#epic the musical took over my brain for the past few days i am (not) sorry

[mhizzberryart]

Give me a chance, a single opportunity, and I'll overcome these obstacles and scrutiny! ✊

A little animatic I had cooking in my brain for Nathaniel "Nate" Blake 🤲 Iteration is from @antihibikase's Blight/Blur!

[janyxbeloved]

KNY oc content, no pics yet, I'm not done with their arts yet. We listen and we don't judge(Unless your oc is genuinely concerning to the fan base, which I hope is not the case) and I've been waiting to share this for a while.

Slayers for now, demon oc is next! Ramble about your OCS too if you want! I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEYRE OP BTW I JUST LIKE SEEING PEOPLE GET SO CREATIVE!

Ichiinama Hanakitsune （花狐一稲間 Hánakitsuné Ichiinámá)

"As a child, I never understood why I was the way I was, it just happened. I was a hermit and I never got any friends. No one wanted to associate with me because of how quiet and timid I was at the time. No one wanted me as a friend. And somehow I was unbothered, I wasted my childhood being inside my room or outside under a tree, reading away at books I've read over and over again. Even some demons thought that my hobby was stupid, reminding me why I never had friends as a child when it was all I ever wanted. I trained hard to be where I am today. I can't say my life was wasted doing swordsmanship, I found people who appreciate me for being me. I will never put myself down like that ever again." - Ichiinama Hanakitsune to herself in Abnormal situation

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 14

Height: 170cm(5'7)

Weight: 56kg

Birthday: July 23rd

Hair color: Black and silver

Eye color: Silver

Affiliation: Demon Slayers Corps

Occupation: Demon slayer, Spirit Hashira

Combat style: Spirit breathing

Status: Alive (Before infinity castle arc) - Desceased

Brief background introduction:

Ichiinama was born into the Hanakitsune family, she is smart - Despite the lack of resources, she's managed to impress her parents with her brains, her parents call her and her sister beautiful, however, Ichiinama was never one to express her ideas and inputs, some say she was a hermit. Always stuck with books instead of people, envious of her sister being a social butterfly, she was desperate to have friends but not many wanted to discuss the otherwise "nerdy" topics. So she just kept to herself. One day, her home was infiltrated by demons, killing both her mother and father, leaving her and her sister to fend for themselves. They ran until they came across Gyomei Himejima, Ichiinama's older sister, tired from carrying her, pleaded with Gyomei to save Ichiinama and just leave her - However, despite the given issue, Gyomei refused to take only Ichiinama and took both sisters with him. Her older sister was around 17 at the time of their rescue and Ichiinama was only 10. Now, as the Spirit Hashira(スピリットハシラ Seirei Bashira) - Ichiinama is 14 and her older sister is 21. She attended the final selection at the same time as Muichiro Tokito and Aoi Kanzaki they managed to become friends and Ichiinama finally accepted the fact that she was just mingling with the wrong group because Muichiro and Aoi were actually... Really great friends. Don't allow those looks to fool you, she's actually really nice once you get to know her.

Uniform description

Ichiinama wears the standard corps uniform - Under the watchful eye of Shinobu Kocho, Ichiinama received the uniform that was tailored by another Kakushi NOT Masao Maeda. Ichiinama wears pants, rather than a skirt. Ichiinama also wears a gray Haori with rainy cloud-like pattern. Alongside with gray Kyahan with the same pattern as her Haori, blue tabi socks and dark blue zōri with dark blue straps.

General appearance

Ichiinama wears the standard corps uniform tinted in dark purple. Has black hair with silver streaks that were natural. Silver eyes with spiderwebs as pupils. She looks almost identical to her older sister aside from a few features. She wears a necklace with a fox pendant. Her hair hangs low, past her shoulders. She has glasses on her.

Inspirations:

Athena and Ares (EPIC: The musical)

Japanese paitings

Clouds

Ghosts

Ayano Aishi

Overall abilities:

Ichiinama is a quick thinker, saving some from a potential casualty. Using her brain to formulate all sorts of tactics,

Demon slayers abilities:

Demon slayer mark: During her battle against Gyokko, alongside Muichiro Tokito, she managed to resonate her demon slayer mark with the help of Muichiro Tokito, whom she resonated from.

Transparent world: She was able to access the transparent world and look right through Kokushibo, however, true fear as struck her as she realized she, along her comrades, were most likely bested by this powerful demon.

Songs that would sound similar to her personality:

Just a man - Facing an internal struggle with her personality and her actions. Tends to act out in anger even though it wasn't her intention, she's only fighting for her life.

We'll be fine - Strongly believes she and her loved ones will be okay.

Keep your friends close - As if to say you can't trust everyone you meet for a short period. Wants to get to know people before trusting them entirely. Has trust issues so wants to know people before considering them as friends.

Open arms - Greets everyone in a happy way, the Tanjiro effect helped her understand that you can greet the world with open arms.

Trivia

Ichiinama's name is derived from the following terms: Ichi-i-nama (Ichi-One, i-beautiful, nama-pureness/freshness) - Relatively, her surname, Hanakitsune means "Flower fox".

Ichiinama's level of openness is 40%.

The books she likes to read consist of fiction and non-fiction.

She owns a copy of the Odyssey. (HAHA-)

Other than her Kasugai bird, Ichiinama has two cats Hachi and Katsu.

She is a dual blade user, the charms on her blade were gifts from Muichiro Tokito and Aoi Kanzaki on her birthday.

She has a snow owl as her Kasugai crow. The owl is a shy and timid bird named Rōzuuddo

Ichiinama's hobby is weaving.

Like Genya Shinazugawa, Ichiinama addresses her sister formally, calling her "Aneki" the female counterpart of "Aniki".

Ichiinama has very legible and neat handwriting.

Her favorite food is Miso soup.

Ichiinama views the other hashiras as follows:

"She's beautiful and smart. I like her." - Insect Hashira

"I find him immature. Maybe that's his sense of humor..." - Sound Hashira

"He comes to my library sometimes. Borrows books and then returns them when he's done reading them, he has pretty eyes and I see him talk to Kanroji-san." - Serpent Hashira

"I talked to him a few times. He was mostly quiet but he did want to borrow a book from me." - Water Hashira

"I admire his strength. Despite that, he's pretty nice." - Stone Hashira

"He once bought a book collection for me. I'm thankful he thinks my reading hobby is fun, he has a pleasant aura." - Flame Hashira

"She's really pretty. I love her hair. It's really pretty." - Love Hashira

"He's a gruff." - Wind Hashira

"He's a good friend. Even if he does tend to forget who I am." - Mist Hashira

"I admire my sister. She's strong and she cares for me." - Smoke Hashira

Likewise, this is what the other hashiras think of Ichiinama:

"Incredible talent she has there." - Insect Hashira

"She's too mature for her age! She should lighten up!" - Sound Hashira

"She's not good with her words. But I can see she's doing her best." - Love Hashira

"Quiet child, almost too quiet. She can sneak up on anyone without alerting them, who knows what she can hear with that skill of hers." - Serpent Hashira

"She's meek and timid. Sometimes even sly." - Wind Hashira

"She has good friends, I think I can trust them to be with her." - Smoke Hashira

"She's like a fox... Cunning, smart and quiet..." - Mist Hashira

"I think she's a good person despite her lack of use in words." - Stone Hashira

"I went to her library once, I almost thought she wasn't home because she wasn't there, she snuck up on me and I screamed so loudly!" - Flame Hashira

"I honestly thought she was never home. She's just... So quiet..." - Water Hashira

Jurei Hanakitsune （花狐樹麗 Hánakitsuné Jūréi)

"When I was younger, kids always wanted to be my friend, I was unique, because of my heterochromia, I was also extroverted, people wanted to be my friend and I can safely say that kids preferred me over my sister. However, I wanted to also include her, however the other kids thought she was weird for being so quiet all the time. Seeing the envious look she gave me whenever I catch a glimpse of her staring at me from the second floor of our home... I couldn't help but think why people didn't like her just for reading a lot." - Jurei Hanakitsune to herself in Get it together, moron!

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 21

Height: 177.80 cm(5'10)

Weight: 63kg

Birthday: October 24th

Hair color: Black and silver

Eye color: Red(Left eye), silver(right eye)

Affiliation: Demon Slayer Corps

Occupation: Demon slayer, Smoke Hashira

Combat style: Smoke breathing

Status: Alive(Before sunrise coundown arc) - Desceased

Brief background introduction:

Jurei was born into the Hanakitsune family, she isn't as smart as her younger sister - She was still an incredibly smart person. At a time at night, she heard a noise, seeing her and her sister's parents being murdered by a demon, she quietly carried her sister, Ichiinama, who was awake, who also was only 10 at the time, out a window and left their home, not after lighting it on fire to assure the demon will die for what it did. Jurei ran away from the wreckage for a few hours, exhausted carrying her sister, she came across Gyomei Himejima, Jurei pleaded with Gyomei to take her sister and just ditch her, Gyomei, sensing the selflessness of Jurei, did not abandon her, he took Jurei and Ichiinama with him. Jurei trained hard to get where she is today - 21 and the Smoke Hashira(けむりばしら Kemuri Bashira) and she is thriving well, she is good friends with Mitsuri Kanroji and enjoys accompanying her.

Uniform description

Jurei wears the standard corps uniform - Under the watchful eye of other Kakushi, Jurei received the uniform that was tailored by another Kakushi NOT Masao Maeda. Yes, Jurei wears a skirt, however, the skirt reaches until her calves. Jurei wears a Haori with smoke patterns on it, based on japanese Ukiyo-e. She also wears Kyahan with smoke prints and wears dark gray tabi socks and wore a dark purple zōri with peach pink straps.

General appearance

Jurei wears the standard corps uniform tinted in dark purple. Has black hair with silver streaks that were natural. Her left eye is red and her right eye is silver, she has X-shaped pupils. She looks almost identical to her younger sister aside from a few features. Her hair is tied into low twin drills.

Inspirations:

Penelope of Ithaca (EPIC: The musical)

Hera (EPIC: The musical)

Ryoba Aishi

Obanai Iguro

Cats

Overall abilities:

Jurei is quick-paced and flexible. Along with that, she has really good hearing.

Demon Slayer abilities:

Demon slayer mark: During her battle alongside Mitsuri Kanroji and Obanai Iguro against Nakime, she unlocked her demon slayer mark which enhanced her overall abilities.

Songs that would sound similar to her personality:

You & I - Death cannot seperate Jurei and Ichiinama

Ruthlessness - It's a given that as a Hashira, Jurei has to be ruthless, demons are vile creatures.

Odysseus - Jurei snapped when she heard that Ichiinama was killed by Kokushibo, it fueled her anger and hatred for demons, as an older sister, it's in her right to be angry, the same way Odysseus was angry that Penelope's suitors are going to do diabolical things to her and kill Telemachus so she's fully defenseless. (Unrelated, I cried so much when the saga came out.)

More than anything - Jurei wants to support Ichiinama no matter what, like Lucifer wanting to support Charlie and her dreams of redemption.

Trivia

Jurei's name is derived from the following terms: Ju/Jū can be translated to "Tree" or "Ten", and Rei is translated from "Example". It may be taken as a pun because Jurei is the older Hanakitsune sister, and Hanakitsune is "Flower fox".

Jurei's level of openness is 80%.

Her heterochromia may be a result of hereditary genes. Like her hair color.

Her favorite food is Wagashi.

Jurei has cursive handwriting.

The name of Jurei's Kasugai crow is Shizuka

Jurei viewed the other hashiras as followed:

"She's pretty smart. I look forward to having more conversations with her." - Insect Hashira

"... His lack of self restraint surprises me." - Sound Hashira

"My best friend! She's really strong and I admire her and she's so strong!" - Love Hashira

"He looks like he wants to put me six feet under for being close to Kanroji-san. I don't know that's his resting face but I guess I should be glad that I'm not a boy." - Serpent Hashira

"He's quiet, he reminds me of someone..." - Mist Hashira

"She has good friends, I think I can trust them to be with her." - Spirit Hashira

"I admire him. He's strong and a good listener." - Stone Hashira

"Mood." - Wind Hashira

"Pretty great guy to be around. He's a good person!" - Flame Hashira

"Quiet, but also really reliable." - Water Hashira

Likewise, this is what the other hashiras think of Jurei:

"She's really nice to talk to. I admire her skills!" - Insect Hashira

"She's grown quite well, she's stronger now and still as reliable as ever." - Stone Hashira

"I admire my sister. She's strong and she cares for me." - Spirit Hashira

"She's like... A brown hare. Very fast and agile..." - Mist Hashira

"A really great friend!" - Love Hashira

"... A really great friend." - Serpent Hashira

"She talks a lot, I don't mind." - Water Hashira

"I don't really know what else we have in common." - Sound Hashira

"Bold." - Wind Hashira

"A good listener and a great giver of advice!" - Flame Hashira

[oyaterriblyfunnyreallywitty]

Breathe

Warnings: heartache

Word Count: 1577

Summary : Reader x Draco mini story based on the song Breathe by Taylor Swift

I see your face in my mind as i drive away

cause none of us thought it was going to end that way

Hermione hugged you tight as sobbed into her shirt, Harry kept glancing to the back seat, his own heart aching at the sight.

Ron kept turning too despite being your driver as you all coursed through the muggle world sky en route to Rons where the four of you would be spending the summer.  

“Y/n, he’s really not worth it. He’s the worst thing ever. Do you have any idea how much better you deserve? You’re like the best-“

“RON!” Both Hermione and Harry shouted making you glance up, tear streaked face breaking into a laugh.

Ron had been facing the backseat while delivering his heartfelt speech and almost driven you all into the side of a skyscraper which despite the car’s invisibility feature would’ve left a pretty visible dent.

They all looked at you again, all smiles at the sound of your laughter. This only made you crumple back into a ball of tears, remembering Draco dumping you not even ten minutes ago.

Hermione opened her arms letting you bury yourself once again, eventually falling into a restless sleep.

“That loathsome man child! I just knew he wouldn’t ever bring any good into our lives.” that was Hermione, her hand gently brushing through your hair unaware that you could hear them.

“It’s Malfoy, did we really expect he could ever care about anything? Much less y/n’s heart. That foul git.” said Harry through clenched teeth.

“Just wait till we get back, I’ll show him. That coward, smart of him to do it at the platform! He knows he wouldn’t have lived to tell the story had I gotten my hands on him!”

“Ron, don’t shout. You’ll wake her.” Hermione hushed, cupping her hand over your ear.

You smiled, despite the gaping hole in your chest you felt overwhelming love as you listened to your best friends sentiments finally falling into a deep sleep as you did.

Music starts playing like the end of a sad movie

It’s the kind of ending you don’t really wanna see

You stood across from your boyfriend at the platform, luggage in hands and goodbyes in mouth. He gave you a smile that didn’t quiet reach his eyes.

This should’ve rang alarms in your tiny love sick brain, but of course it didn’t.

He pulled you into the longest and tightest hug ever.

Again, this should've been another red flag since he’s never been one for PDA if only you hadn’t been so lovestruck with him.

“Wow, Draco. We’ll be back together in three months. Wouldn’t have guessed you’d miss me this much.” you chuckled against his shoulder hugging as tight as you could his broad shoulders.

Maybe if you’d paid more attention you wouldn’t have felt like a train just hit you when he said what he did next.

“Y/n,” he said gently peeling you off him, “there..” he swallowed and avoided your eyes, focusing on the platform 9 and 3/4 sign. “there’s no us when we return.” his eyes finally met yours.

Today they took on a grey tone. How fitting, just how your heart felt.

His mouth kept moving, perhaps an explanation?

You couldn’t hear what he was saying anymore.

Not that it mattered.

You turned on your heels at once, every sad song you’d ever heard playing in your head.

None of which could describe the heartache you felt as your boyfriend of two years dumped you at the train station.

You began seeing blurry when you bumped hard into someone were grateful it was Harry’s voice that came from them.

“Y/N?"

He wrapped his arms around you tightly, leading you out of the station and into Ron's car swiftly.

Ron and Hermione not far behind, each with part of your luggage, very much unaware of what was happening but hurrying to your aid.

People are people and sometimes it doesn’t work out

But it’s killing me to see you go after all this time

The first week was awful, you couldn’t even bring yourself to eat.

Ron attempting to spoon feed you was an epic fail.

Hermione’s health lecture on skipping meals only made you feel worse.

Even Harry’s cooking didn’t get you to eat more than a single strand of bacon.

On the 9th day of your cauldron cakes and licorice wands diet, they called back up.

The three cowards pretended not to hear as Mrs. Weasley called you over downstairs.

Unaware of the intervention you didn’t think twice about heading down without them, assuming they’d be close behind.

Mrs. Weasley sat at the kitchen table with what looked a feast placed in front of her.

Not even your sense of smell was working these days but you managed a, “Smells great Mrs. Weasley, I’ll go get them.”

“No, please y/n come join me.” she said waving her hand for you to come down.

You caught on to what was going on the moment you turned back and saw the three heads peeking from Ron’s door then duck when you saw them.

“Oh,” she scooted over on the bench patting the spot next to her, “heartbreaks can be a terrible thing. We are such complicated creatures really, and sometime we just don’t fit.” she said, voice filled with empathy as you took your seat next to her.

Your bottom lip quivered and you nodded.

She grabbed a plate and began scooping mashed potatoes and peas into it, “It is a long process y/n. It might be a while before you feel like yourself again, and even then, it’ll be a new self.” She added a chicken leg and set the plate down in front of you.

“It is very important dear, that you don’t forget who comes before any boy ever will.” She was now grabbing a bowl and pouring some type of soup into it.

Tears were freely rolling down your cheeks, and as she sat the bowl down next to the plate Mrs. Weasley caught sight of them. She promptly engulfed you into a motherly hug.

“You do darling. You beautiful, sweet, and caring girl. You must remember this always.” she said lovingly, pulling back to wipe the tears.

You only nodded, if words hadn’t failed you, you could’ve explained they were happy tears. Mrs. Weasley had reminded you there was a light at the end of this dark, and endless seeming corridor.

For the first time in days you ate actual food with a renewed appetite.

its 2 am, feeling like i just lost a friend.

hope you know its not easy for me

You woke up to Hermione shaking you awake, her face pale with concern.

Two very groggy Ron and Harry stood behind her, worry plastered all over their sleepy faces.

“You were screaming.” she said softly, pushing your hair out of your face.

You sat up, suddenly very embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry.” you said looking at each of them.

They all shook their heads, an apology wasn’t needed.

“We just wanted to know if you were okay is all.” said Harry, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Must’ve been a nightmare, what was I saying?” you said with a light laugh.

They exchanged looks, Hermione shaking her head at the boys.

“Oh you know, something about demento-oof” Ron shut up as Harry elbowed him.

“Nothing intelligible.” said Hermione with a faint smile, “Lets all head back to sleep its two in the morning, and tomorrow will be a long day.” she stood up off the edge of the bed. As they all began walking back out, you called on the worst one at keeping secrets.

“Ron?”

He turned, his face fell and he looked anywhere in the room but at you.

“Draco.” he said, the name being self explanatory of what your nightmare was about.

You nodded and then exchanged goodnights again wishing you hadn’t asked, Hermione always knew best.

Thankfully you couldn’t remember the dream but just his name kept you up until Harry barged in at seven telling you it was time to go down.

Today he was going to be teaching Ron tricks that would ensure he be on the quidditch team this upcoming semester, and you and Hermione got to watch it play out, lucky you!

Although each day was getting better, last night had been proof that some days the loss felt as raw as it did that day on platform 9 and 3/4.

You’re the only thing I know like the back of my hand

The four of you were having a picnic reviewing your upcoming classes and the supplies required as dictated by your Hogwarts letters. You spotted a strange recipe that you’d be required to buy the ingredients for to use in potions class.

“Draco was dreading this potion so much, this is literally his worst subject. I really don’t think he’ll make it out alive if we’re not paired up with them this semester.” you smiled to yourself remembering that specific talk that had taken place after he snuck you past the Slytherin common room and into his dorm room.

Your friends froze and you gasped at the realization.

