ? “ he asks, slightly tugging at a feather of her wings.

And just like the first time, she smirks, directs him to a table, winks and says “ I might be. “ 

And just like the first time, his heart starts beating just a little faster.

Things seem to go so well, until they don’t. 

For almost two hours, Billy sits in his booth, eating chili cheese fries, watching (Y/N) move around the diner. Every once in a while she comes over, steals a fry, leaves a kiss on his lips. It all feels so so gentle, so sweet. So right.

And then — reality settled back in.

(Y/N)’s heart drops as soon as she bell chimes up and she catches sight of who it is that has just entered. 

Tommy and Carol are loud. They are obnoxious. They are exhausting. But that’s not the reason why she’s dreading their company. It’s the influence they have on Billy.

All the softness and the affection vanished in the matter of a heartbeat. He’s back to being bitter and stoic and cold. And it hurts.

There’s no smiles from him as she approaches his table, the one they have just invited themselves to. 

“ Hi, happy Valentine’s week. My name is (Y/N) and I am your waitress can I get you something to drink ? “ 

Carol only musters her with a mix of amusement and ridicule. Tommy though, loudmouth he is, laughs at her. Not a funny, radiant, charming laugh. A mean one.

“ Look at you ! I hope they pay you a bunch for putting you into that stupid get-up. “ 

It doesn’t hurt. In fact, she doesn’t give a single fuck about what Tommy thinks.

What hurts, is Billy. Billy laughing along. Not a charming laugh either. Not the laugh she loves. A mean one. A ridiculing one.

What hurts is the way he looks at her then, as if she’s a stranger. As if he hasn’t been inside of her just last night. As if he hadn’t been placing soft kisses along her neck, whispering sweet nothings against her skin.

What hurts is when he scoffs and says “ She’s a waitress, Tommy. How much are they possibly paying her ? Not enough to wear that ridiculous shit. “ 

That’s what hurts. So damn much.

(Y/N) hopes he can see it in her eyes when they lock with his. That it breaks her. That it hurts her so much. She hopes he can see it, she hopes that he knows. She hopes that a little part of him, even if it’s teeny tiny, she hopes that part hurts too. 

“ They pay alright actually. “ she responds, wiping the table clean once again and pulling out her notepad.

“ Are you coming to the dance, (Y/N) ? “ Carol chimes up before ordering a diet coke.

“ Actually, I am “ 

It’s then, that Billy’s eyes snap up. They hold something else now, something she’s not familiar with. If she didn’t know better she’d say it’s jealousy. She does know better though. Billy isn’t jealous. You have to care to be jealous. And Billy obviously doesn’t care. At least not about her.

“ Really ? Who are you going with ? “ Carol inquires. 

“ Michael O’Hara “ 

She tries to see something in Billy’s reaction though he stays still. As if the frost from outside has suddenly taken over his body as well, freezing him in place. 

“ Oh, “ Carol says “ he’s a sweet guy. Good for you. “ 

It’s strange but she sounds almost sincere. As sincere as Carol can sound. And that, is maybe a tiny flicker or joy in this god awful situation. 

“ Yeah, he really is a sweet guy. There’s very few of them.” (Y/N) replies before walking towards the counter to get their drinks, not granting Billy as much as another glance.

It’s a while later, Carol and Tommy long gone, that Billy walks up to the register. There’s the usual suaveness about him. He looks so effortlessly cool. But where he usually seems unbothered, something doesn’t seem right in that moment.

“ You just gonna ignore me for the rest of the night ? “ 

“ Oh I’m sorry, I’m busy trying to make a living on my silly little waitress job. “ 

Billy scoffs and it makes her angry. He’s so smug, so complacent. “ God, you can’t seriously be pissed because of that comment. It was a dumb joke, (Y/N). “ 

“ Jokes are meant to be funny. “ 

“ And it was. “ 

“ Not to me, it wasn’t. “ 

He shakes his head in a dismissive motion. As if she has no right to be offended. No right to feel hurt.

“ You said you didn’t have a date for the dance, now suddenly you’re going with Michael O’Hara. Pretty boy Mike ? He’s not even your type. “ 

“ How the fuck would you know that ? “ 

“ I know you. “ 

“ You don’t know shit, Billy. “ 

“ I know what you like and it’s not guys like him. “ 

“ Oh really ? Do you ? If you knew me that well you’d know that the way you’re treating me when your friends are around, that hurts Billy. If you don’t want them to know that we’re fucking, that’s fine with me. I just don’t understand why you have to be such an asshole when they are around. Why can’t they know that we’re friends at least ? Am I really that embarrassing ? Are you really that ashamed of me ? “ 

Billy combs his fingers through his curls in the same way he always does when he’s aggravated, when he’s annoyed, when he’s frustrated. She hates that she can tell 

his moves and gestures so clearly. Hates that she knows him so well when he seems to know absolutely nothing about her. If only she didn’t love him so much, life could be so easy. So simple.

So painless.

“ It’s not like that “ he tries to explain.

“ Then what is it like ? Explain it to me, Billy. Because quite frankly I don’t understand it. “ 

Time seems to slow down as she’s waiting for him to reply. To give her an explanation, and apology, anything. 

What she gets, is silence. Thick with words unspoken. Thick with tension. With pain. With heartbreak.

“ Yeah that’s what I thought. Go fuck yourself, Billy. “ 

She disappears through the swinging doors and enters the break room, just about holding it together. That’s until she hears the bell above the door chime up once again, then the door slam, then the unmistakable sound of the camaro starting.

Then, and only then, does she allow herself to fall apart. Slide down the wall, sit on the floor. And cry. And feel. And cry some more.

Until eventually she’s all out of tears and all that’s left is a feeling of overwhelming emptiness.

Michael is a nice guy. He’s attentive and sweet and a real gentleman. He’s picked her up at 6 sharp, he’s been extremely charming when meeting her parents, he’s wearing a gorgeous suede suit. Everything about him should make her swoon. He’s the guy her heart should be longing for.

Only love doesn’t know no rules nor guidelines. It doesn’t operate on rational thoughts. 

The heart wants what it wants and, no matter how much she tries to fool herself into believing there’s anything she can do about it if only she tries hard enough, (Y/N) heart doesn’t want Michael.

She has to admit that simple fact to herself as she’s clutching a cup of spiked punch in her hand as Michael sits next to her rambling about some topic or another. He’s such a nice dude and deserves better. Better than a girl who’s heart is somewhere completely else.

The gym suddenly feels stuffy, like the walls are closing in and the room is getting smaller and smaller. There’s too many people here, too much noise. She needs a breather. A second to catch herself. To soften the inevitable fall.

“ Hey, Mike. I’ll go catch some air real quick, “ she announces, softly squeezing his arm in a friendly way. He’s so nice. He’s too nice.

“ Oh sure, d’you want me to come ? “ 

“ No. No you enjoy yourself. I uh — I’ll be fine. “ 

And he doesn’t complain or object and, when their eyes meet, she can see it all as clear as day. The defeat. The disappointment. The sadness. The gratefulness that it’s ending before it’s properly begun, before too many feelings got involved.

He knows, as well as she does, that this ain’t working. This isn’t even an almost and though the outcome isn’t what either of them had desired for it to be, a definite nothing is quite a lot better than an uncertain almost.

“ Alright. Let me know if you need me. “ 

She nods, then pushes through the crowd of dancing teenagers, sweaty, sticky, unruly. The cold february air hits her skin as she steps outside, goosebumps are rising all over. Her fingers are itching for a cigarette but she’s shared the last cigarette from her package with Billy the other day and hasn’t gotten around to buy a new one.

So she rests her back against the cold concrete wall of the school building and looks up into the sky. The stars twinkle back at her like tiny rhinestones on a veil of dark blue fabric. It all seems so vast right then, like she’s but a tiny speck of dust on the grand scheme of things. It’s both, scary and insanely exciting. 

“ You got a smoke ? “ 

His voice sends involuntary chills down her spine. It’s like golden honey melting in a cup of warm milk. Thick and rich and warm and homey. 

His voice sounds like home, when it definitely shouldn’t. It does anyway.

“ What are you doing out here, Michael not bring it ? “ 

“ Look if you’re here to make fun o — oh wow. “ 

He’s in a suit. Not a uber fancy one that one would wear to a wedding, but a suit nonetheless. There’s no bow, no tie, no cummerbund. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned. He’s still wearing his biker boots and the silver earring is dangling from his earlobe. 

If there was ever a person who looked out of place, it’s Billy in this moment. 

“ I’m not here to make fun of you. “ 

The sincerity in his voice is overwhelming. Like nothing she’s ever heard before. Especially not from him. “ I’m sorry. “ 

It’s two word. Two simple fucking words. And yet they hold the meaning of a lifetime. It seems that once he’s spoken them, her world gains back a bit of gravity. That with accepting his own faults he is pushing her world back into the right position. Slowly. Carefully. But he’s doing it nonetheless.

“ You’re wearing a suit. “ 

“ It’s a dance, it’s mandatory. “ 

“ Why are you at the dance ? Thought you didn’t believe in love. “ 

“ It’s not that I don’t believe in love, “ Billy confesses “ It’s just that I was never shown how it’s supposed to feel or work. I wasn’t loved in a long time so the way we feel about each other is making me freak the fuck out. Because I’ve not felt like this in a long time, if ever. I don’t know how to deal with it so I sabotage myself. You are not embarrassing though and neither is your job. You are far from it. You are way too good for my dumb ass. “ 

“ What are you saying, Billy ? “ 

“ I’m falling in love with you and it terrifies me. I’m so scared of fucking it up that I ruin things before it can get that far. But then I — I realised that I could lose you. And the Michael O-fucking-Hara of all people. And that thought is honestly way worse. Because when I’m with you I have good moments, and I don’t have a lot of those in my everyday life but with you — with you there are so many. So I realised I have to stop being such a pussy and actually get off my ass and tell you how I feel even if it’s scary. You’re allowed to stop me any second by the way, talking about my feeling makes me feel icky but I’ll do it anyway if it means you’ll forgive me. “ 

“ Billy. “ 

“ Because I am falling in love with you and I don’t care who knows or doesn’t know. I just need you to know. That’s all that matters. “ 

If there was ever a moment to be soft, to be kind, to be forgiving — it is tonight. Underneath a thousand sparkling stars, as a lovesong plays from the inside of the gym. As he looks at her with eyes filled with adoration and passion and — .

She takes his face in between hers and for a second, all she does is look into his eyes. Maybe she’ll regret this one day. Failure is always a possibility. But so is success. So is the prospect of a loving relationship. A romance that will defy the odds. That will be so different to the examples their parents have set. 

Her lips meet his in a soft kiss, so gentle it’s hardly there at all. And yet he feels it all over. In his head, his heart. From the top of his head to the tips of his toes. 

“ Sometimes good things are scary, Billy. Like Rollercoasters or Horror Movies, or love. “ 

He kisses her again, takes her breath away. But she thinks if this is how it goes, she’ll gladly do without oxygen.

“ Hey Billy, I got a question. “ 

“ What’s that ? “ 

She looks him up and down, then smiles. A smile so radiant it can rival the stars.

“ Are you wearing that for me ? “ she asks and tugs on the bottom of his suit jacket.

And Billy ? He kisses her again, then smiles and replies. “ I might be. “ 

[jj-lives]

Injury - Inktober fanfic

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Yang leaned up against the lockers behind her, shoulders slumped, dragged by the weight of her exhaustion. She let gravity do the rest as she was pulled down. The floor was hard and the cold metal sent a shiver up her spine where it connected with her bare skin, her shirt riding up as she collapsed. That was the worst exam of her entire life. If this was what she had to look forward to in her third year, she wasn’t sure graduate was going to be a moniker she would ever earn.

Yang stretched her arms high above her head, trying to pull the strain out of her trapezius muscle. It had been bothering her all day. She blamed falling asleep on the couch whilst studying. Waking in the most uncomfortable position of her life she’d barely enough control over her body to roll off her temporary bed. Everytime she moved her head in any direction or arms higher than her shoulders there was an accompanying pull all down her neck and into her shoulder blade. It was absolutely killing her.

“That was not a fun test.” Pyrrha spoke up, closing the classroom door behind her. Yang could still see a handful of her classmates struggling to answer the questions before time ran out. She knew they had little of that left and she pitied them. Pyrrha sank to sit beside her. “How do you think you did?”

“Failed,” she said through a groan as she rolled her shoulders.

“I’m sure you didn’t do that badly.” Pyrrha smiled, pushing her with her elbow. Yang sucked in a breath as the movement aggravated her muscles once more. Pyrrha was quick to apologize. “Is it getting any better?”

