#everyone who wrote about this film got an A last semester

[essektheylyss]

for the fic writer asks! :D 24 and 37, please?

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you?

I was going to go get some other stuff done before I saw this come in and remembered boy do I have a SOAP BOX for this one. Okay story time.

I got a BFA in screenwriting. Most people who applied for the BFA proposed making short films, which was what the committee was prepared to review. However, the school did technically allow screenwriting BFAs, and very few people ever applied for that so I think they wanted to push those through just to keep being able to say people did that, but it was not common. When they did, pretty much everyone applied to write a feature film. I, being a lunatic, applied to write a full SEASON of a TV show.

Drama scripts are sixty pages. I was basing mine off of cable TV circa 2015, so I proposed thirteen episodes. The committee approved it with no issue. This would've amounted to single-handedly writing like eight hundred pages within a year.

This was, I must stress, insane. I get to the first day of workshop, and my poor professor, who was a post-production guy, is ACTIVELY CONCERNED when I tell him my plan. He suggests I go ask some of the screenwriting professors for their recommendation on how to cut this down some.

I go talk to another professor I had that semester, who was very good in the workshop she taught, and I find out that this application was actually passed around the screenwriting faculty, who all also thought it was insane, but that feedback never got back to the committee. She also told me that it didn't make sense to write scripts of an original TV show beyond the pilot and maybe treatments for the next two episodes, because no one would ever read them as samples so they didn't have any use.

So, in keeping with another screenwriting professor's advice (to take all feedback with a polite 'thank you for that note, I'll take it into consideration' even when it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard), I thanked her for her time and left despite internally being like, WHAT ABOUT PRACTICE. IS PRACTICE NOT USEFUL.

And because I was also deeply annoyed about the committee approving me without actually taking or passing on feedback of any screenwriting faculty despite asking for it and also sending them all my application (I think it was anonymized, but also, jfc y'all, professionalism?), I went and endeavored to do the damn thing exactly as proposed out of spite.

I did end up cutting the season down to ten episodes instead of thirteen and I wrote at least a hundred pages out of the 600 I turned in on the last day before it was due and I will never go back to reread it again, nor should anyone, BUT I learned some valuable lessons from the writing process and also I have maintained a deeply held belief that that attitude among screenwriters is why so many shows crash and burn in terms of writing quality or cohesion of plot after three episodes. Because god forbid anyone practice writing a FULL, SEASON-LONG ARC before they fucking do it as a professional on national television.

37. How do you choose where to end a chapter?

Instinct honed by a childhood of watching daytime soaps from the stairs when I was supposed to be napping or something. This is my actual serious answer, I had zero trouble in college with script structure, which I've learned is NOT intuitive for most people, and I do attribute it to this.

(send me some fic writer asks!)

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

its my first wild wednesday of my senior year of college!!!! im taking a film class this semester and the TA sucks, so i’d like to imagine messing around w your hot, frat boy, film major TA Josh (circa highway tune era). im an english lit major and the film bros at my university are the bane of my existence, but theres something about having a little enemies to lovers with frat boy!Josh that just makes me want to throw all my morals out the window…

As a film school graduate, I completely understand how fucking annoying film bros can be. Holy fuck the way they get PISSED if you say, "I just don't think Quentin Tarantio is a good writer." I used to do that just to make them mad lol

I'd like to think you and Josh would have to do a scene together for one of your classmates short films, seeing as they didn't know of anyone else to ask who would be willing to help out. Josh is boarder line decent to get along with when you aren't talking about film, but the moment someone brings up Kubrick you want to punch him in the face.

"Kubrick was an amazing director!"

"He got a great performance out of her-"

"Um, do you even know the bullshit he put Shelley Duvall through for The Shining?!"

"By making her stay up for days on end with no sleep, and gaslighting her into thinking everyone on set hated her."

"It's still a good movie."

"You're a dick." You roll your eyes as you look over the shooting schedule, the two of you rehersing in Josh's off campus apartment. Running lines with Josh was nice most of the time, he was a good actor, it shocked you he wanted to be behind the camera instead of infront of it. You on the other hand, were just doing a classmate a solid in hopes that they would run your audio for your short film. "This script is fucking awful." Josh whispers frustrated from trying to figure out a non cringey way to read lines from a wannabe horror movie. "Yeah, its pretty cheesy." You agree, flipping through the pages of bad dialogue consisting of clichés, corny one liners and awkward flirty dialogue that only proves the guy who wrote it doesn't really know much about women.

"So what's the plan here? Your character is the killer, predictable, and I'm the helpless victim, sexist, and you're taunting me with a knife that I end up stabbing you with, wow how original." You sigh tossing the script on to the coffee table, turning to face Josh on the couch as he writes in his script. "It really does need some changes." He agrees as he continues his scribbling. "What are you writing?" "Some notes on dialogue, I'm thinking something that flows more naturally than, 'Oh no, you were the killer all along?' Something a little more exciting." Josh explains.

Josh moves closer to you on the couch, "So how am I supposed to move, I go from having you against the wall, to you pushing me to the ground?" Josh asks confused, "Well, you could choke me and I could pull a knife?" You suggest, Josh's eyes light up, "Do you know how to be stage choked?" He asks, "No? Do you?" You answer curiously.

The two of you end up rewriting most of the scene completely, a flirty back and forth where the killer doesn't reveal his plot but simply distracts the would be victim with seduction, "And then I stab you in the gut, telling the audience that I figured it out when you referred to the very first victim in the past tense when no one else knew that they were dead yet. It makes my character seem like less of the ditzy bimbo and more of the Nancy Drew type." You add. "What you don't wanna be a bimbo? I love bimbos." Josh smirks, "I bet you do. I have no problem playing anything, I just hate lazy writing." You justify.

"I took stage combat last semester."

"Of course you did."

"Hey, it was a good class, and obviously very helpful now."

You can feel yourself blushing, this is stupid, like where am I supposed to look? He's so close to me, do I look into his eyes? That's too intense, maybe his mouth, oh, his lips are pretty, no no that's weird, he's gonna get the wrong impression, I'll just look in his eyes, his stupid, big, brown eyes. It was not lost on you that Josh was cute, fuck, he's the cutest guy in the whole department, and him holding you like this and this close is not helping.

"Okay, whatever nerd, just show me." You sigh exasperated, moving closer to Josh. He brings his hand up to you, "Okay, so in stunt work, all of the responsibility of selling it is on the 'victim' in the scene, so you gotta make it look realistic." Josh explains as he gently places his hand on your throat adding zero pressure. "So you don't squeeze at all?" "Well, only a little bit, but just here, on the sides of your neck, not your actual windpipe." He says, his hand gently squeezing. "Oh yeah, that feels...fine." You say as you look him over.

"So what do I do?" You ask him softly, Josh's eyes search yours, "Uh, you can um, put your hands on my arm and my wrist, make it look like you're trying to push me away?" He suggests. You bring your hands up to his forearm, leaning back against the arm of the couch as you place your hands on his forearm and bicep, squeezing the muscle beneath for effect. Oh? That's nice, hm, a little muscle there, what a suprise, you think to yourself as your eyes look over his arm. His fingers give your throat a gentle squeeze, bringing you back to his eyes, "Does that feel okay?" Josh asks gently, his fingers applying just the smallest bit of pressure. You can feel your heartbeat slamming in your chest and your stomach doing a flip. "Y-Yeah, uh you can squeeze a little harder, if you want?" You say bringing your hand on top of his on your throat.

Josh's eyes look to your neck as he feels your hand, helping him tighten his grasp just a tad more. "I don't wanna hurt you." Josh whispers, his eyes looking into your eyes, "You aren't. It's, uh, nice." You say softly, his hold semi affecting your voice. "That's my line, 'I don't wanna hurt you', remember? I think you wrote it." Josh smiles shyly as he moves in a little closer. "Oh," you chuckle nervously. Fuck he's cute, "Maybe I am more of the ditzy bimbo type." You respond quietly, a subtle rasp to your voice. Josh smirks as he looks at your lips and back to your eyes, "I do love bimbos." He whispers as he brings his lips to yours, kissing you gently.

His kiss is soft, warm and gentle, he tastes sweet, like cinnamon, and his lips are softer than you thought they'd be. You kiss him back and soon your hands move to his shoulders, pulling him close to you. His hand lets go of your throat as he lays more against your front and between your legs, his hand in your hair.

His tongue enters your mouth and you can't help but moan into his open mouth, his fingers scratch gently at your scalp as he pulls your hair so he can kiss at your neck. You grind against him, wanting to bring him even closer still, "Fuck, Josh." You whisper as you pull at his shirt, slipping your hands to rest on the warm skin of his back underneath. "Do you want to take this to my bedroom?" Josh asks slyly, kissing and licking up your neck. "Yes, please." You whine, he pulls away, getting up and picking you up to take you into his room.

"I swear to God if there is a Pulp Fiction poster in there-"

"Let's just stay out here then."

[livcosmos]

2022 Wrap Up Stories

How is this year almost over? How did this happen? I absolutely can’t believe it, it’s crazy! So much happened, so many life-changing things…and not just this year also since the last time I wrote to you my life has been turned upside down, and not just because "Midnights" by the queen herself came out, but more about that in a minute. I almost finished my first semester at uni, how crazy is that?! I never ever would have believed anyone who would have told me back in July/August that I was going to make it this far, that it was going to go well, and that I was going to enjoy it but here we are! I’m studying English and History but I’m also taking a seminar in Film so I have so much to talk about, let’s get started!

All right first things first, before we get into the books and movies we have to start with music because WOW! So I teased it already in the opening but Midnights?!!! OMG it’s just absolute perfection, it is pretty much the only thing I have been listening to since it came out. It is probably my favorite Taylor album, the vibes, the music, the lyrics it just sooo good!!! I loved Taylor before and I never thought I could love her even more but it turns out I can! Ahhh I love this album so so much!!! I can’t even say which song I love most because they are all so good in their own way and I love them each for so many different reasons but I’m going to name a few of, the ones that really really got to me. The order in which I will name them is random because I can’t rank them, it would hurt too much! Ok so, definitely "Maroon" and "Lavender Haze", and of course "Vigilante Shit" omg I love "Vigilante Shit"! "Sweet Nothing" of course and "You’re on your Own, Kid" and from the 3am version "The Great War", "Paris", "Bigger than the Whole Sky", "Wouldhav’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve" and lately I have been really really loving "Glitch". Oh and of course "Bejewled' and "Anti-Hero", it's obvious that those are on my list too. Yeah so I pretty much named half the album, I’m sorry but it’s so so good!!! I love how it is a mix of everything, I feel like there is a song in there out of each era and I love that!!! Excellent Taylor has outdone herself again and I’m all here for it!

And because everyone has been talking about it, we of course have to talk about the Spotify wrap-up, and I’m going to share mine even though it won’t be a surprise to anyone, I’m basic through and through but I’m proud of it so there you go:

You know what else won’t come as a surprise to anyone? Exactly… the fact that I miss summer! I miss the sun and the warm weather and watching "The summer I turned pretty", by the way, I bet that "Snow on the Beach" will be in season two it has to be and if it truly does, please remember that I said it here first!

I think we are going to move to the books because there are only three, sad I know! First, we have "Hamlet", please don’t come for me but I didn't really enjoy it, I mean yeah it was good but "Macbeth" is sooo much better it has so much more action. I don’t know there was something about "Hamlet" that I didn’t quite like but I can’t say what it is for sure.

Next, we have the "Underground Railroad", I had a huge problem with the writing style in this book it freaked me out, there were so many characters that came out of nowhere all of the sudden with no explanation and all those time jumps and no… but for some reason even though I wouldn’t say it was a book that swapped me of my feet, I keep thinking about it from time to time. I don’t know why but apparently, I can’t let it go just yet. It’s interesting because I didn’t enjoy reading it but somehow it made an impact on me nevertheless.

Now let’s end the book section with something very hyped, something I’m sure you all have heard of and probably also read. I’m delighted to announce to you that I finally read "It ends with us", now I finally know what you all were talking about! My oh my this book was literally a rollercoaster, I have to admit that I got spoilered so I knew that Ryle was going to be a brick but before he misstepped the first time I was so rooting for him, I really really liked him and I thought that for sure he will be good in the end but ohhhhhh the first time he hit her in the kitchen…that was it for me... from that moment on I was disgusted…from that moment on he was dead to me! My God, I felt so sorry for Lily!!!! And Atlas ahhhh I love him obviously, he is her soulmate! I don’t know what to say about the sequel though, I know I always say, that I won’t read the sequels because I’m afraid it will ruin things and then I read them anyway but…I mean the story kind of had a good ending and I don’t want all to get messed up again so…I don’t know what to do! I'm curious of course but …we will see I will defiantly keep you updated! Oh and also did this book fire up my already high trust issues? Yes, it most certainly did!

Ok, now we can get to the most fun part, the movies! I will start with my favourite out of all the ones I will discuss with you today and that is "The School for Good and Evil”, I went in there knowing nothing and I had the absolute best time watching it! I really really loved the story it’s exactly the kind of story I love, with fantasy elements and all ahhh I loved it! You already know I love Sofia Wylie but oh my I also loved her costar, the girl who played Sophie, ahhhh speaking of Sophie she was my favourite character, and the "you should see me in a crown" scene is perfection, I watched it so many times it’s soooo good!!! I won't read the books but I would love them to make sequels to the movie, I would love to see how the story goes on!

I also finally watched (I know shame on me for watching it so late in my life) "Pride and Prejudice", I liked it of course but can you please tell me where Mr. Darcy wasn't the pure evil he is always portrayed to be? I get that in the book he is way worse (again shame on me for watching the movie before reading the book) and I’m not saying that he was a saint in the movie but I imagined him to be way worse!

And because we are already speaking of it, I also watched "Persuasion" the new one with Dakota Johnson, I love Dakota she is amazing! And I liked "Persuasion" more than "Pride and Prejudice" but this might probably be because of the modern turn they took on it, so I don’t know… you are all probably screaming at be because I also haven't read "Persuasion" and you think that the movie is a joke but that's just my opinion, I will get back to you about this when I read both books and I'm more qualified to judge!

Ok moving on to "Enola Holmes 2", the only three things I have to say about this movie are 1. I liked the first movie better, 2. there was too little Twekesbury in it, 3. I can’t say it enough how much I love that time period and maybe a bonus nr.4 and 5 I loved that it was inspired by true events and I missed Sam Claflin.

All right "Do revenge” I love Camila Mendes, I love Maya from Stranger Things and I love Sophie Turner. It was a funny movie and I always love a funny movie, I also loved the soundtrack especially that they put Tate and Rosalia in it!

I wouldn't be me if I wouldn’t have watched the 10 years Violetta reunion, Violetta was such a huge part of my childhood and it’s so crazy that it has been 10 years since it came out! I cried the whole time while I was watching it. It was so emotional and I still know every word of every song! The only negative thing I have to say about it is that it was way too short!

Oh and I watched "Witches" on Halloween and it was ok, my favourite Halloween movie still is and will always be "Hocus Pocus"!

As I mentioned in the beginning, I’m taking a seminar on Film, every week we watch a movie and then we discuss it. It is so much fun to be able to talk to people who share the same interests as you! And I have to be honest it made me look at movies in a whole other way, I always watch them mindlessly just for the experience and the plot but there is a whole other level. to them I have been neglecting, the technical one. It always you to analyze the movie in so much more detail and it’s so interesting! Oh and I love that the seminar make me watch movies that I wouldn’t normally watch, for example, we watched a Western "High Noon”, yes it was boring but it was a whole experience to watch it and I never watched a Western before! And that song is still stuck in my head! I love that my knowledge of movies is expanding and that I’m learning so many new things! The first movie we watched was "500 days of summer" and it was again the typical case of: I wasn’t blown away by it but I kept thinking about it for so long that it grew on me!  The next movie we watched was "Her", again very wired and not my cup of tea but the discussion we had about it was very interesting! Oh and we watched the first Spiderman, the one with Tobi and I can’t believe I’m saying this but I realized that I had never watched that movie from start to end before so that was nice! After that, we watched "Spiderman into the Spiderverse" and before watching it I thought I was going to have a problem with the animation but in the end, I ended up liking it! Then we watched "Juno", again a movie I have never watched from start to finish which I really liked, I especially liked that we watched it to contrast it to "The Florida Project", a very disturbing but interesting movie! I really love this seminar because I love learning all those new things about something that is so important to me!

And just like that, we have come to the end, thank you so much for reading, and I wish you all a happy Christmas and a happy New Year! I hope to see you in the new year with even more movies, books, and music discussions!

[mysecretatticsstuff]

Pranks

Pairing : Jeon jungkook x reader

Word count: 27.3k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, emotional breakdown.

Summary: You thought you were going to enjoy college. Even with unfortunate events and a poor sleep schedule you were trying to live your best life. Untill one particular kid, aka golden boy of campus came dashing into your life.