“He’s pretty bad in all subjects.” joked Hermione, quickly rescuing you from that awkward dead end conversation.

The rest of the afternoon flew by and although your heart felt better than it had in weeks you couldn’t help but wonder what you would do with all these little things you knew about Draco and all this love your heart had for him.

Where would all of the stories and love go?

Would the stories you’d shared slowly become obsolete as you grew into different people?

Would the love just stop being there one of these days?

The answer was no, you realized a few days later as you spotted his platinum hair and your eyes met his from across the platform.

And I can’t breathe without you but I have to..

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Parallels | Chapter 15

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist! | Parallels Masterlist

Characters: OC! Violet Grace Dawson, Luke Patterson, Julie Molina, Carrie Wilson, Bobby Wilson, Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer, Flynn nolastname, Willie nolastname, Nick Danforth-Evans, Dirty Candy 

Guideline: Sunset Universe is the universe in which Sunset Curve is famous and Violet is friends with Carrie, Julie and Flynn. Candy Universe is the universe in which Dirty Candy is more famous and Sunset Curve has broken up. 

Song(s) used: She’s So Gone - Lemonade Mouth 

Warnings: angsty sad breakup, Bobby losing his mind a lil lol

Words:  3,827

“I finished my song,” Carrie said the second she opened the door for the Dirty Candy girls. Not even a “hello” or “welcome, come in!”, just straight to the point. 

Chuckling, Violet and the girls made their way through the door, following behind Carrie as she dashed into the music room where she grabbed a guitar and handed it to Violet. Seeing the confused look on her best friend’s face, Carrie explained, “I can’t play guitar.” 

Violet nodded, now understanding why there was a guitar being thrusted into her hands, and then leaned over the piano wing where Carrie had placed her songbook. “She’s So Gone” was written in beautiful cursive at the very top of the page. 

“Bobby wrote down the chords,” Carrie said, pointing at where Bobby had scribbled down the chords and when to play them. Violet placed her fingers on the strings and slowly made her way through them. Once she had them down, she sped up until the right melody floated through the music room. 

Then, Violet stopped playing, a smile plastered on her face. “You wanna play this tomorrow at the gig?” she asked. It made her extremely happy Carrie wanted to branch out on their music genre. This song sounded a lot more like the music Violet made with the girls in her universe.

“I think we should,” said Kayla. Violet glanced at the other girls, who were nodding their heads in agreement. “I can play bass,” the purple candy then added, which surprised Violet a little. She wouldn’t peg Kayla for a bass player. 

“I can play keys,” Sophia threw in, raising her hand with a nonchalant shrug. 

Cynthia glanced at each girl before speaking up, “I can’t play any instrument, but I’m willing to learn?” 

Violet felt an excited bubble burst in her chest. She loved how well they got on now and how willing they were to change along with the situation. “I’ll teach ya,” she said, placing a hand on Cynthia’s shoulder. “And I’ve got drums.” 

Sharing an excited squeal, the girls immediately got to work. Violet taught Cynthia the song on guitar, which she picked up rather quickly. The song came together smoothly to the point where it sounded flawless. Not only was it pretty epic Dirty Candy turned into a rock band, the song itself was amazing. Carrie had done a splendid job. 

That night, Violet sent a text message to Luke, feeling the urge to talk to him about the day she’d had. It felt weird not getting to see him every day now, but the boys knew about Dirty Candy making up and how Violet was going to dip her toes in each band for as long as she could.  

“I’m so excited about the gig tomorrow!” she typed and sent the message before plopping down on her bed on her back, staring at the ceiling once again while staring at the ceiling. This fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach felt familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Was it nerves for tomorrow? Or was it being able to talk to Luke again? 

“Wanna FaceTime? I wanna see your face :)” Luke’s reply read. Violet turned onto her stomach and tapped away on her phone, calling Luke’s number on the FaceTime app. Within seconds, the boy’s face appeared on her small phone screen. 

“Hi!” she greeted with a smile that reached her ears while that same fluttery feeling coursed through her body. 

“Hey!” Luke said back, “I missed you at the studio today,” he pouted. 

Violet mimicked his facial expression. “I’m sorry… I’ll be all yours after tomorrow’s gig.” The words tumbled out of her mouth without permission of her brain, causing her to slightly cringe at the choice of words. 

“Good! Violet Sunset isn’t complete without you,” he mumbled, averting his eyes from the screen. 

Violet shrugged, “Violet Sunset without Violet is still a sunset,” she joked, causing Luke to let out a chuckle. “Will you come to the Dirty Candy gig though?” she plucked at the plush teddy bear on her bed, averting her eyes from Luke as she didn’t want him to see the desperateness in her eyes. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied with a beaming smile. “What does the setlist look like?” he asked, genuinely interested in the band Violet had been in since forever. 

A smile crept its way to Violet’s face as she talked him through their gig and everything that had happened that day. She told him Dirty Candy was going to go another route tomorrow, but she didn’t give away any of the details as she didn’t want to take away the surprise from him. 

The two of them talked the entire night until Violet fell asleep. It wasn’t that late, but she had been rehearsing with the girls for an entire day and she was worn-out. Luke smiled at the sight of a sleeping Violet on his screen. The feelings he’d had for her years ago were reemerging, he was certain of it. Something felt different about her this time though, but he couldn’t put a finger on what it was. The sensitivity. Her unbridled ambition. Her kindness. This wasn’t like the same Violet that started Dirty Candy a few years ago. This was a completely different version. Better, in his opinion. Different, but better. 

-

The Moxie Theater was packed with adoring Dirty Candy fans. From kids they knew from school to a few Middle Schoolers that had been their biggest fans since the band had started. Violet’s nerves were through the roof when she peeked from behind the curtains. There were a lot more people than at the Open Mic Night at Chubbie’s underground club. 

But then her eyes landed on a group of familiar faces. Everyone was here. Bobby, Alex, Reggie, Julie, Flynn. Even Willie had come to cheer her on. Though most importantly, Luke was there and when their eyes locked, he shot her a smile. “You got this,” he mouthed, which was enough to give Violet the confidence she needed to go on. 

“Ready, girls?” Valentina, the showrunner, asked the band. 

Carrie glanced at the nervous ball of a best friend and reached for the girl’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly before replying, “Ready!”. Valentina dashed off, saying something into her headset while the five girls got ready, center stage. 

The curtains opened and a spotlight shone on Carrie as she stood in her beginning pose. 

“Whenever I walk in the room,” Carrie started, along with the music while they started dancing. Though there was a knot in Violet’s belly, she pushed through it and eventually, by the second song, she had found her source of confidence. 

Whether it was inside her or because of the smiles and winks she earned from Luke, was up for debate. But it worked. She didn’t feel nervous anymore and was actually having fun. 

After song four, the girls ran off stage and while the intermission song played – an instrumental version of WOW – the girls quickly changed outfits while the showrunners put their instruments at the ready.

This was it. The moment of truth. The big test for their fans to see which version of Dirty Candy they liked best. 

Dressed in black leather pants, a black tank top and biker boots, with only their wigs as a pop of color, the girls headed back out. The crowd cheered and applauded while Violet took a seat behind the drums that had the Dirty Candy logo pasted on the bass drum and the rest of them took their respective instruments. 

“Good evening, Los Angeles!” Carrie called out into her microphone. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’re going to try something new tonight! A different route, a different side of Dirty Candy… I hope you like this song, this is She’s So Gone.” 

Violet counted them in and, exactly like they rehearsed, the girls started playing their instruments. The crowd could tell this was a completely different genre than the one they were used to. Everyone seemed surprised and delighted, which acted as the fuel to Carrie’s fire as she started singing. 

“Insecure in her skin Like a puppet, a girl on a string Broke away Learned to fly If you want her back, gotta let her shine”

Violet couldn’t help but smile a little. Her best friend was finally showing the world who she really was. And it wasn’t in the Little Me kind of way, vulnerable and broken. But in a confident, “here I am” kind of way. 

“So it looks like the joke's on you 'Cause, the girl that you thought you knew”

The music sped up a little and Violet felt herself getting swept away in the moment. Her head banged along with the beats she was creating while taking care of backing vocals for Carrie’s chorus. 

“She's so gone (she's so gone) That's so over now She's so gone (she's so gone) You won't find her around You can look but you won't see The girl I used to be 'Cause she, she's so gone”

They slowed down a little again and while Carrie’s voice grew stronger along with her confidence, Violet sang along with her. Her eyes landed on Luke for a second, who was bobbing his head along with a smirk on his face as he kept an eye on his drummer girl. 

“Here I am, this is me And I'm stronger than you ever thought I'd be Are you shocked? Are you mad? That you're missing out on who I really am”

Violet winked at Luke before launching herself back into the pre-chorus and chorus with Carrie and the other girls. She hadn’t even noticed the rest of the crowd going absolutely wild over the song. 

“Now it looks like the joke's on you 'Cause, the girl that you thought you knew”

“She's so gone (she's so gone) That's so over now She's so gone (she's so gone) You won't find her around You can look but you won't see The girl I used to be 'Cause she She's so gone away like history She's so gone Baby, this is me, yeah”

The girls stopped playing for a second, creating a bit of suspense before launching back into the chorus, stronger and more powerful than before. The adrenaline was coursing through everyone’s veins. 

“She's so gone (she's so gone) That's so over now She's so gone (she's so gone) You won't find her around You can look but you won't see The girl I used to be 'Cause she, she's so gone (she's so gone)”

The crowd cheered loudly for Carrie’s high notes, rightfully so. The girl sounded amazing. Flawless. Perfect. So strong and confident. This was Violet’s favorite side of Carrie. 

“She's so gone (she's so gone) You can look but you won't see The girl I used to be 'Cause she, she's so gone Gone, gone, gone”

The applause and cheers were deafening. This was the feeling Violet loved. This was why she did what she did and it made her wonder why she had refused to get on a stage for so long. It was crazy how the crowd felt exactly what the girls were feeling. A mutual sense of empowerment, of confidence, of happiness. It was phenomenal.  

With smiles on their faces, the girls lapsed into a next song, led by their instruments. The new Dirty Candy was born and everyone seemed to be digging it, especially Dirty Candy themselves. 

As the girls filed off the stage after their last song, Alex’s eyes landed on his best friend beside him. A smirk fell onto his lips as he said, “Wipe that lovesick grin off your face before she gets here, Patterson.” 

“Hey,” Luke said, stopping Violet in her tracks before she could get out of his car. “Thank you, for today, and everything. I couldn’t have done that without you.” 

Violet smiled at him and let go of a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’m glad I could be of help,” she said and leaned in to press a kiss to Luke’s cheek. “And I’m glad you made up with your parents. – See you around, Lukas.” She opened the door of the car and got out while Luke watched her all the way up to the front door. 

He smiled the entire time. He couldn’t stop. Even on the way back to Beverly Hills, when Violet was entirely out of sight, he was still smiling. And of course, his friends had to comment about that lovesick smile that rested on his lips. 

“What’s gotten you so chipper?” Bobby asked, smiling at the smiling Luke. 

Alex and Reggie chuckled at the same time, “Or rather, who?” they said in unison, earning a surprised glance from one another, one that said jinx!

A red hue spread across Luke’s cheeks. “Violet went to my parents’ house with me,” he explained, trying to ignore the fact that his face looked as red as a tomato. “We’ve made up and had dinner together, with Violet…” 

Reggie let out an excited squeal. “Do you think she’ll finally dump that Marcus of hers? I mean – no offense to the guy, he’s pretty cool but… You two fit so much better together!” 

Alex was nodding his head in agreement while Bobby’s eyebrows pinched together. “Don’t you guys find it weird how she’s changed all of a sudden? She was never this way, meddling in our lives, being here almost twenty-four seven? She didn’t even dare to speak to any of us at one point because Luke had broken her heart.” 

“I apologized for that,” Luke shrugged while he made his way to the kitchen. “We’re good friends now and it’s fun making music with her.”

“Yeah, but… She’s a completely different version of herself. You can’t tell me all of that changed while we were on tour?” Bobby reasoned, rubbing his chin with his hand in thought. It reminded him that he needed a shave as well. Not being on the road meant he didn’t quite care about that stuff, he didn’t need to look all clean-shaven and freshly showered. 

“You’re just jealous that she’s into Luke now instead of you,” Alex noted. “And besides, a person can change over the course of six months. She just found her confidence, that’s all. And finally as well, that girl is hella talented!” 

Reggie frowned at Alex. “I’ve never heard you use the word ‘hella’.” 

“Violet says it a lot,” he shrugged and turned back to Bobby and Luke, who re-emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water and a brownie Violet and Carrie had baked in their kitchen a few days back. 

“You really can’t see the problem here?!” Bobby exclaimed out of frustration. “Something isn’t adding up and if you guys won’t help me find out what it is, I’ll do it myself!” Like a toddler, Bobby stormed off, leaving the three boys stunned. 

“He must be bored during our hiatus,” Reggie noted and stretched his limbs before getting up from the couch. “Now I want some of those ViCarrie brownies you got, Luke…” he mumbled and started making his way to the kitchen until Luke stopped him. 

With his mouth full of brownie, he mumbled, “You’re too late for that,” and walked off to the rehearsal studio, snickering devilishly. What he didn’t see was Reggie’s offended look on his face. His jaw had dropped and his eyes were bulging out of their sockets. It had left Alex cackling on the couch, bemused by his friends’ antics. 

The house had felt a lot lighter since Violet and Carrie had become more involved in their lives. He loved it. It almost made him want to be his true self, say ‘fuck you’ to management and go out with Willie like he’d always dreamed of. But better not… He better stick to the status quo. 

-

Violet sat on her bed with her laptop in her lap, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. They were waiting. Waiting for her brain to tell them what to do. Though her brain wasn’t certain. She had the sudden urge to browse back to Parallels.com, the blog of that girl who had been in the same situation as she was, years ago. 

But that idea quickly faded when her window slid up and a tall, handsome boy climbed through. A smile tugged at Violet’s lips as she scrambled off her bed and approached the boy she had come to love. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Violet leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. “Hey handsome,” she greeted, beaming up at him whilst his arms snaked around her waist before he dipped down to kiss her again. 

“Hi beautiful,” he said. “Did you have a good day?” 

Violet took hold of his hand and guided him towards her bed. “The best! The song we wrote for Luke was a hit! Everyone loved it, especially Luke! And then we went to visit his parents and they made up and it was the most beautiful thing I ever witnessed!” Violet sounded like an excited child on their way to Disney World. “And then we stayed for dinner and Emily – that’s Luke’s mom – made this banging lasagna and they told me all about Luke’s childhood and how they knew music would always be his passion as he used to perform on table tops at family parties. Can you imagine a tiny Luke, on the table, singing his little heart out? It’s the cutest…” Violet trailed off as she noticed the change in Marcus’ behavior. He went from smiling widely, looking at her with those warm gorgeous orbs to frowning, eyes watering. 

“You okay, bubs?” she asked, gliding her fingers through his hair until her hand landed on his shoulder. “Did you have a good day?” 

“Are you sure you and Luke are just friends?” he asked, solemnly. 

Violet puffed out a breath. “Yeah, of course,” she said, though the words tugged on her heartstrings. “Luke and I are just friends. I have you, don’t I?” 

Marcus looked up at Violet. His eyes were cold, they didn’t exude their usual warmth. “Yeah, but do you love me? Because I think you’re actually in love with Luke…” He hung his head down low again. The sadness and vulnerability that came off the otherwise confident and happy guy felt like a punch in the gut to Violet. 

A lump formed in Violet’s throat. She had been thinking those things for a while but that was all they were; thoughts. Right now, those words had been spoken out loud and it scared her. 

It scared her because they were true.  

“No, I do love you, Marcus,” she said, and it was true. She had come to love Marcus. A lot. She just wasn’t sure if she was in love with him. 

Tears had started to gather in the corners of her eyes, getting ready to make their way down her cheeks soon enough. It took Marcus looking at her with tears running down his cheeks for her tears to do the same. 

“I love you, Marcus Baker,” she whispered and tried to pull him closer, but he held back. 

He sniffled and patted her leg twice. “And I love you, Violet Dawson. Just not in the same way. You’re not in love with me. You’re in love with Luke, Bubs… You should be with him, not me.” He wiped his nose on the back of his hand before rising from the bed. 

Violet needed a moment to process everything. Had she just lost one of the greatest guys that ever graced this planet? She had. And it hurt like a mother– But he was right. About everything. She wasn’t in love with Marcus. She was in love with Luke. 

“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you deserve,” she mumbled when Marcus had one leg out the window. “You deserve more.” 

Marcus smiled a watery smile and the all seemed okay in the world. “So do you, Violet. Goodbye, love.” 

“Goodbye,” she whispered and he was gone. 

He was really gone. Out of her life. But never out of her heart. 

-

“Oh, look,” Carrie said, amused as her brother breezed into the backyard. “My brother’s home for once,” she joked before turning back to the book she was reading while tanning at the pool. It was Beach Read, a book Violet had recommended to her. 

“Cut the crap and tell me what’s going on with Violet?!” 

Carrie stilted for a moment and slowly lifted her eyes back up to her brother. There were no words coming out of her mouth, though there were a whole bunch flitting through her brain. She wanted to shout at him that he had no business in that while at the same time, wanting to tell him the whole truth and nothing but the truth. 

“Something’s going on with Violet?” she finally settled on, trying to play the nonchalant card. 

“Yes!” Bobby cried. “She’s a completely different person since we’ve gotten back from tour! She’s confident, she performs as though she didn’t have the incident a few years ago! None of those things scream Violet to me! Not the Violet that I know!” 

Carrie shrugged. “She changed.” 

Bobby was having none of it, however. “No! She can’t just change in an instant! We were gone a few months and suddenly she’s the girl Luke has always wanted her to be? Something isn’t adding up here!”  

“You’re seeing things, Robert,” Carrie said, shaking her head before hiking her legs up to rest the book against them so she could continue to read but as she turned back to the page, another person appeared into the corner of her eye. 

She lifted her head back up, only to find a completely broken and sobbing Violet. She looked so fragile, so sad. She had completely folded in on herself as tears ran down her cheeks, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake. 

Carrie sprang up from the lounge chair and rushed over to her best friend before she could collapse. The sobs were taking so much of her energy, she could barely stand up straight. Stroking her hair, Carrie soothed her best friend. She had no clue what had happened, but it must’ve been bad if she was so affected by it. 

“Marcus and I –” Violet sobbed and Carrie didn’t need to know anything more. She knew what had happened. Or at least the gist of it. She knew enough to know just how broken and sad her best friend is right now. 

Bobby’s meltdown from before could wait. It had to wait. At least until she could come up with a decent excuse for what had been happening this entire time. Or until she could come up with the courage to tell him the truth.

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TAGLIST |  MASTERLIST | PARALLELS MASTERLIST

[spitandfroth]

My Psychedelic Journey

Why take mushrooms? 

What do they do to you? 

I want to explain why I take them, my reasoning is not for everyone if anyone else at all! We all have our reasons. 

So, Since being 16 i have taken drugs, started on pills, then coke and onwards. I had a coke & speed addiction for a 2-3 year period and often relapsing. I had consciously not taken psychedelics as i have known I've been mentally ill since being 20 and being diagnosed and given Prozac at that age. I was wary that i would have bad trips or i would be stuck on a trip. I just felt the risks were too high, especially taking medication and all the other drugs. Pretty sure i took LSD one night at a party was these green things and i was off my nut, i was in a different reality and i was quite honestly scared. i went skinny dipping in November at Great Yarmouth beach! So yeah it was a weird thing to happen and to this day can't remember what these pills/little plastic-looking things were or what i did with them, literally can't remember if it was paper or a pill. they were just in a bowl with all the other drugs. 