“Yeah,” Yang lied. “I’m sure it’ll go away after a night's rest in an actual bed. I am never sleeping on the couch ever again.”

Pyrrha stood, holding both hands out to her, “Let’s get out of here. Sitting on the hard floor like this isn’t going to help your condition.” 

She let Pyrrha drag her to her feet. A concerned look was aimed at her even as she tried to bury a grimace behind a smile of her own. It was nice of her not to make a big deal of the small injury, even if Pyrrha could tell how much it was bothering her. Yang hated being babied, which Pyrrha learned long ago. 

“How did you do?” Shouldering her bag she changed the subject. Pyrrha’s clipped footfalls were quick to trail after her.

“I did alright, but a couple questions definitely tripped me up.” She continued only after Yang tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Do you want to get a coffee?”

“Where the hell do you think I was leading us?” She chuckled and Pyrrha joined her.

It was a kind of ritual with them. After every test, exam or major project and presentation they would go to the cafe on the far side of campus. It was the least busy of all the shops on the grounds. The walk was completed in comfortable silence, both replaying the exam back in their heads. Yang wished she’d studied more, though she knew she hadn’t failed -as she told Pyrrha- but she didn’t want this affecting her average in the class. It was difficult enough to keep her GPA where she wanted it. They were both competitive, which wasn’t odd to find of the students in the Athletics college, but both felt the need to excel not only physically, but also academically. 

“We’ll focus more on Kinesiology the next couple of weeks.” Yang looked up from her trainers, surprised to see Pyrrha holding the door to the cafe open for her. She needed to stop autopiloting like that. The test was over and there was nothing to be done now besides look to the future. “My treat today.”

“You owe me for kicking your ass in that race last week anyway.” 

Pyrrha waved away her cockiness. “If that’s how you want to remember it. You want the usual?”

Throwing her a thumbs up, Yang wove her way around the chairs to the back corner to claim their usual spot. There were only a handful of students taking up the other tables. Most were single occupants, studying with laptops, texts and notes strewn across tables for four. One was reading a newspaper and there was a dark haired girl reading near the fireplace along the opposite wall. Her heart stopped for a beat; it was long enough for Yang to realize she’d never seen the other girl before in her life. 

“What’s up?” A mug was placed on the table, vapors snaking up from the froth. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.” Careful lips pressed to the cup as caramel sweet caffeine slid over her tongue. “Thanks.”

Pyrrha’s gaze followed where Yang’s was a moment before. Understanding crossed her features but when she turned back she didn’t mention what they both knew. Yang was relieved. She could barely put words to her reaction to Blake in her mind, there was no way she could yet speak any of it aloud. 

Pyrrha spoke up, talking about her weekend with Nora and Ren, how they all went to a party just off campus. It was easy to fall into the innocent tales of Nora challenging everyone to arm wrestling competitions, or how Ren was secretly very good at beer pong. It was simple. And it succeeded in what Yang assumed was Pyrrha’s goal. It distracted her.

“You have to come with us one weekend.” Pyrrha voiced, calming from a fit of laughter.

Yang took a steadying breath. It did sound like fun. “I don’t know. It isn’t exactly my scene, ya know?” 

“You only say that because you haven’t experienced it.” Pyrrha pointed out. “And it doesn’t have to be a party. You could come the next time we all hang out. Sober,” she added, thinking that was Yang’s problem.

“I’m not against drinking.” She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t like the idea of a bunch of drunk assholes eyeing me up like I’m the answers to all their wet dreams.”

“That’s disgusting.” 

“Exactly. Which is why I’m not in a hurry to experience it.”

There was a moment of silence. “You know I wouldn’t let anyone touch you, right?”

“I don’t doubt you for a second. I’ve been on the receiving end of your right hook, remember?” 

“That was an accident. You moved the mat in the middle of my swing.” Pyrrha took a sip of her cappuccino, glaring at her over the cup’s rim.

“Maybe, but I wore that bruise for two weeks,” she teased.

“Don’t exaggerate.” Drumming her fingers on the table, Pyrrha stole another look at the girl reading in the corner. “You need to socialize more. I worry about you.”

“I know.” Hands wrapped around the comforting heat of her own cappuccino. “You’re a good friend for that and I appreciate you more than you know.”

“But?”

“But, I…” Yang grimaced. The truth was she didn’t have a single reason to refuse Pyrrha’s offer. There were plenty of times she invited her for study sessions, or to join her and her other friends doing exactly what she and Pyrrha were doing now, getting coffee. There were no excuses that could logically explain why Yang held back from getting to know Pyrrha’s friends. “I-”

“I think that you’ve become accustomed to being alone.”

“Ruby lives with me.” she rolled her eyes, brushing the idea aside.

“That’s recent, and she’s hardly home anyway. You told me as much.”

“There’s nothing wrong with liking solitude.”

“No, but you don’t like it.” Pyrrha deadpanned. The green of her eyes peering into Yang’s accusingly. “You say as much when you complain how quiet the apartment is, or when you tell me of your boredom. I’ve heard you speak of your high school days.”

“What does that have to do with what’s so obviously wrong with me?” She knew she was getting defensive. She could feel it in the way her muscles tensed and her jaw locked, in the sound of the forced words pushing passed her clenched teeth. She also knew Pyrrha didn’t deserve any of it.

“Yang.” Voice lowered, Pyrrha placed a gentle hand on hers resting on the table. “Nothing is wrong with you. But you were always surrounded by a lot of people up until you moved here and I know you miss that.”

“Yes, because why wouldn’t I miss being surrounded by superficial barbies, and eager to please puppet boys?” Yang tapped a finger against Pyrrha’s wrist. “I’d much rather a friend that cares about me, not my body or looks or what I can do for them on the basketball court.”

“I do!” Her voice rose in indignation.

Yang laughed. “I know. I would rather have just one of you than a hundred of the type I hung out with in highschool.”

Placated with Yang’s compliments Pyrrha relented. “Fine, you don’t have to come out with us. But I don’t think making more friends like me would do you any harm.”

“There’s no one like you, and we both know it!”

A soft smile was Yang’s reward. “Save your flattery for your lady love.”

“What if I’m trying to seduce you?”

“You’re doing a piss poor job.”

“That hurts, like a knife to the guts kinda hurts.”

“That would imply you have any, we both know you haven’t the guts to ask that girl out.” Yang’s jaw hung low, impressed with Pyrrha’s comeback. “Should we test your spine too, or has that abandoned you as well?”

“Let’s not get nasty.” Yang pouted. “If you don’t like me that way you could have just said so. No need for slinging insults.”

“You deserve it.”

Yang could still see the worry behind her friend's smiling eyes. “I’ll come out with you- not this weekend!” She quickly added when Pyrrha looked at her excitedly. “I promise I’ll agree to an outing. Just one.”

Pyrrha settled, leaning back in her chair. “I’ll have to make it worth it then.” 

Yang had a feeling she would live to regret her words. She could see the wheels spinning in Pyrrha’s mind. 

“Thank you.”

Yang could only nod, knowing that all jokes aside, Pyrrha was only thinking of her well being and she’d been such a great friend to her. If this one thing could help her friend worry a little less than Yang would agree to it.

A sudden crash of a cup breaking behind the counter ripped through their silence. Both spared a hasty glance to the young girl behind the till who was beat red with embarrassment. Yang hissed at the strain the sudden movement caused, pain flaring up once again.

“Are you sure you will be alright?”

“You’ve worried over me enough today, don’t you think?”

“Not really. If I don’t do it who will?”

“You make a good point, but the strain will go away with sleep.” Turning her gaze out the window Yang could see the sun was already setting and dusk was sweeping its way across the campus. “Speaking of sleep, it’s getting late. We should probably head out.”

“Yeah,” Both stood and collected their things before exiting the building. “Meet in the library during our break tomorrow?”

“Yeah, we can go over what we remember of the test and try to get a head start on the next section.”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

They split up, Pyrrha to her dormitory and Yang to the parking lot, hoping she remembered where she’d parked. 

Taking a shortcut through the Arts building would save her a good five minutes rather than taking the long way around. She didn’t visit the building often, only having had one class in it during her first year. It was nice enough and Yang enjoyed looking at the sketches, paintings and sculptures previous students had completed over the years. The building housed a few art exhibitions a couple times a year and Yang realized, as she came up to a group blocking the hall to her escape, that was exactly what was happening now. She thought the paintings on the walls looked more professional than usual.

Sticking to the wall, Yang skirted the majority of bodies, excusing herself when she had to brush up on anyone too closely. She was sure that the last guy had heard her ask him to move but remained planted, ignoring her as one of the sculptures would, so she had to press very close to pass him. The smirk he sent her as she passed confirmed the creep she pegged him for. She wished he was a sculpture she could topple over. She’d take pleasure watching him break into a million pieces. 

As she shot him a look of her own she noticed a familiar figure in the middle of the crowd. As if sensing eyes on her, Blake looked up from the notes she was taking. Yang lifted her arm to wave and gave her a wide grin. It was a surprise when her greeting was readily returned, with almost as much enthusiasm. She was glad that Blake didn’t seem as reserved around her as before, even if they hadn’t had another chance to hang out since the movies. Yang could tell they were in some night class of sorts or an on campus field trip, so she gave Blake another wave and continued on her way. She was bound to come around at some point, seeing as every one of Ruby’s stories involved both Weiss and the girl behind her.

Pyrrha’s earlier comments filled her head. Had Blake not been in class would Yang have had the guts to talk to her? Would she have the backbone to stand there and ask the girl out? 

The skittish way she seemed to react to Blake told Yang that her friend was probably right. Nothing short of a neon sign from Blake letting her know she was interested would be enough to give Yang that push she needed. 

Maybe Pyrrha was right about everything. Maybe she was getting too comfortable in the past two years of her solitude.

Hopefully it wasn’t too late to rectify that.

[bookworm411]

A Love Letter to Steven Universe

I was eighteen when I first watched Steven Universe. My friends had been trying to get me to watch it for...i don’t even know how long. Years maybe? Because it was a long, long time before I watched the show that they had me listen to Here Comes a Thought when I was feeling particularly anxious one night. I’m pretty sure I cried. I’d never heard a song describe anxiety in such a clear way, and I used it to help calm myself for a long time after, before i even knew who the characters were or what the episode it came from was even about. 

Then I started watching Thomas Sanders on YouTube, and he’s a big fan of the show. The more I watched his videos and heard him talk about it, plus the nagging from my friends, the more I thought about watching it. 

Now, this was after I’d graduated high school, and I wasn’t in the best mental space. I couldn’t get into/afford collage, I didn’t have a job or even know how to start finding one, or honestly have the urge to get one, so I was at home by myself a lot. All day every day, alone with my thoughts and my sense of, well, uselessness as a human being, with only YouTube, Netflix, and Hulu to keep me company while all my other friends were out doing something with their lives.

I’d been depressed for a long time without realizing it, but this isolation only made things worse. 

Thomas Sanders helped. His Sanders Sides videos brought me into a community full of amazing, supportive people. People who...also loved Steven Universe. 

So eventually on one of my long hours trying to decide what to watch after finishing Gravity Falls and trying to fill that void, i decided why not? There were a lot of episodes, it would fill the time for a while. 

Anyone who’s watched the first few episodes of the show know that it’s...interesting. The first season itself is something one of a kind, but those first few episodes with Cookie Cat and Frybo know that the first time experience of those episodes are something you’ll ever forget, for better or worse. 

There were things i didn’t like, of course. there were weird animation moments, Steven was a little bit too annoying at times, Lars was an asshole. 

But oh man, the great stuff. Garnet’s complete mystery, Connie’s introduction episode, Giant Woman, Amethyst's pure chaos, the absolute love between the gems and Steven, The Cool Kids being absolute sweethearts to Steven, Greg being so supportive even if he’s a little distant from the gems, Steven’s clear want to know his mother, Together Breakfast, Secret Club, Pearl and Amethyst slowly starting to understand each other and get along. Fucking Stevonie. Lion. the flashback episodes where we got to get to know Rose the same way Steven did, the songs. 

Don’t even get me started on the songs. 

I was singing along with the opening two or three episodes in. 

I started to loo forward to it, as I went through the show. My days went: wake up, get food, watch Steven Universe, probably do something else for a bit, go to bed. Repeat. 

(like i said, i had nothing else to do) 

I fell in love with the show. I saw a lot of myself in Steven (yes i know i said he was annoying but so was I). In fact i don’t think I’d ever related to a character more. His kindness, his absolute willingness to help anyone who needs it, the love he has for everyone and everything. He was everything i wanted that part of me to be. I was a very eager to please kid, always running errands for teachers, bringing presents for classmates, offering comfort to someone when they needed it. I’m not trying to brag or boast, that’s just...always been who I am. To a fault. 