College. The place you got excited to go thinking you would finally meet good people, make friends and have the time of your life. And yet here you are, 3 am in the morning just barely hanging in there with a paint brush in your hand finishing up the poster that was supposed to be a group project for physiology class. You have dozed off a couple of times now, with eyes open doing the detailed line work that you suggested not to put in it because of the amount of time it takes. You almost messed it up but your multitasking skills save you. In short you hate college. Or more so, you hate your luck for always putting you in the companionship of the worst people in the world. You can now permanently stamp a "pissed off" warning to your forehead to avoid casualties.

Grumpy wasn't even a mood anymore, it's a lifestyle. And some people just make it real difficult for you to not eat them alive. On top of that list was Mr. Jeon Jungkook. Golden boy, good at whatever he does, loved by everyone he has a conversation with. Well except for you. You on the other hand want to kill him. Not because you're jealous or anything. Heck you would be happy for him if he didn't make your life a living hell. You always wondered what you did for him to hate your existence so much. He kept pulling off weird ass stunts with you. Once he filled your water bottle with chilli tomato ketchup, you took a gulp without knowing and had a red face for a legit hour. Another time he issued the last copy of only book that had the reference you needed and kept it untill a day before the assignment was due. So you had to beg him to give the book to you and complete the whole assignment in one day. (Which was not fun of course). He mixed salt in your drink, splashed water from behind while you were returning to your apartment and what not. At first you thought to ignore him, when the stunts were small. But he just kept doing that shit and you grew angrier. When you asked him, why the heck was he doing that to you he just simply smiled like a devil, winked at you and walked away. That was a year ago, since that day you have been wanting to kill him.

You weren't the aggressive type by nature, your friends would agree that you were the most calm and collected, amiable and open minded friend in the group. Your personality was more of a mediator than a murderer. But the golden boy brought out the beast in you. When you realised that he isn't stopping with the obnoxious pranks. You started pulling off your own as a revenge. To be honest you didn't even regret it. Heck it was even cathartic. Once you hid his clothes while he was in the gym, so basically he had to wait inside the bathroom for the whole day in a towel. (You took his phone too so that he couldn't call anyone for help). You "accidentally" splashed juice onto his crisp white t-shirt before an early morning class. You wrapped his bike with cling film and bubble wrap. It was tiring but worth it when you saw his face, glaring daggers at you cause he was getting late for class and couldn't leave his apartment. You made sure you smiled sweetly at him when he saw you that day.

By now, everyone in your friend circle and both of your departments knew how you both jumped at the first opportunity to ruin each others day. You stopped questioning Jungkook because he never answered instead you focused on how to attack him in the best way.

The past two months have been extra rough for you, both personally and academic wise. Hence, jungkook's bickering has had you in a new level of pissed. A level you didn't know existed. Honestly you were amazed by the fact that you haven't had a breakdown till now. You didn't get any chance to pull anything off against him and that makes you angrier. I guy you were talking to back and forth has suddenly ghosted you and you are wallowing in all the self pity. You've had less than 4 hours of sleep for the past week because of all the requirements for class. You're just a week away from finishing everything off and you're praying that the devil doesn't make it impossible.

You personally hated Mondays, but who are you kidding everyday feels like a monday now. You head to the library first thing in the morning to finish your paper, a semester worth of work. You settle in starting to type out the last page. About an hour later your phone vibrates.

"Hey where are you?" It was Sunmi your best friend.

"I'm in the library" you wisper shout

"Oh.. i had something urgent to say to you can you come out for a second. I'm almost there."

"Okay, coming" you say.

Outside, sunmi was waiting for you with a book in hand.

"Jeez, y/n you look dead. Do you even sleep anymore?"

You sigh out loud, "Don't ask, i feel like i'm gonna pass out anytime soon. Coffee isn't helping anymore. I think i need drugs"

Sunmi just shakes her head in disbelief "What you need is a good night sleep. And for the drugs part, try sex." She says this in such sincerity that you actually consider it for a second before she laughs.

You laugh too, "Uggh, i can't wait to finally go out this weekend, i'm turning into a hermit. Anyways i'm sure u didn't call me out here to talk about hookups..?"

At this she hands you the book, "Yeah I didn't, but we need to talk about your dry state after you're free tho, but till then here you go. The book that you were searching for, you wouldn't believe how I.. or i should say where I found it I-... "

"Wait... Before you start your essay, i need to finish my paper. I meet you after your classes today. Tell me then. I need to go... Bye!" you hurriedly say before you turn around and enter the library

"But it's about Jungkook... " Sunmi tries to explain. But she realises you can't hear her anymore. She says to herself rather, "I hope you don't find trouble."

You almost reach your designated place when you see him. White T-Shirt and olive green cargos. That little shit, what was he up to again? You hurry to your laptop, only to find him smirking as if he knows some secret you don't.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask. "Ooh.. chill Princess, just thought i'd see you and your work". At the mention of work you wake your computer up. A chill ran down through your spine followed by panic when you couldn't find the document you saved. After a moment, your eyes shot up, glaring dangerously at him. He sat up, folding his arms onto the table. "What's wrong? Can't find something?"

"What the fuck did you do, Jeon?" You wanted to scream bloody murder at him, but you didn't know how were you this calm.

"Tsk, tsk,.. last names now huh? Someone's angry. Tell me princess, will I win a prank of the year trophy this time?"

You were unable to speak. Your blood boiled, you wanted to punch him, better kill him. When you didn't reply he continued. "I hope you remember what your wrote in your thesis, even better if your typing skills are on fire, cause you need to rewrite within one week" He was putting a full display of his evil grin. Clearly amused by the situation he put you in. But you slowly realised what he meant. You quickly went to the recycle bin of your computer to test your luck, but soon saw that the demon had already deleted it from the bin too. Your heart sank. This was not fair. You wanted to cry now. Months and months of your hardwork, gone now. What the fuck was that bitch even thinking. This was not a joke anymore. It was your finals. Yes you both have done horrible things to each other but you made sure that it never got out of line. But him deleting your final thesis. This was definitely out of the line. You could not rewrite the whole thing even if you tried in a week. It would never get close to the original one. You would miss many points and the writing style. Damn you for not keeping an extra copy of the thesis somewhere. But again, you never thought Jungkook would go this low. You didn't even want to think how he figured out the passcode for your laptop. Anger doesn't describe what you were feeling now. You wanted to shut down. When Jungkook didn't hear a threatening or a curse, he chimed in. "Have I pulled the most epic prank on miss y/n that it finally shut her smart mouth?"

You couldn't bare it anymore, all these weeks of running around with just 4 hrs of sleep or sometimes non has made you physically weak. You wanted to escape. You throat hurt from the suppressed tears. But you were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You look at jungkook in the eye. Cold. You stand up, take your things and leave.

All the way to your apartment, you wanted to cry, but you waited till you were inside the safe heaven of your bed.How could he do this to you? When this crazy prank scenario started you couldn't comprehend why the nicest guy ( according to students and professors) had taken a toll on you. Yes you were angry at the beginning. But soon it had simmered down to something else. You couldn't pin point what, exactly. It's true his pranks were delirious and you hated him with all your will, but you couldn't help notice the small ways he made a difference in your life. You were an over-thinker, and this stupid game of pranks with him kept you busy. It was kind of the only source of entertainment for you as academics was no joke. It's difficult to explain but you became more productive because of him. You became a more open person, you made a lot of friends and most of the conversations started with how people don't understand why both of yo fight. Jungkook's friends became your friends too. You found out a lot of things about him through them. One that he was a naturally competitive person. He was a big softy inside they said, that was a bit hard to believe for you. But once he stood up for you when you were being cat called, he was so close to beating the shit out of the boys, nevertheless you dragged him out of it. He walked you to your apartment without even uttering a word. You wanted to say thank you, but the very next day he deflated your tires. And the saga continued. The moral of the story is you definitely had developed a soft spot for him. And this prank was definitely a blow to your ego and your heart.

All the emotions, the exhaustion just came crashing down and you let the dam break. You cried like a baby, whether because of the grief of your lost files, anger or because of him entirely you didn't know. You woke up 3 hours later, with puffy eyes and a blocked nose. You decided you can't let him get to you. So you did what you do best, turn all the frustration into anger towards him. You arranged all the resources for your thesis, and then you sat down with your laptop typing away from the beginning.

You didn't go to college next day, thought it would be better to stay at home and work. There were no classes anyways. You already sent an email to your professor informing him that there was a technical difficulty and you lost your files. Your professor was kind enough to excuse you from all the classes that week to work on your thesis stating that you had good attendance already. Sunmi called you, she felt guilty about the whole thing. "I should have known there was something fishy when that asshole gave me the book. I shouldn't have asked you to come out".

"Hey, it's fine, it's not your fault. I'll kill him with my own hands once everything is over"

"Still.. i feel super bad. Let me know if you need anything. I can bring you books from the library.."

"Thank you sun, i'll let you know if I need anything.. "

"Okay.... Oh and y/n,.. Jungkook came looking for you today. He seemed anxious? kinda worried even. I told that fucker i don't know where you are. Thought you should know"

Jungkook was looking around for you, that's weird. Was he feeling guilty? You always came up with a new prank. Maybe he is just surprised you vanished. "Hmmm... Thanks, i don't want him to know anything about me, Anyways i couldn't careless about him now. See you later".

"Take care y/n".

It was 10 pm when you stood up from your desk, your shoulders and wrists were stiff from all the typing. You realised you hadn't eaten anything for 7 hours now. It was raining heavily, you felt a bit dizzy. When you finally get out of college, this would be a hell of a story to tell though. You missed home dearly, you wanted someone to just hold you and assure you that everything is going to be okay. You took some leftover pizza from your fridge and put it in the microwave. Sometimes living alone just gets to you. All the loneliness, all the times you wished someone was there to comfort you. Your body ached and you felt pathetic about yourself. 'Why me?' was your question. A mixture of all these thoughts and emotions were swirling in your head and you didn't even realize that you were crying now. This was your 3rd breakdown in a span of two days.

"Pathetic" you muttered to yourself. Then your heard the bell ring. Confused at who came by at this ungodly hour, you wiped your tears and went to get the door.

You didn't expect the person you were staring at. Doe eyes slowly scanned you, from your feet to face. Jungkook.

You must have puffy red eyes, you think. God you didn't want him to see you like this. All petty and defeated. He was partially soaked from the rain. Jungkook just stood there, staring back at you. You waited for him to speak, when he didn't, you finally spoke, "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't see you in college today" he replied. Jungkook looked guilty? Sad even. "Why didn't you attend?" He asks next.

"That's non of your business" that came out harsher than you thought. At this his face turned stern. "Were you crying?"

At this point you don't know what or when will you break down. You could already feel a little lump forming in your throat. You looked down at your feet. "Go away, i have work". That came out so fragile and weak, you cringed internally. He stepped in. Searched around in his pocket and brought out a small USB in his hand. You looked at it and then his face.

"Your files" he said.

"You... why would you even... What the fuck? Jungkook!" With every word your voice rose. You thought he was feeling guilty, but he was just a little brat, playing games. All your softness was gone now.

You could tell by his devilish smirk that he was enjoying this way too much. "Who do you think you are?" You saw red with anger. With that much of a volcano boiling inside you, you were not sure what were you doing. Your hand flew up involuntarily. Lets just say, you would have punched him if it wasn't for his quick reflexes. He grabbed your wrist, turned you around. His other arm swiftly snaked around your waist.

"Woah.. easy princess. You sure you can fight me?" He tightens his grip around you. You hate to admit how badly it affects you. You can feel your knees going weak. His taught chest pressed against your back. You can feel him way too much through your thin t shirt. Your face heats up without you wanting it. No, no, no, no, you can't let your stupid hormones get to you. This is crazy. You hate him. Then why do you suddenly feel hot? As if on cue he lowers his head and whispers in your ear, " You okay, sweetheart?"

The new pet name, sends a spike of electricity just between your legs. You bite your lip to control the moan that threatens to leave your mouth. He notices the change too, the tension between you two is growing. You turn around to face him. He lets you. "I hate you."

His arms are still around you, circling your waist. He looks soft, as if relieved of some burden. Your clothes are getting wet from the contact. You don't know what to say, because you can hardly process what is happening. Just then your microwave beeps to your rescue.

You half jump half stumble away from him. "Uggh, i'll bring you a towel. Be right back."

When you return, he is standing in front of the couch. Looking godly. You sneak a glance at his chest and now hardened nipples before landing your eyes on his face. You hand him the towel. As if a half soaked jungkook wasn't enough. He swifty stripped off his t-shirt before drying himself off. You freeze. He looks at you gaze piercing.

"W- why.. did you do that?"

"You need to be a bit more specific sweetheart" he takes a step closer to you. You don't move away.

"The pranks.. why do you hate me so much, that you need to make my life a living hell?" You said softly.

"Helps me sleep at night." He smirks. You rolled your eyes at this. You were about to turn around when he grabs you by hand.

"I don't hate you. It's quite the opposite actually" Your eyebrows shot up at this. "yeah right. You think you can fool me again?" You scoff.

"I know you're a fool sometimes, but to be honest y/n I didn't know you were this dense" He mocked with a smirk.

"What the fuck? Okay that's it. Get out of my house Jeon" you demanded.

"What if I say no, Princess?"

You couldn't believe it. This guy has the audacity to mock you in your own house and then refuse to leave. You were beyond irritated now.

"How do people like you? You're such an ass. Leave before-..." you didn't get to complete the sentence before he pulls you towards him, with such force that you stumble, loose your balance and fall straight on his chest.

HIS BARE CHEST. GOD THIS WAS BAD. You felt your throat getting dry. You couldn't speak. He was firm, you kind of wonder about how much he works out. You could feel his silky smooth skin. You just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's it? You're not gonna 'make me' leave princess?" He says, with his face inches away from you.

*Pull it together y/n* you scold yourself mentally. But you body just froze and it feels hot. You probably have a red face now. You make another mistake of glancing at his lips, which are so damn close, it kinda makes you feel things you can't explain.

Jungkook notices this. He sees right through you. He finally speaks, "If you still haven't got it y/n, i don't know what to do with you... I... " He sighs, "I like you y/n. A lot. And I don't know how to behave when i'm around you, so I keep teasing you.." he says with a sincere look. "And besides.. you look hot, when you are angry at me" He smiles.

You realise you're still holding each other. Your heart is hammering in your chest. He probably can feel it beating too. You want to punch him for being such a jerk, but you also want to kiss him. You're so frustrated, at this point you don't know where the courage came from for what you did next. You kiss him. Out of all the things this was something he did not expect. This time he froze, hands paralyzed at your hips. When he finally came to his senses that it was really happening, he kissed back.

You snake your arms around his neck, pulling his hair into a fist. He lets out a small moan. You pull back, smirking. "No snarky comments now huh Jeon?" you mock, satisfied with his look. His face is flushed. You can feel his member slowly growing. He took some time to overcome his initial shock. Then he said, "No shit.. I'm.. God you're hot" And he is kissing you again. More in control this time. You part your lips to let him enter. His hands cup your face. Your kiss gets heated, one of his hands goes down, between your breasts, to your stomach. Then he waits, as if asking for permission.

"What now?" You say in between your kisses. "No guts for that?" You challenge him. And this time he actually has nothing to say. So you smirk, you take his hand and slowly slip him under your t-shirt.

"Shit". He mutters. He touches your skin, you feel like you're on fire. Goosebumps form all over your body. You feel alive.

The next thing he did left you speechless. He slips both hand under your t-shirt and with one go pulls off your shirt and throws it behind you. You gawk at him in suprise. You can tell he liked the way you reacted because his eyes went dark and he looked at you like he wanted to take you right there. "Jeez Jeon.. give the girl a break" with this you latched on him again. He stumbled back and landed on the couch. Seeing the opportunity, you climb on him, Keeping your weight on your knees, you hover just above his member. You know he wants you to sit on him, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction.

"I think I need to mess with her assignments more often" saying more to himself than to you. "Specially if it leads to this" he stands up keeping you close.

" I heard that you idiot" you were now feverishly unbuckling his pants. He moved his lips to suck you down your jawline, he made sure to nib and suck a bit harder right above your pulse point.

You let out a moan. Your hands are shaking but you somehow manage to undo his pants.

You feel really hot. You were about to pull his pants down when he holds both of your wrists. You freeze, your mind racing at 100 miles per hour. Did you do something wrong? Are you crossing your line? Did he not want this and you took it otherwise? God this is embarrassing.

You eyes were still wide when he said, "I'm not messing around this time y/n. I really do like you" he looks so very sincere that he moves some part of you. But you decided that you ain't gonna let him go so easily.

"I had three mental breakdowns since yesterday". You shot back. At this his eyes turned sad. Like he was really feeling guilty. You felt bad for him now, wondering if it was too harsh.

"I never wanted that, I thought you would argue with me and at the end of it i'd give you the usb, but you looked so angry, and when u left without saying a word I knew i had fucked up. Big time."

You backed off, hands crossed in front of your chest.