I digress, several years later, I’d been clean maybe 1-2 years of all substances including weed, well maybe the odd joint but we moved somewhere we couldn't find a supplier! So we would have to make a 2-hour drive down to manchester just to pick up but eventually decided it wasn't worth the money in fuel. We were also skint which didn't help matters. We eventually found a supplier of weed and met new people who like us, liked drugs. We started sessioning on anything and everything. Mainly research chemicals as they were cheap and plentiful. m-kat hadn’t be criminalised at that point so we were importing large amounts of it. My friend, Xander decided to start making his own drugs. We were all sceptical about it but we trusted him. He made LSE(?) which is pretty much LSD but i think weaker, that trip was a nightmare as i spoke to my boyfriend just before the trip and i hadn't hung up and he heard me slagging him off...Anyway, moving on lol He made DMT one day, took ages. We had enough for the 3 of us who wanted to do it and my god, it's a short trip but it changed my way of thinking forever. I may revisit the DMT experience later. We did DMT a fair few times before i abruptly moved out as i ended the relationship with my boyfriend. 

Now i did some research online, it wasn't as fruitful in results as it is today, we are talking 10 or so years ago. So came across mushrooms and some scant info on where to find them and how to take them. I went for a walk with the dogs, we lived in the middle of nowhere, 1500 ft above sea level (lived on top of hartside) and by a river and lots of sheep. Anyway, i started looking in sheep fields and soon realised that the fields were full of them! I would collect enough for a few doses at a time and dry as much as possible. I was taking shrooms 3-4 times a week including at times DMT. 

So we’ve got to where i am taking them, i best explain why and what the effects were. 

To be honest i took it as an escape. My relationship was a nightmare, he made me feel like death was my only escape. I had spoken to friends who had used psychedelics and they thought it might help me feel better. I had started being in pain a lot too at that point but not medicated for it. I was still taking meds but when planning i stopped taking them the day before. As Psilocybin is affected by SNRI’s. That applies to most drugs though tbh. it gives you a very high tolerance, you have to take more to feel it. Which could result in serotonin syndrome. 

I wanted to search deeper inside myself, i had been interested in Buddhism and Krishna consciousness for maybe a year at that point and i saw it as a way of speaking to god. to confirm to myself that he existed. What i got was a revelation. 

So using it so regularly means i can't remember each trip but i can give you what i learned and saw from those experiences. 

I would take maybe 10g (its rough but 6 cup teapot with a handful of shrooms in) of fresh shrooms in tea. Tasted rank but get it down you! Then wait, and it is a waiting game!  

I would sit cross-legged, often by the log burner, just close my eyes, listen to music and i would feel calm. A completely blissed feeling. An inner peace. I could see patterns and colours, swirling great vortex’s of colours and light. If i opened my eyes the patterns and colours overlayed the room and i would just forget i was in the room. I would see parts of my past, like showing me it wasn't my fault, that i should let go of trauma. I saw my present and it was like looking at my brain, black, covered in clouds and dying. If i touched it then there was a flash of colour. I saw the energy of the universe in front of me, glowing and pulsating in front of me, my heart beating with it, a feeling of supreme power came over me like i had been recharged. I was seeing my future, i saw the love i am capable of giving and receiving. It showed that my empathy wasn't a weakness and showed i was a good soul, It made me think deeply on experiences and learning from them, it cleansed me, it rewrote who i was. All hate drained from me. At peace with myself and others. The visuals were amazing, you can't describe it, you cant show the colours on a palette, you cant imagine the scale of this place. It truly was an amazing thing to do with my life for a year. 

So it showed me a different me and overtime i morphed into that person. Today i am still hugely empathetic towards people. I have a kind and calm nature. I don't hold onto hate & i respect myself more. 

However, i have decided i need to revisit the energy, i need its healing and recharging. I want to journey further and this time i get to do it with someone i love, my sister. She’s used drugs infrequently for a few years but like me, she has mental problems and wants to try shrooms more holistically than just ‘getting high’ and she thinks i can do that with her. I will be there to look after her, to experience everything with her. I want her to get to where i did and she sees life differently. That she grows as a person. It will be a very special journey that i get to be a part of.

So we reach the end of my epic. I hope you read it and enjoyed it. Maybe learn something, understand it better, i don’t know but most of all it's out there. Sharing experiences are a solid way of learning and getting to know someone. 

Enjoy your mushrooms, be safe & enjoy your trip <3 

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore guy - the boy in a shirt with a bat

Part One

Part Two

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

The Mystic Falls team decide they want to get rid of Kai Parker for good - and in a way that would ensure he won’t be able to come back. Death is not secure enough this time, so they go with Malivore. Who knows what the poor bastard is doing down there, but six months later, a new guy comes to work at the college - and meets the reader seemingly for the first time.

word count: 2987 ish

warnings: none

music: blink-182 - down, blink-182 - always, green day - the last of the american girls; Y/N quotes don’t leave me by - you guessed it - blink-182

MAY

Y/N was almost done. Almost-almost done, and the clock was only showing half past seven. It’s still half an hour until full sunset, and she has every chance to wrap it up and go rush to the football field in the town, perch herself on the seats and watch.

It’s just that all the troubles of all the Whitmore students were hanging like dead weight on her, and realistically, if she worked all day, every day, with a five hour sleep, and a twenty minutes lunch break, Christmas included, she would finish reading and delegating all student complaints and applications by the year 2098.

She threw herself back in the chair and pressed her palms against her eyes, letting the green specks poke the darkness. Then she realized that the music she’s been hearing for the last hour wasn’t playing in her head – the sound has been coming from the outside world.

Y/N opened her eyes and listened. Yup, she was sure it was her own brain because nobody’s listened to that reeeally old stuff in years. There’s just nobody left in the whole state of Virginia who’s openly a blink-182 fan.

She jumped up from her chair excitedly, happiness striking in her head like a flare gun; somebody was listening to their song! At the college! Somewhere on the floor! And it wasn’t her!

Y/N left her office and walked down the quiet corridor, following the sound like a thread. What a song it was, too.

Tidal waves they rip right through me

Tears from eyes worn cold and sad

Pick me up now…

The epic teenage angst made you want to go get all the bad tattoos you could possibly spend your money on.

Y/N knew she loved that song some time ago, but couldn’t remember why. It pulled on a surprisingly sturdy thread in her heart and made it bleed in a second; like she was a teenager again, like she was on the verge of a breakdown, and the whole world was full of amazement and bursting, vivid sensations.

Y/N almost ran to the sound, holding her lip between her teeth and never noticing it. Her face was lit with anticipation as she paused in front of the door. Somebody was playing music in the gatherings hall, where the acoustics were crazy, and all the space all but welcomed all kinds of dancing, prancing and hopping. The song ended, and another started to play; and yet she knew it again.

It went like this:

I’ve been here before a few times,

And I’m quite aware we’re dying…

 Y/N pushed the door and it gave. She saw the hall, lit by all the lamps, although she was quite sure that the maintenance had already turned everything off except her office.

A guy was crouching on the floor next to the window, and a big sports bag was lying at his feet. Weird, he looked like a schoolboy, and the next second he stood up and she saw he was a young man. The guy didn’t seem to notice her at first, so Y/N had a couple of seconds to stare at the stranger. He was all jumpy, tall, boyish in a way; his dark hair was a little messed up, as he probably ruffled it with his hands; she’s never seen him here before. Being the welfare office worker, Y/N knew pretty much everyone in this huge place, - which was scary, by the way, - but this one was probably new. She couldn’t really place him neither with students nor with the staff. So she just placed him with the good music lovers. She already liked this dude. He was wearing a grey shirt with a stupid drawing of a cartoonish bat, green blood spilling out of its mouth. And Converses. Again, who still wears Converses in Whitmore or Mystic Falls?

He looked up, watching her for a second, and then waved his hand. They couldn’t really hear each other over the music, but the guy still said something. Y/N motioned towards his portable speaker which was spitting out the fast chords and energetic drumming. That was the best. That was the best song in the world, and she was almost sorry when the bat guy ran towards the speaker and turned the volume down.

“Hey- woah, I didn’t realize there was somebody alive here!” he exclaimed.

“Are you having a party?” she asked instead of a hello. They stared at each other for a mere second before letting out the air from their lungs.

“Does that bother you?”

“No way. I was drawn here like a rat by a flute. Man, I haven’t heard Blink on speakers or even on the radio, for ages”.

He smiled, and Y/N melted. The guy was approaching her slowly, walking like he owned the place. His smile was white, and his eyes, in contrast, seemed completely black, but, as he came closer, she saw they were dark blue. It’s just his pupils - so enlarged they covered almost everything, trying to devour his eye. He sure looked like he was high.

Something hit her, and backed off immediately. There was something about him, something weird, outlandish, not Mystic Falls at all, neither Whitmore, but hey. Everything in the closest vicinity of Mystic Falls is completely consumed by its spores. Everything was Mystic Falls color, the people, the nature, and the college; people spoke, walked and loved in such a way that you could tell they all come from the same place, full of scandals and vampires.

This dude, though. He looked a bit mad, Y/N reckoned, his wide smile never touched his dark eyes, and they shone with something that made her look just a little too long. He smelled like trouble. After all these years she’s been rubbing elbows with all kinds of bad, Y/N could tell who’s what. She could tell a beast when she met one. Vampires looked different to her, call it intuition or habit.

But this dude… he just looked different. He was like ink, like milk, like blood. His face looked perfect all-American beautiful, with lean triangle chin and strong jaw line. And yet, it was crooked somehow. He looked youthful, but the look about him said old. The fact that he was keeping silent a second too long, was standing an inch too close, looking at her too closely, all said trouble. It was blinding how quick she felt all that, in a flash, and against all odds, she smiled.

She didn’t know what he was.

“Ha, you’re staring”, he said, amused.

“Dude, I’m trying to remember if I’d seen you before”.

His sharp eyebrows, like two eagle wings, were drawn together in mocking concentration.

“Well. Have you?” There was an inviting smirk on his lips, showcasing two things: he had a very nice mouth. And. There was a reason enough to keep distance.

“No. I have excellent memory for faces”.

He shrugged like nothing in his easy, carefree life, mattered.

“Yeah, me neither. This is the first time my eyes are on you”.

“Wow”, she nodded, “you’re weird enough”.

“I’ve been said that”.

“How dangerous are you?”

“Uhm…” he pretended to ponder, poking his chin with his right index finger. Y/N saw a large steel ring on it, with a pretty, strange scattering of tiny dark dots. A very unusual marking, too, but she said nothing. He had a face of a TV star. She could very well picture him in a sitcom with a lame title like “My crazy family”, in which he would be the geeky, but sexy, smart oldest son of a little bit absent-minded parents.

“Like… eight out of fourteen. I’ve been to a camp once… it was a type of… you know, like a summer camp?”

Y/N found she had to actually focus to follow his thought. She looked straight at him attentively, feeling bright magenta giggle rising inside of her.

“Uh-huh. The Crystal Lake type? Or the Sleepaway Camp?”

“Get out!” he exclaimed, stretching his vowels. They laughed exactly at the moment for Billie Joe to yell about the Last of the American Girls.

“No, more like a concentration camp”, he offered, “but like, you’re alone there, so you have to do all the torturing yourself”.

“God’s sake, what kind of camp was it?”

“I literally just told you”, he replied with a pause, and his articulate face went blank. Y/N couldn’t hold off a sniff. She felt like she was a bit drunk, but that was more of overworking, late evening, lots of coffee and that everlasting feeling of despair one gets upon realizing that work will never end.

“Anyway, I learnt a lot of useful stuff there”, the boy said, “how to start a fire, how to make a knot, you know, the type you’re not getting out of, ever. A-and, like, how to make stakes out of sticks”.

Alert reddened Y/N skull from the inside. She tilted her head. Reading him was in vain. This dude was misty, he was shut off like a persona that’s uncrackable simply because it never really existed.

“What for?”

“Oh, you know, grilled sausages and stuff”.

She reprimanded herself silently for being a basket case. Yeah, sure. Grilled sausages, and only then – killing vampires; that’s how it works in the normal world.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“How dangerous are you?”

“Ow, extremely. I mean, look at me”.

She stretched out her arms, displaying herself (like a complete sellout, she thought. There goes the very first male who listens to Green Day and blink-182 and you’re already opening your ribcage for him, what a piece of work).

Diligently, the guy took a step back to get a better view. It was all very comical, with a very characteristic soundtrack.

“I am really looking, and I have thoughts. What exactly do you mean?”

“Small. Disproportional limbs. Frail muscles. Do you see? Very angry as a result. Very angry all my life. So, very dangerous”.

He smiled joyfully, wide, bright sparkles exploding in the dark of his eyes.

“I got it. Not gonna piss you off. Actually, I guess, since I’m new here, I should bond with the strong ones, right? I’ll be working as your computer guy. You need something fixed, so that you owe me a favor and don’t kill me when you get mad?”

Y/N scratched her temple, thinking if she needed anything in her laptop fixed. Ridiculously, there was something.

“Funny you should ask. I have the stupidest problem… I… what’s your name again?”

“Oh, my manners”, the guy sighed gravely, and outstretched his hand, “Mal. And you..?”

She considered his palm for a second before shaking it. A light buzz stung her which she barely noticed. Mal’s shirt was probably all synthetic fabric. She told him her name, and he gave a nod.

“Are you really an IT guy?”

“Why would I lie?” he asked, puzzled. He pointed behind his back, turning a little:

“You see that wall? I’m tearing out the old wiring right now. That’s why I’m here so late. Tomorrow you’re gonna have new wi-fi, with the dopest name and the password you’ll never guess”.

Y/N could instantly think of a thousand passwords that were puns for punk rock songs’ names. She abstained from vocalizing them all immediately.

“Alright then”.

“What stupid problem are you having? Have you tried to…” his eyebrows moved suggestively, like he was about to say something R-rated. “…you know?”

“Nah, it’s with the browser. The default search engine is Yahoo for some reason, and I hate Yahoo with burning passion… I’ve no idea how to make it Google again”.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah. I’m the college sociologist, not a bloody programmer”.

Mal couldn’t help laughing. He headed for the doors, hopping a little in the rhythm of the song.

“Perhaps I made a mistake in detecting you as one of the leaders of this pride”, he mumbled, “where’s your office? You’re the sociologist here?”

Y/N followed him into the corridor.

“Yup”.

“What exactly does it mean?”

“If they need somebody to listen to how they’re closeted gays, I listen. If they need me to fill out the forms for their loans, I fill them out. If teachers had a party the night before and can’t come in now because they’re hungover, I come in instead and take their classes. If…”

“Gee, how much do they pay you for that?”

Y/N felt her face move, all parts of it separately. Just thinking about it was unnerving. But that’s the job she asked for. That’s the responsibility she’d grown into. She’d been a teacher herself for some time, and then got tired of the creative pressure of coming up with the new ways of explaining one thing every day; she thought this position would bring some diversity in her everyday thinking style. She was being silly. However, when she realized she was worked up, it also brought a strange taste of satisfaction in a way that she was giving all of her, and her conscience was clear. She explained all that to Mal. Then she pushed her door and they found themselves in her darkened office. The first pink flames of raspberry sunset were trying the sky.

“Damn it”, she swore, “I’m late for sunset again”. How the fuck long did she spend in the gatherings hall?!

“You like watching it?”

“Sure. It’s like the doorframe syndrome, have you heard about it?”

Mal smiled, sprinting to her laptop that’s been waiting for her on the desk, abandoned.

“Oh yeah”, he sneered, “I was just thinking about it, but then I entered this room and forgot”.

Y/N sat in the armchair on the opposite side of her desk, thinking to herself, he’s probably gonna die really soon. Like Brandon, the last interesting dude she’d met in Mystic Falls back when she was on the haul, working at the Grill. Brandon was the best bartender the place had ever seen in its prolonged history, and he was also very clearly interested in Y/N, too. They worked together a lot, and drank at night even more. They got to know each other pretty well, which made it even worse when someone came in, in the broad daylight, and broke his neck. Just when Y/N thought that the Mystic Falls curse has been lifted and normal people could feel safe. It’s been two years, or even more, since then, and now she sat there, cynical and certain, that such a cool dude like Mal wouldn’t last here long. The place consumes people like him – those who wake up her desire to live again.

“Oh-kay, I’ll just close all this porn here”, Mal looked at the screen. Y/N has been writing a report when she heard the music, and left the document open. “You wanna Google by default?”

“Yes”.

“Come here and learn while I’m alive”, Mal said solemnly, not noticing the look she gave him, stunned at the sinister coincidence of thinking.

She circled the desk and stood at his shoulder. Mal smelled of candy (literally this time), so sweet it was almost suffocating. Did he fucking rub it in his hair?! Y/N thought of tricksters casually, the Scandinavians like Loki, whose only downfall was in that extra sweet smell of all kinds of sugar poison that gave them away. Could Mal be a malevolent spirit, luring her into a trap? What’s he gonna do? Eat her insides?

“Are you looking?”

“Yes”.

“It’s two seconds. See?”

“Oh”.

Mal turned to her in her own armchair like he owned it and looked up without a shade of awkwardness.

“You seriously didn’t know how to do that? I don’t even need to be an IT specialist to be able to fix that”.

“What are you getting at?” Y/N barked defensively. She prided herself in not understanding anything about computers, like it made her old in a wise way.

“I gotta tell you before we kick it off – I have a girlfriend”.

Y/N digested it for a second.

“Oh, you smug face”, she spat out, “you think I’m hitting on you?”

“I mean…” his innocent-wild eyes acted very well.

“I don’t know shit about this computer crap, I thank God every day I manage to even turn it on…”

“You’re cool and very nice, but…”

“I don’t hit on people”, Y/N banged herself in the chest, “people hit on me”.

Mal puffed with laughter, still looking up.

“Okay, sorry. I’ve never met anyone like you. Quiet so… helpless”.

“There. Don’t you ever assume…”

“We’re gonna be friends though, right?”

Y/N shrugged.

“Sure. Emos gotta stick together, or else we commit unspeakable things. Now, get out of my office”.

“I prefer to think of myself as a broke-free treasure hunter, thank you very much”.

Mal was smiling like a cunning happy brat as he walked out of the door. He stopped half way, catching himself on the handle. Having crossed the line of the doorframe, he must have recalled something.

“What did you say about the sunsets? And the syndrome?”

“Oh, yeah”, Y/N uttered, propping herself back at the computer. She could feel evening migraine coming, together with the song blasting and echoing from the hall down the corridor. “When I see that, you know, the bloody pink when it’s just ending, I feel like I’m remembering something I’d forgotten. It’s a weird feeling. Kind of like a déjà vu backwards. You ever had that?”

Mal blinked, thinking. Seriously, this time. Looking at him, Y/N decided, that yes, they were going to be friends. He was making her feel something. Something good about all this job, and all that was in her past. All that she thought she outgrew. He was clear, black and white, sturdy, holding on to her door like he was keeping it in place.

“You have to have your head checked, Y/N. It might be terminal…”

“Get out, Mal. Don’t let my door hit your ass”.

“Jesus, you’re really obsessed with blink-182, aren’t you?”

Y/N felt no shame.

[randomnoteforfuturereference]

The Quarry

This piece is actually part of a larger fic I did a while ago (fic on AO3 is called Quarried Depths, which @kleeklutch helped with during the beta process), but I thought it capable of standing alone as a one-shot. It takes place between “2.3 Meet the Frogs” and “2.4 Hazeapalooza”, when Nursey and Dex... didn’t have the best relationship; this piece specifically takes place right after that scene where Nursey spilled the cereal and milk on Dex (and in this case, on Dex’s laptop as well). It also explores a bit of how Dex looks up to Ransom.

Warning: There’s a first-person depiction of an anxiety attack, as well as unintentional self-harm via scratching.

Anyways, hope y'all enjoy.

---   ---   ---

“There are eight d-men on this team,” I breathe through clenched teeth. “Eight. Coaches could have paired me with any of them. Instead, I have to. Put. Up. With. You.” I punctuate the last few words by prodding a trembling finger into his chest.

I don’t give a damn if Nurse gets the message or not, but a distant tendril of satisfaction blossoms within me when he flinches back. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that something crumples behind those dollar-green eyes of his.

Not bothering to wait for a further response, I turn back and continue on my way.

Nurse doesn’t bother following.

I don’t go back to my dorm. In all honesty, I don’t know where I’m going. I just need to be somewhere without people. Without judgement.

As my feet carry me on my way, the haze of rage begins to ebb and the thrumming gradually quiets. With that ebbing, my brain plays catch up and clarity is restored. With that clarity, two things hit me.