So yeah, I saw a lot of myself (mostly my younger self) in Steven. It helped me connect to him and relate to him easily. 

But also, as a storyteller, I was enthralled with the world. The idea of the gems, who they are, where they come from, watching the Townies get used to the weird stuff always going on, watching Steven become a Crystal Gem. The art was beautiful and again, the songs. There were just so many things that I loved about the show that only grew the more i watched it. 

Man, I don’t think I’ll ever forget watching Jail Break. Everyone in the fandom talks about it, but it really is just an iconic episode. Meeting Ruby and Sapphire, realizing Garnet is a fusion (which was obvious in hindsight but shut up), Stronger Than You, the baddass fight between Garnet and Jasper. The Lapis and Jasper fusion, the shared feeling between me and the characters at the end of “well. that just happened. what now?” 

I loved learning about Beach City, how the gems were involved in the history of it, how different Steven’s Earth is to ours (39 states?) 

Then, oh man, Peridot, the growing realization of Steven learning how to deal with his mom’s shadow. I absolutely love the episode where he and the cool kids find Peridot’s escape pod. They had the guts to say to the gems what Steven didn’t or couldn’t or didn’t even know he should. 

I could go on and on, about all my favorite plot points, songs, characters, but this is already so long and I’m only on season 2. 

Watching Steven grow, go from this little kid who just wanted to be a part of the team to being the leader of the team was incredible. The show talked about real stuff and showed real problems. Everything from making the gems understand that Steven was still a kid to understanding that a step parent can love you more than your biological one. Even just dealing with loneliness and trying find your place in the world, which Steven goes through multiple times. 

I can’t count the number of times i re-watched the show. It was my pick-me-up show for when the depression was getting me down, when i needed some light in my life. 

During all of this, through every Steven bomb that came out after i finished season four, i started going through my own journey of trying to find my place in the world. I started to go to therapy, eventually. I’ve got a job now, which is nice (if exhausting). I’m 20 now, though, so it took a long time for me to get here, and I’m still trying. 

But there were moments that I always held onto. Watching Change Your Mind for the first time as it aired, getting so excited when a new episode was coming on (it reminded me a lot of when i was little, when i would do the same thing for Teen Titans or some other show. The times before you could just pause the TV were fun yet stressful for your bladder). settling down and watching new episodes with my friends when they came over. Singing Here Comes a Thought to my friend’s son when he was an infant, and then watching him watch the TV as the song played while i was re-watching Mindful Education, and then looking at me, like he recognized it as the song I’ll sing to him sometimes. Man I can’t wait until he’s a little older so we can watch it together. 

Steven Universe Future honestly reflected the person i was when i first started watching the show (on a very superficial level). Steven trying to figure out what to do now that the universe didn’t need him to save it, him trying to see where he fits in again. Him finally, finally coming to terms with the fact that he is not okay, and having that meltdown that finally led to him getting help, and that got through to his family that he needed them, not the other way around. 

I just watched the finale today. I cried like a baby. I’m not afraid to admit it. Watching something that means so much to you end is the definition of bittersweet. 

Seven Universe was there for me in my darkest times, when I needed that bit of light. He brought me closer to my friends, helped me make new ones. Gave me something to love when that was hard for me to do. 

Now, the show didn’t cure me. It didn’t snap something inside of me or anything like that. It was just a comfort. A warm blanket wrapped around me with a cup of hot cocoa on a snowy day. It didn’t make the snow go away, but it blocked out the cold long enough for me to remember what it’s like to feel warm again, and make me want to seek that warmth permanently. 

So thank you, Steven, for everything you’ve done. I’m glad you’re getting the help you need now too. 

And thank you Rebecca Sugar, for bringing this light into the world. For fighting for your vision, gifting us your talents, and being a true inspiration to me and many other creators. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do next (hopefully after you take a long deserved vacation). 

I can’t believe we’ve come so far. 

[mbti-notes]

Hi. thank you for writing this blog, you're really helpful. I'm sorry if my question is weird. I'm physically unattractive and people often comment/mocking my looks. because I was a very sensitive kid, I withdraw from people and become really introverted. now I'm in college but my communication skill got worse. when classmates talk to me, my mind went blank and I always need seconds to answer. I want to know what's wrong in my thinking, is it because I can't accept the reality of my looks?

Not a weird question at all. No child deserves to be mistreated and I’m sorry that you had to go through the bullying. There are two main issues that I think you need to address: 1) the residual effects of being bullied, and 2) your standards for evaluating the worth of people, including yourself. 

1) People get bullied for all kinds of things. It’s missing the point to try to compare what kind of bullying is worse than others. The most important point, in terms of psychological health, is your subjective experience of the bullying and whether it had a significantly negative impact upon your well-being. In children, the experience of constant bullying is a recognized form of psychological trauma. 

When people experience emotional trauma, the way that they perceive and assess situations changes. It has to. All human beings have a survival instinct. When you live your life experiencing constant threats, it is normal and rational for the mind to find ways of protecting itself. Therefore, bullied children are much more likely to feel fearful, anxious, and/or defensive in social situations, since most of their social learning took place in situations that were legitimately threatening, hurtful, and painful for them. Unfortunately, fearful, anxious, or defensive behavior tends to get worse over time and causes problems in life when the original trauma is never properly addressed and resolved. This is why bullied children are more likely to struggle with mental disorders as well as socialization and relationship problems later in life.

Children need care, love, and affection to thrive, but many are thrust into bad situations, and it’s not their fault. As a child, you barely know up from down, so you can’t be expected to know how to fend for yourself in very negative social situations. Try to look at your situation more objectively. Imagine that, today, you were walking down the street and you witnessed somebody bullying a young child about their looks. How would that make you feel? Would you join the bully and ridicule the child, believing that the “ugly” child is worthless and deserves it? A sensitive person is capable of empathy, so I doubt that you’d want to be the bully. An empathetic person would immediately know that the child was being mistreated and want to stop the bully, would they not? A bully wants power over people, and their greatest success is to teach you how to bully yourself. Not only do they make you feel like shit by calling you ugly, they also gain complete control over you once they convince you to call yourself ugly, for the rest of your life. To be more objective, look upon your childhood self not through the disdainful eyes of your bullies but rather through the empathetic eyes of the good person that you are. You didn’t deserve to be bullied. You deserved to be loved. You deserve love.

Everybody needs to go through level 2 ego development in terms of learning how to adapt well to their social environment. If your social environment is loving and full of affection, you’re going to learn that the world is a safe and positive place, so you’ll naturally feel confident in navigating it. If your social environment is threatening and painful, you’re going to learn that the world is a frightening place, so you’ll naturally feel unsafe and insecure in most situations. As a child, you had to adapt to a negative social environment as best as a child could. From being bullied, you “learned” again and again that physically “beautiful” people get praised and physically “ugly” people get scorned. Since you were repeatedly called “ugly”, you’ve come to expect that people will scorn you, and you might even start to unconsciously attract people who confirm your distrustful worldview. Bullying is always worse for children because they have no preexisting knowledge of how to cope with it. The early adaptations that you learn in childhood tend to stay with you because they serve as your “default” mode. Whenever you feel a little bit stressed by a social situation, your psychology tends to “regress” to those early adaptations, even when the present situation poses no objective threat to you. It’s a mental reflex, aka a defense mechanism.

There’s a lot of debate in the psychological community about whether it’s possible to rid the brain of traumatic memories. However, even if you take the most pessimistic position of believing that childhood trauma is written into the brain and stays with you forever, that doesn’t mean nothing can be done about it. If you are able to improve your awareness and understanding of the many ways that your past trauma has impacted your cognitive, emotional, and behavioral patterns, you can then implement some practical strategies for disengaging your past adaptations, i.e., you can learn healthier coping mechanisms instead of allowing your “default” mode to run the show all the time. This is generally what they teach you in cognitive-behavioral therapy. A lot of people are in therapy to try to make sense of past trauma or abuse.

For example: You’re talking to someone new, and you suddenly freeze up. Why did you freeze up? What’s going on? Time to reflect on yourself honestly. Chances are, you are afraid. Based on your past experience, perhaps you’re afraid of trusting this new person only to have them turn around and mock you, and then you’re instantly that hurt kid again. It is a perfectly reasonable fear to have because you have experienced it several times before. Humans are considered smart for being able to learn from their past experience. Once you’re aware of the fear and its source and able to accept it as legitimate, then you have a chance to implement a better coping strategy. Perhaps you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this new person is not the old bully of your past. Remind yourself to give this new person the benefit of the doubt. You can’t develop a good relationship without giving a little trust and being positive. A lot of people can overlook physically unattractive features once they see a nice personality, but it’s a lot harder to overlook a negative and distrustful attitude. Another way to cope better is to work on your people skills and communication skills, which will help boost your confidence.

2) Beauty has a very important place in human psychology. Without connection to beauty, people wouldn’t be able to access all the good, positive, wonderful, and sublime things about being alive. I would never downplay the importance of beauty; however, the fact is that most people’s concept of beauty is superficial and wrong. For a lot of people, beauty is merely about ego: comparing and contrasting, competition and jealousy, self-harm and violence. If beauty is meant to be a human good, then why does it drive people to be their worst selves? There’s something rotten going on. True beauty is NOT about whether you are more/less beautiful than, it’s about nurturing the ability to see the best side of everything in the world. Not many people nurture this ability in themselves. If you did, you’d never ever call yourself ugly, because everything in this world has some beauty in it. If you aren’t able to see it, then the problem lies in your own perception, not the object itself.

Human brains are built to process information about physical appearance very quickly. This cannot be helped. We all make snap judgments based on physical appearance because this ability was very useful for human survival. However, human beings also have the capacity to reflect on the veracity of their snap judgments as well as the intelligence to realize that outward appearance and inner qualities are two different things. Failure to use one’s higher intelligence means remaining very hasty and shallow in judgment. To be shallow isn’t just to care about appearances, because we are all primed to care about appearances, it’s to take appearances as the only/primary standard for JUDGING someone’s WORTH. Shallow people easily become bullies when they feel the need to elevate themselves socially by putting others down. All you have to do is read through comment sections on gossip pages to know that no one is immune to having their appearance mocked, not even beautiful celebrities or supermodels. No matter how objectively beautiful you are, there’s a shallow person out there ready and willing to pick you apart, for their own egotistical reasons. The fact of the matter is that there are lots of shallow people in this world. There’s no avoiding them, there’s no wishing them away, but you can always render their judgments meaningless, and thus very easy to ignore. 

Be brutally honest with yourself, would you rather use the criterion of “physical beauty” or the criterion of “good moral character” to choose a mate/friend for yourself? I’m not saying that the two criteria are mutually exclusive, I’m simply asking which one is more important to you. If you say “physical beauty”, then you must count yourself as one of the shallow people. And if you are shallow, you’re going to care a lot about what other shallow people think. By being shallow yourself, you’re doomed to judging yourself through the eyes of a shallow person - you. If you say “good moral character”, then congratulations, because you understand what really counts for creating a successful relationship. It takes someone of good moral character to recognize another, and when you have good moral character and prioritize it, it’s easy enough to see through shallow people and their meaningless judgments. If you surround yourself with people of good moral character - people who are capable of appreciating you for the good person you are and vice versa - you will exist in a very different social space, a place where shallow people can never get any real foothold.

Many people make the mistake of thinking that they need to be beautiful to be loved. Makes no sense. When you focus only on physical beauty, you turn people into mere objects, and, worse, you turn yourself into a mere object and allow others to treat you as such. Genuine feelings of love don’t come from physical beauty, they come from deep within the heart. What is it that you really want from people? Do you want them to praise your face and body? Is it going to make your life meaningful and fulfilled in the long run? No, because what people really want is love. To experience love, you must be a good person who is capable of love, and then you will have the ability to spot good people who are capable of loving you. If you are not even capable of loving yourself and seeing the beauty in yourself, how can you ask others to? If you are not capable of loving people and seeing the beauty in them, what kind of people will you attract and who would want to be around you?

You are not a passive player in social situations. Children who are bullied often feel passive and helpless for good reason, but that doesn’t have to be the case for the rest of your life, does it? You get to choose your attitude towards socializing (whether to trust or distrust), you get to choose how to engage with people (whether to focus on outer or inner qualities), you get to choose what sorts of people to engage with (shallow or kind), you get to choose who to keep as your long term friends (those who praise your looks or those who appreciate your true beauty). When you always default to the old lessons you learned from childhood trauma, you’ve essentially given up the power to choose, thus remaining a victim indefinitely, trembling in fear in every social interaction. And if the only standard you have for navigating social situations is the “physical beauty” standard that shallow people told you should be elevated as the most important human quality, you’re going to live a very shallow existence, devoid of love, because you’re not using the right standards in your approach to relationships. Do you want to think in the same way that the bully taught you, or do you want to have your own way of looking at the beauty in the world and trust in yourself?