Jungkook knew you were angry. But he couldn't deny that he was beyond turned on by this site, you just in your bra and shorts, angry at him. You didn't know how hard he was trying not to turn you around bend you over your desk and fuck you silly.

You noticed that he visibly gulped, he was eyeing you like a prey. But he waited, because you were angry. He wanted to do this right.

"And all this time I kept wondering what wrong did I do to you. I hate you, you know that Jeon?...

"Baby, i'm sorry" he purred stepping closer.

A new surge of arousal hit you at this. "D.. Don't baby me..." The stuttering gave you out. He smirked liked a devil. He closed the gap between the two of you. He hovered above your lips, "forgive me please" he said just an inch away from your lips.

"Kiss me please" you said, not being able to process anything. And he did, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. Strong and urgent. He cupped your ass and gave a tight squeeze. You let out a moan.

"Do you want to take it to the bedroom?" He asked voice an octave deeper.

You nodded, not trusting your mouth. He lifted you and you wrapped your legs around him. His body was divine, his skin was smooth, heat radiated from him although he was soaked before, lips not sparring you even one 1 second. You could feel his hard on, on your stomach and it felt powerful that you can do such things to him.

"God i've been dreaming about this for so long"

"How long, jeon?" You asked stripping him off his pants and underwear.

"From the moment you debated with your proffessor about a theory in front of your department. I watched you prove your points to him, and i swear to god I had a hard on since. I had to run to the bathroom to give myself some relief " he chuckles at the memory.

"Nerd" Fully naked now, you stare at his body.

"Damn, why are you so hot. This is not fair"

He looked at you. "I see you haven't gotten rid of your clothes yet y/n.. i would like to watch baby"

So you stripped, putting up a show for him. He grabbed you when you were about to take off you panties. He turned you around, pushed you onto the wall, you balanced yourself onto the wall.

"You're gorgeous." He said before slipping his large hand in your panties and cupping your entire sex. He then hurriedly took your panties off. He pressed himself on your behind and you whimpered. He fondled your breasts with one hand and the other slowly slid towards your dripping core.

He kept touching you there, in slow tantilizing movements. You squirmed. He teased you more, knowing you needed some pressure on your clit. He avoided it the most. You were growing anxious.

"Juuunngkook... Please" you draged each syllable.

"What's wrong?" He was enjoying this way too much you could tell.

"I think I deserve being worshipped after what you make me go through kook". You stated with eyes screwed shut.

"Okay, that's fair". At this he dipped one finger inside, testing if you could take him. He gasped at the warmth and the slick that now covered his fingers. He started slow at first, drawing out low moans from you. Then without alarm he added one more digit and started pistoning in and out. You arched your back with pleasure. You were so aroused, and mixed up with your pent up stress and frustration you could already feel something heavy settling at your lower belly, tightening inch by inch.

"Kook... I'm gonna... Cum". You said between grunts.

"You're doing so good baby, cum on my fingers"

You found your release at his praise. Pleasure coursing through your veins with lightening speed. Mid orgasm Jungkook smacks your pussy. And you go crazy at that, so much that you see white. When you finally come to your sense you find his strong arms snaking your waist and holding you, so that you don't fall down. He upper body completely glued to you.

Then you finally speak, head thrown back chest heaving

"I think,.. this was the strongest I ever came in my life"

Jungkook chuckles, "You're welcome". He kisses your shoulder. He slowly lets you go, so that you can stand by your own. You haven't forgotten the fact that, his hard on is pressing onto your back, waiting for the attention.

"So tell me Jeon..." You kiss him slowly moving towards your bed, you stop, look him innocently in the eye and ask, "Where do you wanna cum? My mouth or my pussy?"

"God, if you keep saying such things, I think i can cum just like this" His hand rubs all over your body, "For now, let's put that sinful mouth of yours into good use, okay?"

You nod, leading him to lie down on the bed.

If somebody would have told you, the previous day, that you out of all the people would blow Jeon jungkook, in your bed. You would have smacked them in the face.

You straddle him, and then you start Pickering kisses, first his mouth then his jaw. You have to admit he is a damn good kisser, you get so lost in the kissing that you almost miss that he is grinding himself onto your core. Coating himself with the slick. You feel your pussy tingling. You keep peppering kisses moving to his jawline, then his neck, biting a bit hard on his sweet spot to make sure it blooms with purple afterwards.

At one point he gropes you ass with one hand and pushes you down to grind with more force.

"Change of plans sweetheart. Do you have condoms?" He asks, eye sparking with lust.

You sit straight, a smirk plastered on your face, you bend towards your nightstand, and bring out a foil packet from your drawer.

"Always so fucking prepared" he slaps your ass, you gasp at the sting. He is looking at you, trying to figure out whether you liked it or not. You moan, with your eyes closed.

Jungkook is painfully hard now. If he doesn't put it inside you, he thinks he might burst out of sheer arousal.

"Baby.." he says in a raspy voice

You hurry up at this, you tear the foil and roll it onto him. You raise up to lie down but he grabs you. "Ride me.." voice octaves lower. You're so wet already, you don't think you need extra prepping. You come back to your stance and slowly sink in holding his member for guidance.

Both moan at the pleasure surging through the body. You're impressed by his strength, for holding out so long. He has his eyes tight shut, almost as if everything is too much for him. You feel great, warm where he is inside you. You notice how beautiful he looks under you. Head arched back into the pillow, he looks sexy as hell.

You were zoned out in your thoughts, when he snapped back. "Y/n move". And there you were riding the most handsome guy from campus. And you couldn't believe both of you were making such mind blowing noises. You piston on him for a while before getting tired, thankfully he got the message. He started thrusting his hips up to you with such a velocity that you didn't know was even possible. You could feel another orgasm right around the corner, but you didn't want to finish before him.

"Kook, are you close?"

"So close baby" he whined .

"Me too.. ughhh"

At this he moved his hands from your hips to your breasts. He gave a squeeze. His member was throbbing inside you.

"Come with me y/n" he said through gritted teeth. Suddenly he then spanked one of your boob, while other hand pressed on your clit. You didn't see it coming and the suprise helped to exceeded any pleasure you felt in your whole life. Heat surged from your fluttering cunt throughout your belly. Your orgasm hit you like a truck. It was so strong you couldn't hear anything for some seconds. That followed by ringing of your ears.

You don't know when did he flipped you on your back but you could see his eyes screwed shut, eyebrows drawn together. One last trust and he was coming with you. Your highest high lasted for a while, and left you with aftershocks. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, he hadn't pulled out yet and your sensitive sex was still clenching on him.

You both layed there motionless. It was he who moved first, pulling out with a slight hiss. He tossed his condom with a knot in the trash can and fell back on the bed with a thump. You were still slightly dazed out from the orgasm. He chuckled seeing you in the bliss.

"God, Jeon, i'll be sore tomorrow."

"Well I'll take that as a complement" he smiled.

"That was hot. You're hot" you replied turning away your head feeling shy, all of a sudden.

He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close, "Damn baby, i didn't know i'd see this side of y/l/n ever."

"Don't stroke your ego too much jeon".

He kissed your shoulder and smiled, "Do you have any idea, how hot and pretty and beautiful you are?"

You looked at him, for the first time you saw how his eyes twinkled while talking to you.

So you just kiss him, which he welcomes whole heartedly.

.

.

The next day you step in the college campus feeling amazing. You have been smiling to yourself since the morning. Since Jungkook gave back your thesis, it was just an hour's work away from getting the final sweep before submission. You hit the library, finish off your work and finally submit it. Your proffessor was not surprised when you told him that Jungkook pranked you again. Even if he found it weird that you had no anger or resentment towards him, he didn't point it out. Now that you felt 10kgs lighter, you had one class to attend and then you were done for the week.

You were heading back to class, when some of your classmates commented, "Hey y/n, we're rooting for you both" . They glimmered while talking to you. Unfortunately they passed by too quickly for you to enquire. You entered the class, confused and zoned out enough that you don't eveb notice how everyone's eyes are on you.

"Y/l/n".

You know that voice. You look towards the last row, he stands, smiling at you. You didn't know what was happening, but your nerves were on fire. Your hands suddenly got clammy and your heart beat started to fasten. You internally scolded yourself.

*Calm down, it's just Jungkook*

He looked nervous? You could tell, it wasn't his usual cocky behaviour. He didn't know what to do with his hands. So he just let them hang. It's weird you think.

As your gears in your brain were working, you start walking towards him. But his voice stopped you.

"Y/n".. then he jutted out his chin, pointing behind you. You could hear your heart hammering.

You turn.

" Y/N Y/L/N, I'M SORRY, SAY YES.. PLEASE?

-J.K. "

There it was written on the white board. In bold capital letters.

Is this a joke? If it's a joke you're not going to be able to walk out of here. Did Jungkook sleep with you so that he could pull the biggest prank in history? But he said all those sweet things yesterday right?

Before you could react, Jungkook spoke behind you. You turned to find him in front of you. You were hyperaware now, the students who were entering silently took their seats looking at you two. This felt like a scene from the movies.

"Y/n, i'm sorry that all this time I made your life a living hell. But i'm also glad because otherwise I wouldn't have the chance to know you." He smiles, his nervousness showing.

He slowly takes your hand. You let him. You already feel the emotions surging inside you. Is he really going to ask you out in front of the whole class?

He takes a long pause. It's almost painful waiting for him to finish the speech. Then he says-

"I'm sorry, Y/n will you be my girlfriend?" He says in one breath.

You gasped. All you could do was just stare at him, staring you back. Suddenly you forgot how to speak. Jungkook breaks the silence. "Say something please, you're killing me here. I -"

"Yes". He stops speaking. Grin slowly spreading from ear to ear.

"ABOUT FUCKING TIME" Someone from the class cheers. Everybody starts clapping. You can't stop smiling. Jungkook pulls you towards him, hugging you. You hug him back.

"Aww guys just kiss each other already!!" Hoseok, spoke with a mischievous smiled plastered on his face.

Jungkook pulled your face towards him for a kiss. It was a sweet kiss. You smirked when you felt how badly he wanted to shove his tongue down your throat but refrained since you're in public. Seeing you smirk, he whispers to you. "I can't wait to take you to my place after this". You shiver at the thought.

____________________________________________

"Mmmmm, kook..." He kissed your neck. You could get used to this. Straddling his lap and making out.

"Yes baby.." u feel his smirk against your skin.

"I have a question." You said, putting a space between you two. He took your hands and started leaving pecks starting from your knuckles moving upwards. You giggled.

"Why didn't proffessor take our class today, like he came 1 hr late, gave us homework and went away. I feel like this has something to do with you asking me out.."

"Y/n, babe out of all the questions you could ask me while making out, you choose this?" He pretended to be offended. You smacked his chest looking at him expectantly.

He started- "Well I might have talked to the prof before class telling him, i kinda need a favour from him.. "

"WHAT?" U couldn't believe this boy.

"Perks of having good rapport with prof. Also i always pay attention in class. You should learn from me y/n.." he looked at you innocently. As if he was not kneading your ass right now.

"Jeon Jungkook please tell me that you at least made up a situation or does our proffessor has first hand knowledge about us being in love.." the L word just slipped out. You acted like you didn't notice. But he surely did.

He winked at you, smiling wide like he got a promotion. "What did you just say?"

"Ugh about what?"

" About us being in something."

He was so smug about this, you knew he had won. You leaned into him.

"Let me show you instead" you wispered in his ear. The hair on Jungkook's body stood up , he had goosebumps. He picked you up towards his bedroom.

"Goddamn I love you".

[thestalkerbunny]

In honor of The Great Gatsby entering public domain and now we creators can do all the gay revisions to it that it deserves-I would like to honor this momentous occasion by reminding everyone that in 7th grade when we had to read The Great Gatsby in class, as a bonus question on the final test, we were asked what would be an alternative ending to The Great Gatsby. Now I had not been doing good in this class because it was a weird mash up hybrid class they were doing where they were trying to teach history and english at the same time and it was honestly really messing me up, so I had nothing to lose by just going wild for the last question-or at least wild for a School that is in Mississippi.

For the bonus question, I wrote that Gatsby faked his death so he could be with Nick because he realized after all the time they spent together, trying to get to Daisy, Nick was the one for him and Nick was the only one who actually cared for him.  And I mainly thought this because after we watched the Film Version of it, there was nothing Heterosexual about those two men’s relationship.

I did indeed get the 10 point credit. Passed that test-failed the class though and was removed half way during the semester, they eventually got rid of the bastard hybrid class. I still like the book despite having to analyze it pissed me the hell off.

[stewblog]

IN THE HEIGHTS

The musical may be a (mostly) dead remnant of the Hollywood studio system, but no one told that to everyone who made “In the Heights,” which has all the heart and energy of its genre predecessors wrapped around a story that feels both personal and timeless.

Before he unleashed the once-in-a-generation sensation of “Hamilton,” Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote “In the Heights,” a musical that focuses on a medley of personalities who all live in the New York City neighborhood of Washington Heights. Life for these people is changing, and at a far more rapid pace than any expected or is prepared for.

Our lead is Usnavi (Anthony Ramos), who dreams of moving back to the Dominican Republic and restoring his family’s old beachfront shop, but he feels obligated to stay, ahem, in the Heights and run the bodega they left in his charge. He’s got an unrequited crush on Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), who wants to move to Manhattan in the hope of becoming a fashion designer. Meanwhile, Nina (Leslie Grace) is struggling to let her friends and family know she’s not returning to Stanford for the fall semester as she feels a responsibility to follow through on being “the one who made it out.” Her feelings are all the more complicated when reuniting with her ex-boyfriend, Benny (Corey Hawkins).

Their lives crisscross and tangle over the course of three days amid a neighborhood-wide blackout. It’s an ensemble of love, regret, passion, anxiety, doubt, insecurity, hopes and dreams. It’s a story about the struggle between being true to yourself and bearing the weight of a legacy and the expectations that come with it. Our leads are all pretty and charismatic in the way you’d want and expect from a musical of this sort. Ramos’ boyish charisma in particular shines through best as he anchors the proceedings. The real question, though given that this is a musical: Can they sing? The answer is, kind of? I guess? This is, after all, spawned from a Lin-Manuel Miranda joint which means that while there is some traditional singing, there’s a whole lot of his particular brand of rap-singing (if there’s a more specific word for the style he uses, please email me). The cast performs well and I enjoy the performance style, but it won’t give audiences a true test of the cast’s vocal prowess. Then again, it doesn’t really matter. The heart and soul of the cast and story shines through thanks to Miranda’s music and lyrics and the gusto with which the cast performs.

The film as a whole is simply overflowing with an unstoppable energy every time one of the neighborhood’s denizens bursts into a new number. It’s difficult to recall the last time I watched a movie that was so eager and capable of just feeling so alive. “In the Heights” takes its characters and their plights seriously, but never feels overtly serious. Sometimes that’s to the film’s detriment as that energy rarely relents. Characters do get quieter moments to themselves and with each other, but the film could definitely use a bit of modulation when it comes to execution. Still, it’s hard to fault Miranda and Director John M. Chu for this approach. It’s a genuine treat to behold such a colorful and non-cynical production. After a year-plus of being cooped up in our homes, merely seeing dozens upon dozens of real, actual humans singing and dancing in the streets never got old.

Chu, best known for his recent hit dramatic comedy, “Crazy Rich Asians,” has adapted the Broadway show into a production that both honors its stage-bound roots while also stretching its legs enough to justify being a big-screen spectacle. In other words, if you’re worried this will be a repeat of “Hamilton” when it was released on Disney+ (i.e. just a filmed version of the stage show), don’t be.

While it is, as the name would imply, confined to The Heights, it never feels stage-bound as Chu makes ample use of streets, neighborhood pools, clubs, apartments, bodegas and even building facades thanks to his occasional dalliance with magical realism. It’s also not a surprise that the choreography and camera work during the musical numbers crackles on-screen given Chu’s track record with two of the best entries in the “Step Up” franchise*. He feels right at home here and I’d happily watch any other Broadway adaptations he might find himself attached to.

“In the Heights” feels like a rare bird, and not just because musicals are infrequent at best these days at the movies. It’s an uncynical, earnest piece of filmmaking that wears its sentiment and soul on its sleeve. It could stand to display more nuance at times, but it’s hard to be mad at something that’s so eager to show you a good time.

[subspace]

IN THE HEIGHTS

The musical may be a (mostly) dead remnant of the Hollywood studio system, but no one told that to everyone who made “In the Heights,” which has all the heart and energy of its genre predecessors wrapped around a story that feels both personal and timeless. 

Before he unleashed the once-in-a-generation sensation of “Hamilton,” Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote “In the Heights,” a musical that focuses on a medley of personalities who all live in the New York City neighborhood of Washington Heights. Life for these people is changing, and at a far more rapid pace than any expected or is prepared for. 