The first is the fact that I had wandered out of campus and into Samwell Park. Not only that, but judging by my vantage point and surroundings, I went past the dam and past any defined trail. I really am in a spot where I won’t be bothered, even with the university visible across the Pond’s surface.

The second thing that hits me is the full weight of what just happened. The possibility that my computer will not survive this. The fact that this fight between me and Nurse was probably the worst that has happened between us. The fact that this blow-up happened in front of the team and much of the school.

That weight settles into my stomach and pulls my insides down with it.

Did you really think you’d make it? He’s right. You don’t fit here. You don’t fit with them.

Did you see their faces? They hate you. And why shouldn’t they? You never say the right thing. They were just being nice before. They were being generous. And now you’ve really blown it.

My skin pulls taut and, as it tightens, it constricts my chest and sends a familiar damn itch all over. Shedding my backpack does nothing to ease that.

Now they are going to tell Hall and Murray. Now the coaches are going to kick you out. Then where are you going to be? Where’s your scholarship going to be? Gone. All that investment. All his investment for you. It’s all going to be gone. You’re going to lose a scholarship and a laptop. All within one semester.

Just because you have to be Billy the Blunder.    

Gasping for air and clawing at my arms, I finally collapse and curl in on myself to weather the storm.

Because that’s what you’re good at. Weathering.

It’s all you’re good at.  

I don’t know how long I lay where I fall. Could be seconds. Could be minutes. Could be hours.

Whatever the case, the storm finally ebbs, and as my breaths slow and even out, I unfurl and lift myself off the forest floor.

All things considered, it was probably one of my worst attacks. I don’t even have to look at my stinging arms to know that I’m going to have to keep my sleeves down for the next few days or so. Easier will be not showing my hands so that nobody can see the little bloody crescents gouged into them.

Just to be sure, I sit on a rock that juts out over the water and go through some of the breathing exercises taught to me. It doesn’t banish completely the tight feeling in my chest, but little by little it loosens things up.

As things loosen up, I take stock of the setting: The clear sunny day with just the a slightest cool breeze. The extreme clarity of the water suggesting that turnover hasn’t happened yet despite the time of the year. The shore terminating in a rocky drop-off with no bottom beyond.

It dimly occurs to me that this spot most likely was a quarry once.

Feeling back in control and getting a good gauge on my surroundings, I get an idea.

I place my laptop in a shaded location where I can see it, strip down to my underwear, use my clothes to make a nest around the computer, inhale a deep breath, and take a leaping dive off the rock.

The briskness of the water is like a sledgehammer to my lungs. It’s a familiar pressure, however, and not unwelcome. As my momentum slows, I release just enough air to allow for a steady descent. The cloud of shimmering bubbles clears to reveal a sight before me. Shafts of dappled light from the noonday sun dance around the pale surroundings and occasionally illuminate the blurry forms of various fish gliding and hovering around in the distance. Unlike the majority of the Pond, which is shallow enough to walk through for a hundred feet without the water reaching your neck, here I’m rendered tiny by the cliff-like wall plunging down to indiscernible depths.

If anything, and despite the very real danger it can pose, the incomprehensible nature of the environment that dwarfs me is a source of comfort. It doesn’t judge. It doesn’t spurn. It doesn’t give a flying fuck where I come from and who I am. It just is and offers a familiar presence that supports and embraces even as the mild protests of my lungs signal for me to kick back up to the surface. That embrace relaxes me in full, and the breath I take upon breaking the surface reinvigorates my body.

I should do this more often.  

As I swim around the surface, the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs breaks me out of that state of calm, and it gives me cause to press close to the edge and reach for a small rock. That is, until the crunching is accompanied by the grumbling of a familiar voice and the flash of a white cap.

“Over here.” I punctuate my call by lobbing the rock into a leaf pile in front of me and pushing off the rocky wall so that I can be seen.

Ransom jumps straight up and lets off a high-pitched yelp — city folk… — before he whips around, does a double-take, and finally focuses on me. After taking a few steadying breaths, he gingerly picks his way towards the edge of the rocky bank. I doubt those loafers, which probably cost as much as everything I had on half-an-hour ago, are made for going through anything rougher than cobblestones. “You’re fucking hard to find, you know that right?”

“Wasn’t planning on being found,” I counter. “How’d you get this far?”

“Left breakfast early, and I saw you stomping southbound along the Pond. Wasn’t too hard to follow your trail — if I had to ask some random witnesses that you passed — until the damn path withered away to nothing after I crossed the bridge by the waterfall,” he grumbles while looking around. “This really is the fucking Forbidden Forest.”

I can see how he may have that impression. The vegetation here’s likely secondary growth, but considering how well-established it is in general and how thick the trees are, it’s really old secondary growth. Perhaps old enough to be non-virgin primary growth. Don’t know the age of Samwell Pond, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s at least a century old. The quarry itself was probably abandoned long before it and the surrounding land was flooded when the dam was built.

“Anyways, took me a while, fuck you very much, but here you are.” He looks me up and down with raised eyebrows. “Didn’t expect this.”

I’m just glad that he didn’t find me while I was having the attack. Still, I scowl back. “What’s so strange? Students play in the Pond all the time, and last I checked the park has a ‘swim at your own risk’ rule.” Then I realize that the water’s clarity means that he can easily see my briefs as I keep afloat. “Also what I have on has nothing on the stuff, or lack thereof, idiots have worn around town.”

Ransom mulls that over and shrugs with a chuckle in acknowledgement. “I’m more meaning that it’s the middle of fall.”

“It’s a nice day.” Possibly the last nice day in a while if the forecast’s correct. “Isn’t Toronto supposed to be around the same temperature?”

He snorts. “You picture me going out for a Halloween plunge in Lake Ontario?”

To my own surprise, I bark out a small laugh. “Guess not.”

Satisfied with my swim, I climb out, shake myself off, and hop back onto the sun-warmed rock to lie down to bask and dry off. I don’t miss that Ransom’s staring at my arms and hands, which I keep balled up. While he thankfully doesn’t say anything specific, he still asks, “Are you going to be alright?”

I give a shrug of my own. “I’ve had worse.” Guess it’s already time to face the music. “So when do I need to clear out my locker?”

“Don’t be dramatic, Dex,” Ransom huffs while kicking his shoes off, plopping down on the ground next to my rock so that we’re eye level, and swinging his feet over the edge. “So you two got in a little tiff. Okay, a major tiff. Still, you should have seen some of the tirades Jack meted out. Especially at Bitty. They got pretty epic.” For good measure, he pops those last few syllables and kicks at the water to send it upwards into a sparkling arc.

“Sure, but I bet they weren’t regular. Let’s face it: there’s no way Nurse and I get along, the other D-men are already paired up, and the team clearly likes him more. Hell, I know I’m good on the ice, but I’m certainly not spectacular like you or Holster. So if I were in charge and had to trim things down,  I’d  bin me first.”

Ransom widens his eyes at my admission, and even I’m a bit surprised how easy it is to say that.

Maybe I really don’t belong here.

“Fuck,” Ransom breathes as he squints at me, “you’re serious aren’t you.”

I just shrug at that. “Don’t want pity, if that’s what you think.” I really don’t. I wouldn’t mind if people here actually managed to see things from my perspective, but there’s no point in being broken up about them not understanding.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to be a doormat if shit’s thrown my way.

Minutes of silence pass between us. Silence that Ransom breaks first: “Two weeks.”

“What?”

“Give your partnership with Nursey two more weeks.” He holds up his fingers for emphasis. “If you both truly think this pairing is a disaster, then I’ll talk to Jack and the coaches to see if we can work something out.”

That’s more than cutting it close if they think something can be worked out before the season really starts getting into the swing of it. I squint up at him. “You really think two weeks will make a difference?”

Ransom shrugs. “It might. Better chance than if we don’t try anything. And seriously…”

“Yeah?”

“You two fit together better than you think.” Ransom doesn’t acknowledge my scoffing but instead holds his hand out. “So do we have a deal?”

“That assumes he wants to stay partners with me.” The image of Nurse flinching back from me plays on repeat, and for some reason my stomach clenches at it.

“I’ll talk to him.”

Like it will do any convincing. Whatever, it’s two more weeks. “Don’t get your hopes up,” I mutter as I shake the offered hand.

Deal settled, the two of us continue staring out at the Pond and university itself in silence once more.

And once more, Ransom disrupts it.

“Dex?”

To my surprise, Ransom’s voice now sounds stilted and hesitant. When I look at him, his face is a neutral mask except for a clear twitching tension within his jaw. Considering the air of confidence he always shows in his casual banter and poise, the unease that he’s radiating makes me sit up and turn towards him. “Yeah? What’s the matter?”

“What did you mean when you told Nursey that he’s ‘given everything’?”

That’s what he’s so conflicted over? “What do you think I meant? Just because Nurse has been swaddled in luxury doesn’t give him the right to lord it over me.” As I’m talking, it dawns on me why Ransom was so apprehensive. “Wait, I don’t have a problem about you and the rest of the team being rich. I don’t have a problem with him being rich. If I hated rich people, I wouldn’t—”

Ransom holds his hand up to stop my rambling. It doesn’t escape my attention the massive exhale that he releases. “It’s okay. It’s o—“ The words die as his brows pinch together. “Wait, no, it’s not okay.”

The backtrack puts me at a loss. “What are you talking about?”

Ransom stares at me, opening and closing his mouth as if he’s ready to say something but holding back. Ultimately he shakes his head and looks away. “Nope. Nah. Not doing this.”

What. “What?”

“Even if I didn’t have a meeting later in the afternoon, I’m not putting myself through this. At least not right now.” I try to ask him to clarify, but he just continues: “Go to the library. Talk to someone willing to discuss with you. Except for Shitty; he’s smart and a great guy with great intentions, but…”

“No fucking kidding…” Nurse is obnoxious enough, but I don’t know what I’d do if Knight was a D-man I had to be paired with. I've been civil and deferential all this time, but I’m not going to go out of my way to be chummy with that lefty-than-thou blowhard.

Ransom must have heard my muttered statement, as he lets off another sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “See, it’s shit like that why the team… nevermind.” He shakes his head. “Look, all I’ll say is that Nursey probably didn’t think you were yelling at him for being rich, and remembering some of the stuff he talked about may help you figure out what I mean. Also there’s a term that I recently learned that might be useful to you: ‘Intent versus Impact’. If you think you got it figured out and want to make sure, then we can talk.”

“But you’re barely giving me anything to figure out!” It’s fucking ridiculous. Why should Nurse get any sympathy from me if I don’t even know what supposedly bothers him?

My protests are answered with a snort. “Like you’ve been forthcoming about yourself.”

Ransom’s disdainful scoff feels like a slap in the face, and I can’t help but reel back a bit.

He must notice my reaction, as his voice softens. “I don’t want you to think I’m unwilling to talk if there’s anything you need help with. But William?” Both the use of my first name and the plea in his voice makes me look up at him. Really look at him to see lines of worry etched into his face. “We’re a team. I’m not saying that you should bare your soul. But we can’t have your back if you shut us out.”

A stiff breeze makes me pull my knees up to my chest.

I don’t need anyone to have my back. I’ve already said what I’ve needed to say. No reason for anyone to go out of their way for me. I did alright before, and I’ll do alright now.

Still, I humor Ransom: “I’ll take that into consideration.”

His raised eyebrow makes it obvious that he doesn’t believe me, and he looks ready to call me out on it. Ultimately he just shakes his head before glancing at my clothing nest. “Anyways, I was just coming to check to see if your computer’s alright.”

At least that’s something straightforward I can talk about. “I need to wait for it to dry first. Then I’ll check if there are any issues.”

“Well, I hope there aren’t any…” That air of pensive awkward settles over him again.

This time, I huff, “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Ransom allows for another minute or so before speaking: “You can’t afford a replacement, can you.”

Is he just figuring that out? “Well technically, I have enough money to buy one…” Really don’t want to elaborate beyond that.

I don’t have to. Ransom wide-eyed stare and the sharp exhale tells me that he's read between the lines. I’m still baffled that he didn’t know, but I’m also beyond thankful that he’s not showering me with platitudes or falling over himself with guilt.

“If it’s truly busted, I’ll see if I can rally the guys to help you replace it.”

“I don’t need your charity,” I growl. I’m completely sincere when I say that I don’t mind that my teammates are rich. But like hell I’m going to let them pay their way into my good graces or buy themselves a pat on the back because they are oh-so-generous. And like hell I’ll let Nurse buy himself out of the mess he made.

Ransom sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose again. “Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it as a team expense to make sure that things run smoothly. After all, the last thing we need is for the loss of your computer to put your academics at risk, which would put your athletics at risk, which would disrupt team dynamics,” he notes while ticking off each stage of the scenario with his fingers and waving them in my face. “So it’s not just about you.”

Well, when he puts it like that, the last thing I need is to be a burden on the team.  And if they— fuck dammit, he’s good.

I take a deep breath. “If, and only if, anything needs to be replaced, it will probably just need to be a part and not a full replacement.” Not to mention that I would need to figure out how to repay them.

Hopefully it won’t come to that. It better not come to that.

For once, Ransom is satisfied with my response and relaxes fully to pipe, “Sure thing! Just let us know.”

“Also… do you think you can refrain from mentioning this spot? I’m not saying to keep it top secret, and I know it’s public land anyways.” Hell, for all I know, people come here all the time, and I just caught a lucky break today. “But it’s nice to have a quiet place, just in case.” Not to mention that the last thing I want is for this patch of forest and pond to become sullied by a kegster crowd.

For one reason or another, understanding dawns behind Ransom’s eyes even though he keeps his tone light. “I don’t think you have to worry about crowds of people here.” He scowls at the surrounding vegetation with suspicion. “But how about this: I’ll keep it on the lowdown if you help guide me back to civilization. Deal?”

“You do know that I practically came here by accident, right?”

He shrugs. “Even if you did, I trust you to find a way out. Faster than me for sure.”

I blink. I mean, I’m not exactly surprised at the assertion that’d I would be better at navigating a forest than most of my teammates. Haven’t made it secret that I hunt, after all. But that one trusts me to lead him out catches me off guard.

Once I get my bearings straight, I murmur, “Deal.”

Ransom flashes one of his trademark smiles and holds his fist out, and his smile widens when I bump it.  

He has a really nice smile.  

[negasonicteenagemess]

girls/girls/boys  peter parker imagine

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k+ (I think it’s my longest yet)

Request: I suggested it and people said yes sooooo here it is lads. It’s 7:30am and I haven’t slept so forgive the mistakes

A couple Spider-Man ps4 references here and there

No Endgame spoilers

masterlist

New York. The best place on Earth, at least in Peter Parker’s eyes. After an alien invasion here and there, the people of this city came together in one, borderline heroic, ideology. To rebuild together. As a city united, they fixed not only the physical attributes of the city, but the hearts as well. Hope returned as people such as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man began to step up to protect the city they loved. 

The people of this city made it so easy and great to love for Peter. Well, besides when he gets beaten to a pulp by bad guys. That isn’t fun for anyone.

As Peter walked on the cracked pavement under the setting sun in the city he loved, with the girl he loved, he couldn’t help but admire her. After nine months, to this day, of dating this girl, Peter knew he loved her.

Yes, he knew it was crazy, but if he had to hear ‘you’re in high school, you don’t know what love is’ one more time, he’d just lose it. Deep down in his heart as he saw the light breeze ruffled her hair, he knew that what he felt for her was love.

He loves her with every fiber of his being.

But those three little words were never once said due to his guilt. Peter felt that it was wrong to confess his love to her without her knowing everything about him. That hiccup just so happened to be clad in red and blue spandex.

Nine months, the time frame of a pregnancy and he still hasn’t told her the truth about why he cancels dates and misses class more often than not. He was scared in all honestly. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving him because of his alter ego. So, he kept it bottled inside, along with his revelation of love.

As they walked in a comfortable silence, Y/N began to lose herself in her thoughts as well. When she met Peter Parker for the first time in biology in freshmen year, she knew she was done for. As cliched as it sounds, he was different than most other guys. His heart, the care he held, made him who he was, and she loved that about him.

But, just like Peter, she was keeping a secret from him that she thought would ruin their relationship. She liked boys, obviously because she was dating one. What Peter didn’t know was that she liked boys… and girls.

The way she thought of it was stupid. The logical side of her brain knew that he would never hate her for being bi. The other side of her shivered in fear of the thought of Peter kicking her out of his life.

She didn’t want his feelings for her to change which is why she’s been silent on the topic. Tonight, that would change.

“So, what do you have in store for our epic anniversary?” The boy questioned as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Y/N smiled as she made eye contact with him.

“It’s a surprise,” the smile on her face grew as Peter shook his head and chuckled. “You and your surprises.” He leaned in to give her a short peck on the lips as they kept walking. Her cheeks turned red at the small act of affection.

After small talk, and down a few more blocks, they arrived at the restaurant with insanely bright neon lights. “Karaoke?” Peter read off the sign on the restaurant window. Y/N beamed at the confusion on Peter’s face, “yeah! I thought it would be fun to give it a try. But if you don’t want to then we-“

He cut her off, squeezing her hand, “No this is great. Just keep in mind, singing is not my strong suit.” He opened the door for her as she giggled at the comment.

The couple was soon seated at a booth while a very drunk man sang ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ Peter and Y/N went over the memories they made together over the past few months. One of the employees took the mic, and with a voice laced with boredom, called the next person up. “Y/N L/N, you’re up next.”

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked at his girlfriend questionably with a French fry between his fingers. Y/N nervously chuckled, “I immediately regret this.”

Stunned, Peter stumbled through his words, “I um.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “I think you’ll do great.” The initial shock washed away, as he offered her a comforting smile. She nodded her head trying to convince herself more than anything as she stood up and walked to the stage.

“You got this Y/N,” Peter encouraged, tossing her a thumbs up when the mic was placed in her hand. An anxious smile graced her lips as she gave a small wave to the people watching her intently.

‘This was such a bad idea,’ she kept thinking over and over again just as the music began.

“Oh god,” she whispered before the words made their way on the screen towards the far left of the stage, in the direction that Peter was.

“I don’t wanna hear you’ve got a boyfriend Sometimes you’re better off alone”

The beat was familiar for Peter, but he didn’t quite know the song. He felt down because of how tense Y/N was, but the proud smile never left his lips as he cheered for her from halfway across the restaurant.

“But if you change your mind, you know where I am Yeah if you change your mind, you know here to find me ‘Cause I don’t ever wanna be your boyfriend”

Y/N’s voice gradually grew slightly more confident as the song went on, and every now and then she’d look at the screen for the words. With this newfound confidence, which wasn’t much, she began to look at the other people in the ‘crowd.’

Peter’s eyes eventually trailed to one of the T.V.’s behind the bar. There was a hostage situation at Grand Central. Again. He bit his lip and looked back at his girlfriend. ‘Why the heck would someone hold other people hostage at GC?’

“I am just a villain vying for attention From a girl A girl who can’t decide and here’s the reason why”

She found her eyes searching for Peter’s, and as they locked, words spewed out of her mouth.

“Girls love girls and boys”

The song soon ended and she stood there awkwardly yet again. She walked off the stage and back to the booth where her boyfriend was waiting. When she approached the table, Peter quickly stood up as his eyes kept flicking from Y/N’s to the T.V. behind her.

The uneasy smile returned when she approached him. “So… what did you think Pete?” She bit her lip, anticipating his response.

“Uh, it was great babe, but I gotta go. May needs something.” Peter grabbed his jacket from the booth about to step away without acknowledging the look on Y/N’s face.

“Something more important than our anniversary?” Her voice was shaky, from anger and sadness simultaneously. He stopped his steps and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” before Y/N could respond, he bolted out the door of the restaurant.

She let out a light scoff as she plopped herself into the booth. Pushing the plate to the side, she leaned her head on her hands while tears pooled in her eyes.

Somehow, she knew this would happen. She knew that Peter wouldn’t like her because of this. Their waitress walked by, noticing her distress. “Hey, you alright?” The kind woman questioned with concern. Y/N sat up, redness around her eyes, “my boyfriend ditched me after I basically told him a really big secret.”