[jaehyun-eclipsed]

Before I Met You | Thirteen

Updates: Sundays

Pairing: NCT (Jaehyun, Lucas, Mark, Jaemin, Johnny) X Reader/OC

Genre: Romance, Angst, Coming of Age

Summary: Four. There were four people before I fell in love with you… Here are their stories.

Warnings: Some swearing and mentions of mature content

Before I Met You Masterlist

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Choi Jisu.

Interestingly, I don’t actually know Jisu personally. I only know of her. She’s a year older than me and I only recognize her because she was dating an upperclassman from my high school when he became a student here. She was always tagging him in their photos together.

I scoff. No wonder I hadn’t been seeing those lately. She has a new man. I sigh. Small world.

I select her profile and begin clicking through her viewable photos. Jisu is an avid photo taker – and not the artistic kind. She’s the kind that clearly demonstrates the need to post about everything she does for social, and ultimately, external validation – as illustrated by her endless number of publicly available photo albums, allowing me to quickly discover that she participates in beauty pageants… and wins.

And as I juggle all that information, it starts to make sense. She’s used to being the center of attention. In fact, she likes being the center of attention and being treated like she’s important, hence her behavior regarding Jaemin opening the door for her. She has “high maintenance” written all over her.

As I continue browsing through her photos, I notice that all of the pictures she had with the guy from my high school are gone. Jisu clearly likes publicizing all of her relationships while she’s in them… and then quickly deleting any evidence of them as soon as they’re over as if they never even happened.

Wouldn’t that bother her? Having all 700 of her Facebook friends be able to pinpoint when she started a new relationship and with whom. One boyfriend after another – someone who clearly has difficulties being alone. It’s common for a lot of people, but why would you want everyone to know?

Her second most recent album that’s titled “Third Year – Summer” is where I find the photos of relevance – the photos showcasing her new and blooming romance with Jaemin. Most of them are pretty standard: dinner outings and various dates to the park and ice cream parlor.

My nostrils flare as I glare at the screen. That scumbag. Blatantly flirting with me when he has a girlfriend that he has conveniently left out of every conversation we’ve ever had!

I don’t know what to do with this information.

Wow, Jaemin! You probably thought you were so slick – and I’ll admit, you had me there for a second! But you made the mistake of bringing her home and coincidentally, I happen to know her. That last bit isn’t your fault, but really, what are the chances in a school with thousands of people?

I am not okay with this! We’ve already had an experience of a guy with a girlfriend flirting with me and it didn’t end well!

Am I just supposed to back off? But I didn’t do anything. I’m not even supposed to know anything!

I huff in irritation. I genuinely need help in physics and Jaemin has been quite helpful the last couple times I asked him. I conclude that I have two options: continue what I’ve been doing and act like I know nothing or find a new physics tutor.

The first option is purely convenient since he lives right down the hall and I know he can help, but it tests my moral conscience. The second option is more work on my part because I’d have to go through the tedious task of finding a new person and determining whether or not they’re any good.

But then I ask myself another question: am I actually doing anything wrong? I’m not the one who’s flirting. I can’t control how he acts around me. I’m not even supposed to know about this… but my conscience reminds me that I unfortunately do know about this.

Goddamn. Why’d I have to be home at this time?

Screw my conscience, I need help. My grade is more important and the flirting is kind of flattering.

And that’s the thing about the supposed “ignorance is bliss”: it can be taken away from you at any time, without your consent.

Hydroxyl groups are alcohols including methanol, ethanol, etc. They are polar and can form hydrogen bonds. Have the ability to assist in dissolving compounds such as sugars.

A carbonyl group is a carbon atom connected to an oxygen atom via a double bond.

I roll my eyes and chuck my highlighter to the side, sighing in annoyance as I look around the empty dining room. I’m so lame. It’s Friday night and I’m sitting at home studying.

Despite having adjusted a bit better at the beginning of my second year, I still haven’t made many friends that I can hang out with. The “friends” I have are mostly acquaintances – classmates that I could contact if I ever need anything for class. That’s why I was quite thrilled that Jaemin seemed pretty cool and that he actually liked spending time with me. But I’m not sure how I feel about this new revelation. Based on the superficial facts, I have qualms to pick with his moral compass.

So I started contemplating other housemates I was interested in getting to know – people I could come home to and hang out with in the common rooms. Jaemin’s other roommate – Jeno – seemed worth speaking to. Renjun is polite, but he’s built a nearly impenetrable wall to his friendship. Perhaps he’s just more comfortable with guys.

I turn my head when Jeno walks into the dining room. We make eye contact for several seconds before he turns away and continues into the kitchen. That’s how it always is with him. He’s always expressionless when he looks at me, but his eyes appear to betray him with that lingering glance that tells me he knows something.

I hear the opening of cabinets, the clanging of pots and pans followed by the stove fan being turned on.  

I don’t know what’s so scary about going up to new people – like you’re constantly afraid of being judged for talking to them. I know they don’t care, but this feels different considering Jeno and I have seen each other many times, never acknowledging each other, just… staring.

Jeno? He’s nice. You should introduce yourself to him!

Jaemin’s encouraging words convince me to get up from my seat and walk into the kitchen. Jeno is standing in front of the stove, cutting vegetables. Slowly, I walk up to him, tilting my head and peering up at him. He jumps a bit when he turns around, startled by my sudden appearance.

“Hi,” I say with a smile. “Um, you’re Jaemin’s roommate, right?”

“Yeah!” He returns a wide grin. “I’m Jeno.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

He extends his hand out to me, barely gripping my hand – almost as if he’s afraid he’ll break it – and lightly shaking it up and down.

“Jaemin told me you’re a chemistry major?”

“Yeah, how about you?”

“Biology.”

We proceed to ask each other the standard series of questions: Where are you from? What classes are you taking this semester? Are you part of any clubs?

And of course, I always mention my struggles with physics because I’m half hoping he’ll have another suggestion in case I decide I want to jump the Jaemin-ship.

“Oh yeah, I took physics last semester,” he responds. “It was terrible because I hate math so I’m taking a break this semester. You should ask Jaemin for help. He’s much better at it than me.”

Goddammit.

“Yeah, I’ve been asking him for help. He’s been helpful…”

A silence passes between us and when I look up at Jeno again, he has this weird look on his face. The corner of his mouth is upturned and his eyes are – well, they look like they’re undressing me. And then I realize that it’s nearly identical to that mischievous look Jaemin has.

Good Lord, do all three of you have the same look?

Actually, you know what? I don’t want to find out.

“I’ll let you get back to cooking,” I say, abruptly heading towards the door. “It was nice meeting you.”

“What were you doing?” Jia asks when I return to our room towards the end of Saturday night.

“I was doing my physics problem set and studying for the bio midterm next week.”

“Ooh,” she coos suggestively. “Were you with Jaemin?”

“No. He’s going to help me tomorrow because went to a football game tonight.”

Hmm… I bet Jisu was there with him.

There’s a stupid grin on her face when I turn to look at her. “Do you like him?”

“No.”

“Really? You guys look like you get along really well.”

“Yeah, he’s fun to hang out with.”

“But you don’t like him?”

“No.”

“But –”

Thankfully Jia’s laptop starts ringing. Her parents are calling her from Beijing. I excuse myself, grabbing my laptop, phone, and water bottle to sit in the little inlet in the hallway until she gets off her call.

I know she suspects something and her inexperience with boys is what naturally makes her curious. According to her, she’s never had a crush on anyone. Not sure I totally believe that. And she’s not aware of anyone who has ever had a crush on her. Actually, she’s never had any guy friends and had once asked me how you communicate with them, her tone almost implying that they were an alien species. Like I said, she’s been quite sheltered most of her life. So she’s slowly learning things. I only wish I wouldn’t have to be the one she asks to tell her what a blowjob is.

When I left my room, I noticed that Jaemin’s door was cracked open. Actually, it’s always cracked open like that. And normally, it’s quiet, but tonight, I quickly learn, is a much different story.

“My girlfriend fucked up the pizza,” Jaemin says disdainfully.

So she was at the game…

“How do you fuck up pizza?” Jeno asks.

“She got cheddar pizza.”

“Cheddar pizza?”

“It doesn’t taste bad.” I hear the microwave door slam. “But it still tastes kinda weird. She also gave me a bunch of coupons.”

“For what?” Jeno asks.

“This one says ‘fifteen minutes of oral.’”

I nearly spit out my water. The hell?

“Fifteen minutes?!” Jeno responds in disbelief. “Can you even last fifteen minutes?!”

“Shut up!”

“Wait, maybe you can see if it can be fifteen minutes total,” Renjun says. “So if it takes you ten times to get to the fifteen –”

“You fucking –”

The rest of Jaemin’s crude response is muffled due to a loud crash. I imagine he threw something at Renjun given that Renjun and Jeno are uncontrollably laughing and I have to cover my mouth to prevent myself from laughing out loud. 

“But yeah,” Jaemin continues. “She gives me these coupons like, ‘You win this fight,’ ‘I won’t get mad when you fall asleep on me,’ ‘I won’t complain when you say you say you want to hang out with your guy friends’ –”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jeno interrupts. “She won’t complain when you say you want to hang out with your guy friends? Isn’t that sorta… shouldn’t that be a given?”

There’s a look of horror on my face as I process what I’ve just heard. Jisu sounds… let’s just say I would not want to be dating her.

“Exactly! She’s crazy!” Jaemin exclaims. “If I spend more time with her, I get more of these things and they’re kind of useful. But I don’t want to spend more time with her…”

“I didn’t really talk to her at the game, but she didn’t seem like she was enjoying it much,” Jeno says.

I purse my lips and run my tongue along my front teeth, completely stunned and quite frankly, somewhat amused that I happened to be out here at the time they were discussing this.

Wow, Jaemin, that sounds like a really secure relationship. Congratulations. If you hate her so much, why are you even dating – oh – the fifteen minutes…

All of these revelations were a disappointing confirmation. First, Jaemin actually does have a girlfriend. He said the G word himself. Second, Jisu is just as high maintenance as I had been able to analyze from her photos. And third, Jaemin is a liar! Well, actually, he hasn’t lied to me. He’s just conveniently left things out.

The alarm bells in my head have started ringing off the hook. At first, they were just there in the background, an occasional beep to warn of a possible danger. But I think now is safe to say that he’s a flirt – and he’s good at hiding it. That’s what makes him so dangerous.

The next afternoon after meeting with Jaemin, I had scheduled a call with Mark. We finally managed to figure out a time that worked for both of us and I had insisted that it was quite important. I was quite irked as I had actually confirmed that third assumption from last night.

I walk up the stairs shortly before my call time, taking note of Jaemin’s door slightly ajar again. As I near my door, I pause when I hear Renjun’s voice.

“Where’s Jaemin?”

“I think he’s out with –”

Dammit. Did he say Jisu?

“Again?”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been very happy lately,” Jeno responds.

“He should just break up with her,” Renjun says.

I continue onto my room, trying to make my footsteps almost silent to make sure they don’t suspect anyone is listening to them, but I nearly drop my things after hearing Renjun’s next question.

“Do you know anything about Y/N?”

“I talked to her once. She’s nice. I think Jaemin likes her though. She’s pretty attractive.”

“Do you think she knows about –?”

“I don’t know –

Suddenly, I hear someone coming up the stairs and shortly thereafter, one of my neighbors rounds the corner. I make eye contact with her, realizing how weird it is for me to be standing in the middle of the hallway. Quickly, I begin acting like I’m shifting my things into one arm in an attempt to grab my keys.

– Probably not. Jaemin never brings her here.”  

“Hey, Y/N!” she greets.

Fuck.

“Hi…”

I turn away quickly, tapping the key fob against my door and run inside.

“No, Mark, I’m serious! He has a girlfriend!”

“How’d you find out?”

I relay to him my story from last week – walking by Jaemin’s room and overhearing Jisu by happenstance, strategizing my method of figuring out who she was, the Facebook discovery, the coupons…

“And he’s been flirting with you like that? And spending three plus hours with you helping you do your homework?” he asks in disbelief. “Yo, Y/N, this guy sounds like trash.”

“He was helping me with physics today and I asked him who he went to the football game with and he said he only went with his roommates. He lied straight through his teeth!”

“I mean, it’s not like he’d actually tell you. He hasn’t told you before.”