Our lead is Usnavi (Anthony Ramos), who dreams of moving back to the Dominican Republic and restoring his family’s old beachfront shop, but he feels obligated to stay, ahem, in the Heights and run the bodega they left in his charge. He’s got an unrequited crush on Vanessa (Melissa Barrera), who wants to move to Manhattan in the hope of becoming a fashion designer. Meanwhile, Nina (Leslie Grace) is struggling to let her friends and family know she’s not returning to Stanford for the fall semester as she feels a responsibility to follow through on being “the one who made it out.” Her feelings are all the more complicated when reuniting with her ex-boyfriend, Benny (Corey Hawkins). 

Their lives crisscross and tangle over the course of three days amid a neighborhood-wide blackout. It’s an ensemble of love, regret, passion, anxiety, doubt, insecurity, hopes and dreams. It’s a story about the struggle between being true to yourself and bearing the weight of a legacy and the expectations that come with it. Our leads are all pretty and charismatic in the way you’d want and expect from a musical of this sort. Ramos’ boyish charisma in particular shines through best as he anchors the proceedings. The real question, though given that this is a musical: Can they sing? The answer is, kind of? I guess? This is, after all, spawned from a Lin-Manuel Miranda joint which means that while there is some traditional singing, there’s a whole lot of his particular brand of rap-singing (if there’s a more specific word for the style he uses, please email me). The cast performs well and I enjoy the performance style, but it won’t give audiences a true test of the cast’s vocal prowess. Then again, it doesn’t really matter. The heart and soul of the cast and story shines through thanks to Miranda’s music and lyrics and the gusto with which the cast performs. 

The film as a whole is simply overflowing with an unstoppable energy every time one of the neighborhood’s denizens bursts into a new number. It’s difficult to recall the last time I watched a movie that was so eager and capable of just feeling so alive. “In the Heights” takes its characters and their plights seriously, but never feels overtly serious. Sometimes that’s to the film’s detriment as that energy rarely relents. Characters do get quieter moments to themselves and with each other, but the film could definitely use a bit of modulation when it comes to execution. Still, it’s hard to fault Miranda and Director John M. Chu for this approach. It’s a genuine treat to behold such a colorful and non-cynical production. After a year-plus of being cooped up in our homes, merely seeing dozens upon dozens of real, actual humans singing and dancing in the streets never got old. 

Chu, best known for his recent hit dramatic comedy, “Crazy Rich Asians,” has adapted the Broadway show into a production that both honors its stage-bound roots while also stretching its legs enough to justify being a big-screen spectacle. In other words, if you’re worried this will be a repeat of “Hamilton” when it was released on Disney+ (i.e. just a filmed version of the stage show), don’t be. 

While it is, as the name would imply, confined to The Heights, it never feels stage-bound as Chu makes ample use of streets, neighborhood pools, clubs, apartments, bodegas and even building facades thanks to his occasional dalliance with magical realism. It’s also not a surprise that the choreography and camera work during the musical numbers crackles on-screen given Chu’s track record with two of the best entries in the “Step Up” franchise*. He feels right at home here and I’d happily watch any other Broadway adaptations he might find himself attached to. 

“In the Heights” feels like a rare bird, and not just because musicals are infrequent at best these days at the movies. It’s an uncynical, earnest piece of filmmaking that wears its sentiment and soul on its sleeve. It could stand to display more nuance at times, but it’s hard to be mad at something that’s so eager to show you a good time. 

[ggukcangetit]

Tomorrow: Jungkook x Reader

**

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Fluff. Grad student au!; grad student! jungkook; grad student! reader; grad student! bts

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Suggestive language, mild kissing. Not much else really.

Summary: At the beginning of your third year of your PhD program, you didn’t expect many changes. Until the new PhD cohort started classes, and Jeon Jungkook became part of your group of friends.

A/N: i just wrote this randomly with zero plot in mind. idk what this ended up becoming but read it and lemme know if you like it? 

“Choi is a madwoman. I swear she makes me do so many lit reviews just to see me suffer.” Park Jimin, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at HopeWorld dance studio, and is currently regretting many of his life choices.

“I told you not to say yes to every single project that came your way.” Min Yoongi, 4th year PhD student, weekend DJ at Club Moonlight, recipient of the university’s most prestigious research grant, currently lives in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“We’re older. Which means we have more experience. Which means we tend to be right more often.” Kim Seokjin, another 4th year PhD student, enrolled into the PhD program after realising that the completion of his MBA meant he would have to join the family business, amateur chef with professional sass, and sole reason behind Min Yoongi being able to afford living in a posh apartment four streets away from the main research lab.

“Not when you bet Tae he couldn’t finish grading Kang’s first year Intro class papers in 24 hours.” Jung Hoseok, 3rd year PhD student, simultaneously working on a second Master’s degree, also happens to run HopeWorld dance studio during his oodles of free time.

“Speaking of, weren’t you supposed to treat us if you lost the bet, Seokjin?” Kim Namjoon, 3rd year PhD student, plant dad, head of the graduate student council, and all-around overachiever.

“Tae was supposed to choose the place. Did you decide on which exorbitantly expensive restaurant Seokjin is going to take us to, Tae?” Y/L/N Y/N, 3rd year PhD student, roommates with Namjoon and Hoseok, addicted to bubble tea.

“I have a better plan. The incoming first year PhDs are supposed to have their orientation tomorrow. I think Seokjin should organise a mixer to welcome them.” Kim Taehyung, aforementioned ‘Tae’, 2nd year PhD student, works part time at the local art gallery, roommates with Park Jimin, deceptively fast at grading papers.

“I do not remember agreeing to that,” said Seokjin, with a frown, shutting his laptop with a definitive snap.

“Come on, it’s not like you can’t afford it,” Yoongi remarked, not having looked up from the large stack of papers in front of him. “If you can insist on paying 3/4ths of the ridiculously high rent of our apartment even though we could have moved into the perfectly reasonable priced place 20 minutes away from the lab, you can damn well afford to host a mixer for the incoming cohort.”

“20 minutes by car. It takes 45 minutes to walk there, Yoongi. Or do I need to remind you of the fact that only Y/N and Sooyoung own cars in our department?” scoffed Seokjin.

“Do I hear trouble in paradise? Have Yoongi and Seokjin finally had their first fight after years of marital bliss?” Lim Sooyoung, 4th year PhD student, part-time yoga instructor, full-time reluctant designated driver due to being the only other PhD student in the department with a car. 

“Hilarious,” grumbled Seokjin. “That joke is about as old as the milk carton at the bottom of Namjoon’s fridge.”

“That’s still there?” asked Hoseok, scandalised. “You told me you threw that out 4 months ago!”

“It’s a limited edition Blue Bean milk carton! I couldn’t throw it out, Hobi,” replied Namjoon, sheepishly. The use of Hoseok’s nickname meant that he had run out of logical arguments against throwing out the milk carton that had been purchased three months into their first year of doctoral studies. 

“Have you ever considered emptying out the contents and keeping just the carton?” you asked. This suggestion was met with the raising of an eyebrow and the throwing of an airpod by Namjoon. Unfortunately, this also meant that the airpod didn’t reach its intended target.

“Ow!” exclaimed Hoseok, rubbing the side of his face where the airpod had made contact. “This is why you’ve been through 33 pairs of airpods in the last year, Namjoon! You have dormant violent tendencies and terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“Now back to that mixer,” said Taehyung, turning towards Seokjin. “I’m thinking around 5 pm at the Underground should be good. What do you think?”

“Fine,” sighed Seokjin, reluctantly. “I’ll send a message on Slack. Who’s got the first years’ contact info?”

xxx

The next day, you found yourself struggling to find parking outside the Underground, despite it being 4.30 pm on a Tuesday. Namjoon and Hoseok were sitting at the back and discussing ways in which they could watch as many of the student films that were being shown over the weekend, while Taehyung sat shotgun and muttered to himself as he tried to destroy some kind of adversary on that godforsaken game that he always seemed to play. You whipped out your phone and started texting Sooyoung about whether she had found any parking.

SY: just parked… sending you the location… its behind the club

SY: is seokjin with you

Y/N: thanks!

Y/N: no i’ve got tae joon n hobi 

SY: ok… wonder how he’s getting here… yoongi’s with me… said seokjin left a while back

Y/N: idk… sure he found something… uber or lyft or whatever… don't worry he won't ditch lol 

Y/N: i found a spot damnnnnn. cya in a bit

SY: lol tae wouldn’t let him live if he ditched

SY: nice :D yoongi and i are in the purple section

The purple section was undoubtedly the best spot in the Underground, as you had discovered almost 2 years ago. Being new to the city, you had basically followed Joon and Hobi wherever they went to socialize or get food. It was around the end of your second month in the program that Seokjin planned a mid-semester gathering, refusing to eat at, in his words, “another cheap taco truck masquerading as kitschy Instagram bait”. That was your first encounter with the Underground as well as your first experience in the purple section. Simply put, it had the best sofas and chairs, an abundance of vintage arcade games, easy access to the bar and food counter, and a separate music setup. It also cost a lot more to sit at the purple section, but Seokjin had never been the type to scrimp when it came to anything. It had become a kind of tradition after that; every time someone had a birthday, Seokjin would reserve the purple section for the evening. Not having grown up surrounded by luxury and riches, it was sometimes difficult for you to understand how Seokjin never thought twice before spending money on things. Then again, you doubted you would’ve been this thoughtful even if you had this kind of money at your disposal. Seokjin might’ve been hard to read at times, but his heart was in the right place.

Speaking of, you spotted Seokjin standing next to a couple of people you didn’t recognise. Deciding that this was probably the best time to get introduced to the first years, you walked over to them with a smile.

“Just deposited Joon, Hobi, and Tae near the bar. I feel sorry for your tab today, Seokjin.”

Seokjin lifted one of his thick arched eyebrows at you and then burst into his signature windshield wiper laugh. “I’ll give them a free pass today. Afterall, it’s the beginning of a new academic year!”

“You’re planning on dumping all of Kang’s data analysis on them, aren’t you?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Ah, Y/N, you know me so well,” he grinned, his features lighting up mischievously. “By the way, here’s two thirds of the new cohort. Song Yeri and Jeon Jungkook.”

You glanced at the two unfamiliar people and smiled in greeting. Yeri was a petite girl with long black hair who quickly fell into conversation with you. Jungkook, on the other hand, gave you a soft nod and walked over to where Jimin was opening a couple of beers. 

“So is Professor Kang someone we should be worried about?” asked Yeri, not giving you much time to pay much attention to Jungkook. “I wouldn’t want to be unprepared.”

Seokjin laughed at her worried tone. “Straight off the bat, huh?” 

Yeri flushed slightly, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “Oh no- I mean, it just seemed like that from your conversation!”

“Don’t worry, Yeri,” you assured her. “Seokjin’s a fourth year - not much phases him. He’s doing his PhD under Kang so he has to do tons of data analysis for her projects. Which he sometimes dumps on people who have been bothering him.”

Yeri looked suitably concerned at this new piece of information. She glanced at Seokjin’s handsome profile and smiled uncertainly. You couldn’t help but giggle at her reaction. It really was difficult to get a grasp on everyone’s personalities just by their looks. Each and every guy in the department was strikingly handsome, and Sooyoung, the only other female besides you, looked like she had walked out of a fashion show. It would’ve been extremely intimidating if you hadn’t personally been a witness to how clumsy Namjoon was, how lame Seokjin’s puns were, how scared Yoongi and Hoseok were of anything remotely resembling an insect, how Tae hadn’t managed to cook a single meal without setting off the fire alarm or giving Jimin food poisoning, how Jimin often collided into objects because he was laughing too much, or how Sooyoung had gotten lost multiple times on her way to campus in spite of driving along the same road for more than 3 years. You were sure Yeri, and the other two first years, would definitely get over the initial nerves and intimidation surrounding their colleagues. In fact, if Jungkook’s animated conversation with Jimin was anything to go by, it seemed like he had gotten over that already.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the others.” You steered Yeri in Sooyoung and Yoongi’s direction.

xxx

“Thanksgiving next week! I cannot wait to get away from this blasted Ethics class!” 

You were currently in Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared posh apartment, trying to proof-read a paper before the conference deadline. On the couch next to you sat Seokjin and Namjoon, eyes blinking rapidly in tiredness, while Jimin sat across from you, his silver hair tied into a messy ponytail. 

The door to the apartment swung open at that moment as Jungkook walked in, armed with takeout from at least 4 different places.

“I come bearing sustenance,” he announced, as Jimin jumped up with surprising alacrity and rushed towards him. 

“Your Busan blood runs strong, my friend,” said Jimin, appreciatively, eyeing all the different containers on the table. “I knew I could count on you.”

“That makes zero sense, Jimin,” scoffed Sooyoung. She was buried deep inside Yoongi’s favorite bean bag, having taken it over since the owner was currently not at home. “But li’l Jeon has proven to be a valuable addition to our department.”

“Ugh! Don’t call him that! Li’l Jeon sounds like something else,” you said, scrunching your nose in distaste.

“I agree,” replied Jungkook, rolling up his sleeves as he began opening the containers carefully. “But i can assure you of one thing - there is nothing li’l about this Jeon. In any sense of the word.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you declared, throwing a particularly soft pillow over your face. 

Three months into the semester and Jungkook had become an integral part of your group of friends. It had turned out that Jungkook and Jimin knew each other very well, having gone to school together in Busan. It’s not as if you hadn’t become well acquainted with the other two first years - Yeri still consulted you whenever she needed advice on how to deal with grading or professors or classes in general; and Lauren, an international student from France, was very friendly and turned up at all the department hangouts. But Jungkook seemed like he had been part of your group forever - not someone who had met almost everyone for the first time about 3 months ago. As was customary with first year PhD students, they were required to complete a few mandatory courses before being allowed to customize their coursework around their individual research interests. So even though Jungkook had all the same classes with Yeri and Lauren, almost every moment outside of classes was spent with one of you.

“I can’t believe it’s already time for Thanksgiving,” said Jimin, popping an entire dumpling into his mouth. “-ime eeli plyz.”

“Chew your food, you barbarian,” scolded Seokjin, blowing on a particularly large piece of fried chicken before putting the entirety into his mouth. A couple of chews and a large swallow later, Seokjin was ready for a second piece.

“Speak for yourself,” remarked Sooyoung, holding onto her food protectively.

“I remember Yoongi telling us during our orientation,” Namjoon piped up, a can of beer in his hand. “‘In a PhD program, days are slow, but semesters are fast’. I thought he was high at that time, but I realise now that he’s a true genius.”

“I still don’t get why you’re such a Yoongi fanboy,” grumbled Seokjin, settling comfortably into the couch once again. “I’m just as wise, and definitely a lot funnier.”

“Don’t forget about being a drama queen,” said Sooyoung, nudging Seokjin’s knee with her toes. “You’ve got that one over Yoongi as well.”

“Four years and you're still as ungrateful,” sighed Seokjin, looking uncharacteristically cheerful at the teasing. 

“At least I’m consistent,” shrugged Sooyoung. “Gimme some of your kimchi.”

“Consistency is only useful across data samples,” remarked Seokjin, picking up a small amount of kimchi with his chopsticks and feeding Sooyoung. “Not sure how desirable it is in human relationships. Life would be unbearably dull in that case.” 

“They’ve been dancing around each other for as long as I’ve known them. Why can’t they just get together and stop their incessant flirting in front of the rest of us,” you muttered darkly, vigorously pouring chili oil over your ramen. You, Namjoon, and Jungkook were still getting your food from the kitchen, while Jimin had gone ahead and joined the incessantly flirting pair in the living room.

“Y/N is always so bitter about anything to do with romance,” chuckled Namjoon. “Jungkook, do you know how annoyed she was when Hobi started dating last year?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of hearing that story.” Jungkook glanced at you cheekily, while popping open a can of beer.

“She didn’t speak to him for an entire week. Which was particularly inconvenient because the three of us had just started living in the same apartment, and we were all assigned to assist Choi on her year-end department survey. Poor Hobi thought he might have to find a new place to live.” 

“I’m sorry? Were you the one who came back home after extended office hours to find your friend butt-naked and balls-deep inside the barista who works across the street from our lab? I couldn’t get coffee from there for a month because I couldn’t look Sujin in the eye without immediately imagining Hobi in his natural drawers.”

Jungkook, who had chosen this exact moment to take a sip of beer, spat out the amber liquid on an unsuspecting Namjoon. 

“That’s what you get for deriving pleasure from other people’s misfortunes,” you remarked, smugly.

xxx

It was around 11.30 in the morning, when you heard a loud knocking on your apartment door. Classes had broken for Thanksgiving yesterday, which meant that today was your day to catch up on all the sleep you had missed over the last three months. But instead, you had been woken up much ahead of your intended 16 hours of sleep schedule. 

“You look awful.”

Jungkook walked into the apartment, looking far too fresh and sprightly for your liking. He was wearing that godforsaken plaid shirt that hung loosely off his body, but would highlight his rather well-defined muscles every time he happened to move in a particular way. You absolutely hated what a tease his shirt was. Fortunately for you, he wasn’t wearing the skin tight black jeans which always looked like they were about to burst at the seams, thanks to Jungkook’s equally well-defined thighs. 