The waitress felt bad for the poor girl and saw that there was obviously a person who previously occupied the seat across from Y/N. “I saw your little performance and it was great. I’ll make sure everything’s on the house.”

Y/N’s eyes widen at the woman’s statement. “Y-You don’t have to do that.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks as the waitress waved her off, “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do.” She smiled down at the poor girl. “Thank you,” Y/N sniffed. The woman nodded her head and walked off to assist another customer.

Y/N huffed, pulling out her phone and going straight to the contacts with the only person she could think to call. Pressing the device against her ear, she waiting as she heard it ring.

“Hey Y/N what’s up?” MJ’s iconic gloomy while simultaneously cheery voice greeted. “MJ, I-I don’t know what to do.” Her voice stuttered as she fiddled with the napkin on the table.

“Woah what happened? Where’s Peter?” MJ’s voice grew with concern as question rattled her brain. Y/N sobbed, “He left. He fucking left me here after I basically told him that I’m bi. And-And it sucks because I did the plan, with the karaoke to, you know, break the ice. But it didn’t work. He ran out of here MJ.” Her breathing was uneven as she recounted the story from just a few moments ago.

“Oh god,” MJ whispered into the phone as she got up from her bed to grab her coat and jacket. “Y/N, send me the address to that place. I’ll try to be there soon.”

Sighing, Y/N tried to deflect. “No, you don’t have to-“before she could finish, MJ interrupted. “Yes, I do. You’re always there for me Y/N, so now it’s my turn,” MJ boldly stated as she shut the front door. Y/N closed her eyes, as a few more tears escaped, “thank you.” They bid their farewells and MJ was already on the way.

Across Midtown, Peter was graciously learned that he was taking out ‘terrorists’ that were holding hostages in Grand Central. Slowly, one by one he stealthily took them out. But he made a terrible mistake. His phone. The small device was tucked into the waistband of his boxers so there wasn’t much he could do at this point.

The ringtone blared and all eyes were on him. “Oh no,” he whispered as the gunmen started firing rounds at him as he stuck to the ceiling. He ran on the ceiling yelling, “Hey Karen.”

The automated voice responded, “Yes, Peter?”

The boy dodged bullets left and right before he zipped down onto the ground. “Can you connect to my phone?” He blurted, now throwing punches at the man in front of him. Peter webbed one of the men to the floor before he was bombarded by more of those men. “Hey guys, sorry about crashing the party,” Peter exclaimed mockingly, shooting a web at the ceiling, swinging and kicking on of the men in the face.

“Actually, I’m not that sorry,” he joked. His phone rang again, but this time he was able to see who it was on the interior of his mask. “MJ?” He whispered. His distraction allowed the men to get a few hits in. Before he could get shot at again, he used his webs to pull the guns away from them, throwing them far behind him.

The ringing didn’t stop, and Peter groaned, “answer it, please Karen.” Silently, the A.I. did what it was told.

“MJ, can I call you back, I’m a little busy,” he shouted, tripping one of the terrorists. MJ scoffed on the other end of the line, “really Peter? It’s your anniversary and you ditched Y/N at a restaurant.” MJ was fuming and the taxi driver gave her strange looks.

“Look, I know it was bad, but believe me,” he paused, kicking someone in the face, knocking them out, “I really wanted to stay. Because I- “He cut himself off. He didn’t know what to say, his mind went blank until he felt a sharp pain in his gut from the terrorist. “You what, Peter?” MJ angrily said, paying the driver and getting out of the car. “I love her, okay?” He shouted. He froze and so did the men before him. They all kind of exchanged ‘what the fuck’ looks before one of the men lunged at Peter.

“I gotta go,” he hung up before she could protest, knocking out the last few guys then calling the police.

MJ went into the restaurant going straight to her best friend. When they saw each other, Y/N stood up next to the booth to hug her friend. MJ let her friend vent, knowing that just being there and listening to her meant a lot.

The night went on, and the pair grew tired. MJ took her friend home, paying the taxi fair for her. “You sure you don’t want me to stay the night?” MJ offered as the approached Y/N’s apartment door. She nodded her head, “I think I’ll be okay.”

MJ let out a short breath, “call me if you need anything, alright?” Y/N softly smiled nodding her head. She went in for a hung, again, needing any form of contact at the moment.

“See ya,” MJ stated, walking back towards the exit of the building. “Bye,” Y/N mumbled loud enough to be heard. She went inside her apartment, going straight to her room. The second she shut her door; the tears began to flow as she covered her face with her hands.

She tried to stabilize her breath, but it was getting too hard. She sat on her bed, not feeling motivated to even change her clothes. Y/N looked at her clock and saw that it was only a little after eight. She sighed as her tears slowed down. Her eyes began to get heavy and she decided to just lay down, trying her best to ignore the deep feeling in her heart.

Soon after the police arrived, Peter learned that those men had plans to plant bombs in the terminal. He was relieved to know that he got there fast enough to prevent the bombs. Peter then leap in the air to swing on his webs to the girl he loves.  

Running, swinging, and jumping through the city was usually such a rush for Peter. The city he loved looked a lot smaller from where he was at, but the rush was non-existent that night as his one goal was to get to Y/N.

As he landed on the fire escape quietly, he looked through the window to see his girl asleep on her bed. He pulled the mask off his face, his brown locks flopping as he did so. He examined the red material in his hands mulling over his thoughts. Is it really worth it, keeping this secret from her which ultimately makes her feel like shit in the end? Peter sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair as he bit his lip in thought.

After a while of thinking, he pulled the mask back on, “hey Karen?” The automated voice replies, “yes Peter?”

“C-Call Y/N,” he stuttered, nervous about the next interaction. He kept cracking his knuckles, as he heard the phone ring. He looked through the windowpane and saw her slowly wake up to the ring of her phone. She groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes, most likely from leftover tears as Peter thought.

He watched her pick up the small device, her eyebrows raised as she just stared at it and watch it ring. He watched hopefully as she pressed the screen, only to hear her voicemail message start. She threw her phone onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. “H-Hang up and call again Karen.” His voice was rough as he saw Y/N’s distressed state.

“Peter, that isn’t such a good idea,” the automated voice suggested, but Peter blew it off. “Just do it, Karen,” his frustrated voice pleaded even though he knew the A.I. would obey.

The ringing began, again, and he watched as Y/N groaned, grabbing the device yet again. Under the mask, Peter bit his lip, whispering to himself “please pick up. Come on, come on.”

He saw her roll her eyes and answer the phone. “Peter, stop calling me. It’s late. I’m tired and I just need time to think.” He watched as she lowered her phone about to hang up.

His eyes went wide as he begged, “wait, wait, wait!” He said this far too quickly and rushed which got Y/N curious. She sighed exasperatedly. “What do you want, Peter? You wanna leave me hanging again or- “she scoffed.

He could hear how hurt she was from what her did and her felt awful about it. He rubbed the back of his neck, doing the only thing he thought could solve this. “L-Look out the window,” he implored.

Y/N slowly averted her eyes towards the glass, only to quickly stand up and drop her phone. After Spider-Man, or Peter, pointed towards the lock, Y/N with furrowed eyebrows, rushed to open the window.

They both stood there, looking at each other. “Hey,” Peter awkwardly greeted with a small chuckle. “Spider-Man…. You’re Spider-Man.” She stated, trying to get herself to understand the situation.

She moved to allow Peter into her room. As he crawled through the window, he pulled his mask off. Y/N was able to see cuts and bruises littering her boyfriend’s face. “Oh my god,” she worriedly stated, walking close to him and enclosing his face in her hands to examine the damage. “It’ll heal in a few hours,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he leaned into her warmth.

“When, why did this happen?” Y/N questioned, softly running her fingers over his bruises. Peter sighed, recounting the memory, “you remember that one field trip in freshman year at the science exhibit?”

She made eye contact nodding her head as she continued to examine his injuries. “There was a radioactive spider they were testing and surprise surprise, it bit me. I gave me powers.”

Y/N froze, “so when you told everyone you got contacts, was it just your…abilities?” Peter nodded his head, placing his hands over hers. “I-I felt like you needed to know before I told you.” He considered the option about whether or not to tell her, but what the hell did he have to lose?

“I’m sorry I left. There was a hostage thing at GC and- and I know you were super scared on that stage, but those people were gonna die and,” he rambled, but Y/N cut him off.

“Peter, it’s okay, you did what you had to do,” she moved her arms around the back of his neck and looked lovingly into his eyes, “I thought you left because you realized you didn’t like me-“ this time, it was Peter’s turn to cut her off.

“I love you,” he boldly confessed, placing his hands on her hips gently, “and I didn’t want to tell you until you knew about, this.” He said referring to the suit and his identity.

Y/N had no words, nodding her head to what he said. She gathered her thoughts quickly, “did you happen to pick up the… the stupid song I sang?” She bit her lip, now she was the one who was nervous.

Peter’s cheeks flushed red as he looked down his shoes, “I’m sorry, I was distracted because of the news.” Y/N chuckled breathlessly because of her nerves.

“Well, umm” she stumbled through her words, “I don’t know how to put this.”

Peter smiled encouragingly, “whatever it is, I will still love you. Unless you told me that you killed someone or something.” Y/N shook her head, mirroring his soft smile.

“I’m just gonna say it,” she practically dared herself, “I’m bi. And the song was about girls liking boys and girls. And since I like boys and girls, I thought it was fitting to do that for our anniversary.” She spoke very fast, but Peter was able to understand it all.

“Wait, really?!” He excitedly asked, pulling a way to get a better look at her face. Y/N did not expect that reaction at all. “Yes?” She answered questionably as she gripped Peter’s shoulders. He smiled, “I’m glad you told me, Y/N. After a year with you, I’m just glad you got the courage to tell me.”

Her heart melted as she didn’t expect such a sappy answer. “I wish I told you sooner, I just didn’t really know how to do it. So, MJ helped me plan the whole thing at the restaurant. Even though that completely backfired.”

“Yeah she called me basically telling me I’m a shitty person,” he laughed due to the classic Michelle Jones behavior. Y/N’s heart filled with joy at the thought of her best friend defending her. “God I love MJ,” Y/N said as she laughed with Peter.

Their laughter died down as they just admired each other. “And I love you,” Y/N expressed as Peter softly raised his eyebrows. “You mean it?” He asked as if it wasn’t real.

“More than you’ll ever know,” she whispered leaning in to finally kiss the guy she loved with all of her heart.

AN: I’ve lived in Florida for most of my life, and recently Pride month has meant a lot more to me due to the Pulse shooting in 2016. Under one common ideology people from Olrando, all over the state then soon all over the country showed their support. The LGBTQ+ community grew stronger as everyone united under the idea that love wins.

Which is kind of the reason I really wanted to write something like this.

So I hoped you liked it!

[willow-salix]

Ahhhh chapter 24, who knew it would go this far and keep chugging? Life of its own. It's too big to post the whole thing, which can be found here, but until then here is a snippet from the beginning although this is actually a Kayo and Selene heavy chapter.

Selene stretched, feeling the muscles of her back pop as she moved. 

"Oooh, that hurt," she twisted to one side, then the other. Too many hours sitting at John's desk doing video consultations had played havoc with her spine. And she still had her card readings to finish. Luckily those didn't require any face to face time.

Needing to move she gathered up her cards and her tablet then went for a wander. The villa was surprisingly quiet, although she could hear the faint notes of the piano and followed them to the lounge. Virgil and John were the only ones there. 

V was tinkling on the ivories, playing a soft little tune, while John was quietly reading. She wandered past the piano, stopping to give Virgil a little shoulder squeeze in greeting, not wanting to interrupt him too much, then continued to the seating area. 

She looked from her spaceman, to the couch, to the floor and back again. Sure, she could sit on the floor at the table, but then she'd be far away from John again, and that wasn't part of the plan, he was definitely the better option. 

Not giving him any choice in the matter she nudged his book out of the way and flopped down, lying on her belly across his lap. John, fairly used to her antics by now, simply lifted his arms, waited until she got comfortable and lowered them again, resting his book on her backside. 

Holding herself up on her elbows she shuffled the cards and started her first spread, setting her tablet to voice typing as she got to work. 

"Distant Past, four of cups, element of water signifying a very emotional time in your past which has had a major effect on your life now. It's the card of missed opportunities, boredom and reevaluation-" she paused when John shifted to get comfortable, his hand coming to rest on her left butt cheek after he turned the page of his book. Smiling to herself she continued with her reading. 

"Present, Queen of Swords, an older woman will step into your life and protect you when you need it most." 

She finished the reading, quietly adding more details and explanations, checked that the tablet had recorded and translated it all properly then gathered up the cards to shuffle them again, laying out another spread. 

She was half way through the cards, murmuring quietly into her tablet when the peace was ruined by Gordon clattering into the room. 

"What's shakin' bacon?" 

He stopped dead, face creased in confusion. "Sel?" 

"Hmm?" she turned away from her cards to face the aquanaut. "Sup?" 

"Does he even realise he's doing that?" amusement tinged his words as he nodded towards John. 

She lifted her head to glance over her shoulder at her love, smiling indulgently. "Nope."

Virgil looked over at them, his fingers never ceasing their dancing on the piano keys. He smiled, spotting what had made Gordon laugh. 

"John?" 

Nothing. Not even a flicker. 

"John?" Gordon tried again. 

Nope, still nothing. 

"John?" Virgil tried for him. 

"Yeah?" He didn't look up from his book. 

"Hey, how comes he answered you?" 

"I've learnt to tune you out with years of practice."

"Mean."

"Did you want something or were you just interrupting for the sake of it?" 

"No, it's fine."

Selene sniggered as Gordon settled on the couch opposite to wait. 

Everyone drifted back to their activities, Selene softly reciting, Virgil continued to play although his focus was back on his sheet music and John returned his attention to his book while Gordon checked his social media accounts. 

Peacefulness reigned for no more than ten minutes before Alan shattered it by bounding into the room with his usual inexhaustible energy. 

He too stopped in front of the couch, but he was even less subtle than Gordon if such a thing was even possible. 

"John, why are you doing that?" 

John's epic sigh was the stuff of legends. 

"Doing what? Reading quietly like a normal person?" 

"No, stroking Selene's butt in the lounge."

Virgil and Gordon couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. 

"What are you talking about? I'm not-" he interrupted himself as he frowned, looking down at his hand which had been absently petting her behind. His frown morphed into a glare as he immediately stopped, breaking contact. "Where did the cat go?" 

"He's been with me for the past two hours."

"Really?" John frowned. 

Alan turned, revealing Armstrong happily curled up in his hood like it was a hammock.

Selene took pity on John, heaving herself upright and settling beside him. "Hardly his fault that my butt is so amazing."

"No, my butt is amazing, yours is just OK," Kayo grinned as she appeared in the doorway. "Are you busy, witch?" 

Selene glanced at her cards, ignoring the insult to her behind. "I've got a couple of things to do, but not really, why?" 

"Fancy a road trip? I need your help."

"What with?" John was instantly suspicious, his previous predicament forgotten. He wasn't aware of Kayo having anything that she needed help with, which put him on edge. He was usually aware of everything that went on with International Rescue and its operatives, sometimes too aware, he shuddered inwardly at the memories of a few things he'd seen and heard that he'd rather forget but seemed to have etched themselves onto his brain. 

"Things are quiet and I saw that some of my old university friends are having a reunion. Since everyone is always saying that I don't have time for socialising I thought I'd make time. Unfortunately updating my wardrobe is another thing I haven't had time for, so I thought I'd enlist a little help. I'd ask Penelope but we have very different tastes in clothing, although I'm sure Selene could lend me something, and come with me to the reunion tonight?"

Selene was struck dumb for a moment, of all the things she had expected to hear from Kayo, this was not one of them. But she pulled herself together quickly. 

"Yeah, I'd love to come, let me just sort a couple of things first, OK?" 

Kayo shrugged. "Sure, just don't take too long."

Selene snapped a picture of the tarot spread for future reference and checked her list of jobs to do for the next few days, seeing what she could put off. 

John lent over to glance at her tablet, checking her list. "Anything I can help with?" 

She frowned, thinking about it. "Not really, I've nearly finished this reading and it's not due for a few days anyway, and other than that the only things left to do are natal charts, I've been putting them off as it always takes me forever to plot each bloody thing."

He squinted at the charts she had partially plotted. "Looks easy enough, just plotting the location of specific stars and planets on specific dates at a certain time, right?" 

She made a face. "Pretty much, I mean there's interpretation of it after, but yeah."

He slid her tablet out of her hands. "Then leave them to me, what will take you hours will probably take me minutes."

She stared at him for a second, then patted her heart in gratitude. "You get better every day. I have no idea why I didn't think of making you do them before, but thank you."

"You good to go now?" Kayo was never one for patience. 

"Yep, let me just grab my bag and coat, then I'm all yours," she was already halfway out the door heading for the bedrooms. 

"You had better look after her tonight, I've heard the stories of your college drinking and seen the pictures to back it up," John warned Kayo. 

Kayo snorted. "This is the woman that somehow accidentally went out drinking with Scott and not only survived, but made it a regular thing, if anything it'll be me that needs the help. Don't worry, it won't be a heavy night, I just need some back up, those women are more ruthless than I am." 

"Is such a thing possible?" Alan asked, sitting carefully to avoid squashing Armstrong. 

"Maybe I need to come along too, you know, to keep the ladies entertained," Gordon offered. "Purely to be helpful, obviously." 

"Obviously," Kayo rolled her eyes. "Thanks, but no thanks, we've got this, plus it's ladies only." 

Selene trotted back into the lounge carrying her massive handbag that she refused to leave home without. "OK, I'm ready, let's go." 

Kayo led the way to the concealed hanger entrance, touching her hand to the camouflaged panel, standing back as the wall slid aside. 

"Hey, aren't you forgetting something?" 

"Shit! Yes, I'm sorry," Selene ran back to the sunken seating, diverting past John to Alan. "Bye Armie!" she fondled the cats soft head, ignoring the sniggering of John's assembled brothers. 

"At least we know who the important one is now," John huffed. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking!" she bent over to kiss him. "Bye gorgeous." She pecked a kiss to his lips, aware of the audience they had but for once John didn't seem to mind. His arms banded around her waist, tugging her down onto his lap. 

"Goodbye, have a good time, but behave. And no bringing home any more strays." 

"It was one time, John, get over it," Virgil groaned. "It's not like we've made a habit of it and the island is overrun with animals." 

"Still, behave," John kissed her softly, a little deeper and a little longer than was strictly PG. 

Kayo coughed impatiently. "Are you two done?" 

Selene smiled against his lips, breaking the kiss, though she pecked another there just because, then extracted herself from his arms. 

"Yep, done." 

The two women vanished, the wall closing silently behind them. 

"Show off," Gordon grumbled. 

John just grinned and stood up, picked up his book and Selene's tablet. "I'm heading to the office." 

"Seriously, the second she leaves?" 

"Yep, I'm going to get to work on her charts and catch up on some jobs she banned me from doing for another few days." 

"She'll kill you if she finds out," Virgil warned, but amusement tinged his words. 

"The key word being 'if'," John confirmed. "I'll be back before she is, I'll see you soon." 

[robronsecretsanta]

Fic: Sweet Tooth

to @golaulau love from your secret santa

Robert knew better than to attempt Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve. Everyone did. Yet here he was, shuffled around with the masses of last minute shoppers getting the last few gifts he needed for his family gathering tomorrow.

If Robert has it his way he’d avoid the whole bloody day altogether, spend it eating a takeaway and drinking the expensive bottle of whisky he got from his boss as a Christmas present. He already had plans for his very hefty Christmas bonus, a nice long vacation somewhere warm and the new Audi he’d been eyeing all year.

Unfortunately, Robert has a sister; the kind that loved you absolutely and for some reason wanted to spend time with her brothers. They’d been getting along better since Katie had left Andy, doing exactly the same dance on his brother’s heart that she’d done to Robert. Nothing brought people together more than shared distain.

So now Andy focused on his two children from a previous relationship, and seemed to understand Robert a lot better, or at least was trying to.