“I kept trying to ask him some questions that would easily allow him to say something about it, but he never did.” I purse my lips. “He’s not stupid though. He probably knew I was fishing for information.”

“Wait, wait, wait, I have another question, Y/N. Who gives coupons like that?!”

“Uh… an insecure person?”

Mark lets out a loud sigh. “I mean – I – I can understand giving out coupons for like… a massage or to cook their favorite dinner. You know? Something cute like that. But these are just weird.”

Clicking my tongue, I respond, “Yeah, that was my conclusion. He doesn’t seem to like her very much though. Not sure why he doesn’t just break up with her.”

“Yo, he’s probably scared.”

“I was just hoping that you wouldn’t also confirm that he sounds like trash.”

“Why? Do you like him?”

“No, I’m not interested in dating him. I think he’s fun to hang around and I want to be his friend, but I feel like that’ll be kinda complicated.”

“Do you know what his girlfriend is like?”

“Only from what I’ve seen and overheard. She sounds –” I scrunch my face is displeasure “– high maintenance. She does beauty pageants… and wins.”

“So she’s pretty,” he concludes.

“Yeah, she’s pretty. I don’t really know why he’s interested me if he’s dating this pageant girl.”

“What are you talking about? Y/N, have you looked in a mirror? You’re really pretty,” he says. “And I’m not just saying that because I’m your friend.”

I’m thankful that Mark can’t see my expression since we’re talking on the phone.

“I met his roommate the other day. I don’t – I don’t know how I feel about him. He was looking at me like he was undressing me.”

“See! I told you!”

“But Mark, he’s a college guy. He’s probably interested in sleeping with any girl that’s at least a seven and is okay with ‘no strings attached.’”

Mark is silent for a moment.

“Y/N?”

“What?”

“You know that you just admitted that you’re at least a seven, right?”

“…your point?”

“I’m just saying! Anyway, you know that there’s only one reason why Jaemin wouldn’t tell you he has a girlfriend, right?”

I have a feeling I know what the reason is, but I entertain Mark’s question.

“What’s that?”

“That he’s looking for someone else… someone else meaning you.”

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Before I Met You Masterlist Masterlist

[threewaysdivided]

I appreciate the response. Yeah, among other adjustments, had the plot been handled a little differently, I feel like Sam’s relationship with her parents could have evolved into something like that of Danny and Jazz and their parents. And don’t get me wrong; I still like Sam, too.

(In reference to this post and follow-up ask.)

Good to hear from you again 😊

I think there were a lot of things across the board that could have been tweaked or edited to improve the integrity of the series.  If I had to boil down the problem with DP to a single point I’d probably say it’s that the most interesting parts of the show are the characters/world/implications but the writers (or some of them anyway - I suspect there might have been some conflict between Hartman, the lead writers and the execs’) wanted certain plots, aesops and gags, and chose to brute-force them in regardless of whether they actually worked with what was already there.  Basically, it lacks consistency and internal logic.

For Sam in particular I think there are a few things that could have been handled better:

First one’s more a general complaint at the show and might light a fire under my notes but heck lets go there anyway but the writing has kind of a sexist bent that really doesn’t fit the characters or need to be there. Considering how much Danny and Jack are shown to love and respect Maddie and Jazz there’s no way they’d call their involvement in Genius Magazine “the swimsuit edition”.  Paulina might be traditionally feminine but “She surrendered her individuality for a boy! I’m so proud of her!” is not a line that any human girl in the history of human girls would say unironically.  There’s also a few too many jokes that basically boil down to “male character is emasculated/ vulnerable/ likes feminine-coded things, hyuk hyuk hyuk”.

I’m bringing this up not just because they’re gross cheap gags but because for Sam specifically, this pervasive low-key contempt for women and femininity in the writing, especially the tendency to portray almost every non-sympathetic girl her age as one-note, brainless boy-crazy cliches that she can’t connect with, really does not help her character.  I would have loved to see more genuine interaction between Sam and the other girls, even if it most of it was Kim Possible-Bonnie Rockwaller style antagonistic rapport.  We could have seen her develop some kind of tenuous connection with one of the A-listers, or even just have a secondary-female-character to be cordial towards - kind of like Mikey is for Danny and Tucker.  Hold up, outside of Valerie, Star and Paulina are there any named secondary girls at Casper High?  Sam doesn’t seem to have a single female friend in the show and considering how vocally judgemental she is, it can almost read like she’s rejecting them outright for being girls, which really undercuts attempts to make her seem feminist. (I mentioned it in a past tag but this feels like an early-2000s-male-writer mistake of equating Female Empowerment™ with the ability to tear down other women and belittle traditional femininity - which isn’t so much Feminism as it is Internalised Misogyny.)  Even just mixing up the pairings to put her with Star instead of Kwan in Lucky in Love would have helped.

I’d have also liked to see more awareness of and consistency in the conflict between her activism and her wealth.  It kind of undercuts the significance of her activism when you realise that she’s wealthy enough to make these choices with little cost to herself; it’s much easier to go vegan or buy renewable/ recyclable /sustainable /fair-trade when price isn’t an issue, especially if you also have serving staff to offset the time cost.  Once you notice this it makes her activism feel more tokenistic, and also like she doesn’t really understand her own privilege when she tries to push her agendas onto the school/ her classmates without considering why they mightn’t be able to do so as easily.  It’s also weird because the source of her family’s wealth is a cellophane-toothpick-wrapper (i.e. something that basically produces litter) but she still seems very comfortable enjoying the material benefits despite her pro-eco anti-consumerism sentiments.  It’s bizarre that she’s more concerned with the social consequence of ‘fake friends’ than the ethics of capitalism.  It can come off a bit “do as I say, not as I do”. 

It would have been nice for the show to give more screen time to reinforcing that Sam is aware of that conflict and is making an active effort to hold to her principles even at the cost of personal comfort; maybe showing some unease at the source of her wealth, trying to live below her means and only spend up on ethical/ eco-friendly/ sustainable products, op-shopping or hand-making her goth accessories, going out of her way to re-use or re-purpose things even if buying a new one would be ‘better’, actually showing or referencing her doing substantial hands-on activities (e.g. going off-screen or taking the boys to do tree-planting, litter pickups, soup kitchens, animal-shelter work etc).  Just something to help make it clearer that she genuinely cares and isn’t just doing the low-mess lip-service activities because she enjoys indulging in the image of Wokeness™.

These things would have helped regardless of how her family was written but let’s hop back on topic and talk about them.  I don’t have any prescriptive preference but let’s spitball a few different options and how they could have played:

#1 Sam’s parents don’t respect her interests and want her to fit a mold

In this case I’d make it that they don’t really pay attention or show much caring for who Sam really is as a person; their image of and interactions with her are more of a fantasised version of the ‘perfect’ daughter they want, they make very little effort to encourage her actual interests and are perhaps restrictive about what they let her do in the few moments when they do bother paying close attention (you might compare to some versions of Tim Drake’s Parents from DC Comics).  Classist, overly image-conscious, snobby and superficial.  

This would be the most sympathetic portrayal of her character without changing it very far from how it is in DP canon - helping contextualise why Sam is so fiercely defensive of her autonomy, why she pushes so hard when trying to get her opinions across and why she’s so judgemental of rich people and disdainful towards classic femininity - even possibly explaining her more hypocritical/ manipulative/ entitled traits as learned behaviours.  It would also give her more legitimate reason to be less empathetic towards others - after all even if they have struggles and family troubles it’s still better than what she’s dealing with (Danny’s parents may not be attentive but hey, at least they love him for himself, right?)

For this version I’d probably put her arc around growing past the “suffering olympics” model of viewing other people’s pain, but also in her finding family in Danny/Tucker/her Grandmother’s circle of connections, learning how to have healthy power-balance and communication in her relationships with others (aka: getting over her hypocrisy and realising that assertiveness is about communicating that “I matter, and so do you”) and pulling away from her parents’ influence - maybe even living with Ida a lot of the time.

#2 Sam’s parents are well-intentioned but overbearing

For this one, Sam’s parents would genuinely want the best for her… only they have an overly old-fashioned and restrictive view of what “the best” is and are a bit set-in-their-ways.  They’d probably view “hippies” and “goth” stuff as “dangerously rebellious hooligan-activities” and likely to be somewhat patronising about Sam’s passion for it being “just a phase”.   They’d be worried about her hanging around “the Fenton Kid” and “the Foley Kid” both because Danny’s parents are kind of irresponsible screwballs about safety but also because they put a lot of value in image due to their belief in social connections being the way to get ahead.  Them pushing Sam towards classic femininity and specific activities would be less about disrespecting her identity and more about their overly narrow view of “success” and worrying that she’s going to end up losing valuable opportunities and “wasting her life” if she keeps on down her current path.

This would still give Sam more sympathetic context for her views on femininity and pushiness about self-expression. 

Personally I think the arc I’d like to see here is one themed around responsible/considerate assertiveness and valuing alternative perspectives.  Sam coming to realise her own hypocrisy - that she can’t push her views onto others while complaining about her parents doing the same - developing more sympathy for Danny as she realises that he’s in a similar position with Jack’s insistence that he’ll inherent Fentonworks and his parents’ narrow-mindedness about ghosts, interacting with other girls and seeing their perspective, learning how to assert her opinion while making allowances for others’ (maybe an alternative version where she connects with Star in Lucky in Love and, after Aragon’s defeat in Beauty Marked, Sam still says she personally thinks it’s dumb but then steps down and lets Star win because she understands that Star values it), and getting her Grandma’s help in convincing her parents to widen their perspective while still responding to their concerns.

(This one has the overall kindest message and I think I like it best).

#3 Sam’s parents are trying and Sam’s actually the problem 

This one is the one that’s the least sympathetic to Sam.  Her parents still don’t get the Goth/Activist thing and they have some concerns about safety but they understand that it makes her happy and they’re okay with it so long as she’s not getting into trouble or mixing up with anyone that could hurt her.  Them pushing her towards more feminine/optimistic things is less pushing and more trying to encourage some hobbies that offer a bit more common ground.  They might have reservations, and they might not always have time, but they would like to be part of their daughter’s life… except for the problem that Sam has wrapped herself up in a teen-drama persecution complex and got it into her head that they “won’t accept her” are “pushing her to be someone else” and “don’t understand” so there’s no point even trying to explain or connect.  In this one Ida isn’t taking sides on purpose but she ends up accidentally enabling Sam a little because Sam reminds her of her younger days and she likes spoiling her granddaughter (and doesn’t much care for her daughter-in-law).

In this case Sam’s flaws would be framed much more as flaws born of her making superficial snap judgements, thinking she knows better and being too proud to admit she’s wrong.  There would definitely be moments of her coming across as an entitled, privileged holier-than-thou brat who invents problems because she likes feeling sorry for herself, especially early in her arc.

This version of the story would go the hardest on Sam with the general lesson being “you need to respect that other people are people who have their own problems, feelings and needs that are as real and valid as yours”.  She’d still have good qualities and Danny and Tucker would still obviously like and value her but there’d also be times of strain where they don’t want to hurt her feelings but are clearly getting worn out with the nonsense.  At its worst, maybe a “you’re like mustard. Great in small quantities, but a lot of you is…a lot” type confrontation.

I’d also give the secondary cast the most fleshing out, agency and sympathetic-ness here, and have beats where Sam has to realise that they’re lot more complex than her 2D stereotyped view of them and are dealing with actual serious problems to which hers are largely non-issues by comparison.  I’d probably play Dash and Paulina similar to in the fic Alibi (go read it, it’s good) - Dash being gay and performing aggression because toxic masculinity, insecurity, and being terrified of anyone outside the A-listers finding out (still not okay that he’s a bully but at least more understandable), while Paulina is hiding high emotional perceptiveness behind her pretty face and deliberately bearding for him to keep bigoted parents/ teachers off his back.  I’d also probably have a subplot in an alternate Life Lessons where Sam follows Valerie around because jealous/possessive and, like Danny, ends up realising that she’s working two jobs to help her Dad with their financial problems.  Basically she’d be getting hit with the Reality Stick a lot.

There’d also be more instances of Sam getting directly called out by the other girls. Fleshing them out as people and showing that their dislike is less superficiality and more because she unfairly judges and antagonises them all the time.  Giving them more agency in Beauty Marked and have them be direct about “we know you’re just here to be smug about how much ‘Better’ you are but have you considered that we’re doing this for ourselves and actually enjoy it?”.  Having Paulina be less “tee hee I am indeed a Witch” in Parental Bonding and more “Ugh fine, fine, I don’t really like him that much but you were being so obviously Jealous and Judge-y and I figured if I played a little you might actually step up.  But fine, if you’re sure.  Here’s your necklace back, I’ll let your dorky ‘friend’ down tomorrow.  But pro-tip?  You like someone you gotta go for it - otherwise don’t complain when your boy-toy gets taken by someone who actually means it.”  (Still petty, but emotionally intelligent pettiness, which… not really much better, but at least more interesting.)  A lot more of Sam realising that she’s not a particularly good feminist and that she’s no more entitled to Danny’s affections than anyone else.