“It’s not even noon. Why can’t you call before showing up? Where are your manners, Jeon?” you grumbled, checking to see if your pajamas had any glaring holes in them.

“I need help with the data analysis,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Professor Lee gave me a really tough dataset because I breezed through the first two assignments.”

“Still don’t see why you came over without any notice at this ungodly hour,” you continued, tapping your foot impatiently.

“I also got jjajangmyeon, kimbap, and bubble tea from Kimchi Palace.”

“What kind of bubble tea?” you asked, pushing yourself off the doorframe.

“Strawberry milk tea, half sugar, light ice, with extra strawberry jelly, and no boba.”

“I suppose it isn’t that early.”

A few minutes later, you were explaining principal component analysis to Jungkook, while eating jjajangmyeon and sipping bubble tea. The kimbap was put into the fridge for later, in case Namjoon or Hoseok wanted to have some when they got home at night. 

Jungkook was very intelligent; he picked up new concepts quite easily and was one hundred percent committed to whatever he worked on. He also had a refreshing sense of humor, where he didn’t always crack jokes or stay in the limelight, but his occasional quips were enough to send everyone into fits of laughter. He got along extremely well with each of them. He and Taehyung often walked around the city taking obscure, artsy photographs. Seokjin had basically adopted Jungkook as a younger brother due to his video gaming abilities. Namjoon was glad to finally have someone who enjoyed going on nature hikes with him, while Hoseok had been hugely impressed at Jungkook’s dancing and promptly asked him to help out at his studio. Jimin already knew Jungkook quite well, and Yoongi was more than happy to teach someone else the intricacies of cooking different kinds of meat. Even Sooyoung, who usually remained closed off from new people, had allowed Jungkook to use her car whenever someone needed to be picked up but she was too exhausted to drive. 

“I’m sorry I came by so early. I know you’ve been looking forward to catching up on sleep over the break,” he said softly, looking up from his laptop. That was the other thing that had struck you about Jungkook, he was very perceptive and sensitive to people around him. A rare quality which you appreciated far more than you let on.

“It’s fine. You saved me from having to cook lunch. That itself deserves many prizes from my end. You know how I hate cooking,” you shrugged.

“Speaking of, I’m making dinner for me and Tae tonight. Jimin’s visiting his brother, so it's just the two of us. And since I’d rather not get food poisoning, I’m putting Yoongi’s lamb chop recipe to good use,” he grinned boyishly. “You should come over if you don’t have anything else planned. It’ll save you from cooking another meal.”

“I might take you up on that offer. Let me check if either Joon or Hobi are having dinner at home, otherwise I’ll definitely be there.”

xxx

Taehyung and Jimin (and now Jungkook) lived about 10 minutes away from your place. It was a much larger apartment, so three people were more than comfortable there. Jungkook was staying there until he found another place to stay, but judging by how happy Jimin and Taehyung were with him around, he would probably end up staying with them permanently.

“I found parking at your building for the first time today,” you remarked, dropping your bag on the nearest couch. 

“Half the people are visiting family over the weekend. You won’t be so lucky next time.” Taehyung walked over lazily, his thick black hair falling messily over his eyes. He was dressed in his favorite Celine t-shirt and a pair of the loosest pants you had seen till date.

“The perm’s still looking good, Tae,” you grinned at him, taking the soda from his hand. 

“I’m planning on getting it done again once it wears off,” he said happily, settling into the couch. “Catch up on your sleep? Or did Gguk ruin your Thanksgiving plans as well?”

“‘As well’?” you asked, trying to suppress a grin.

“Taking advantage of the nearly empty laundry room and washing all the sheets does not count as ‘ruining’ anyone’s Thanksgiving plans!” yelled Jungkook from inside the kitchen.

“He woke me up at 7 am and stripped the sheets off my bed, emptied all our laundry bags, and locked me out of my room so that I wouldn’t dirty the bare mattress with my grubby clothes.” Taehyung’s grumbling was always extremely funny because he would end up pouting by the end of his rant and no one would take him seriously after that.

“Okay, the bread is in the oven and should be ready in about 15. Lamb chops are almost done as well. We’ll be dining in no time,” said Jungkook, flopping onto the couch beside you.

“That gives me enough time to answer the emails Choi sent me this morning. Jimin was right, she’s a madwoman. Doesn’t understand what ‘a break’ is , apparently,” sighed Taehyung, getting up and walking towards his room. “Lemme know when the food is ready.”

3 years ago, if anyone had told you that you would be more than halfway through your PhD having become close friends with seven of the most handsome guys on campus (or even in the country), you would’ve laughed at them and then silently questioned their sanity. But now, you couldn’t imagine life without them. Even Jungkook, you realised, glancing at the boy next to you. He had also become an extremely important part of your life. He didn’t say much, but his actions made things abundantly clear. He was extremely caring and thoughtful, even if he didn’t always have the right words to express himself. 

“What’re you thinking?” he asked, looking at you sleepily.

“That this soda is almost lukewarm.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

Suddenly, you felt a rough set of fingers poking your ribcage. Slowly, but surely, you were squirming in place as you struggled to not spill your soda while Jungkook continued tickling you mercilessly. 

“I know your weakness, remember?” he managed to say between giggles, his voice turning high-pitched as it usually did when he laughed too hard. 

“Gguk stop! The soda! It’ll spill on the carpet!” you gasped, trying to keep your hand steady.

“Oh shit! Sorry. Yeah, Jimin would freak out if he saw a stain on this carpet.” Jungkook let you go so that you could place the soda can on the nearest table. But as soon as you had freed your hands, you jumped on him and pinned him on the couch.

“I also know your weakness, Gguk,” you grinned, deviously, before tickling him with all your might. 

Needless to say, a scenario with two people in their mid-twenties behaving like 4 year olds, was bound to have certain consequences. In this case, it ended with both you and Jungkook falling off the couch, your faces mere inches away from each other. 

This wasn’t the first time you had been struck by how handsome Jungkook was. In fact, you had noticed the exact number of moles on his face and neck, having stopped yourself from reaching out and touching the one under his lower lip on more than one occasion. His large doe eyes also held a certain innocence and wonder in them, even though he was an extremely bright and capable PhD student with a lot of varied knowledge bases. Not just that, his impressive physique had caught you off guard many times. Particularly because it contrasted so heavily with his boyish face.

None of that mattered at this moment, as you could feel his breath on your face. He was so close… If you reached up a little bit, you would be-

“The oven timer’s been beeping for the last 10 minutes. But you both are too busy eye-fucking each other to notice.”

Taehyung’s deep voice caused you both to spring apart from each other, mortification heating up your face and neck. Jungkook’s ears, you noticed, had turned a very beautiful shade of red as well.

Dinner wasn’t as awkward as you expected because Yoongi dropped by a few minutes after your ‘eye-fucking’ session, extremely hungry and annoyed at Seokjin - who had decided to use this night to slow cook some pork.

“Gguk, this is really good,” said Yoongi, once all of you had finished eating. “Didn’t think you’d be able to get it right on the first go! Y/N, what’d you think? You’ve been awfully quiet the whole time.”

You nodded your head in response, keenly aware of Taehyung’s intense gaze that followed your every move. “It was really good, Gguk. Thanks for a lovely meal.”

“Do you need a ride home, Yoongi?” you asked, once all the dishes had been cleared away. “I’ve got my car.”

“Life-saver. I need to pick up a tin of coffee from the convenience store. I’ll meet you at the parking lot in 10?” said Yoongi slipping on his jacket.

“Wait, I’ll go with you. I need to buy some soda,” said Taehyung, springing up suddenly. Not bothering to change out of his slippers, he rushed out after Yoongi, but not before glancing quickly between you and Jungkook and sending you a rather outrageous wink.

“That was… weird,” you remarked, relieved to see that Jungkook had missed your exchange with Taehyung. “Anyway, thanks again for a great meal. You’re a really good cook, Gguk.”

“Thanks,” he said, not really looking up from his phone. He had also been rather silent throughout the meal.

“I’m heading out then. See you later, Gguk.” You picked up your bag and proceeded to open the door.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around to find Jungkook standing rather close to you. You could see the mole below his lower lip quite clearly from here.

“You never told me what you were thinking about.” His voice was a lot more husky than usual, and you gulped as you realised you had no clue what to say to him.

“I-”

Before you could finish your half-formed sentence, Jungkook’s lips were on yours, kissing you slowly. After being frozen for a second or two, your hands made their way into his soft brown curls, relishing in the feeling of having him so close to you. You realised that you had been wanting to do this for a while now. Maybe even since the first day of classes, when he had offered you his cup of coffee after the machine in the department had stopped working. 

“Never mind,” he said, breaking the kiss with a soft ‘chu’. “You can tell me another time. Yoongi’s probably waiting at the parking lot.”

“And Tae might come back any minute now,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a soft smile on his face. 

“Tomorrow?” It seemed like your brain had short circuited. 

“Yeah.” He dipped down and placed another chaste kiss on your mouth, before displaying his adorable bunny smile. “But even that seems too far away right now.”

You were really grateful that you managed to get both yourself and Yoongi home without crashing the car that night. Once you got home, you checked your phone and found two messages - a text from Jungkook checking if you had reached home safe, and another one from Taehyung.

T: the couch is off limits. don’t even think about it...

xxx

please do not repost anywhere. reblog if you enjoyed the story!

[farfromtommy]

the rest of our lives //chris evans x reader

A/N: wrote this bc I couldn't sleep. its almost 4am and im tired but felt like writing some cute shit tonight. I love this so much and sorry if it doesn't make sense and for the mistakes but I LOVE IT. pls give it some love . 

Summary: chris and y/n visit her childhood home and tell her parents about their plans for the future

Warnings: angst, FLUFFFFFFFFFFFF, language I think, age gap but its not gross (chris 38, reader 22)

Word Count: 3,780

masterlist

With one final zip of your suitcase you were ready for your trip. You and your boyfriend of 2 years, Chris, were taking a couple days off to spend time with your parents. You hadn’t seen them since your college graduation and they had been bugging you for months for you and Chris to spend some time in your hometown. 

You were currently living in Boston and had completely expected that you weren’t going back home following your completion of university. Your life was in Boston. Although you missed your parents and your sister, you were so ready to start this new chapter of your life and be able to make it your own. 

You and Chris had been looking for a house together since you decided to stay in Boston with him. Your relationship was headed in a good direction and both of you were 100% in it for the long run. You wanted to wait till after you graduated to move in together, not wanting to worry about anything besides school. Chris had his realtor on the phone the minute your grades for your last semester had been finalized and everything was approved for graduation. 

When you sat down with him and both said what you were looking for in a house, the topic of kids came up. You knew Chris wanted a family, and you did too. You had both agreed to bring the conversation up again after some time in the house together. You were secretly hoping he was planning on proposing to you soon. You’ve been dropping major hints at him through your Pinterest board ever since you started having serious conversations about your future with each other. You were ready for it all. You wanted to marry Chris and fill your beautiful new home with a bunch of kids. 

You were also slowly convincing him to get Dodger a friend since both of you were always working, and you wanted to make sure he was never lonely when you were at work. 

Your amazing realtor had found a beautiful house right outside of Boston that had everything you were both looking for. You were just waiting for the final pieces of paperwork to come in and finally be able to call the house yours. 

Your lease on your apartment was up last month and had been staying at Chris’s place. All of the big things you didn’t sell from your place were in storage and everything else was with you. 

When you had mentioned to your sister that you and Chris were days away from closing on your new home, she had asked how your parents felt about everything. 

“They know our relationship is serious. They met him at graduation and had known about him well before that. Mom even talked about us having a fall wedding here, since the weather would be perfect. I haven’t told them about the house since we’ve known about this trip since everything with the house started. I want to tell them in person, so don’t mention anything to them.” You huffed. 

“I talked to mom the other day and she thinks that you made a mistake staying there to be with Chris. She doesn’t think your relationship is going to last, since he’s so much older than you. Hell, that’s what everyone thinks. She’s just worried, I think.” She expressed. 

“I’ve been hearing all of that for the past 2 years from everyone I know, especially from mom. Nobody knows our relationship better than we do. We both want the same things and are happy being together. So what if he’s older than me? Dad is way older than mom and no one questions the integrity of their relationship, why does everyone have to question mine?” I said back. 

“I know. I know you keep hearing this, and I’m sorry. I’m really happy for you, Y/N. I really am. Buying a house together is a big deal and I’m glad you’re ready to do that with him. You have everything so figured out and people are just jealous. I mean, you have the hottest dude in Hollywood in your bed every night. Who wouldn’t be jealous of that?” She chuckled. 

“Anyway, we’ll talk more when you get here! I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you land and I’ll meet you at home. Love you!! See you tomorrow.” The line clicked and you threw your phone onto your bed. You let out a deep sigh and moved your suitcase off of the bed so you could collapse. 

You were slowly dozing off when you had heard Dodger starting to bark, alerting you that Chris was home. He had been doing some small indie films in Boston, not wanting to get back into major productions until you were settled in your new house. You picked yourself off your bed and walked into the living room, seeing Chris toe off his shoes and place his things down. He greeted Dodger and walked over to you, mumbling a quick hi and placed a quick kiss onto your lips. 

“Hi my love, how was your day?” He asked as he walked into the kitchen. You took a seat on the barstool facing the kitchen, and watched as Chris started to look around for something to snack on. 

“It was pretty good. Work was how it usually is. I came home early and got all my packing done for the trip and just cleaned a little bit around the house. I left some things you might want to pack out on the bed just incase. How was yours? Anything exciting happen on set?” You asked, leaning back on your chair.

“Wrapped up everything I needed to do so I could relax and enjoy the next couple of days without worrying about needing to get back to set.” He took a beer out of the fridge and leaned against the counter and took a drink from the bottle. “How are you feeling about seeing your parents and telling them about the house? You haven’t really said much about it.” He took another sip and walked closer to you. 

He sat in the chair next to you and just looked at you, waiting for your response. You thought for a moment, collecting your thoughts before giving him an honest answer. You sighed and thought about the conversation you had with your sister. 

“I’m excited to tell time, but really nervous. I talked to my sister earlier and she had told me that my mom has been having doubts about us and was just worried that I didn’t know what I was getting myself into and blah blah blah. But I’m ready to set everything straight and tell her that she can’t doubt us anymore. It’s important to us that we do this and she needs to be on board with that. I know she’ll be happy for us, but you know how she gets. I think dad will be happy for us. He really like you, y’know. Tells me all the time that I need to fly him up here so you two can go to a Pats game. Poor guy had a house full of women his entire life and now he finally has the son he always wanted.” You rambled slightly. 

“Everything is gonna a work out, don’t be nervous. It’s 4 days with your parents and then we close on the house when we get back and should be moved in by the end of the next month. I know how important your family is to you and how much it means to to get their support on this, but you have so many other people who support you. You’re basically and Evans now and you have all of them standing behind us, cheering us on. Don’t worry too much on what might happen with them, but think about what’s happening with us now. Our life together is finally getting started.” He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it before pulling you off the chair and moving you closer to him. You stood between his legs and wrapped your arms around him. His comment about you being an Evans filled your stomach with butterflies but you didn’t think much into it. 

For the rest of the night you just sat on the couch watching movies and eating random snacks you had in the pantry, not bothering to cook something for dinner. You snuggled up next to Chris and Dodger was next to you as you stayed in the living room well into the night. You had fallen asleep on the couch and next thing you knew, you were being placed on your side of the bed and tucked in gently. 

Chris placed a kiss on your forehead and moved some of your Y/H/C hair out of your face. You sleepily smiled at him before turning to your side and let sleep consume you. You heard shuffling around the room, assuming Chris was finishing any packing he had left. You woke when you felt the bed dip beside you and your were wrapped in a pair of strong arms. You moved closer to Chris and let sleep take over you once again. 

~

It was late afternoon and you and Chris had landed safely in your hometown. You were driving down the street that was still so familiar to you. You saw your parent’s house come into full view as you instinctually turned a corner. You drew in a sharp breath as you put your rental car in park and stared up at your childhood home. You had spent so many years of your life here and it was so weird not seeing it as your home anymore. You looked over at Chris and he grabbed your hand and squeezed it. He grabbed some of his things and opened the car door and stepped out. 

You walked up to the front door hand in hand and raised your hand up to ring the doorbell. Not even 5 seconds later your mom had answered the door and immediately wrapped you in a hug. She grabbed your shoulders and looked at you with joy. She brought you in for another hug before giving one to Chris. 

“It’s good to see you again, Chris! How have things been going for you?” Your mom questioned, moving out of the way so you could walk inside. 

“Everything has been going great, thank you! How have you and Y/D/N been?” Chris asked, looking at the beautiful house he walked into. He had never seen this place in person, just in pictures you had and through a phone whenever he was around when you video called your parents.