Buying presents for them all was proving a bit of a headache though. Andy had sent him a list of things the kids wanted, all cheap and way less than Robert had been prepared to spend. Robert’s money and Andy’s lack of it was still a sticky point. It hadn’t helped when Robert had paid off the mortgage on the farm after Katie left, knowing his brother was in a bind. Andy thought Robert was throwing his weight around when Robert had just been trying to build a bridge back to who they used to be, before they’d been waring brothers and actual friends.

Plus Robert had a soft spot for Sarah and Jack, his niece and nephew who thought Uncle Rob was pretty great, even when he wasn’t showering them with gifts.

Still, last year this had all been easier when he’d left it all up to his assistant. Except Victoria had made a joke about it during the last Christmas dinner and Robert had gotten offended. It wasn’t that he couldn’t buy presents for people that were meaningful; he just didn’t have time.

So now he was standing in front of the shops with a few bags of items that didn’t seem like the right things and regretting telling Bernice he had it covered this year.

An understated but expensive Tiffany necklace for Victoria (Breakfast At Tiffany’s was her favourite film), a new Chevalier jacket for Andy (just like the one Robert had but in green, he’d noticed Andy admiring his a few months back), the latest gaming system for Jack (with enough games to make his head spin) and a new iPad for Sarah with a hefty gift card attached (the girl loved blaring her music, just like her Uncle Rob.)

So why didn’t he feel done?

He needed caffeine to make it through the rest of the evening, especially if he was going to be mad enough to keep searching for a present he didn’t actually need. This Christmas was going to be the start of a new tradition, all the remaining Sugdens together under one roof. They hadn’t done that since they were kids. Robert remembered after the day of excitement and food sitting around the living room sofa playing Monopoly with Andy while Victoria pretended to be the banker, too young to actually understand the game. No one ever really won, they’d just play until it was time for bed, for once not arguing over who was the better man.

Robert ducked into the first Starbucks he saw, thankful that the line was only halfway across the store. He juggled the bags in his hands, trying to ease the pull of cheap plastic against his wrists. He ended up jostling into the body in front of him.

“You alright, mate?”

Robert had intended to be polite and beg forgiveness from the person who turned around to look at him. He had intended to be apologetic and charming. Then he met a pair of crystal clear blue eyes and his brain short circuited.

“Huh?”

Robert closed his eyes at his own stupidity but opened them to the sound of deep laughter. Those eyes belonged to a stubbled face, broad shoulders and a voice that made Robert’s insides feel like they had collected in a pile at his feet.

“Yeah I know the feeling. Not a fan of crowds myself.”

Robert had absolutely no idea why this man was talking to him and his tongue seemed to be stuck to the roof of his mouth. Robert wondered if he was drooling? He might be drooling. A man this gorgeous needed to walk around with some kind of warning label. Also, say something Sugden, Jesus.

“Sorry about that, it’s bedlam everywhere innit it?”

Good job, ask him a question. Get him to keep talking. That way you can look at his face more. Robert really liked that face.

“Serves us right waiting until the last minute like this. At least someone will be very happy tomorrow.”

Gorgeous Stranger motioned to the bags in Robert’s hand with a jut of his stubbled chin, specifically the bright Tiffany blue one.

“It’s for my sister. I’m single.”

Robert wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Yes, tell Insanely Attractive that you’re single after 30 seconds. Way to keep a cool head. Thankfully before Robert could shove his foot any further into his mouth one of the barista’s shouted “Next!” and Blue Eyes turned away from him.

Instead, he stared at the back of the man, tried to gauge his age. Younger than Robert, but not by much. He wished Touchable Hair wasn’t wearing such a puffy jacket, but it showed off how broad his shoulders were. He looked cool in that whole “I don’t have to try to work at being attractive because I am, I just don’t know how much” kind of way. Robert was more of a “Yeah I look good but when I try I look better” man himself. They didn’t create well fitted suits for no reason and he wasn’t going to squander what God gave him by not enhancing it.

Wonder what Hidden Biceps would look like in a suit? Wonder what he would look like out of a suit? Or in just a tie? Or in…

“Uh, Sir?”

Robert realized he was next in line and had been daydreaming like an idiot.

“Yeah, Grande Peppermint Mocha, extra shot of peppermint, please”

Robert loved anything sweet; it was another addiction along with Calvin Klein boxer briefs, his sisters shepherd’s pie, and his Monty Python’s Flying Circus box set.

He paid for his order and headed to wait for his drink. Wet Dreamwas leaning with his back against the wall, tapping away on his phone. Robert rolled his eyes at the slowed down guitar riff version of Jingle Bells that was being pumped through the sound system.

He only had about three or four more minutes to look his fill before they’d go back to their shopping and on with their lives. They’d never see each other again.

So what would be the harm in offering Look At Those Thighs his number? Robert was usually more self assured than this. Clearly Christmas and the nostalgia was getting to him, taking him back to when he was an insecure boy, not the confident Robert of today. He was dressed nice, leather jacket over his well fitted jeans. His hair was probably perfect and he’d gone to the gym this morning.

If Kissable Mouth turned him down it was his loss than wasn’t it?

Emboldened he stepped forward just as Scruffy Sex On A Stick put the phone to his ear and started talking.

“Yeah, I’ll be home soon. Of course I’ll pick up dinner on be way; God help us if you decided to cook.”

Robert’s stomach sank, Unavailable Dream Man was beaming as he talked on the phone and that could only mean one thing, love. It was punctuated even further by the throaty laugh that spread want through Robert’s entire body.

“Yeah, I love you too. See you soon.”

Seriously Fuckable shoved his phone in his pocket and offered Robert a smile as he reached for the cup the barista put before them on the counter. Robert offered him a tight smile, trying to not show disappointment that this was the end of their epic love story.

He sighed as I Want His Mouth On Me took a large sip of his drink and turned to walk away, until he heard the sputtering and coughing.

“Ugh, what the hell is this?”

Robert looked at the cup, saw his name written on the side and grimaced.

“Sorry mate, I think that was mine.”

Adorable Frown shook his head and looked down at the cup in his hand, finally realizing he’d grabbed the wrong drink and downed Robert’s sugary concoction.

“You actually like this stuff?”

Robert couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s Chrismassy.”

“So is holly but you don’t see me blending it up and swinging it back.”

Hot And Sarcastic smiled at Robert’s short burst of laughter and dropped the drink into the garbage can beside him.

“Well let me get you another one, because there was something clearly wrong with whatever that was.”

“No, really it’s fine.”

“Look mate, you want to drink this swill, I ain’t gonna stop yah. Let me please, my fault after all.”

Robert opened his mouth to protest again until I Want To Lick Himraised his eyebrow in a seductive challenge that had Robert licking his own lips instead.

“Yeah, okay. Peppermint Mocha, extra shot of peppermint.”

Are Those Eyes Even Real grinned and moved past Robert, going to the head of the line and gesturing slightly before handing the barista more money than it should cost. The barista looked Robert’s way, grinned, writing the order on the cup and passing it over to be made.

Robert was trying to think of something impressive and lasting to say but once again words failed him. Instead, Smells Good Enough To Eat snagged his correct drink off the counter and kept walking, a friendly “Happy Christmas” thrown over his shoulder that sent a shiver down Robert’s spine.

Ugh, Robert hated himself and the world in general as he watched All The Good Ones Are Taken disappear out of sight.

“Sweet Tooth.”

Robert blinked and looked at the barista as she held out a red take away cup towards him.

“Excuse me?”

“Peppermint Mocha with extra peppermint, he said your name was Sweet Tooth.”

Robert smiled at her and took the cup from her hand. She winked at him and turned back to making another drink. It wasn’t until he was out on the street that he looked at the cup more closely and noticed the phone number scribbled on it with a heart and the name Aaron in bold letters.

One Year Later

Robert scrolled through his phone, reading intently the article he’d found about Monopoly strategies. He was going to wipe the floor with Andy this Christmas.

After he’d left Starbucks a year ago, he’d headed to the nearest game store and bought the swankiest version of the game they made. It was pretty expensive but it would last forever, mahogany board and actual silver pieces. There was even a banker drawer which he knew would make Vic happy.

Christmas on Andy’s farm has been tense at first, Andy giving him a tight smile with every excited squeal Sarah and Jack made over the presents Robert gave them. It wasn’t until everyone was done that he pulled out the game, wrapped in gold paper with a giant red bow and placed it in front of Victoria with a flourish.

“So this is a Sugden present; it’s for all of us.”

Victoria had cried when she’d opened it and Andy has just looked at him, a genuine smile on his face and declared he was going to wipe the floor with Robert.

The kids hadn’t been too interested but after dinner the original Sugden kids had played well into the night, Victoria losing early but still willing to hand out money and hold the deeds. They’d finally called it a draw at midnight after too much wine and a lot of laughter.

But for the last few weeks, Andy has been texting him trash talk about the upcoming game and Robert was not going down without a fight.

A slight cough made him raise his head and take in Sexy In A Ridiculous Christmas Jumper as he held out a mug for Robert.

“You are not actually looking up Monopoly strategies online are you?”

Robert took the cup, smiled at the candy cane and whip cream piled out of his hot chocolate that The Best Thing That Ever Happened To Me had made for him.

“Aaron, he’s been winding me up for weeks. It’s a matter of pride now.”

Sweetest Smile just rolled his eyes but sat down on the couch and snuggled into Robert’s side.

“What time do we have to leave to get Liv?”

“Not for another hour yet. But I’m driving, you know what you’re like after…”

He Knows Me So Well waved his hands at the empty chocolate wrappers on the coffee table and the cup of sugar Robert was drinking.

“Only if I get to pick the radio station.”

“Ugh, fine.”

It had taken every ounce of willpower Robert had possessed to wait until after the holidays before he called Hogs All The Covers and asked him out to dinner.

Robert was in love before their appetizers made it to the table.

In the year since, they’d argued over everything under the sun, gone on vacation to Spain, met each other’s families, and were about to celebrate their first Christmas together in the home they shared.

It’d been a wild ride and it wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. Because they had Liv, Kindest Person I Know’s little sister, to pick up from the airport. She was going to be the first guest in their newly redecorated spare room.

Christmas Eve was with the Dingles and Christmas Day was with the Sugdens. Somewhere in between all that Robert was hoping to get a few moments alone with God I Love Him So Much It Hurts, because he had a ring box hidden in their Christmas tree and a question he wanted to ask.

“You’re not going to win the game, you know that right?”

Robert looked at I’m Going To Marry Him in mock horror.

“Aaron, whose side are you on here?”

I Can’t Wait To Spend My Life With You just snuggled in closer and lifted his face to Robert’s

“Mine, because I’m playing this year. I am going to own you, Sugden, just wait and see.”

Robert couldn’t resist tipping his head down and pressing a kiss on those lips before he whispered against them.

“You already do, Aaron. You already do.”

[akaiikowrites]

talk is cheap (and i’ve got expensive taste) pt. 2

Summary: “It’s like Romeo and Juliet only with frat parties.” Katara might be drunk, but she’s still pretty sure she just met her soulmate. [College AU]

Notes: for @zutaramonth 2017, day fourteen, drinking games. part one. ao3. very slightly less shitposty because i had to make room for the feels. behold the glorious (ish?) conclusion to this two shot.

Completely obliterating the curve for her organic chem final despite having an epic hangover and a sprained ankle very nearly makes up for the fact he doesn’t call her.

“You didn’t even give him your last name,” Toph points out. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she suddenly lunges forward in a lightning round of jabs that pushes the sandbag back a few inches. Despite the effort her breathing remains even as she bounces back. “I don’t think you can blame this one on him, Sugar Queen. And I’m all for blaming guys.”

Truer words have never been spoken. Finishing the wrapping on her knuckles, Katara says, “My turn with the sandbag next.”

A few weeks into the next semester the Epsilon Kappa House catches on to Toph’s cons.

There’s not much they can do about it besides banning Toph and, by extension, Katara from attending their parties. Of course Toph and Katara only find that out when they’re told to leave at eleven at night during a kegger. Defiant to the bitterest end, Toph backs out of the house with both middle fingers raised. It’s a beautiful moment.

“Home?” Katara asks. It’s cold as balls out. The miniskirt she put on isn’t helping matters. Even if she did spend two hours getting ready, this isn’t worth it, and she wants to go watch Netflix until she passes out.

Cracking her neck, Toph says, “No. We’re going to the Lambdas.”

Which is almost a worse idea than wearing a miniskirt in February. “No,” Katara says. She wants to sound firm, but it’s ruined by her teeth chattering. Irony is somewhere in an Inuit girl being cold. “Toph, no.”

“Toph, yes.”

Lambda’s a fifteen minute walk to the exact opposite end of Greek Row. Technically they’re outside of Greek Row. A shadow frat. The kind that has all the best rumors about blood sacrifices and dead pledges and raging parties. Mysterious. Dangerous. Sketchy as fuck.

Somehow she’s a little surprised that it’s taken them until their junior year to make it here. Eventually they were bound to run out of frat parties to crash on account of Toph’s schemes. Maybe she should be grateful.

There’s a party going on. There’s always a party going on.

Within minutes Toph’s set up her usual arm wrestling game. It’s her favorite mostly because no one can beat her. Katara needs about eight shots to handle the music, the crowd, and the ever present scent of smoke. Also she might be resenting Toph for this. Just a little.

Katara walks into the dining room, or what she assumes is the dining room, keeping to the edges as she tries to make her way toward the kitchen. She glances through the crowd mostly because she’s curious what’s holding sway over a good twenty drunken college students. That’s how she sees the love of her life and the jerk ex boyfriend of her past down shots of vodka. They slam their shot glasses down on the dining room table in the same moment. Everyone erupts into drunken cheers. There’s a sizeable pile of shot glasses next to both of them.

The love of her life has the decency to notice her staring at him. He looks like he just got hit with lightning. “Katara?” he asks. It’s almost a yell, but he’s got a way of softening it. That’s another thing she likes about him. Feeling a little dizzy with the fact that he noticed her and remembered her name, she lifts a hand in a half wave and smiles.

Meanwhile, the ex leans closer to the love of her life so he can see her. “Katara?” he yells. There is no softening. The jagged line of her eyebrows brings back bad memories.

“Fuck off, Jet.”

Without waiting for a response, she starts shoving her way through the crowd again. Heart beating in her throat she waits until the next round of cheers goes up and her hand’s closed around an opened bottle of tequila. Not much of a consolation but she takes it. Has to take it.

Knocking back nine shots in quick succession, her brain finally processes that she could’ve gone and dragged Toph out. Pulled the “I’m your best and only female friend you have to walk home with me so I don’t die” card. Now that the buzz has taken the edge off, she wonders if she should still do that, or if maybe she should go back to the dining room.

The decision is made for her.

She’s staring into her tenth shot when Jet comes swaggering up and into her space. “Hey, baby,” he says. Between the dining room and here, he managed to find a toothpick, which he’s chewing on. When they were dating she always thought he must have a whole pack of them hidden on him.

“No,” she says. Narrowing her eyes up at him, she dares him to try fucking with her. They both know how that ended last time.

Jet’s chewing pauses. “Baby,” he says. “God, you look pretty tonight. Pretty as a picture.” Low, coaxing, to match the way his hands reach for her hips like he’s going to pull her closer. It worked so many times during their short relationship.

Now it just ends with him stumbling back and swearing at the tequila in his eyes. Katara’s just tipsy enough to find it funny. Hilarious, even. One of her hands reaches out to grasp the counter to keep herself from collapsing to the floor in helpless giggles.

Someone’s at her back. Hands cup her elbows and lift her from her half collapsed position. Katara tips her head back and glimpses a firm mouth and dark scar. That’s enough to let herself fall back into him. He doesn’t even stumble back, just takes her weight and redistributes it, so mostly she’s tucked under one of his arms. Clutching at his tee with one hand, she says, “I think the tequila was spiked.”

Briefly she comes to. It’s cold on her legs except for where there are hands gripping her thighs. She’s wearing a leather jacket that smells like everything wonderful. Her face is mushed into the back of someone’s neck. Toph’s voice says, “I can’t believe she passed out on you.”

It’s four am and she’s in her bed. She’s still wearing his jacket. “It’s like Romeo and Juliet,” Katara moans. Her mouths feels like fuzzy caterpillars and she’s pretty sure if there was anything left in her stomach, she’d puke. Again. If she puked. Honestly, she can’t remember if she puked. “Only with frat parties.”

“Katara, they die at the end.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m dying now.”

An unknown number calls her three days later. Normally she wouldn’t bother answering but she’s waiting to hear back about a study abroad application so she picks it up with a cheery, “Hello, Katara Foster speaking!” Like a fucking well adjusted person who didn’t get blackout drunk three nights ago.

“I’m sorry it took me this long to find you but Katara I don’t know how to use Facebook and your blind friend made me go on a spirit quest with her in exchange for your number except it wasn’t your number it was your brother’s? Because our spirit quest sucked. I ended up having to go break your dad out of this biker bar with him, and then there was a riot, and now we all have matching tattoos. I might have told your dad about carrying you home. I think he expects me to marry you. And it’s a little soon for that but maybe we could at least do dinner while we’re both sober?”

“You’re the reason everyone’s been disappearing?” That’s not what she meant to say. Something scathing and witty would’ve been nice. Or at least a solidly aggravated oh my god.

An awkward silence. A cough. “Yes?”

Reaching up, Katara pinches the bridge of her nose. Inhaling deeply, she tries to sort through everything that brought her here, to this very moment. Fighting a lost cause, as they say. “Let me... Let me get this straight. You went on a spirit quest? With Toph?”

“Yes.”

“And went on a roadtrip with my brother?”

“Yes.”

“And got matching tattoos with him and my dad?”

“Yes.”

“All to get my number because you couldn’t figure out Facebook?”

“...yes.”

Finally it comes. “Oh my god.” The relief at saying it almost matches the sheer aggravation that comes with it. “I can’t believe you— What kind of— Why would you do that?”

There’s no hesitation in him. “Because I like you.” Maybe he’s thinking she’ll ask him why—and she’s not going to ask, she has a feeling it involves her being pretty, like it always does with guys—because he says, “You’re strong, and kind, and smart. You can’t hold your liquor and you’re friends with a conwoman and you stuffed snow down my shirt as part of some weird courtship ritual. You don’t take my bullshit. I like you.”

Weirdly there’s this kind of burny pressure behind her eyes. Almost like she’s about to cry, which is ridiculous, because why would she cry over something like this? Except the burny feeling is only getting worse.

“You like me?” she says. It comes out sniffly and awful and she kind of wants to punch herself in the face.

“Yes,” he says. By now he should sound exasperated because she’s been ridiculous this whole conversation but instead he sounds almost soft. Tentative, like he wants to treat her gently, as he says, “Yes, I like you.”

“What’s your name?”

“It’s Zuko.”

[nycrunning]

I am so sorry this took so long. I really am. Life yada yada, all the excuses,but you know. I try really hard.

Most of you already know what happened, on broad strokes, though not all the details, I had a crazy and great race… The video is here, so you get a good idea of what the day looked like, but the details and behind the scenes are below, … and there are some juicy details…

I hadn’t run the NYC Marathon in 5 years. After running it SEVEN years in a row, I made a hard stop. I run one or two since (Boston and Hudson Mohawk) but it had been a while. I fell out of love with the distance and crushed hard on the half. And it was all fine, the half and I were so happy together… But then, New Balance reached out with the offer to put me in their team for the marathon and I couldn’t say no. It’d be such an honor to be a part of the team and they were taking care of everything so I barely thought about it, I jumped in with both feet and yelled I DO, I DO!

New Balance’s gift for race day, WHICH I LOVED

The truth is, I was pretty trained. I was doing all these halfs and training with my friends who are all doing marathons. My weekend run was always at least 14 miles, so it wasn’t a big change. That was taken care of.

The nerves… wow. I was excited about such a fun experience… but the MARATHON…uh. That distance… I am the opposite of most people: I love the marathon training, but I don’t enjoy the race itself, mostly because marathon pace is so excruciating… UGH. Always waiting and waiting to fly and then, when it’s time, you are in pain. GREAT. That’s why I stopped.

But here we went. I got ready. Physically ready.