To be honest, while I could say the most about this version and there’s a lot of potential drama there it’s the one I like the least because it means canonising my least favourite proto-abusive bad-faith narcissistic reading of Sam, casting her as an almost-villain and essentially punishing her over and over until she character develops into a decent human being.  Sure it’s an important message about how you treat others but it’s not a very nice or kind story and while there might be the odd fic that makes it cathartic I can’t say I’m a huge fan.

Again, if I had to pick, I’d probably go with something like #2. 

But there we go.  Another thrilling instalment in the “overly long posts about Sam Manson” saga.  

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for stopping by!

[bloodraven55]

Sun said he likes Blake to Neptune & he still has feelings for her yes he didn’t pursue her romantically but that doesn’t mean his feelings magically disappeared. And I’ll take a blush & a cheek peck as a sign of mutual interest over nothing romantic being stated about bb outside of shippers thinking that way because they ship it. Until in show Blake says she only sees sun as a friend & yang as a romantic partner & vice versa Blksn is romantic bb is platonic. Lgbt shippers bait themselves a lot

Him liking her doesn't inherently mean romance, but he did have a crush on her, so I'll approach this from that perspective because unlike you I don't need to wilfully blind myself to the other side of the debate to make my argument. Though the official canon manga does have him specifically refer to Blake as his friend only, which according to you makes their relationship platonic, so 🤷‍♀️

But anyway it's funny, you see, let's look at what Sun says about Blake. The answer is not a whole lot.

He confesses that the whole reason he's initially interested in her is that she's a Faunus, the exact last thing she wants because she doesn't want her race to be a factor in people's opinions of her.

The only time he ever says anything whatsoever about her personality is to criticise her for being herself by asking if she's “still being all Blakey?” while she's trying to deal with her trauma that he never has the slightest clue how to help her with because she doesn't trust him enough to open up to him.

The only time she talks about her past to him it's pure exposition about the White Fang and she never says anything about Adam to him beyond the fact she used to work with him.

The only two moments between Blake and Sun with emotional weight are both immediately brought back to being about Yang (“No, not again” when he gets injured and “I can promise Yang would say the same” after he wakes up) and the only two moments where she reciprocates his flirting to any extent whatsoever are a single blush which could simply have been embarrassment and “my hero” which is instantly turned into a joke by Kali falling through the door.

As a romance their relationship has zero depth, zero substance, zero connection to the plot, and no serious emotional weight.

On the other hand, Yang never treats Blake any differently because she's a Faunus, which is exactly what Blake wants.

Yang opens up about her own issues to Blake alone, and sees Blake's strength of character even when Blake herself can't see it (“You're not one to back down from a challenge, Blake”).

Blake tells Yang all about her relationship with Adam without any prompting, and directly contrasts Yang with him as people dear to her, thus putting her own feelings for Yang on the same level as the romantic feelings she had for Adam. But she compares her helping Ilia, her friend, to Sun helping her, putting her platonic feelings for Ilia on the same level as her relationship with Sun.

Not to mention that Adam, the person who knew Blake well enough to manipulate her for years, can tell Blake has no romantic feelings for Sun and so isn’t at all threatened by him hence calling him only her classmate, while he can tell that Blake does have romantic feelings for Yang hence identifying her as someone Blake loves and his insane levels of jealousy with “What does she even see in you?!”

Yang loses her arm for Blake solely because of how much Blake loves her, as Adam literally states that his reason for maiming Yang is Blake's feelings for her, which directly causes Blake to go back to Menagerie and discover the White Fang plot against Haven and take the Faunus army to stop it. Thus Blake and Yang's relationship is the entire reason that the relic from Haven isn't currently with Salem or Raven as if Adam hadn’t been stopped there the good guys might well have lost.

Sun... has no comparable involvement in any part of the plot, no development or backstory despite having been around for six Volumes, and no scenes with even half that amount of emotional depth with Blake.

Blake and Sun had a crush on each other at one point, sure, and maybe Sun is still somewhat attracted to Blake, but their feelings for each other have never been expanded beyond a few instances of shallow flirting, the only time their relationship actually grows is when it becomes a friendship instead, and nothing they have ever had even comes close to comparing to the entire arc Blake and Yang have had building a genuinely emotional connection that actually serves the plot and the growth of both characters involved.

B/lacksun is simple, superficial, and static. B/umbleby is multi-layered, deep, and contains actual growth. I thought B/lacksun would happen all the way through until the end of V5, but they had their chance to canonise it and they didn’t take it, and then V6 finished the job of sinking it romantically while putting B/umbleby beyond the realm of plausible deniability.

And no, you refusing to take “it was never about [romance]” as the platonicisation of B/lacksun that it was doesn’t mean that B/lacksun still has a chance in canon. It's called good, natural writing, but the problem is that a small number of people like you can't be bothered to use even one of your braincells to apply some basic narrative comprehension because you'd rather shove your heads up your own asses so you can keep pretending that B/umbleby isn't happening.

If you try and send me more kernels of bullshit, you'll be blocked. As many times as it takes to finally get rid of you. All of the asks you spam me with in your pathetic temper tantrum will be deleted, but I'll screenshot them before I get rid of them for a nice video I'm planning on making so it's up to you if you want to keep giving me more lovely examples of your stupidity to include in it.

I have been meaning to address the differences between B/lacksun and B/umbleby in the narrative for some time, however, so thank you for giving me a reason to explain why B/umbleby is ten times more interesting as a romantic relationship.

[drwhirlwind]

         AS PROMISED, here’s a plotting call !  mutuals, please give this post a like if you’re interested, and i’ll fly right on into your IMs / discord dms, if that’s what you prefer. but! i thought it might be nice to put some starter points for us to work off, so that’s coming below! obviously, our plots don’t have to be limited to these ideas, and they’re simple because they’re only starter points and can be reused for many, many situations. 

for out of fandom blogs, i will make aus / verses! as sho is my oc, i can pretty much fit him into any scenario. he was just originally built for bnha -- that’s all. as long as i know a bit about your fandom (which i probably do, if i’m following you), i’m all for working out details and setting something up so we can go wild. 

TLDR OF HIS ABOUT: in his main verse, kobayashi sho is a renowned strategist and aerodynamics specialist, with a phd in physics. he’s twenty nine years old. his quirk is air manipulation and while he isn’t much to look at in terms of pure strength, he’s incredibly precise with a very difficult to control quirk. he’s on a pro hero team called the elementals, and he probably has a reputation for being kinda hard to work with, but all the same, a very significant asset to any team. can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em.

just a note that in pretty much any situation, he’s a lot to take in. high energy, loud, ridiculous, and a little... just, bizarre as a person, but his heart’s in the right place. 

HERES HOW TO SPRINKLE A LIL’ BIT O’ WHIRLWIND IN YOUR LIFE: REAL DOCTORS HATE HIM!

MENTORSHIP. 

this is probably the category that most students will fall under. please note, i also have a verse where he’s actually a teacher at u.a -- but that is not my main! please specify if you want that instead. 

internships. the elementals absolutely take on interns, and he absolutely will terrify the life out of them. just kidding -- he’s not so bad! he really, truly, genuinely wants to help young heroes grow to be the best they can. he’s probably difficult to train under, but some of his tips are pretty useful, i’d imagine!

he takes especially well to those with elemental type quirks, but he’s really not picky. 

he definitely will have about 100 proteges. can’t have just one. every single one of them will be regarded as baby whirlwind. 

teacher verse. so! he probably doesn’t teach a hero specific course, actually; i was thinking he’d not mind teaching physics for general ed. that said, he’s not against tutoring after class, or quirk mentoring. he spent the last 15 years studying and incessantly studying to learn how to utilize his abilities, and he’s eager to help others do the same. be your best self!

COLLEAGUES. 

not going to lie to y’all -- i am really dying for interactions with fellow pro heroes, if only because there is... so much we could do.  

former classmates. based on his age and the fact that he attended U.A, if your muse is around the same age group, it’s possible they went to school together! maybe they were friends, maybe they didn’t get along at all. make sure you let me know if you want them to go way back though, because he’s changed very significantly over the years. for frame of reference, he was a first year when eraserhead and present mic were third years. 

i’m going to be real with you. if your muse worked with him, there’s a very real chance they like, hate him. noting from his about, his cooperativeness is a whopping 2. he’s managed not to get fired this far in, but he absolutely has gotten into trouble with authority. he is extremely difficult to work with. a genius, but like, the worst. he’s great for coming up with strategies, but super doesn’t care if anyone thinks it’s a bad idea. 

all of that said, though, he could be worse -- as a person, he really is very polite ( very rarely does he not use honorifics ), and like, pretty charismatic, all things considered. he has a pleasant demeanor and he’s nothing if not hardworking. 

there has to be at least one person who’s questioned why the fuck he is named doctor when he isn’t one. well, okay -- he has a phd, but he got that well after he decided his hero name at age fifteen, and got it to justify the hero name. also, he wears a medical doctor’s lab coat, so, pretty misleading. he will always tell a lie. 

FRIENDSHIPS! 

as friendly and ( frankly, overbearingly ) outgoing as he is, there are very few people who are privy to less superficial side of him. i don’t mean to say that he puts on a show, because he doesn’t -- not on purpose? but he definitely has the capacity to be lax, understanding, and compassionate. he’s a great listener once he shuts up about all the literal nothing he’s ever talking about, and he’s like... he’s a weird guy, you know? and a bit of a mystery, i think -- tells a lot of bizarre stories and unnecessary ( but obvious, and never really malicious ) lies, but... you know. whatevs. 

they could be childhood friends, but again; the sho they’d know now and then are two very different people, even if that isn’t particularly obvious. 

he’s really outgoing, so he could’ve met your muse anywhere. at a bar, at the park, clubbing ( yeah, dr whirlwind clubs ), in the tree in your backyard, literally just walking on air in front of you because he can -- you name it, he’s there. where a friendship or acquaintanceship leads from there is pretty open ended. 

he runs a podcast that airs really, really late at night. it’s super weird. i don’t know what else to tell you. it’s just him talking about whatever is on his mind? i’d love for there to be one brave soul who listens to it. 

partners in crime. people he can vibe with. probably people he should never be in the same room with. that kinda thing. 

people to annoy. he’s a menace. kind of endearing though? i can imagine he has a lot of begrudging friendships. like, they don’t actually hate him but like -- they make the soul eater excalibur face when he’s mentioned. 

ROMANCE?!?!?!?!

so, obviously, i’m all in for this -- but there are a couple of things to understand first. a couple of provisions, if you will. he’s very difficult. i’ve said it before, but i mean... emotional connection is a big point in any long term relationship, and while he has a lot of great qualities in a boyfriend, he also has some not great ones. the main one being -- it’s very hard to get him to be real with you, and hard for him to be real. anyways though. 

one sided crushes. probably going to be a lot of these!! ofc, let me know if you’re not into it, but he’s pretty notorious for crushing hard and frequently on like... uh, everyone. 

he’s very, very, very flirty. he’s so flirty.  

friends with benefits. obviously, this only goes for adult muses and muns because of the implication of that, but... y’know. i feel like this also doesn’t need to be explained.

one night stands. same thing as above. but -- so, like... i don’t think he’s really sleazy about it? it could definitely create some awkward future situations of if-they-meet-again, but i don’t think he’d necessary ghost anyone either. 

dating. good luck 

i’m just kidding -- i really would love some ships for him, actually; i think he cares very hard and very deeply, and he’s like... a little emotionally repressed ( very ), but he’s workin’ on it. 

[redundantharpoons]

I know, but you truly seem like an interesting person, the way you explain yourself and everything seems cool

So, there’s an interesting thing (at least to me) I think about a lot.

I think that as people in our day to day lives, we’re prone to very superficial, shallow interactions. And that’s normal. You don’t need to know your cashier’s opinions on the patriarchy, and most people don’t wonder about each of their classmate’s life story. We have very little understanding of the vast majority of people we interact with in day to day life.

And getting to know someone more and more is nearly synonymous with building a friendship or relationship. (Or you learn they’re not for you and you distance yourself.) We tend to equate knowing the thoughts and feelings and such of others around us as knowing them “better” and thus a bond is formed.