 It was so elegantly decorated. Family photos littered the walls, he could pick you out of all of them. One of the things he had hoped he’d get a chance to see were photos from your childhood. You have been through every photo album the Evans family had created, thanks to his mom. You knew he was looking forward to those, so you had made sure your mom pulled them out of storage for him. 

“Same old same old. We’ve been really looking forward to you guys coming to visit us. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve made Y/D/N clean this house over the past week. Had to make sure everything was in tip top shape for your first visit.” She winked at Chris and looked back at you. You plopped down on the couch, exhausted from your hectic day. 

“Thank you, Y/M/N. It’s really a beautiful house.” Chris said as he sat down next to you on the couch, putting his arm across the back of it. She nodded at him and went to go find your dad. You leaned into Chris’s side and he put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. He placed a kiss on the top of your head before continuing to take in his surroundings. 

“Don’t fall asleep before giving your old man a hug!” Your dads voice said as he walked into the living room. You and Chris both stood up and you ran into your dads arms. You loved both of your parents, but you were always closer to your dad. He gave you a big hug, picking you up off the ground slightly and placed a kiss on your cheek. Chris walked up to him and extended his hand for a handshake once you were done greeting your dad. 

“It’s great to see you! Glad you guys could take the time to make it out here.” Your dad said, shaking Chris’s hand and pulling him in for a “bro” hug. 

“Me too. I’m excited to finally be here. I’ve heard a lot of stories and seen a lot of pictures of Y/N growing up here.” Chris said as everyone took a seat in the living room, the two of you going back to your original spots. 

You all sat around the living room talking for a while, just catching up on everything that had been happening in your lives. Your dad and Chris started to get into sports talk and your mom motioned for you to go with her to the kitchen. You stood up from your spot, excusing yourself from the conversation you were no longer interested in and followed your mom. She poured you glass of wine, and then one for herself and told you to take it to the back porch while she got something for your dad and Chris. You sat down on one of the chairs and got comfortable, your mom joining you a few minutes later. 

“So, how are things in Boston with Chris? We haven’t really talked much about it. After graduation we thought you were going to come back, and then you stayed and we were all kinda confused.” Your mom said taking a sip from her glass. 

“Things are really great between us right now. Chris has been spending most of his time in Boston doing some small projects so I see him basically everyday. Work has been going super well, I’m loving every second of it. I know you guys were really disappointed when I didn’t come back, but my life is in Boston now. Chris is there and all my frien-“ You were saying before your mom cut you off. 

“So Chris is your life now? Chris and work? What happened to family first? You were supposed to come home and help us out. We thought you were going to find your own place here and find a job and be able to be here for us. We were there for you all your life.” She criticized. 

“Mom, I’m 22 years old. Don’t you think I’m old enough to start building my own life? Chris and I are building our future together and I couldn’t just leave and continue doing that from here. I wasn’t going to make him uproot his life up to follow me here just because you wanted me to. I’m sorry that you don’t agree with my decisions but I think I’m allowed to decide what I think is best for me.” You said back to her. She rolled her eyes at your response. Before she could say anything back your sister opened the door excitedly greeting you. You were relieved she was finally here to pull you out of the conversation that had taken a turn south between you and your mom. 

You had gone inside with your sister and saw that she brought dinner for everyone. You went over to Chris and asked him to help you get your bags out of the car before you sat down for dinner. He had noticed your change in mood and quickly followed you outside. You quickly ranted to him about what your mom had said and blew off some steam before heading back inside with your things. Chris followed you up to your childhood bedroom, where you two would be staying for the next few nights. It was still the way you had left it. Pictures of your high school friends scattered around the walls, and posters of things you loved when you were in high school. Chris chuckled at some of them and you two headed back to the dining room. 

Dinner had been going well, despite your moms discreet bashes at your life choices, you ignored them and continued to enjoy the rest of the meal. As everyone was finishing, you decided it was as good a time as any to bring up the big news. 

“So mom and dad, you guys don’t know this but Chris and I have been talking a lot the past couple months about our future and where we see it going. Things between us have been getting serious for a long time, but we just put off pulling the trigger on anything until I finished school and found a good job. Now that I am done with school and found a really amazing job, we decided that it was time to start settling down and getting ready for the rest of our lives together. With that being said, when we get back home, we are closing on a beautiful house that we found. We bought a house and we’ll be moved into it by the end of next month.” You said looking to your parents, hoping to be able to read their expressions. Your sister had a smile on her face, already knowing the news. 

Chris grabbed your hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You shot him a small smile and looked back at your parents. Your mom had an unreadable expression. She seemed to be going through a lot of things in her mind as she processed everything you had just said. You looked at your dad, hoping to get  a better reaction from him. He stood up from his chair and walked over to the space between you and Chris, and gave you two the most bone crushing hug possible. He whispered a few words of encouragement to you two before letting go and going back to his seat. 

“I’m so happy for you two. This is such a big step in any relationship and it can be really tricky. You seem to be handling it with grace and I’m really proud of you two. I’m sure you have searched high and low for the perfect home for you two, and I already know its going to be beautiful. I hope that once you are all moved in and settled and are ready for guests, you invite us to spend a couple days up there with you. All I ask is that you make sure the Pats are playing so Chris here can show me how you New Englanders party when they play.” Your dad said, looking at your and Chris with such love and admiration. “Not to push or anything, but I hope this house has some extra bedrooms ready for kids whenever you decide you’re ready for them.” He added. 

You chuckled at your dads comment and wiped some tears that fell from your eyes. “Yes, dad, there are plenty of bedrooms for kids. One of the things on our list was it needed to be family friendly. When you see it, you’ll see how perfect it is for a family. But we’re taking it one step at a time and we’ll talk about kids again when we’re ready.” You assured him. He mumbled good and looked over at your mom, who had been silent the entire time. She looked at you when she realized that all eyes were on her. “Mom, are you going to say something to them?” You’re sister chimed in. 

“I didn’t know you guys were really this serious about each other.” She responded. 

“Well after 2 years together I would hope we were serious about being together.” You smirked. 

“I’m sorry for the shit I was giving you earlier, I was just so scared that you were throwing your life away for some guy you were dating. If I had know the depth of it, I wouldn’t have been so harsh. I should’ve listened to you, Y/N. I was just worried about you and worried that he was going to leave you broken and battered. I’m sorry for not giving you more faith, Chris.” She admitted. You and your mom had both stood up and gave each other a long hug. This was the first time in a long time where your mom had been so genuinely happy for you. There was a big family hug, with Chris included. You joked that he was basically a Y/L/N, referring to the joke he had made to you yesterday. 

“Well I do hope that buying a house together means that a wedding is in sight.” Your mom had whispered in your ear. You shot her a look of ‘ I know right?! ‘ and you gave her another hug. Chris winked at you from across the room when you made eye contact. You send him a loving look and mouthed ‘I love you’ to him. He returned the look and mouthed ‘I love you too’ back. You felt butterflies in your stomach and your cheeks heat up. 

~

You had gotten ready for bed before Chris had and was all tucked in and ready to sleep by the time he came up to your room. He had stayed downstairs and helped your parents clean up from dinner while you showered and started to unwind. He saw your body on the bed and assumed you had already fallen asleep. You stared at him as he undressed in front of you and admired his amazing body. He caught you staring and shot you a suggestive look as he turned the lights off and went back to get into bed with you.

“We’re not defiling my childhood room by having sex in here. Plus my mom finally came around to our relationship and my dad probably loves you more than I do, so we can’t risk them hearing us.” You whispered as he pressed his body against yours. Your back was pressed against his bare chest and you gripped his forearms as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You turned your head towards him and pressed a kiss onto his lips. He mumbled ‘I love you so much’ between kisses. 

The love that was flowing between your bodies that night was unreal. You spent all night in his arms, exactly where you belonged. 

[theletterunread]

May Day, May Day, May Day

Last May, the world continued to fall apart, as it's been doing for many years – though at a noticeably accelerated pace. The coronavirus dictated everyone's life and kept me mostly in my apartment in Franklin Village, living a life that was just like my normal life, only moreso. I played video games (but for more hours at a time), watched movies (but more than usual), and read books (but longer books, like Ulysses and the last Karl Ove Knausgaard novel, that were too heavy to have carried around and read while commuting). I did a lot of new writing and got a few rejections for some old writing. Just as I had seven years earlier, I began to wish I had a piano – as my apartment’s previous tenant, singer-songwriter Rebecca Black, did – so I could pass my downtime creating something nice.

The May before that, my writing partner and I submitted writing samples through the WGA Staffing System in the hopes of being hired to write for a sitcom. This job board had been set up by the Writer’s Guild to help writers find work without the assistance of their agents, whom the WGA had instructed its members to fire following a dispute with the Association of Talent Agents. My writing partner and I were skeptical that anybody (least of all us) would be hired through this system – we figured staffing decisions would still be determined by Hollywood’s impenetrable cliquishness – but we knew there was nothing to be lost by giving it a try.

On a Thursday, we submitted applications to three shows. Two of them were cancelled by Saturday – almost as if our applications reminded the producers that they still had dead shows to clear out – and we never heard back from the third.

The May before that, a paralegal left the law firm I work at in Downtown LA because he’d found a job closer to his home in Long Beach. My boss took him out to lunch, after which he returned to the office to say his goodbyes. He thanked me for teaching him some filing skills, but I had trouble accepting the gratitude. Even after six years, I still felt like a pretender in the legal world, skeptical that I knew anything teachable.

Later that afternoon, my boss informed the rest of us that, at lunch, the paralegal had asked him, “Do you wanna smoke some weed?” My boss had declined, noting that it was noon on a Wednesday. Our receptionist said that he had recently made the same offer to her. But an associate attorney and I had never been offered the same opportunity even once in the six months we worked with him.

The May before that, my pianist friend passed through LA and we met for lunch in Westwood. He was the first peer whose hair I noticed was going grey. Mine had been turning for a few years already. Good for both of us.

When I returned home, I played The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, an acclaimed game which shares a lot of its DNA with one predecessor in particular: The Wind Waker. I was happy to see that game’s achievements respected by this new installment in the series because I still felt the exact same protectiveness of and identification with The Wind Waker that I had 14 years earlier, no matter that I was getting old and grey.

The May before that, I received a rejection letter from a literary magazine for a short story that I had submitted for publication 14 months earlier. I also received a rejection from a literary agent for a novel I’d written. Neither one upset me too much: the short story because I’d completely forgotten it was out in the world; the novel because the agent sent me back thoughtful notes, and I was touched that anyone would even take the time to read 75,000 words I’d written. Plus, it was easy to brush off literary set-backs. I had just had made my first business trip to Hollywood, and I was confident I’d soon be working as a sitcom writer.

The May before that, I got a sharp pain in my back anytime I breathed in deeply. The internet said it was probably a strain in one of my intercostal muscles, but couldn’t rule out pneumonia or something scarier. Not wanting a repeat of seven years earlier, when I’d ignored ankle pain and wound up in surgery, I visited a doctor. She diagnosed it as a strained intercostal muscle and wrote me a prescription for anti-inflammatories, which I never picked up.

Three days later, my friends and I were sharing interesting quotations over email (Tuesdays we shared poetry, Wednesdays paintings, and Thursdays quotations). The last contribution was from H.P. Lovecraft: “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

The May before that, my roommates and I threw a party in our apartment. We invited 47 people and just about 47 people showed up. We had a great time until my landlord called me downstairs to show me that our front gate had been broken by one of our guests while departing. I esteemed my landlord so highly that there was little in life I hated more than disappointing him.

By the next morning, my roommates and I had determined who the culprit was, but we weren’t sure whether to ask him to pay up. While we weighed our options, I went to McCarren Park to attend a picnic hosted by a friend of mine from high school. I didn’t know any of the other guests, but I asked them whether, in my situation, they would reach out to the vandal and ask him to pay. They all said it was a tough call.

Ultimately, my roommates and I paid for the gate ourselves, swallowing the repair charge as the cost of hosting guests. As one of my roommates used to say when shrugging off his post-party hangovers, “You gotta pay the piper.”

The May before that, I wanted to resume playing the piano, so I made arrangements to buy an electric keyboard from a man who lived on the Upper East Side. I reached out to my only friend with a car – the same woman to whom I’d lost my virginity four years before – and asked if she would help me haul the equipment back to Bed-Stuy. She agreed on the condition that I would go with her to Rockaway Beach afterwards. Though the beach is my least favorite of all leisure destinations, I said sure and told her where to meet me.

She showed up to the Upper East Side without a car and without any understanding that I had expected her to bring a car. I had forgotten to ask for that, but it wouldn’t have made a difference: she hadn’t been vehicled for two years. I asked why she thought I would request her help with this chore, if not for her ability to bring a car. She asked why I hadn’t mentioned the car in my request, why I assumed she had one even though I had only seen her drive once, two years earlier, and where my gratitude was for her being willing to come out in 90-degree weather to help with such a tedious chore. Her rhetorical questions were better. We lugged the keyboard, its stand, its pedal, and a bunch of cords back to Brooklyn over two subway transfers and then went to the beach, where the temperature was about 40 degrees lower.

Even though the keyboard’s quality was affirmed by my (imminently greying) pianist friend when he came over for one of our parties, it didn’t scratch my itch the way a real piano would have. I kept it for three years until the speakers stopped working.

The May before that, I began working at a law firm in Midtown. I didn’t know how I landed the position, a phenomenon that’s repeated in every job I’ve got – or not got. Despite my supposed knowledge of film and TV, I’ve been turned down for writing jobs and even to work for Blockbuster. But I was hired to work at a venerable firm while knowing absolutely nothing about the law.

Between that respectable job and the largesse of my landlord, letting me live in Shangri-La for $600 per month, I spent my early-to-mid-twenties building unusual financial stability. I didn’t recognize it, though, and those were the years I was most worried about money. In the years before and since, financial anxiety was nothing; my worries were (are) about writing. And tidily, in that middle period, the creative side of life caused no concern.

The May before that, I graduated from NYU. More than any catastrophe I’ve lived through, that event created an atmosphere of the End of Days. Feelings of wistfulness and anxiety about casting off into the unknown were underscored by Collapse Into Now, the new R.E.M. album I was listening to repeatedly. It is a poignant record (though it wouldn’t be identified as such for another four months, it was secretly R.E.M.’s farewell album) but I was in an emotional state to be moved by any music. I couldn’t even join in the culture-wide mocking of Rebecca Black’s “Friday” that was going on; I found her earnestness unbearably touching.

At the end of the month, I moved into my new place in Bed-Stuy. My roommates and I had flipped for the apartment as soon as we saw it, not just because its competition wasn’t fierce – other prospective apartments had rat poison on the floor or 18-inch-high ceilings – but because it was spacious and cheap and distinctive, and because we liked the landlord. (And it went both ways: he told us that he had declined other possible tenants while waiting for our decision because, “I took a shine to you guys.”) And even though it was still a little strange to be sleeping and eating and showering in a new place, and even though a couple of teenagers had shouted at me while I was moving in – using what federal judges now call “racially charged language” – and even though I still had no idea how to shape a life outside of school, I felt better, because I was in My Home.

The May before that, I was finishing up a semester abroad in Ireland. At times during that spring, I compared myself to the freshman I’d been two and a half years earlier. I had been so naïve, so unworldly when I came to New York in 2007. Now, it was 2010 – a modern year, the dawn of a new decade – and I was 20 years old, living across the Atlantic. I had lived long enough to have a past, to have life behind me. I was a real person.

But if I ever had any specific examples of what made “Junior Year Me” more sophisticated than (or even different from) “Freshman Year Me,” I have completely forgotten them now. The two iterations are collapsed into one character in my mind. And when I see the numbers now, 20 as an age is much closer to the two decades before it than to the years that have come since, and 2010 looks like an absurdly miniscule year.

The May before that, I lost my virginity in a college dorm on 14th Street in Manhattan. It happened in the afternoon, after two failed attempts in prior evenings. The school year was winding down – when my girlfriend called to invite me over, I was packing up my dorm room, and when I arrived, her suitemate was in their common room, packing up her things – so there was no more room for error.

I recall looking at a digital clock, but I don’t recall what time it showed. Nor do I remember the weather, though I remember either being pleased that it was raining, or wishing that it were raining. For a redefining moment, it’s awfully hazy. The fog of war. I had to be reminded many, many years later that, after we finished, I offered a dirty joke that was extremely in and out of character: “I was packing boxes in my dorm, and then I came over here to pack boxes.”

Afterwards, I walked back to my dorm in the West Village. My friends and I had plans to watch a marathon of all of the videos we had filmed that year, and we did. It was several years before I told them where I had been earlier that day.

The May before that, I had an MRI on my ankle, which had been hurting for a year. After I left the hospital, I went to Blockbuster to interview for a summer job and absolutely bombed. I may have admitted that I only planned to keep the job until college resumed in September; I certainly volunteered that I knew nothing about high-traffic film genres like action or horror. When asked what movies I might recommend to customers, I offered artsy snoozers like Ed Wood.