RACE WEEK

came around and the nerves came back up a bit… it’s gonna hurt… will it all be worth it… why do I have to suffer… all those thoughts. It all makes no sense when you have no goals.

My fastest race is 3:27 in Berlin. My fastest NYC was in 2009: 3:42. It’s be good to get a course PR or even go sub 3:40, but I know NYC is a tricky course so I wasn’t sure I could do that. On the other hand, I never run over 4 hours and I didn’t want to go over 4… the nerves!

RACE DAY

The switch was on. I was hyped! I had never gone to the start with Juan so I was SO pumped for that…! We saw everyone in the tent!

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Got some coffee, water, ate a couple of bars and just chatted with one million people. Soon, I dropped my bag and walked about 200 meters to the Orange F corral. This is REAL. It’s been so long. Feeling all my feelings.

AT THE CORRAL/START

I found a few friends in the corral and soon we all walked into the bridge. OMG so many feelies. Can I start crying now?  It was a SCENE. The Orange wave starts a few meters ahead of the blue wave, where the male elite runners start at the same time. So I had a PRIME position to watch the elite runners start. It was awesome… And then, I get to chase them. How lucky are we that in this sport we play on the same venue as the best of the world, at the same time??? Beyond awesome.

We get the national anthem, the cannon, confetti, Frank Sinatra’s New York New York, helicopters and a all the yelling. It’s time to go.

STATEN ISLAND

What a thrill. The start is quite exciting. Pumped 97%, scared 3%.

I always tell everyone you can ruin your race on your first mile, and I know how hard it is to keep it all under control with such hoopla. Seeing the city so far away into the distance helps to sober you up. Marathons are such a huge enterprise that you need to respect the distance, no matter how many or how well you’ve done before. Respect.

Or FEAR. that also works sometimes. 😉

The first two miles are epic. I was on cloud nine thinking about all the people I love. And then I saw my husband on the other side of the bridge, we blew kisses at each other, touched hands and wished each other luck. Then I watched him get swallowed by the crowds ahead.

We were off the bridge in a hot second. It’s blowing past me too fast. And I am going too fast. But, am I? It looked too fast on my watch. On the other hand, who knows what will unfold in a few miles…

BROOKLYN

1- THIS IS WHY I LOVED THIS RACE SO MUCH

2- #$!&*#! I AM RUNNING TOO FAST. I AM GONNA PAY FOR THIS. IT’S GONNA HURT. THIS IS WHY I STOPPED RUNNING MARATHONS

Wow, this is LOUD and AWESOME, and I am letting these awesome spectators push me too fast… CRAP. I was so scared… These miles were FAST and way under that I had planned. FFFFFFFF. Can I hold this pace? Am I gonna die a slow death on Fifth Avenue? Whatever I don’t care this is soooo fun.…

Seriously, my poor brain was so overstimulated and trying to control my emotions and speed. I had to veer to the inside lanes and put the music on to calm down and shut it down a few times.

It was impossible.

Fuck it.

This is waaaay toooooo much fun. Life is too short. Let’s go in.

QUEENS

This was also wild… the Pulaski was amazing. YOU have to look left. I was really absorbing it all in. Really. Then I just run through the streets looking for QDR and NP. I missed QDR but NP was unmissable. You could have heard them from Staten Island. It was also a highlight.

Then the mighty Ed Koch brige, or Queensoboro, or the QuadKiller, or whatever you wanna call it.

MANHATTAN

Also, yey for the views. And, we were fine. We slowed up a bit up the incline, yey to level effort, but it was a happy place for me. Then the steep downhill. I have to say that is one of the points of the race that I look forward to the most -coming off the bridge into the loudest First Avenue. It was NOT SO this year. The block was blocked off spectators and it was eerily quiet. A bit sad even.

Luckily, we turned the corner into First, went over the overpass, after a block of fluids, aaaaaaand there was everybody FINALLY. A bit anticlimactic, but only if you were expecting it like me…!

First Avenue was great. I was looking for Martina, and later Susan at 100. I saw LOTS of people I wasn’t planning on and eventually Susan at 100. That always keeps me focused. Get to the next friend.

Then things got scary for a second:

Ah crap. I had overused my music and drained EVERYTHING. Even my spectacles died. That’s what happens when you don’t do marathons often and you don’t think about these things.

the BRONX

I tried to collect myself… I don’t need a watch… I was barely looking at it… So, I knew I was in ok shape, having passed the half-way point in 1:45 to come in sub 4… but now I had no idea what I was running… Am I running ok? Am I fading off? UGH. Let’s go, hey Bronx, here I am!

I really enjoyed the Bronx… there was no slump there. It helped that I had 1 million friend cheering and that I did 2 or 3 course practice runs. I knew every turn and every step, that makes a HUGE difference. Hey Bronx, not afraid of you anymore!

Back in MANHATTAN

One last time… this is it. This is when things get tough. You have 20 miles on you and no matter how your race is going, your body can not be happy. I was mentally pumped, not scared anymore, a bit of stiffness but READY TO FLY. This is why we look forward to the last miles, right?

Fifth Avenue was awesome. Harlem Run had an insanely loud cheer zone and I managed to get a high five from Alison! Around the park and then we are right there… where dreams die.

Luckily for me, I had my friend Andrea waiting at 100. I kept telling myself “100”, “100”, “100”, like a crazy person, sometimes out loud. Totally normal, right?

I got to Andrea quickly. She had her dog with her and I almost died. Thank you babe! Fifth Avenue was never this amazing before.

Now, I was really wondering how I was doing, and where was Juan. He had predicted for months that I would pass him around 5th Avenue, but no sight of my hubs… where is he?

Now up this killer long uphill, into Central Park for the last final 2 miles and I knew I had Carolina and Patricia waiting right there. Carolina is a pro cheerer so I was ready!

The park was SO CROWDED… literally, lots of people on the course, a bit dangerous and annoying but I’ll take it. Not going to slow down now… no thanks!

THERE THEY ARE! hey HIIII

If anyone can jump for 2 seconds to take a selfie and keep up with anyone, it’s her! She told me I was doing amazing, I kept asking where was Juan, “Juan is like two miles behind”, I was in shock, never registered that I was “doing amazing”, said good bye and kept at it.

Right around 3 minutes later, at 72nd, I saw Melissa! Everyone looks miserable but I am shouting and blowing kisses.

Is having so many friends an illegal advantage? Sue me!

Well, now off just for the last bit. Let’s go. I can do this. My legs felt like they were going to fall off I swear… but hey. Hiiiiiii Whitney!!!!!!

A couple of minutes later, I was done.

My friend Ali was at the Finish, how convenient… also he takes amazing pictures!

That is literally how I felt. I wasn’t posing. I was crying, laughing, hysterical. FEELING ALL MY OATS at the same time! WOW. What a ride. Hey, I get a medal too!!!

Thanks Janelle for this picture!

Happiness… Seriously, it’s been a month and I still feel the glitter in my soul!

I found some more friends…

Then Remi brought me a scone. I died. What a day… Then I found my husband in the VIP area where our bags where. I WAS SO HYPER THO. So much caffeine. I took just 4 uncaffeinated gels, water, and 3 caffeine pills (I love these), and they really get me moving…

Once I got my stuff, first thing I did is I put some Cure in my water, chugged it, got all the layers on, got my phone and OMG WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO????

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?

I felt good but I wasn’t expecting a 3:3X at all. WHAT? I was yelling. My poor husband, I get so loud!!!!

Everyone would tell me that “of course” and “I knew you would do that”. I didn’t. I was shocked. That is NOT a PR for me but my fastest NY was a 3:42 from 2009. Literally 10 years ago. I am TEN YEARS OLDER, PEOPLE!!!! well, that happened.

This was awesome. We walked the 2 miles home (not so awesome) and then I was hyper for about 3 more weeks. Help.

I am sorry this was too long. I am just processing it all now. While I sign up for next year’s race. Again: HELP.

          2019 NYCM - EPIC CRAZY DAY I am so sorry this took so long. I really am. Life yada yada, all the excuses,but you know.

[thepensiverambler]

Torbali

So Imece has (as far as I can work out) 3 bases, 2 in Cesme and 1 in Torbali. The first base in Cesme is the cafe (where I first arrived). This is the charity’s headquarters, it has room for quite a few people to sleep there and it's where Imece store most of their stock. The second base in Cesme is the village where they are working to improve a piece of land so that a large group of refugees my live and learn there. The 3rd is in Torbali. It had been decided yesterday Torbali is 2 hours from the headquarters in Cesme. Imece have only recently acquired a place there so today we took mattresses, tables and chairs with us in the minibus as well as all the things needed for distribution (nappies and milk). Needless to say it was cramped. There is something quite special about being in a van full of hippies listening to ‘mellow’ music. I don't want to say inner peace but if you're stressed out from work or exams, find yourself a big van, find a load of long haired, unwashed and unshaven people, bung them in with the heating up on full so you can really get the BO out of everybody. If you can find someone that believes toothpaste is the government's way of working to addle your brain or similar, these people will multiply your tranquility. When we arrived at our apartment in Torbali we unloaded the van and after a brief sit down headed out on distribution. This distribution was just for babies, we handed out nappies, follow on milk and powder. It was very different to what I was expecting. Distributions I've been on before are tiring and non-stop work everyone involved. This was quite different. We pulled up at the first camp and all poured out of our van. I was expecting to be handing out milk powder or nappies but instead Massad said they need 2 people in the van. 2 people stayed in the van whilst Yasmin (an Arabic woman) stood negotiating in Arabic with mothers about how much they would need of everything. There were 4 of us without a role in the distribution, our role was to entertain the children. Little did they know of my incredible ability to make even the happiest of children burst into tears with just a look. If I were a super villain I would be the child up setter. So, like chitty chitty bang bang’s child catch I got out the van. Only instead of lollipops I was armed with a bubble maker. I played a little blowing bubbles here and there but soon enough I'd made a couple of children cry. Fortunately Massad said we were to move on to the next camp. At this camp there was a girl who had died her hair using something similar to iodine and had stained her hands with the colour. She clearly took pride in her appearance even in such squalid conditions as she had used mud as a wax substitute to create her center parting. It was undoubtedly an eye catching look doubled with the vague smell of faeces (fortunately i realised we were parked next to the whole in the ground they used). After making one more baby cry it was time to leave this camp too. We went to the largest one last so that people from the smaller camps wouldn't come and ask for the allocation causing a gigantic queue. It didn't really work. There was a mesh of people, mothers holding newborns in the hope they might get what their baby desperately needed. Again the job of entertaining the children fell to me. The girls were teaching a group of children how to play duck duck goose. I lifted a young boy upside down and before I knew it we were pretending to hit each other. I would pretend his punches were immense at one point falling on the ground. The other children saw this and fancied their go at me. This would have been fine as I could have channelled my inner Jason Stathem and stage fought my way to an epic loss. This would have been fine only my genius was my downfall, my acting was too good so that the boys that came to their friends much unneeded aid missed the part that the fight was completely fake. I was set upon by a 4 foot tall army. Immediately regretting my decision to try and get in with the youth of today I tried battling my way out. I fought the children for a while, occasionally I was bitten or punched a little harder than I would have enjoyed or in places more delicate than others but on the whole I lived to fight another day. A little sweaty (drenched) and out of breath (panting like a dog) I got on the minibus again and we drove back into town. We had finished our distributions within 4 hours. Not quite what I was expecting but I decided I would treat this as a settling in few days for me to find me feet before the hard work begins. We had a late lunch and decided we would go to a lake to go swimming. We drove an hour there only to be told that no one would be swimming anywhere by a stern Turkish man. We turned around and drove home. Mission failed. We got back to the house and played a little volleyball. As is always the case with my volleyball I have absolutely fantastic moments and equally horrendous ones. As long as I'm not the worst I can always laugh it off. After we headed out for some dinner and then tearfully said good bye to a Canadian model I had met just the day before. Ok so it wasn't tearful for me but I said goodbye nonetheless. We returned to the house and everyone went off and did their own thing. It was a beautiful night so I went outside and read for a little while. I was quite tired from the day so as we had agreed earlier I got out my roll mat, stripped off and climbed into ‘bed’. I don't know if you've ever slept with bare skin on a roll mat but I can tell you its a beffudling and uncomfortable experience. You're both too cold and and incredibly sweaty. Any moisture on your body will stick to the mat. It was around 25°C in our room and so clothes were not an option. Massad came over and sat on my bed. Massad is a sweet Turkish man who struggles to keep a group in check. Comprised of 2 unruly Spaniards, a questioning German and a strong willed Italian there are few around with the leadership qualities to command the entire groups compliance but nonetheless Massad at this moment in time may have been feeling somewhat downtrodden. He came over to me asked me how I was. I was in bed and told him I was fine wondering what he was about to ask of me. He told me that I, like the girls needed to wear clothes in public (I was sleeping in the living room). I told him that I was too hot and that I would wear clothes as I always do in the morning. Bemused by the fact that Massad had felt the need to tell me to cover up rolled over and went to sleep, unsticking myself as I rolled. The next day we work to the girls shouting at us to get up because we needed to leave. We drove in the same direction as the lake we drove to the day before only this time for distribution not a jolly. We pulled into a house after an hour of driving. Today was a bigger day for the team as whilst 3 of us were on distribution, the rest of the team were helping with the education. This is one of the most important things for the refugees, if you are to integrate properly into a society you must first speak it's language. So teaching the children Turkish is one of the most important things the charity can do, only there are not so many in the charity fluent in both Turkish and Arabic. This means that they spend a few hours every week or so learning a language. Obviously anyone who has tried to learn a language or teach anyone knows that this isn't the level of intensity needed to learn. This all helps to explain (finally) what I am doing here. ‘The village’ will be an education centre in which for 10-14 days mothers and children will come and intensively learn Turkish and other life skills to aid them. Imece aims to run 2 courses a month and hopes to have the first one in mid August. There's hope that these courses will help a new generation to leave the low paid work of agriculture and broaden their horizons into a Turkish society that is ready to accept them. I'd volunteered to go with the distribution team as I felt it would give me less contact with children. It did. It also gave me more contact with a man tasked with navigating through the confusing dirt tracks that made up this area. I never caught his name but from the moment he stepped in the van one knew he knew how to be in charge. His slicked back well groomed hair and thick sweet smelling cigarettes were uncharacteristic of the refugees I had worked with in the past. This was a man in control. He would flick his wrist at Massad whilst jabbering away on the phone and Massad would obligingly slow and turn. Occasionally, the refugees may ask for more than their fair share, this exchange is all in Arabic but I know when it's happening. With our camp guide at the helm there was no nonsense to be had, he would firmly but politely tell them to stop lying to him or stop being greedy, he would light another cigarette and we would move on. Perhaps the most impressive thing about the man was his family. He had 2 wives and a total of 18 children, 3 of which were from a previous marriage so only 15 with him in Turkey. Only 15. The amazing thing was that with 15 children you would imagine that they would all be spaced out over perhaps 15-20 years, I didn't see a child older than 10. With each child he had a different party trick. With one he slapped on the back of the head and then made the boy kiss him on each cheek. With another he lifted the boy up by his ears, not once but twice leaving the boy to walk away rubbing his ears slightly unimpressed with his father's jokes. We left the camp, drove home and got on a train to Izmir. It had been decided for me that we (Claudia, Linda and i) would leave to go to the village today. We caught a bus from Izmir to Cesme. Once we arrived in Cesme we walked the short half hour in 30° heat to the village. Upon arrival in met more of the group I would be spending the next couple of months with. Victorio, Massaki (the Japanese fella mentioned previously) and Beertrit (I have no idea how to say or spell this name and avoid it at all costs. When I arrived they were building a laundry room with a beautiful glass bottle wall. This is a little under halfway through on two walls. I set up my tent, made it my home for the next couple of months. I returned to the main building, had a coffee and offered my help to a girl planting corn in the field. I kept wanting to go to shower I hadn't known what to expect from the camps but what I saw didn't surprise me. They were simple campsites, blue tarpaulins hung making the tents just as they had in Calais only instead of hundreds there were 5-10 in one place at a time but these places were spread out at the most 1 km apart from each other. This made distribution all the more difficult, with a large camp you can create a system, a degree of order. With masses of small pop up camps you must constantly change the way you do things, constantly change where you go from week to week.

[lookitsjill]

I’ve Never Been to Heaven, But I’ve Been to Oklahoma

It’s been 5 years since I’ve gone to Tulsa. I think back to what that trip was for me and the outcome was revelation that I am capable. That I am bold and independent enough to go it on my own. Knowing afterwards so assuredly that I could accomplish whatever it was I set forth to achieve. I had a goal in my mind for 15 years at that point – someday I would make it to Tulsa and explore the place that birthed my band. The place that had been imprinted on my childhood.

My trip to Tulsa began way before the Hanson Day weekend. It started when I was taking a walk with Zac Hanson. See, the band used to put on these 1 mile barefoot charity walks around whatever city they were touring in. It was a way to connect to the message of supporting our impoverished communities. Most fans didn’t take it that way and instead fought for facetime with the band in ways that were borderline aggressive and all together silly. Zac and I found each other more than 1 time in the New England crowds, and this time was no different.

I’m talking to this guy – this person whose face I had plastered over my adolescent bedroom walls and yet somehow I feel like he is an old friend – and he is asking me not to leave his side because I’m “normal and they’re not”, as he gestures left at a group rapid-firing pictures. Okay, fine. I ask about song lyrics and he sings me a bit of Billy Joel. He asks about my favorite songs and where I come from. He talks about home, and then ask me if I am coming to Tulsa for this year’s Hanson Day Weekend. My answer is that I don’t think so, and he challenges me on this. The conversation is something like…

“So you’ve never been to Tulsa?” “No. Again, I’m not … them.” I gesture left. The girls are taking selfies with Zac in the background. “I want to go some day. It is our Graceland, after all. It’s a dream I’ve been chasing.”   His smile is so wide. “Graceland? Your Graceland?” I shrug, laughter in my words. “Yeah, it’s a thing people say. Tulsa is our Graceland. You haven’t heard that?”

His laugh is explosive. “No. I have not heard that. That is amazing! I love it.” Selfies turn into picture requests and he is not present. He comes back and I shake my head at him. He picks right up where we left off. “So if Tulsa is a dream you should come. We’re doing the 20 years since we were a band thing – it’s the perfect timing for your first visit. It’s going to be epic.”

I can’t commit. I don’t know. “I’ll… think about it. It does make sense to go now or never.” He nods but the crowd moves us apart and Taylor is then doing a half-way talk about the message behind this madness. Zac always looks disinterested and Isaac the opposite – attentive, pragmatic and fatherly. We walk back after that and again I’m a few paces just behind Zac. I catch up.

He notices and starts in again. “Oh hey. I’m still trying to remember what the first line of ‘Give A Little’ really was.” He recants a question I had earlier. “It’s driving me crazy. I’m going to wake up in the middle of the night and remember it, you know.”

I laugh. “Well, if you remember on stage just shout it out!” The joke is cheesy, given that their album is titled Shout It Out, and he knows it but rolls past it anyway.

“Deal. Coming to Graceland?” He wags his eyebrows and winks, he must be making fun of me.   “Shut up.” I roll my eyes and contest. “Maybe.”

“Your mistake if you don’t.” So, I did.

I went, and with great trepidation begin to explore a city that all at once felt like a place I could call home. I did all of the cliché fan things; starting with a secret Hanson sandwich at the Blue Rose even though I was alone and that felt altogether strange and liberating. I stood on the deck and imagined what that place was like 20 years ago when three boys that were too white to sound so much like the Jackson 5 played to a 21+ crowd for the very first gig. I took a picture of the snare screwed to the wall with their signatures and traveled Route 66 to my hotel room.

There were signs welcoming Hanson fans in the lobby, which I found odd. Clearly this city fully embraces this weekend of tourism and commerce. I can never stay idle so I took my car and drove around, recognizing way too many things on the street. I realize how much of Tulsa I have unknowingly absorbed in the past decades. I remembered that I should check-in with the band’s staff… at their recording studio.