Online interactions are a strange thing. We skip past the superficial and shallow bits, and we wholly remove the mannerisms and eccentricities and even appearances, and instead we have that second layer. When someone shares their interests, talks about what’s bothering them and what they care about in the moment, as people are wont to do online, it can create that sense of connection and bonding which we have historically associated with knowing someone better and forming relationships and friendships.

For a long time I thought that this meant that online friendships were more honest than IRL friendships, and in some ways I still think they are. But the more I think about it, the more I realize they’er a different flavor. Because those IRL things do matter. Seeing how someone treats their restaurant server, knowing if someone is prone to interrupting and talking over you, seeing that expression someone gets when you speak to them about something important . . . there are aspects of truly knowing someone that you can’t get online. 

And so I’ve come to realize that online “crushes” and such are really pretty similar to infatuations based on appearance IRL: They’re based on a few aspects of the person you can “see” and then you just fill in the blanks.

Now don’t get me wrong. All of my best friends are online friends. I’ve met some IRL since, some I will probably never meet IRL. I’ve dated and lived with people I’ve met online. Hell, I met a girl through a shared tumblr fandom and she flew across the country to see me. We broke up after a while, but we’re still chill. Went to the Renaissance Faire last month with her and her current gf. Good shit. I don’t mean to demean online friendships whatsoever. 

But basically this is my long-winded way of saying “But you don’t really know what I’m actually like! You would probably hate me!” lol

Anyway, there’s an essay, and I’ll never know how to accept praise, compliments, or other nice words. :)

[flyonthewallmedstudent]

Remembering High School.

Ever occasionally get random memories that pop into mind?  Usually while doing something mindless and your brain, so bored, ends up trying to distract you with random distant memories. 

Well, today’s random thought out of the blue was a memory of a scene out of high school. Which then triggered other thoughts and memories of it in full force. 

Prior to graduation we were voting for class valedictorian. That’s just how it went at my school. By votes like some popularity contest, for someone to then make a speech on behalf of the graduating class at graduation. Then have a line on their CV (which is then useless past undergrad). 

Everyone did their mini speech or ploy on why we would should vote for them.  I remember none of them except one of the ‘mean-girls’ in the class going,  “I know I wasn’t really nice to most of you and I don’t talk to most of you either..” (she got a few chuckles at this, because no one could help themselves). 

Obviously she didn’t get elected. Part of me wonders why on earth she even tried if she herself knew she was a total bitch to most people in her class, why would they want her to represent them. I also remember her really gross boyfriend hitting on me during prom (it was the first time I had no glasses, had hair and make up done professionally at the mall, I did not look like my usual self). 

I was very much the nerd. Had braces for 4 years. Glasses. Bushy hair tied back. Poor fashion sense. The works. Because I only cared about one thing back then, getting out of our small ass town and going to university. High school was merely a truck stop in some ways.

Cue to now.  I can’t help chuckling at the memory, as I look her up on social media (of course, that’s what it’s for, spying on your old classmates and secretly passing judgement). She has a public account. And it daisy-chains to the other mean-girls from her old clique. They all still live in the same small ass town I left long ago. They also work in a tax bracket even below mine.

I can’t help thinking.. 

Source: https://quotlr.com/image/6078

That would actually be a possibility, had I went back to work there.  (Which I never will, too familiar). 

I think about attending a high school reunion, but I would actually never go.  I already get to see the high school friends I want to see anyway, it’s a mini-reunion every time anyway. And I never enjoyed the pettiness in high school, not then and certainly not now. Even if I were to go, we’d have absolutely nothing in common, we never did. It’s just be very superficial interactions. I’d have a much better time at my medical school reunion - among my own people, nerds.

Worse were the things the adults used to say to me back then. Things like “oh it gets better after high school.” As if I was miserable. And I actually wasn’t. At the time, it never occurred to me that everyone else thought I was somehow perceived as a social outcast. Until they pointed it out by expressing pity. It also meant that others had no pity for me, only condescension. 

It was a strange moment. As the entire time I thought they were small minded, and I actually felt sorry for them in that they would never leave their place in life. Not that I would ever say that, I thought it would be utterly rude. But I felt bad for all the things they would be missing out later in life if they felt high school was meant to be ‘the milestone’. For me, it was merely a means to an end, to get to another place or the next level. Those were my own condescending thoughts as a teen at the time.

I already knew most people in my class weren’t ever leaving that small town and that high school would be the ‘best years’ for them. I predicted, and it nothing has fallen short of those predictions. And they would forever look back on those days. Much like Biff Loman in Death of a Salesman, which I read at the public library during high school. (My father had said to me, that after high school I may never have time to read books out of enjoyment ever again and I took that very seriously, as if the world would end. He was right. I don’t have time for novels anymore.)     

But once I realized they pitied me, I stopped pitying them as if they were all Biff or Wally Lomans. Realizing that there’s no point in my caring about them or their futures or feeling sorry about them. I don’t have to, they already believe they have a better or a good life in their own way. So, I was feeling sorry for someone who wasn’t unhappy. Just the same as they were feeling sorry for me, not realizing, that I hadn’t actually noticed I was missing out on anything. 

What I realized was, it was like we lived in different parallel universes. Their definition of happiness was entirely different if not perpendicular to mine. It didn’t matter what any of us thought of each other. 

What they never considered is diversity - we can all be different and have our own values and dreams. Our own version of happiness. Our own version of love.

What I did know was that it wasn’t appropriate for them to impose what they thought happiness should be in my life. Just because their version of happiness was X, doesn’t have to be mine. 

We don’t all have to conform into one expectation that society imposes on us, so long as it’s not hurtful. Being popular in high school was certainly not something I ever wanted to conform to. I was terrified of crowds and introverted, but not lonely.

I was in my own period of exploring things, reading ‘grown-up’ books for the first time and actually understanding the words in the them. Discovering genres of music I’d never heard of as a child. I was even exploring my own sexuality quietly, I was bi but to this day I don’t really think of it as such. I didn’t care what society thought. 

And by university, I had Virginia Woolf and a belief in the existence of falling in love with a person because of her, no matter who they were, gender, ethnicity, religion anything. She had Vita Sackville West, but was still in a loving relationship with Leonard Woolf.  Hell, Shakespeare was bi, they tried to disguise it in Shakespeare in love, but fact was he wrote love sonnets for a young man.

It’s strange to look back. I was in love with a high school class mate of the same sex, nothing ever happened - I was too painfully shy. I ran away half the time once I realized there were feelings there. To this day I wonder what could have happened had I not been shy. They ended up as a transgender man, and you know.. I still would have loved them had we ended up together. Whether they identified as male or female. It was who they were I had a connection to. 

So I understand why some marriages surviving despite one spouse changing their gender part way. They’re still the person you fell in love with and married. But I also get it if it doesn’t work out, not everyone in the world is “bi” or whatever label society places on ‘love’. Regardless, I think, when you truly love someone, it’s unconditional, even though the expression of it may change. 

I’ll still look back on high school and grin. Mainly at the ironies. 

Conformity, and all it’s inherent insecurities of how you’ll never be good enough to fit the pack. It doesn’t matter. 

So, if you’re the nerd or proverbial social outcast.  As long as you’re not hurting anyone, if you’re happy being who you are, then who gives a fuck anyway what anyone else thinks or tries to tell you otherwise. Find what you enjoy, what you’re passionate about. Fall in love. Develop compassion, be kind and be giving.  If you enjoy reading, read the type of books that expand your mind, read history - because you’ll never actually be alone. Never were alone. Someone, somewhere out there, felt the same as you and even more reassuring they felt that way 100s of years before you were born. More importantly, they did great things and changed the world in which we live - you are after all, reading their quotes and novels.

[trekwiz]

Love, Simon - Consolidated Reflections

Love, Simon is an incredible film that I had no idea I still needed. My boyfriend and I went in expecting cheesy humor and Nick Robinson eye candy, but six theater trips later and we're certain it's the most important movie of our lives.

Even though I'm a very different person from Simon's character, I never felt more represented on the screen before. I have my own stories for nearly every scene in the film, and it's made me reflect deeply about what it was like to grow up as a gay 90's kid in New Jersey, and as a student of Johns Hopkins' CTY "Smart Camp".

I’d like you to take a moment and put yourself in a specific frame: think of how you feel when your media doesn’t represent you. You don’t see people like you on mainstream TV, you don’t see people like you in mainstream movies, you don’t see people like you in mainstream advertising, you don't see people like you on the news, except in murder stories. You're invisible in pop culture.

Now imagine that it wasn’t JUST your media.

Imagine that it was your whole world: you don’t see anyone who looks like you anywhere. Not your family. Not your neighborhood. Not your school. Not your media. You are completely erased.

Growing up in that environment was really difficult, in a way that non-gays really don’t have a frame to understand. It stole a lot of my life from me.

It was somewhere around 2nd grade that I realized the world was hostile towards normal people for no good reason: irrational hostility was present in everything at all times.

Some of it was tangible. Hearing “that’s so gay,” or “fag” as an insult, or hearing classmates brag about beating up a gay kid made it clear that the world really was out to get me. While other stuff was more abstract, like the complete absence of people like me on the screen. Or worse, the token representations of people like me that were poorly written, the butt of jokes, or just irrelevant props.

There are more gay characters today, but often it’s still superficial and sometimes worse, with companies like Bioware using disrespectful and offensive caricatures as a money making strategy.

As a kid, I closed myself off. I became a “turtle”--I hid both from my toxic, abusive family and the anti-gay world around me, behind the locked door of my bedroom. After school I had Star Trek, Legos, and videogames, alone. I stepped away from my friendships in 2nd grade--I didn’t stop talking with classmates, I just didn’t let them get close. I didn’t hang out after school. I kept those relationships superficial.

I didn’t get the option to be a mall rat. I didn’t go see movies with other kids. I didn’t get to hang out at the arcade. I didn’t have friends to go on bike rides with. I didn’t have an SNES player 2 outside of my family.

I was afraid that if I had friends, they’d catch me checking out another guy and either attack me, or out me. I tried to convince myself that I was “alone but not lonely,” but I wasn’t. The only thing that kept me going was the belief that if I worked hard, I could get away from the toxic family and the toxic culture, to make my own life.

When I talk about the experiences that were stolen from me, there’s a reason I have a high level of confidence that it wasn’t merely the way my life would have developed anyway.

I have fairly wild swings between shy/quiet, and outgoing/expressive. I’ve always described myself as an “introvert communicator” because I value my alone time, and I do feel drained from many social interactions, but I also have a lot to say and the need to communicate it. It really shows when you compare how I was in front of a classroom or with clients now, vs how I am in a gathering of 5 or more people. Sometimes even one on one chatting, I’m aware that I'm struggling to do my part.

I wasn’t always an introvert. I wasn’t always socially awkward. I wasn’t always anxious in social situations. Before turtling, I was actually fairly normal, socially--despite the geek tendencies.

Many such memories are lost forever because of how young I was. Before I started kindergarten, I had a best friend--I don’t remember much about him, except that his name was Damien. We did normal kid stuff, including sleepovers. When my family moved for Kindergarten, I adapted quickly: I made friends with two of the neighbor girls. I remember even less about them because we moved back after the school year ended. My family recounted stories of me having a group of my own friends at the time; we were into Ghost Busters, of course.

When we moved back, I still have some memories of good social experiences in first grade. It was a fairly slow process between the end of first grade, up through third grade where I started pulling away. I vaguely recall instigating arguments with friends so I’d have an excuse to play alone at recess. Until that became the norm.

I know what society took from me, because I watched it slip away.

Being in the closet meant going through every day knowing that it’s “your fault” that you're isolated. That you erased yourself and that other people just like you, will never see that they’re not alone, either. Just because you wanted to get through your day without being harassed, or assaulted. That your own defense mechanism is isolating you.

It’s a deep isolation that comes with terror, and (justifiable) paranoia. Going through every day knowing that if you slip just a little bit--say something in a “funny” way, walk in an awkward way, or get caught checking someone out--you might end up in the hospital.

It means that if you're lucky enough to see someone who’s willing to express that they’re just like you, you can never talk with them: if someone sees you, they’ll suspect you. If they suspect you, they may hurt you. It means trying hard to find subtle hints that someone else is like you, and knowing that it’s too risky to say anything if you’re right. That the representation you need in your world, is dangerous to you.

Can you imagine how isolating that is for an 8 year old to know the world hates them, with no where to turn to for safety? To know that there’s no one in the world that they can ever trust? I was terrified: there was no way to know who was an enemy.

People who otherwise pass as nice can still be homophobic; they pretend to be good people, but even that seemingly sweet teacher could be a fatal liability. Complain about the slurs and risk the real, well-meaning teacher telling parents; as a teen, I became aware of groups like NARTH and Exodus International and was terrified that I could be forced into one of their torture camps if anyone found out.