Just as well that I was never offered a job, as the MRI showed that I had, “the ankle of a 70-year-old,” and arthroscopic surgery was scheduled. I spent the next two months first in a cast, then in a boot. I passed the summer making videos and uploading them to YouTube, thinking maybe I’d go viral, as I’d been hoping for two years. The most attention I got was from foot fetishists who liked when I showed my casted leg.

The May before that, my high school was shut down on what was supposed to have been my last real day of senior year. An AP Spanish Literature test and a band concert were scheduled for the day, after which I had no more obligations. But cafeteria workers coming in early in the morning spotted two masked men creeping through a hallway. The workers called the cops, the masked men fled, and the bomb squad was called in. School was closed for the day.

Had there been a bomb, this might be a disaster story known to lots of people of my generation. But there was no bomb, and it’s a story that even I forget most of the time. The general consensus was that the masked men were just students coming in early to set up some departing-senior stunt. They were never identified, though I was confident I knew who they were.

My test and my concert were rescheduled, so I had to keep going to school. The morning of the makeup AP exam, I told one of my classmates that I couldn’t help but wish we had been able to wrap up high school the week before, as anticipated. She cut me off and said, “You can’t even think about that.”

The May before that, YouTube penetrated mass consciousness. The notion of “going viral” was not known to us then, but it was still obvious how well the site could facilitate the spread of good work. I was certain that the videos my friends and I were making could be successful on there. We had so many funny ideas, it was inconceivable that not a single one of them would catch fire. Maybe not immediately, but it couldn’t take forever.

The May before that, Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith premiered. I disliked the previous movie, had forgotten the one before that, and was totally agnostic about the original trilogy, yet I convinced myself to be excited for this one: This is how a person interested in film should feel. My mom and I made plans to go as a treat after an afternoon laboring in the garden, and I invited a friend to come along.

My friend called back later in the day to ask if he could bring another kid from school to the movie. This other kid and I wound up growing closer in the last years of high school, but at the time, I still found him mean and unpredictable. I worried that he might laugh at me for still going to the movies with my mom, or worse, that he would act up in some distasteful way in front of her. My parents weren’t overly sensitive, but I was still haunted by a memory from a birthday party three years before: this kid seriously tasking my dad by telling an awful dirty joke. ("How do you circumcise a redneck?")

I lied to my friend and told him that the trip to the movies had been cancelled. Then I lied to my mom and told her that my friend had decided not to come. At the movie theater, I kept looking over my shoulder, worried that my friend might decide to come anyway (maybe even with the other kid), and I’d be caught. He didn’t, and the next day he asked if I still wanted to see the movie with him, so I watched Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith twice in two days.

The May before that, in Downtown LA (only a mile from the law firm where I’d be working 13 years later), Nintendo had a very successful presentation at the annual Electronic Entertainment Expo. At a time when its public reputation was shaky, Nintendo blew the roof off the Los Angeles Convention Center with a showcase of a new handheld, a new spokesman, and a new Legend of Zelda game. The previous entry, The Wind Waker, had drawn a lot of attention (mostly condemnation gradually giving way to praise) for its colorful, cel-shaded art style. This new game looked more subdued, realistic, and – in the parlance of the times – mature.

While I was excited by the new entry, I felt sad that it appeared to be such a blatant rejection of The Wind Waker, a game I had been defending against adolescent smears since before its release, a game I thought had proven itself to be a masterpiece. Yet here was Nintendo itself surrendering to the backlash and giving the haters exactly what they demanded. That wasn’t how the world was supposed to work, and I felt that I had been hung out to dry. These feelings were still with me more than a decade later when Breath of the Wild came along to close the circle.

The May before that, a blizzard hit Colorado. It was a spring snow, very wet and heavy, and it destroyed the plants that my mom had been adding to the yard since we moved in. She was in the house with my newborn brother, so my dad and I shoveled the walk. It was hard, slushy work, but I greatly preferred it to the lawn jobs and gardening I’d been doing over the preceding year. A private yard was supposedly one of the pleasures of living in a house rather than the apartments and condos we’d previously had, but it wasn’t worth the work that went into it. Visiting a public park or walking around the neighborhood was much more fun than sitting on your own boring lawn.

It wasn’t anything that would be relevant for eight years, and it wasn’t anything I was conscious of for longer than that, but I was developing a sense of what I dreamed would be My Home.

The May before that, my family was newly installed in our first house. Our old condo had been bought by a guy who ran an outdoor cinema over the summers, and he had given us three free passes. I went with two friends to see the second screening of the season, Airplane!

Before the show, one of my friends mentioned that he was going to be working that summer at his dad’s restaurant, and the other said he had been given a spot at his uncle’s factory (it made insulated water bottles). I felt left out, and wished that I could get work too. I wondered if there was a way I could leverage my knowing the man who ran the outdoor cinema into a job.

I remember that longing, yet I don’t remember how, two years later, I came to be working at the outdoor cinema. I have no record of who talked to whom and said what to get me that gig, the first of many positions I would get without knowing how. The job stayed on my resume until I went to work for the law firm in Midtown, but I’m not sure how useful it was. It wasn’t enough to get me in the fucking door at Blockbuster.

The May before that, R.E.M. released its 12th studio album, Reveal. I heard its lead single, “Imitation of Life,” while leaving the Albuquerque airport in a rented car, and was entranced. When we got back to Boulder, I asked my parents to buy a copy of the CD, beginning a fandom that hadn’t abated ten years later when I was listening to Collapse Into Now.

Four months after Reveal was released, the U.S was hit by the September 11th attacks, the first calamity of my life. I’ve never since looked at a copy of Reveal without thinking, “That was from the world before 9/11.” Directionless. And my ability to draw meaning from the eternal return has advanced no further.

[homebody-nobody]

these skeletons got ways of coming out

k so I actually published this a few days ago but tumblr was being a butt so I couldn’t cross-post it til now anyway This is a Pope Heyward character study that ABSOLUTELY NO ONE ASKED FOR and I wrote anyway bc I needed to fix him before I could use him as a character in the rest of this series. If you disagree with the way that I've extrapolated very little data into detailed headcanons, I don't blame you but also just like read elsewhere

title from "Brother" by Kodaline ------ ao3 ------

And that -- the intersection of John B and Kiara -- the overlay of his two best friends in his heart -- that’s what scares him.

Pope realizes some things after the Phantom goes down. Things that change the way he lives his life ------

I used to be free Of any fear of emotion But these skeletons got ways of coming out I used to believe That someday you'd see That baby you got devotion in every little motion

And I won't see the storm When the rain's coming down Never let you go Never let you go Even when the madness has broken you apart Even when the madness has broken you apart

Objectively, Pope is not an idiot. He knows this. He gets good grades, and he knows more about computers and physics and a lot of other things than the rest of any of his friends. He’s a smart kid. Even though he skipped out on his scholarship interview and his grades took a very sudden dip at the end of last semester, he has a solid GPA, a fantastic ACT score, and a glittering array of colleges waiting for his application in the fall. He’s spent his entire life waiting for his chance to get out of the Cut and prove all of those motherfuckers on Figure Eight wrong. He has potential. So why, when it comes to the simplest of things, does he feel so lost?

He was sure he was in love with Kiara. Dead certain. Everything lines up. She’s kind and beautiful and intelligent, everything that matters. He feels comfortable around her, natural, like he doesn’t have to try to be funny or charming, like he’s not constantly afraid of fucking up. Everything he’s read about being in love, all the books and the articles -- it all follows. And it’s a good story, one other people will nod their heads and smile at, high school sweethearts, best friends who found solace in each other during the most difficult part of their young lives. But there’s something about it that still feels -- wrong. Uncomfortable. Like there’s the Pope that everyone else sees and then the Pope that he is, and the one in love with Kiara isn’t the same one who lays in his bed at night and stares at the ceiling fan begging for his brain to shut up.

It’s strange, to feel so separate from himself and the life he lives. He doesn’t think it’s normal. He wishes he could talk to his friends about it. It’s not like they’re dumb, the rest of the pogues. Well, not fundamentally so, anyway. John B and JJ definitely make interesting decisions sometimes. But they all inhabit their bodies without question, so sure in their skin and the feeling that they belong with each other. He slips in and out of that too readily to feel completely comfortable at every boneyard party and through every misinformed adventure. The ease is less a standard and more a pleasant surprise; there are some nights when his friends fall quiet around a bonfire and Pope realizes he can’t stop smiling, that he loves every single one of them with his whole heart and he knows they love him, too. And then he starts doubting himself, and gets nervous and quiet and weird again, and they all brush it off as Pope being Pope -- but he’s an outsider even in their little chosen family and that starts to chafe, after a while.

Honestly, he was doing a pretty excellent job of not thinking about it until John B died. Or disappeared. Or whatever you call it when your best friend goes out in an open boat in the middle of a storm and disappears off the radio and the capsized boat is found three days later with no sign of him or his kook girlfriend. Pope’s angry at him, for that. He also really, really hates Sarah, for driving him to make that choice. For her. If it was him, he would have made John B turn around. He should have tried to stop him in the first place. He shouldn’t have helped get him to the Phantom , shouldn’t have let him go.

He hasn’t been haunted by guilt like this since JJ took the blame for sinking the wakesetter, and, for some reason, this is worse. It chews at him, a constant gnawing in the center of his chest that leaves him empty and hurting every second, swallowed by a hunger consuming itself. He hasn’t stopped thinking about John B since that deadly, neverending moment of radio static. Memories flash on a constant film reel through his head. Surfing at Rixon’s, parties at the boneyard, bonfires at the chateau, afternoons on the HMS Pogue. All the moments this summer when John B smiled and Pope followed, unquestioning.

Surfing the surge. That was so beyond stupid, and Pope knew it, even before they got to the beach and saw the huge, angry waves. But John B asked, with that insane glint in his eye that he always got when he caught hold of an idea, unable to let it go, so Pope went. Someone had to keep him alive when Kie wasn’t around. And that -- the intersection of John B and Kiara -- the overlay of his two best friends in his heart -- that’s what scares him.

The whole summer, he’d watched them, first their strange tension with an undercurrent of possibility that tugged at his stomach and made him feel sick, and then their familiar platonic intimacy as they finally became comfortable in what they were to each other. Jealousy pinched and prodded at every moment of eye contact, every kiss on his cheek or lighthearted shove of her shoulder. And the way his heart soared at the salvage yard when John B told them she’d rejected him. That had to have meant something -- and what followed logic was that Pope was into Kie, and he wished himself in John B’s place.

Right?

The night the Phantom goes down, Pope thinks he’s the one who should be dead. His parents arrive to take him home, talking to him about how worried they were, how happy they are to see him safe, but his head is still full of that gut-wrenching radio static. He doesn’t hear anything they say as he watches red and blue lights dance across their faces. They pull him into a fierce hug, JJ tugged in next to him, and all he feels is hollow.

Every step he takes echoes off the side of the tunnel of his thoughts, black and void. He stays as still as he can, spread-eagle across his bed, still dressed, just to avoid the clanging of the empty air when he moves. The barest stimulation is too much, the dimmest light blinding. His chest feels like someone has reached in and turned his ribs inside out, split them with a chest-cracker and opened him up on a steel table. In the far, unexplored regions of his imagination, he can see his own autopsy, surgery performed on a perfectly silent boy, hands at his sides, eyes still open, heart still beating.

Night falls around him, from grey dusk to the unforgiving ink-black you can only get in power outages on a tiny island fighting to breathe through the salt marsh. The only thing that drives him from his bed is the urgent cry of his bladder, and it’s easier to get dressed for bed once he’s already moving across the floor. The floorboards creak under his feet and while he would normally walk lightly for fear of being hassled for waking the house the next morning, his steps are heavy and dragging. Staring at the counter, he reaches for his toothbrush and squeezes toothpaste out onto the worn bristles. He puts it in his mouth and looks up, making eye contact reflection for the first time.

You love him.  

The realization hits him as clearly as if someone had whispered directly in his ear. It’s like an icepick through the center of his exposed, defenseless heart. He lowers the toothbrush slowly, the silence of the house ringing in his ears like sirens. His breath quickens, his bare chest rising and falling as he backs away from the counter, fear and grief and disappointment and a thousand other things he can’t name swirling in him like the storm that ended life the way he knew it. The tears start, flowing down his face silently at first and then, as he loses all control of his breath and his hands find their way into his hair, accompanied by gut-wrenching, heartbreaking sobs, broken sounds of grief and loss in too many respects.

Heyward rushes down the hall, throwing the door open, fear for his son wild in his eyes. He finds Pope doubled over, hyperventilating, face a mess of snot and tears, eyes squeezed closed, as he shakes and sobs. After a moment in the door, he pushes in, pulling Pope into his chest, wrapping firm, solid arms built from hard work and weather-beaten skin around him. “It’s gonna be alright, kid,” he whispers as Pope shivers violently against him. “It’s gonna be alright.”

Pope doesn’t remember being folded into his bed, or how the glass of water and bottle of Advil ended up on his bedside table. He wakes up well into the afternoon, the room heavy and sticky with the day’s heat, the air conditioning rendered useless with the lack of electricity. The golden light fools him into a pleasant kind of ignorance for half a moment before the reality of the previous night crashes over him ,and suddenly the comfy nest of his bed feels like a prison, sucking him down like quicksand into the mattress. He puts his hands over his face, pressing fingertips into aching eyes, trying to keep himself calm by counting backwards from four hundred, a number with each breath. When he reaches three hundred and fifty four he feels like he might be able to move again, and he reaches for the water and gulps it down, a note stuck to the bottom fluttering to the floor.

He swings his legs out of bed to pick it up, recognizing his mother’s handwriting on the pink post-it note, smudged and running from the condensation. Breakfast in the fridge , it says, don’t worry about the store. Rest. We love you. It makes his skin itch, rather than being comforting. The storm in his head turns a tide toward guilt, like he’s keeping a secret that he just learned, himself. The bed calls, but he knows that if he collapses back into it he won’t move for the rest of the day, and that he should stand before he changes his mind. The ache in his belly forces him up, and he pads through the empty house, feeling halfway like a ghost. Eggs with peppers and cheese, sausage, and hashbrowns are on a covered plate in the fridge, and he unwraps it and puts it in the microwave, watching the food rotate as his mind comes to grips with consciousness.

He’s in love with John B. The boy that taught him how to play beer pong and smoke a bowl, the surfer that pushes him while they’re out on the water, daring him to bigger and bigger tricks, making him better. The idiot that chases gold and kook girls without a glance at impossibility, simply because he has no understanding of the idea. The John B that died last night.

The microwave beeps and he takes his food to the counter, hunched over it, twisting a fork between his fingers and feeling like his stomach might feel better on the outside of him. He takes a few bites, to see if maybe just the potatoes might go down easy, but they taste like ash, and he sits back from the plate, sore and exhausted. He wanders through the house and eventually back up to his room, standing in front of his closet, knowing he should get dressed but overwhelmed by even the simplest choice. Finally, he just pulls on a plain t-shirt over his basketball shorts, and, after catching a glimpse of his hair, puts a snapback on backwards. He doesn’t feel like sitting, so he doesn’t, tucking his keys in his pocket and sliding on a pair of flip flops, leaving the house without his phone or any sort of destination, just walking as his thoughts churn and crash over each other without being much of anything at all.

The heat sends sweat rolling down his temples and between his shoulder blades but he barely feels it, keeping his eyes on his feet as he shuffles down the side of the road. Normally, he’d be listening for any sound that might indicate Rafe or Topper coming up behind him, constantly judging the proximity of the cars, quietly bemoaning the blister forming under his left big toe from the strap of his sandal. But the only thing he senses is the slap of his shoes against the asphalt, carrying him aimlessly across the island.

His own denial fights vocally to be heard under the stifling realization, but it’s something he’s been pushing down for years, ignoring even as the obvious signs wiggled their way into his every day life, like the goosebumps at John B’s touch or the expansion of his chest when John B laughed. It was always there, waiting for him to see it, quietly growing and climbing its way like ivy from his heart to his head, finally bursting from underneath his skin at the worst possible moment.

He’s going to have to tell his dad. There won’t be any way to explain the grief crashing over him without the truth. That settles itself on his shoulders right next to the realization itself and everything else he’s been holding up for months. Knowing the name of it, at least, makes it easier to handle. He’s been carrying around his feelings for John B without knowing what they were, mis-assigning them to Kiara and fucking up what’s probably his favorite friendship. He’s gonna have to tell her, too. He’s not looking forward to that.

As he walks, it settles in, making a home along with all the other true things about him. Pope Heyward. Black. Sixteen years of age. Six feet tall. Pogue. And, he guesses, gay. Maybe bi. But probably gay. Looking back, no girl has ever made him feel the way that John B makes -- he swallows. Used to make him feel. With his stupid floppy hair and his kind brown eyes and that absurd jawline. Tears cloud his eyes and the path in front of him blurs. His best friend is dead . And it took that horrible, heart-shattering tragedy for him to figure out how he felt about him.