I waited in line with strangers, silently listening to all of their conversations and categorizing their level of crazy in my brain. The girl with the giant Hanson symbol tattoo across her forearm, the one with the keyboard leggings, the one wearing a jean jacket with Hanson’s faces on the back, and the girl who would not stop talking about their children were the folks that made me look anywhere but at their faces. I willed them not to notice me. But then there were these other two. These girls, standing next to me, were so brilliantly sarcastic that I found myself snickering aloud just before they pulled me into their conversation.

They peppered me with questions. Soon “Are you alone?”; “Wait have you been to Hanson Day Weekend before?”; “Where are you from?”; “How many shows have you been to?” quickly lent themselves to “tell us your story.” So, I did. I told them everything because they asked and actively listened to my responses. They echoed my impressions of the city. They understood the songs that were laid as the soundtrack to my adolescence. They connected with me more in 1 hour than many other people have done in a lifetime. I know that is part of the magic.  

These girls introduced me to other like-minded fans. We took over the special Hanson store located just inside the studio. I sat down at the piano from “Lost Without Each Other” and ran my fingers over the keys. We snapped pictures of the art gallery even though we weren’t supposed to. We squealed just a little bit when we realized that the band’s younger siblings were manning the cash register and that Taylor was calling to them on a walkie-talkie from out back. We canvased the area until we found Zac’s truck and watched as Isaac took off down the railroad tracks on his bicycle.

The next day I woke up to do it all over again, only this time I took my rental to one of their houses and they showed me the city… and the outskirts and pieces of the city that we’re supposed to pretend don’t exist. The cliché and taboo - like taking that picture outside the modest house Hanson grew up in and taking a drive through the compound they moved to - less economical and more militaristic. We toured to every recording studio in the city where we know various albums were created. We went places we know would put us on the those people list, but we did it anyway in the name of my first trip.

We ate and drank our way through the famous Hanson watering holes. Pizza at Joe’s, Hanson cookies at Dilly Deli, shopping at Ida Red. We cheered on another friend whose team wound up winning a bowling tournament. We watched Hanson’s first terrible and childish VHS movie as it played in an actual movie theatre. We laughed so hard I swear it was 1995 again.

The next morning I grabbed a coffee and a book, pretending not to watch Taylor’s wife wrangle her children across a café. She was young and tired, but maintaining that ever present Southern charm. She had an air of amused frustration that was transparently inauthentic. I caught the little girl – Penny – just before she would have slammed face first into the dessert case. Natalie was grateful. I had to go.

I went down to the Block Party that Hanson was hosting in the street. I met up with my new friends and spent the afternoon sipping Dr. Pepper on the sidewalk as we people watched and they smoked all the cigarettes. We ate the worst food truck food and made fun of other fans. We watched how polite yet annoyed one of the Hanson siblings acted when people were unwilling to form an organized line.  We watched their Dad stand stoic and proud in front of the venue. We watched their Mom carry one of their babies like it was made of glass.

At one point, Isaac’s oldest child asked me to play cars with him in the street. Just like that. I got down with him and Taylor’s youngest (at the time) joined us. I felt altogether scrutinized, but they kids wanted to play and I always have a difficult time saying no to hopeful little faces.  Strangely, not one Hanson cared. I think their aunt Zoe was supposed to be keeping them safe, but she seemed overwhelmed and thankful for the small break from all of their energy.

Taylor sent an email inviting everyone to a tasting to determine the brew for the new Hanson brew, and the promise of a cold beer pulled us away from the Oklahoma sun. He said he would tell us where at the very last minute because we couldn’t all come – but we anticipated the location anyway. We had our pints before he even sent the info thanks to a confused bartender. Taylor and Isaac popped out for some sips, banter and feedback. I pretended like they all didn’t taste like I was chewing on hops.

The show that night was unprecedented. It was a culmination of so many things and a moment frozen in time. I felt alive. I felt vulnerable and empowered at the same time. Above all else, I felt connected. I was connected to this band, to this crowd of family, to the music that represented so much growth and so many learnings. The band played a song written for the first album that resonated so deeply with me I was crying before the second verse. I took one look left and right and realized I was in good company, and audibly cursed him out for playing it. Then Zac opened a song written for the event that made my jaw drop and shake my head in incredulity. Of course he would write a song about chasing down your dreams. Of course he would.

On my last day I said goodbye to these fated friends. I traveled the entire city again, only that time it felt small and quaint in some way.  I took more time with it on my own, soaked it in and stopped to watch the trees and try to capture this feeling in film, the music playing softly as my only comrade. I spent time relishing in the chance to explore a city that felt something like home. There is a small piece of me that is still there – on the highest point or the dustiest road; chiseled outside the studio door or hiding in the Center of the Universe.

I still reconnect that slice of reality whenever I can; the time that I got totally lost in the middle of nowhere and wound up finding myself, after all.

[shananaomi]

2016.

hi. i haven’t been around these parts much this year, but i couldn’t quite let this one go by. 

here’s last year’s.

[note to self at end of 2017: you deleted anything you didn’t feel up to answering, so maybe go find a complete version if you’re into that sort of thing now.]

What did you do in 2016 that you’d never done before?

Went to Paris, then drove around the French countryside in a tiny car, just as I’d imagined ever since seeing Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown, as a little kid. (Fewer haunted chateaus, more champagne.) Ran a 10k and only truly hated the last mile of it. Watched my wife run a marathon. Finally started reading Harry Potter, but only made it through 2.5 books before it...scared me too much to keep going. 

Did you keep your New Years’ resolutions and will you make more for next year?

Last year: I vowed to prioritize watching more TV shows by and about women, and largely stuck to this and its corollary “no more whiny white guys.”

Also, in answer to the question about what I wish I had done more of in 2015, I said (pre-Hamilton, I should add): I’m sure it means something that every year my answer to this is write. It means I’m never satisfied, right?

Today on Twitter I said: has there ever been a year my resolution was not "write more; complain less"?

Also, per @yayponies, we are going to #GetFitToFightFascism. 

Did anyone close to you give birth?

Several people we love now have more children! And several more are about to.

Did anyone close to you get married?

I...don’t think we went to any weddings this year, or missed any big ones.

Did anyone close to you die?

2016 was definitely the year for crying over people who felt so close it stabbed inside to know they were gone, from Bowie to those killed in Orlando to George Michael.

What countries did you visit?

France! It was beautiful and also intense, like more of a city than even New York but in less space and smaller streets. In many ways the general nervousness and militarization reminded me of New York City post-9/11. 

What would you like to have in 2017 that you lacked in 2016?

A sense of safety, both personal and global.

What was your biggest achievement of the year?

In order to avoid getting a spinal tap or going on a scary-sounding drug to reduce high pressure in my skull, I got a personal trainer, finally stopped eating anything and everything I wanted, and lost 30 pounds. Then I sort of plateaued, or in fitness-speak, maintained that weight successfully for the last 4 months while magically continuing to wear ever-smaller clothes. I’ve set a goal for at least 10 more pounds by the time I turn 40 in April, because that was a random thing I told myself a year ago I could try to do but sounded impossible at the time. 

But I also discovered that I fucking love hiking and even running outside and generally feeling stronger. And before 2016 totally and completely went to shit, I knew looking back that would be my biggest story of the year: I finally put real work into my body, and it was worth it.

What was your biggest failure?

Outside of the never-ending churn of work emails, I have become a terrible, almost entirely absent correspondent. I almost never reply to emails any more, and even text messages often go unanswered. I am so ashamed of this behavior I can barely type it out, honestly, and yet it is somehow the greatest tiny step to take in any free moment I find or set aside for specifically that purpose. 

If I have failed at some point or many to write you back, know it was certainly not because of anything you said, or didn’t.  

Did you suffer illness or injury?

I did something of a mid-year review on my birthday where I wrote about the medical mystery in my brain that dominated the end of 2015 and first half of this year. I’m very lucky; another few rounds of check-ups found my high pressure situation so reduced it was basically now undiagnosable. Also I avoided having a spinal tap, thank fucking god. My great USC Eye Institute doc left for another city but I have a follow-up in January with a guy who basically wrote the book on neuro-ophthalmology so we’ll see whether a true second opinion changes any of that. 

What was the best thing you bought?

It’s not that I don’t like working out with other people. Wait, yes it is. I survived a month of boot camp in 2015 out of sheer stubbornness but hated myself and my body more by the end of it than I’d ever thought possible. But in a one-on-one situation, it turns out I can just channel all that stubborn perfectionism into something meaningful. It was a massive investment, and one I plan to continue in 2017, but there is really no question to me that it was worth it.

Whose behavior merited celebration?

My wife. Did I mention she ran a goddamned marathon? In that and so, so many other ways, she is so much stronger than she thinks or believes and inspires me every day to keep going.

Where did most of your money go?

Trainer, rent, car payment, student loans. Mostly all those old familiar beasts. 

What song will always remind you of 2016?

“Youth,” Troye Sivan. Sitting by a pool in Palm Springs listening to him sing and writing about him and feeling pretty goddamned blessed. 

not a bad view to get serious on a deadline.

Compared to this time last year, are you:

i. happier or sadder? Sadder. There’s just no other way to say that. 

ii. thinner or fatter? Thinner!

iii. richer or poorer? We’re being more careful about money now than we have at times in the past, I’ll put it that way.

What do you wish you’d done more of?

Always: write. But I need to think a little more specifically about what that means for me right now. I run a major media outlet at which I could theoretically write almost anything, but almost never do. Part of what I most miss writing about is queerness and sexuality, but I am not totally sure what, if anything, I want to write for OUT. Should I write fiction? Should I be trying to write and report other, more politically focused pieces (either about entertainment in some way or not)? Should I do something with this TinyLetter I signed up for but have yet to use? Should I write more Tumblr posts? 

Oh yeah, and when am I going to do this? It’s not that I have no time, but I don’t have huge swaths of it either just sitting around waiting to be claimed. I can do this, if I really focus and prioritize. Having some kind of goal type thingie or vision here would obviously go a long way. 

What do you wish you’d done less of?

Crying.

How did you spend Christmas?

Writing George Michael’s obit. 

this is the ridiculous family photo we took on a street near my parents' new house - just before my phone buzzed with the news of George Michael's death. i'm just completely heartbroken. our first conversation, first date, first I love yous - all owe something big to our gay guardian angel, as we always called him. thank you George for being queer and angry and so, so, so beautifully talented. thank you.

What was your favorite TV program?

Save Pitch!

What was the best book you read?

Probably Julia Child’s memoirs, the perfect pre-France guide and also a reminder that a woman can find her way to a whole new life no matter her age. I also adored my old friend Tim Murphy’s novel Christodora. Highly recommended.

What was your greatest musical discovery of 2016?

This should fairly be answered Hamilton, since it took me a while to decide I was ready to jump in even if I wasn’t sure when I’d get to see it. I’m in. All in.

What did you want and get?

To spoil my wife silly on her 40th birthday, including a slightly early trip back to Paris in honor of our first conversation being about her trip there on her 30th. I am traditionally the distant second place present-giver in our relationship, but I think I adequately stepped it up this time.

What did you want and not get?

For our happiness to be as simple as finding the perfect present. A country I felt confident loved us back. My dog to feel as peaceful and calm and quiet as she does when she’s not in Los Angeles. For all the words and thoughts inside my brain to magically appear on a screen or the page without having to find the time or peace to make sense of them.

What was your favorite film of this year?

I did vow to do a better job of seeing films this year, especially big ones that I needed to consider how much work-time to devote coverage to, so maybe that’s why I feel like I have a surprisingly strong, solid list here to choose from. I don’t think I saw Spotlight until 2016, when I watched it back to back on a plane before All the President’s Men. (Don’t yell but: Spotlight was better.) I absolutely loved Arrival and Loving. I don’t plan to give into the weird backlash cynicism about La La Land, which I found delightful if not exactly epic.

Ultimately I think my answer here is that Moonlight and Hell or High Water touched my soul and heart and made me think the most. They are both, in distinctly different ways, about the deep, lasting curse of poverty. In Hell or High Water, Chris Pine’s character eventually offers this terse motivation for a deadly bank robbing spree he has undertaken with his brother: “I’ve been poor my whole life, like a disease passing from generation to generation. But not my boys, not anymore.”

For whatever reason, I’m thinking now about how some people have compared Moonlight to Brokeback Mountain. (I would have compared the latter to Loving, actually, in that they both turn very much on the passionate decisions of reticent white men acting on emotions they cannot figure out how to name.) I guess what people are saying is that Moonlight is also a groundbreaking film about sexuality, but to me what was always missed about Brokeback is that it was a film about a poor man’s sexuality. 

Moonlight very pointedly creates a new possible dialogue to model in conversations about being black and queer - when asked what a faggot is, Chiron is told, “‘Faggot’ is a word used to make gay people feel bad.” And it asks an even harder question: can sexuality and our expression of it ever be separated from the sheer human need to survive other, perhaps unrelated or perhaps more complicated and threatening circumstances of race and class?

I guess I had some things to say about movies this year. 

What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 39, and one of the only long form pieces I wrote this year actually covers that territory too! 

What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

Sigh. A Clinton presidency. That’s not one thing, it’s a million, but that’s the goddamned point, isn’t it?

How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2016?

Last year I said: I’m damned determined for 2016 to be the year of the lipstick.

And actually I did pretty well on that count. Also I bought some impressively ridiculous over-the-knee boots that I’ve worn almost every day since. 

What kept you sane?

Was I? I still feel pretty unhinged, honestly. My staff and colleagues were actually a consistent source of stability even when there were major changes in that world, too. (Part of CBS basically sold us to a different part of CBS.) 

But each and every day: my wife. This marriage is the best and most important thing I will ever do in my life, and whatever “work” it may be, it pays back in sustaining my existence a hundredfold. Coming soon, allegedly: a podcast and/or Insta live series with me and @yayponies called Marriage Is Hard. (No it’s not.)

Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Oh hey, I finally got to introduce my wife to Chris Pine when we bumped into him at the reception after the Loving premiere/screening. (Sorry-not-sorry for the utter LAness of that sentence.) I kind of hate reintroducing myself to people I interviewed years before, but in this case: worth every moment of internal awkwardness. He has very strong feelings about cinematography, you guys. And projectionists. And cheesy grits.

What political issue stirred you the most?

I am sickened by the fact that young trans and gender-nonconforming folks are bearing the brunt of the right-wing’s latest scare and hate tactics. I am not scared for my marriage headed into a new administration; I am terrified for their lives. 

Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

America. All of us.

Who did you miss?

I miss...people. I miss Sunday potluck dinners like Ray and I threw in college, the kind that were just about people having a safe space but then really about organizing, but I’m still not sure how to create those in our lives right now in a way that doesn’t create more anxiety for us than it relieves. I’m putting this here in hopes some other folks might have an idea. Maybe I’ll even be bold enough to put it in its own post. 

Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2016.

"I’VE BEEN PLANNING WHILE YOU’RE PLAYING.” -- Jenny Holzer

We saw this at the Broad. Jessica did a better job of writing about it.

Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

Raise a glass to freedom Something they can never take away No matter what they tell you Raise a glass to the four of us Tomorrow there’ll be more of us

What is one photo that represents a moment you want to remember?

Here we are on an impossibly beautiful day in Paris after one of the best meals of my life, grinning like fools and taking photos that don’t even look real. 

even as we were taking this photo I knew it would look super fake. but it's not! I mean that palm tree was definitely brought in special but it was there when we went to pick up our bibs. oh yeah, we're running a 6k-but-probably-more-like-8k through the streets of Paris tomorrow along with about 35,000 other women. (and by running I mean trying not to fall too far behind the pack.) #laparisienne

[thebattlelost]

As promised part two of my Epic Poem called "How the ink begin to flow.

How the ink begin to flow

PART ONE

I fell in love once upon a time ago with the most beautiful fallen angel at least that was the lie that I had told myself she had saved me from

a life of loneliness and misery by just being there and holding me but before I can really begin the story which is one of love and betrayal that had started with the truth of how I felt but ended with her denial

of what it was worth so let me start by going back to the very beginning of all time, you see everyone who has read the Bible or has gone to church already knows the story of how the devil the very demon who is the epitome of hate and evil was once one of God closest angels and friend who sat right next to God's throne but fell fast from His grace by wanting to be God amd and all of his glory who then got himself thrown out of the gates of heaven so he took all his hatred out on man by creating all of those things that destroy humanity from deep down within causing an acute case of insanity to reign champion over what is reality which now in its actually creates a high rate of mortality in the morality by destroying the world more and more everyday as it methodically through diabolically takes apart the very fabric of life thread by thread of what we call the family making that old statement that blood is thicker than water just another lie of individuality bringing with it the extinction level death of what we all call "true love" and all the trust that comes along with it and the mental breakdown caused by the damage of millions of brain cells causing the intense pain of a broken heart to never feel again along with a soul that just dies inside never again to return leaving only the empty shell of a human giving a demon a new home now to live and here is where my story truly begins. I am not a person who can be alone for very long before a deep sense of loneliness begins to create the darkness that lives within me which then causes a deep rooted depression to step in and I start to self medicate to help take away all the pain and so an addict is born, which I truly am but a functioning one which I believe is truly not an addict after all, Addiction is a disease that has no cure that kills many people and even more families year after year it is an affliction that will grow inside of you that you cannot stop if your all alone it will change who you were and what you are taking with it a piece of your heart and soul until one day you just disappear forever lost in the addiction usually before that happens though your friends and your family give up on you ever beating your demons saying something like "just know that I will always love you and I know that at one time you loved me but I would rather remember the old you and not the one that I now see" then you are all alone by yourself one day a completely different person and believe me not for the better either, so let's move back to the start of this story from the beginning of time to about thirteen or so years ago when I met who I thought was my soul mate who today I know was not and that is when hell itself begin and how by the grace of God go I........

Part two

How the ink begin to flow

By the grace of God go I are words that are ones to live by as there really are no other words that can describe my life today except those very ones. Words are so very amazing I mean so much so that when they are used in anger and hate nothing but evil will come out of them up to and including death and pain yet they can also bring life which I will one day testify for five years ago when I took my own they saved mine but that one I will save for another time and another story. You all are here to hear how I fell in love with a beautiful fallen angel or so I thought I did, for you see sometimes our memories can be so very good remembering all the good times you have had or when you become a mom or a dad your first kiss or when you made love or could be bad as they are only our minds way of taking photographs of the past which can bring on laughter or even tears make you angry or lonely depending on your dreams or fears at the time and even who it was you were back in your history as everyone remembers things so differently for no two memories will ever be the same like in this case, I can remember like it was just last night falling in love with her as we got lost in the music playing slow dancing around closely on the hardwood floor staring deeply into the others eyes like we were the only ones there holding on to each other so tight while whispering how we both felt about this and that then our lips came closer until they touched then melted into one causing a spark to catch fire as the flames kept growing higher while a passion spread throughout both our hearts, minds, and souls burning out of control then what happened next was the total loss of our innocence as two worlds came together with explosions of antimatter inside of both of us as which was a new love being born, well at least that is what it felt like to me thirteen years ago today and all of those memories of her and I still remain, but now a few things have changed since then but not all of then for she is still just as beautiful as the first day I had ever laid my eyes upon her to me she was an angel sent down or fell out of the heaven above to save me from loniliness to show me what love was and whenever I am around her my heart beats hard as it starts whispering to my soul to reach out grab on and hold her never letting her go, but I know now that no matter how many stars you wish on or wishing wells you throw coins down, you can never make anybody love you no matter what you say or do and the only hope you have to save yourself is to walk away never looking back or end up in what I call loves hell, where you will act like a fool spouting off love poetry to her throwing yourself on your knees begging please trying anything you can to be in her life, watching her throw away hers trying to help her yet knowing you cannot trying to be her friend but only getting used amd laughed at all in the end. The beautiful angel was no angel at all but a demon that had never loved because she never knew how just told you what you wanted using her body as well, using your kindness as a weapon and your love as a shield taking you down the road that leads to hell, and I of course followed and what happened next was drugs, sex, addiction, libation, and that was just the beginning but it was the start of what I did not know was coming for the digging of the well from which my calls home and though I walk through the valley of death....

Poet Richard M Knittle Jr.

A #Poets Journey