How much anxiety would you have if you couldn’t trust anyone around you? How depressing would that be? How stressful? How would you feel about the culture that did it to you?

To some extent, our society understands what it means to hide: it’s what makes horror-thriller so compelling. Think about the iconic kitchen raptors scene from Jurassic Park. The visual of a person hiding for safety resonates with us all; it’s emotionally very complex.

Really look at the emotion involved in the scene: the kids are stressed. They’re off balance, completely terrorized. And they’re aware that they have to keep moving: that the safety provided by hiding is temporary, and fragile. That if they don’t find new ways to hide, their safety is gone. What is their mental state like? When things settle down, how do you think they’re going to feel when they can reflect on their experience?

Think about that for a minute. Imagine that temporary, fragile safety in hiding exists not for minutes, but for years. Not just in the kitchen, but in all aspects of your life; that it continues not just when you escape the raptors (like Billy Graham, Pat Robertson, et al), but also when your parents return because they’re just as dangerous.

What happens to someone psychologically who must constantly hide in fear; who can trust no one, when the world confirms it’s out to get them? When their whole identity has been erased from the world, while their allies hide, too? How sustainable is it, to be in that heightened state of stress and terror?

That’s what it means to be in the closet. You may be able to hide the target on your back, but it comes at a price.

To a 14 year old closeted gay kid, the internet was a taste of freedom. In fact, the internet is exclusively responsible for the totality of my dating life--my boyfriend of six years is no exception.

About.com had fairly good resources before Google was a thing--it gave me a chance to access information about who I was, and to learn about the things they "didn't have time" to address in sex education. I'll never forget the teacher, who went by "Vivacious Vicki," who communicated that my existence was so unimportant that I had to sit through a class that would never be relevant to me even if I asked on-topic questions that I needed answers to.

Answers and information that I couldn’t just get in the library: being seen looking for it was just too dangerous. The internet opened access to message boards like Delphi Forums. That gave me a space to counteract my erasure; to show that I exist and to fight for my existence in a way that didn’t risk my safety.

It gave me a chance to interact with other gay people. People my whole world taught me didn’t exist, or taught that they would disappear when “they got over” their “phase.” It gave me a safe place to talk about celebrity crushes; I was able to talk with other teens about how cute David Gallagher, and Erik von Detten were. And Xanga allowed me to write about my experiences on my own terms, to connect with others who felt empowered by my words.

It gave me a space to learn that we really are in every population; that anyone in the world really could be just like me. The internet also gave me the means to test coming out.

After I aged out of smart camp, I used AIM to come out to friends. I was able to choose one of the most important people first: my best friend across multiple years of camp. The internet ensured there was no risk--we wouldn’t be back at camp, we didn’t live nearby, and he didn’t have my phone number. That meant that we had no common proximity, or potential for common proximity, for a bad reaction to affect me. And because it was unlikely that we’d see each other again, losing that friendship was low risk.

In contrast, because of the danger involved, my first in-person coming out was very calculated. Much like Simon, in Love, Simon, I had found inspiration and strength from the internet--his nervous retreat from the computer and “FUCK! I can do this…” motion is one I had a lot of practice with. I had come out multiple times online, but saying those words out loud for the first time required a safety net.

I waited until the very end of my senior year of high school. I made that choice because if it went poorly, it wouldn’t matter: I’d be gone from the school, so I wouldn’t have to live with a higher daily risk of assault. I wouldn’t have to go through extended ridicule, or torment because I’d have an easy exit.

That wasn’t enough, though. It had to be in my room--it was my sanctuary, the place I hid from the world for safety. It also meant there wouldn’t be strangers passing by to overhear. It meant there weren’t extra variables to track; I didn’t have to watch my environment to make sure I wasn’t going to be blindsided by someone else who didn't like what I had to say. It meant no risk of embarrassment if my message was repeated.

It also had to be someone that wouldn’t treat it like a joke. Not in the sense of thinking I’m joking; it was important that it be someone who wouldn’t go back to others and laugh about it, as if what I was saying wasn’t serious and important. It was a huge weight I had to release from my shoulders, and I was conveying something very deep and essential about who I am, so it had to be someone who could hear it the same way I was saying it.

And most importantly, it had to be someone that I knew was physically weaker than I was. I knew I was risking being attacked and if I had to fight, I wanted to be confident that I could win. I’ve taken my punches before, but this time it was especially important that insult not be compounded by injury.

So, for the first time in my life, I’d invited someone over to hang out--I think it was about a week after graduation, but it’s a little fuzzy this long after. It was a high school chess club friend, under the guise of playing chess.

For all appearances, it was pretty underwhelming: I came out, he reacted well, and we played chess. But internally, that was huge for me; there was a battle to become comfortable enough to say the words, and a massive sense of relief after. As they put it in Love, Simon, I could “finally exhale.” That interaction gave me the confidence to join Allies in college, and to stop hiding who I am from the newer people to enter my life.

I still used the internet as a means to test the grounds before college. And a bit later, too. Some people acted weirdly right after--they wondered “aloud” why I was telling them, not realizing that I just wanted to stop hiding; some acquaintances even “disappeared” afterwords. But without the internet for practice, and as a shield, I don’t think I’d have found the courage to do it in person.

This is something that non-gay people have a hard time understanding. In any context, no matter how young you are, you can just start talking about the eye candy you see around you. Your biggest worry is that your friend will think your eye candy is ugly and make a joke about it until you see more eye candy cross your path.

That’s a normal part of teen and slightly pre-teen life that I didn’t get to have until my 20’s, AFTER college. It's profoundly sad, but authentic, that Simon's character didn't even start learning how to talk about attractive guys until the end of high school.

It’s such a little thing you can take for granted, that poses serious danger to people like me. You have the luxury of not coming out, the luxury of not having to think about these quality of life issues wrapped up in the process.

When I finally wanted to take baby steps out of hiding and make friends again, I didn’t really have the social skills to do it. I remember someone in 8th grade gym class who tried to be friends, but I no longer knew how how to go from daily chatting, to actually hanging out away from school.

I never got to have a best friend outside of smart camp, and I was terrified of going to school dances, so I didn’t--not that there’d have been a reason to, there was no way to find a suitable dance partner, anyway. One of the most obvious differences between Simon in Love, Simon and me is that I never did go to any high school parties--I was never invited, and I probably would have been afraid to go if I had been.

Smart camp was certainly a lot better in some ways. It was a social oasis. I had friends who are still important to me today, and I was able to go to the dances; mostly, I played cards with my friends because it wasn’t just a dance. But even that didn’t offer me a reprieve from the damaging culture around me.

Friends kept pushing me to dance with girls, and it was too dangerous to say why I didn’t want to. I delayed them by pointing out that I didn’t even know how to dance. In response, my best friend, my real crush, offered to show me how to slow dance. Not by telling me, but by actually dancing with me right then and there. In front of everyone. This was the first time in my life that I experienced bullet time as I scrambled to figure out how to react.

I panicked a little. I said no, and lied: I claimed it was only “fast dancing” that I didn’t know how to do, but that I could slow dance. I couldn’t do either, though. I was worried that if I let him show me how to dance, my friends would have noticed how much I was enjoying it; I was afraid that other onlookers would notice; I was afraid that my safety would be at risk, and that rumors would spread.

And so I rebuffed the chance at dancing with a guy, and in so doing, kept up the facade of heteronormativity. The survival mechanism that allowed me to hide from potential enemies also hid me from suitors and allies; that is the paradox of being in the closet.

I really missed out on something exceptional: I could have had my first dance with a real crush, and I could have learned to dance from a friend who cared about me enough to not even worry about being judged for dancing with a guy friend.

Instead, I completely embarrassed myself when they setup a dance for me, after being pressured to name a female crush. My humiliation was compounded by my attempt to use this fake crush as a means of denial; I was desperate to hold onto the facade of being just like everyone else.

In 2000, my last year at smart camp, a girl asked me to dance. I had said no, and after repeating myself about a dozen times, I retreated to the makeshift movie theater. She followed and kept asking; when everyone stared at me because of the disruption, I left, again.

I had nowhere else to go, since we weren’t allowed to go back to the dorms until later, so I actually hid in the bathroom. I don’t think I can convey how frustrating that is--I literally hid in the bathroom because it was too dangerous to say, “please stop, I’m gay.” Needless to say, the bathroom scene after the dance in Love, Simon really hit home.

That story doesn’t even end there. She asked an instructor for help; he came in a few minutes later to "persuade" me, too. I was backed in a corner with no place to escape, and the authority figure, the one who’s job was to protect me, insisted that I should dance with her. Because being in the closet meant I was perceived as merely being a shy non-gay kid who needed a nudge.

I felt powerless, disgusted, and terrified. Knowing my safety was on the line, I became her default dance partner for a couple weeks. Until she asked for a kiss. I was “lucky” that I only had to say no once before she moved on. Meanwhile, there was a guy in my group who, thanks to the benefit of hindsight, I know was interested--I missed it at the time, and lost the only opportunity I had for any kind of dating life in my teen years.

My hair was freshly cut that summer; it's so thick that the natural spikes of a flattop drew a lot of attention. Some of the staff loved patting my hair, and so did the girls in my group, including the one who compelled me to dance with her.

Our group was sitting in a booth playing card games, and the girls were playing with my hair as usual. There were 3 other guys at the table: I never got the name of the important one, but someone from the alumni association suggested it may be Nathan. Aaron is the second, and I don’t recall the name of the third. Aaron was grumpy and obnoxious in general, and he expressed disbelief that anyone could actually be so fascinated with someone’s hair.

Because of his reaction, the girls tried to convince Aaron to touch my hair--he got really awkward about it, and refused vehemently. The third guy sat there quietly, just watching in amusement as Aaron squirmed.

Nathan ignored the ongoing argument and started playing with my hair without saying a word; not just a quick pat, he let his hand linger on this and another occasion. I remember feeling really happy that I had received attention from a guy for the first time, but for twenty years I've been angry with myself for not having the courage to say anything at all.

In the moment, I didn’t realize Nathan was flirting, so I completely missed out on my only chance to explore dating at an only slightly delayed age. Instead, I didn't have my first date until months before graduating college. Many people underestimate just how much it hurts to watch others engage in normal social activities, while being left behind.

What was especially painful was that I missed out on a chance to talk with someone like me when I needed that the most; someone who could relate, and make me feel less isolated. Someone who could have helped me work through the emotions I was trying to understand just from knowing that he was going through it, too. I missed my only chance as a teen to talk with someone who could truly understand me.

That was my only chance at the time to understand that there really were gay people in my world--I still don’t know with certainty if anyone in my life at the time was gay or bi, and I wonder what it would be like to have that chance to talk with someone who shared some of my childhood and was trying to cope in hiding nearby, too. To see how differently they grew through it, and whether or not they resented the same things in our shared environment.

And worst of all, I never got contact information from Nathan, so I didn’t have the chance to get that conversation at a later time through the safety of the internet. Though I tried, I was never able to track him down.

That’s a regret I still hold onto today: I’ve always wanted some kind of closure. Did he know I was interested? Did seeing me dance with a girl discourage him, or did he realize that was part of being in the closet? Did he suspect that I was gay? Did he realize I tried flirting back? Was he struggling the way I was, or did he find comfort being himself? Did I really lose my one chance at normalcy, or did I misinterpret his gesture?

I don’t know that I’ll ever stop wanting these answers. It’s always there at the back of my mind, venturing to the front every few months.

I don’t want to be the kid hiding in the bathroom at the dance anymore, but sometimes, he’s still present. When people celebrate Billy Graham despite his support for Exodus International. When some complain that we’ve “gone too far” with “that whole equality thing.” When gay couples are still assaulted today, or after Pulse. When gay people can still be fired without cause in some states. When gay people can be turned down for renting or buying a home so long as the owner doesn’t say why.

I don’t think I’ll ever not be anxious when I come out, even in places that I know are relatively safe. And there are parts of life that I’ll never be able to experience because the wider culture took it away from me. But Love, Simon gives me hope that there really is a different future ahead.

Seeing a character experience these struggles without making it disaster-porn was refreshing. Seeing him able to experience the life that was denied to me is incredible. Seeing a mainstream movie with such an authentic, honest representation of someone like me is unimaginably meaningful. This movie showed the universal aspects of the gay experience, without resorting to tropes and trivialization; without getting too caught up in any niche subsets.

I needed this movie 20 years ago. Love, Simon truly could have changed my life if it had existed then. It was written from a place of respect, and showed the same due care as any film: and that means everything to me.