He keeps walking for a while, choking back tears and half-planning conversations with his parents and Kie, listening to the slap of his sandals on the cracked asphalt littered with long, dry pine needles and cracked seed pods, signalling the nearing end of summer. He feels, gratefully, a little more clear-headed, less freaked out than he thought he would be. He always feels better, having a plan, no matter how vague and ineffectual that plan may turn out to be.

After a while, he looks up, and finds himself in Figure Eight -- a very dangerous place to be, given the current social climate of the island -- not very far from Kie’s house. He heaves a sigh. Better now than later. Pausing before mounting the porch, Pope spares a second of a regret for his appearance. Kiara’s parents have never been keen on him or either of the other boys, and he knows that showing up in tattered shorts and flip flops won’t exactly help his case. Anna opens the door, looking surprised to see him, and Pope is momentarily relieved it isn’t Kie’s father.

“Good morning,” she says, wary.

“Hi,” Pope replies, lacking his usual magical parent-charming abilities, exhaustion and grief sapping the energy from his bones. There’s an awkward pause as Mrs. Carrera awaits the explanation of a rattily dressed pogue boy on her porch and Pope scrambles for one. He settles on the obvious. “Is Kie here?” He doesn’t know where else she’d be, honestly, but it’s the usual go-to for when they’re dragging Kie back to the Cut for nonsense and potential delinquency, and he’s hoping her mom won’t question it.

“She’s not,” Anna says, concern coloring her tone. “She isn’t with you?” Pope feels his eyebrows draw together, a betrayal of his own confusion, an immediate admittance of guilt.

“I, uh --” he says eloquently as panic overtakes Anna’s face. “I mean, she --” He’s saved by the girl herself riding down the sidewalk on a bike that looks like it’s seen better days, rattling loudly as she cruises toward the house. “There she is!” he says, with a disturbing amount of forced enthusiasm that puts the same expression on Kie and Anna’s faces. “So, we’re all good. Thanks, Mrs. C!”

But Anna isn’t gonna let her daughter slide so easily. “Kiara,” she says, “You weren’t in your room this morning.”

“I went for a bike ride,” Kie replies coldly. “I needed to think.”

“For three hours?” Anna asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kie shrugs. “I needed to think a lot.” Anna looks like she wants a little more information out of her daughter, but she looks at Pope, clearly reluctant to start a fight with him around. He feels caught, standing on the porch between mother and daughter, like he’s in a room with a half-constructed bomb. Kie’s hands fidget with the handlebars. “C’mon, Pope,” she says.

“No way,” Anna interjects. Kie opens her mouth like she wants to argue, but her mother’s words cut her off. “You two can hang out on the porch for a while, but when you’re done,” and here, she looks at Kiara like she might actually commit murder if her daughter doesn’t listen to her, “Come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”

Kie heaves a heavy breath. “Fine,” she says. Satisfied, Anna turns and goes inside. Pope drops off the porch and walks with Kie as she walks the bike over to the garage.

“Hey,” he says, his heart in his throat. This is a complete turnaround from the emptiness of earlier, every inch of him hyper aware of her body language, the changes in her expression and her attitude towards him. His entire life feels like a shipwreck, dashed against the rocks after careful years of building, after months of planning the perfect voyage. “Bike ride?” he asks, because he always knows when she’s lying.

She props her bike up against the side of the garage. “I was with JJ,” she blows out on a sigh. She doesn’t look at him as they walk around to the back porch. “At the Chateau.” Pulling her hair out of it’s ponytail, she splits it over her shoulders, fidgeting nervously with the ends. “I didn’t want him to be alone.”

He’s about to say that he was alone, that maybe he wanted to have his friends around him, too, but then he remembers his father catching him in the bathroom, waking up in his own bed, water and a note on the bedside table. JJ wouldn’t have gotten any of that. He can’t even go home, not after Luke Maybank finds out what happened to his precious Phantom . With John B -- gone -- JJ doesn’t have anyone left. Except for them. And Pope was too wrapped up in his own grief and bullshit to think about something like that. He takes a second to be grateful for Kiara.

They reach the steps to the Carrera’s back porch, and she sits down on the second-to-last one. “I have something to tell you,” she says, and she still won’t look at him. Half of him wonders what she’s upset about while the other hopes she can’t hear his heartbeat, it’s pounding so loud in his own ears.

Slowly, he sinks down next to her, the morning sun radiant across her skin, amplified by the reflection off the channel. He takes a deep breath. “I have something to tell you, too.” Her eyebrows draw together. He licks his lips. She pulls her knees up to her chest. He stares at his feet. They’re afraid of each other, and the awkward tension in the air makes him hate every wrong thing he said, every lie he told her, even though he believed them when he said it. She doesn’t say anything else, and he takes that as his cue to go first. He looks up, before he says anything, taking in her kind brown eyes, the soft lines of her kind, intelligent face. He wants one last picture of her before he changes everything. “I don’t love you,” he says.

Her face contorts in an expression of surprise and offense, and he rapidly backpedals. “I mean, I do.” he says. “Of course I do, but like, like a sister.”

“A sister,” she says incredulously, confusion rising in her eyes.

“Not -- Oh, fuck, that’s not --” He drops his head in his hands, his blood rushing so loudly in his ears he can’t hear himself think. “This is not going well.”

“No shit,” she says, but there’s a little bit of relief in her voice. This bumbling, tripping-over-his-words Pope makes a lot more sense than the one that lost his shit and nearly killed Rafe Cameron the previous day. (And God, was that only yesterday?) He digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, and she notices his breath start to quicken. “Pope?” she asks, leaning forward and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Kie, I’m gay.” It falls out of his mouth like a boulder, hitting the ground and shaking the earth with its weight. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and it’s terrifying, to have it so concrete in front of him, no longer nebulous and trapped in his head. He can’t take it back, can’t lie about it anymore, to her or himself or anyone else. He has to live with that truth, now, no matter how he feels about it. Part of that, while intimidating, makes him feel just a little bit more free.

“Oh,” she says, and he’s too panicked to discern anything in her tone. “Okay.” He doesn’t want to look at her, doesn’t want to see the horror or anger or whatever else must be settling there.

He rushes to explain himself, like he didn’t hear. “I’m sorry that I thought I was in love with you,” he says, even as she feels a thousand worries slip from her shoulders like coming up from diving under a wave. “I just, I was jealous, and I thought that it was John B I was jealous of, but it wasn’t, it was you, and then he--” Pope blows by his name before he chokes on it, realizing what he’s said aloud, how dangerous and loaded a once-familiar thing has become. “It wasn’t him I was jealous of,” he repeats, lacing his fingers over the back of his head, dropping it to his chest. “It wasn’t him.” He squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing down the tears fighting their way up his throat.

Kie hesitates in reaching for him, but the moment her fingertips brush his shoulder, she falls against her best friend, wrapping her arms around him as best she can. “Oh, Pope,” she whispers, as tears well in her own eyes. “Oh Pope, I’m so sorry.” He falls into her embrace, all his anger and uncertainty dissipating like fog at dawn. They both cry for a while, her silently, him shaking. She does her best to comfort him, but his grief has taken on a different tone she can no longer imagine.

When his breath finally slows, he sits up out of her arms, wiping under his eyes. “You aren’t mad?” He asks, in true Pope fashion.

“Why would I be mad?” she asks, disbelief echoing in her words.

“Well, I was…” he sniffs, watching his hands fold over each other. “I was kind of a jerk about it.” He feels bad, about the way everything went down. He was drowning, in disappointment and confusion and a million other things he still doesn’t have words for that he wishes he could explain. He was an asshole to her when he should have listened and  

She knocks their shoulders together with half a sly smile. “Yeah, you kind of were.” It feels good to be joking with him like this again, after the last couple of days of chaos and anger and disappointment after disappointment. They’re best friends for a reason, her boys and her.

“And then --” he swallows, remembering the moments at the Dump after John B disappeared into the marsh, moments he still doesn’t understand. “Y-you kissed me, and --”

The smile falls off her face. “I shouldn’t have done that,” she says. She shifts her weight between her feet, her knees moving back and forth as they sit side by side on the porch steps, picking at her nails. “That wasn’t --” she looks at him, and he looks back. “I shouldn’t have done that.” She stretches her legs out in front of her, knocking her sneakers together, her hands dropping to her lap. “I have my own shit to figure out, Pope,” she says. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

Pope leans over, “You wanna talk about it?” he asks pointedly. He knows she likes to talk things through, make sense of them by pushing everything out into the atmosphere so she can see it all, pick out the pieces that make sense. He also doesn’t want to talk about him, anymore.

“No,” she says abruptly. He leans back into his own space, holding his hands up a little, and she bites her lip, like she does when she’s thinking too hard about what to say next. “I’m sorry,” she admits. “I just --” she knocks her feet together again before pulling them back up to the last step, her chin falling onto her knees. “I gotta think about it some more, I guess.” She looks at him, screwing up her face in that way that makes everyone agree that she’s adorable. “I’ve got some more I’ve gotta work out.”

“You know you can still talk to me, right?” he reassures her. He used to be the best listener, before he went and fucked everything up. Kie would talk to him about things John B and JJ would never understand, usually about parents or family pressure, things she felt guilty discussing with either one of their practically-orphaned friends. Pope understood, and it was easy to let Kie just let everything out, answering her own questions, defining problems and putting together solutions in the same breath. It’s part of the reason he assumed they would end up together, before -- well. Before. She trusted him, and he fucked that up, and now he can only hope that he can earn it back.

“I know,” she says, folding her arms on top of her knees and looking back out across the channel. “It’s not because of --” she stops, unsure of how to define it.

“Yeah,” he answers. He doesn’t want to talk about it either.

“It’s just --” she goes quiet for a second, picking through words like the wrong ones are rotten, and he watches her, the slight breeze off the water picking up strands of her hair. Her shoulder drops as she moves her head, and a few curls shift enough that he can see dark red marks tracking up the side of her neck. Hickies? “I don’t think I have words for it yet,” she says, finishing her sentence. JJ , he thinks, her confession about her absence this morning circling back through his mind. The word is JJ .

Pope isn’t blind. He sees the way JJ looks at her. He always has. It never unsettled him like the shared glances between Kie and John B, and now he knows why. It’s a little relieving, to not have to manufacture false jealousy in the pit of his stomach, to have to lie to himself in order to make his constructed, false worldview make sense. JJ and Kie -- they’re going to be something else to handle, with the inherent chaos of how they both handle their emotions and the forced bravado they both put on, but he supposes they were… inevitable, in a way. Kiara was misinterpreting her own feelings, just like he was, forcing herself to believe she loved someone who made more sense, someone that was easier to accept than confronting the truth. John B was his truth -- JJ is hers. He’s grateful, in a way, that they’ll have each other, through this -- once she gains the same clarity he’s come to.

“It’s okay,” he says, as everything slides into place. He’s not gonna rush this, not gonna make her take steps she’s not ready for. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.” She smiles at him -- a weak thing, but genuine.

“Thanks, Pope,” she says.

He shrugs. “What are best friends for?” She drops her head against his shoulder, and for the first time since Shoupe confirmed their worst fears, he feels like things might, someday, be okay again.

They stay like that for a while, and then she asks him if he wants to talk more about it, and Pope recounts the moment of clarity in the bathroom, his thought process on his walk across the island. Kie listens, because he’s still her best friend, and it’s one of his favorite things about her, the way she makes it so easy to let everything out, the way she makes him feel seen. She doesn’t say much, but she doesn’t have to, because everything is still so fresh and bleeding that he doesn’t know what he wants to hear, yet. She reassures him she still loves him, that she’ll stick with him no matter what, just like she’s always promised to do, and that seems to do the trick.

Eventually, Mrs. Carrera comes out and offers to drive Pope home, a very pointed instruction to the both of them. She goes to get the car, leaving the two of them to say goodbye on the porch. Kie stands with her arms crossed over her stomach, like she’s holding herself together. “My parents are probably gonna have me on lockdown for a while,” she says, biting on the corner of her lip.  

“Mine too,” he answers, with some inkling of what she’s about to ask him.

“Do you think you could --” she starts, and she’s staring somewhere around his collarbones, because JJ means more to her now, and makes this request, somehow, different. “I mean, with service down, it’s gonna be hard to keep in touch and I just --” She sighs, frustrated with herself, that she can’t get the words out. “When his dad figures out what happened --”

Pope interrupts her this time, reaches a gentle hand out for her arm. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” he promises. “I’ll talk to my parents…” he says, automatically, his usual main resource for help or assistance, and pauses, remembering the note he left on with his father, how things might go without the overhang of a recent disaster. His parents. They’ll be out all day, at least, won’t know about his sojourn to Figure Eight. But they’ll be back, and he has a lot to face.

“Will you just make sure he’s safe?” she asks, small and scared, and, in true Kiara fashion, ashamed to be asking for help.

“Yeah,” he answers. He wraps her in a tight hug, grateful to have his friend back, to be centering somewhere at least slightly left of normal, to be spiralling down from the insane high of failure and the chaos of being half a fugitive. “Yeah, of course.”

Mrs. Carrera drives him home, and even though she tries to ask him how he’s holding up, he answers monosyllabically, avoiding small talk by staring out the window and doing his best to stave off the encroaching panic as he anticipates the upcoming conversation with his father. Anna watches him carefully, and he can feel her eyes on him. It makes him uneasy.

Watching Figure Eight slowly melt into subdivisions and condominiums and then, as houses get smaller and the weeds get wilder, into the Cut. In a matter of minutes, fantastic wealth descends into abject struggle and poverty, a jarring display of privilege and elitism that Pope and the others are no longer shocked by. They grew up in it, cut down over and over again by a system that simply wasn’t built for them, grew up before their time because the kooks never will, abdicating responsibility and ignoring the fallout. Pope’s thoughts wander to Topper’s wakesetter, bile rising in his throat. His impulsive mistake ruined JJ’s life at sixteen, and the Thorntons, well. They’ll just buy another boat.

When they reach the Heywards’, Anna cuts the engine, and Pope doesn’t move, staring at his family’s little house, shabby but well-kept, his mother’s vegetable garden in full swing, bursting with a physical manifestation of love and care in an explosion of green leaves and colorful fruits and vegetables. He thinks about the Carrera’s neatly kept lawn, the decorative plants placed carefully on their wraparound porch, the contrast between the two images. Chaos and love, wealth and precision.

“I love your mother’s garden,” Anna says, almost like she doesn’t mean to. “I wish she’d tell me her secret.”

You can’t have it , Pope thinks, selfishly. He wants this one thing, for his mother, for his family. Instead, he answers; “I wouldn’t know.” This, he realizes, is unfortunately true. When was the last time he helped his mother with her garden? Asked her what she wanted to do on a Saturday? He helps with the store, of course, but in that, he doesn’t have a choice. He’s spent so much time chasing John B, first his promise of adventure, and then his approval, and then, desperate to help him in his hour of need. When was the last time he helped with the yard work? Helped make dinner? Stayed in on a Friday night?

His parents love him violently, work hard to give him opportunities they never had. His father breaks his back, works the store, the delivery service, any hard labor job he can get, used to being a tool, something to be taken advantage of, a means to an end. He does it so Pope can go to school, have a laptop to do homework and apply for colleges on, have a phone to text his friends and stay in contact with his parents. His throat thickens with the realization that his father was right -- he has been ungrateful. He’s been disrespectful, and rude, and if it was him, he wouldn’t even let himself back into the house, much less comfort him, leave him breakfast and reassuring notes.

Anna takes the emotion in his eyes for something else, and she puts a hand on his shoulder that feels so distinctly different from Kiara’s that it’s fundamentally wrong, and he freezes under her touch. “I know this is hard,” she says, in a tone that tries for concerned mom and lands somewhere closer to patronizing school counselor. “But you’ll get through it. You have each other, and that’s the most important part.”

“Thanks,” he says coldly, reaching for the door handle before climbing quickly out of the car. When his feet hit the packed-dirt drive, he stops, feeling like an asshole. “And thank you. For the ride.” He goes to shut the door, but she interrupts him.

“Pope,” she says, and he looks up at her, making eye contact for the first time since he got in the car. “If you -- or your family -- needs anything…” She bites her lip the same way Kie does. “Just, don’t hesitate to ask.” Pope usually rankles under the suggestion of charity, pride bred into him alongside a stubborn willfulness that rivals even his father’s, but she knows life in the Cut, has faced the same things he and his family deal with every day. It’s an odd juxtaposition, her inherent compassion and her dislike of her daughter’s friends. It’s what, at the end of the day, separates her eternally from Kie.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Of course. Thanks, Ms. Anna.”

When he reaches the door, he hears tires twist in the dirt, and Anna Carrera drives away, back to her house, her daughter, her life on Figure Eight. Pope lets himself in, showers off the sweat from his trek to Kie’s, and sets about cleaning the house, both as a distraction and a desperate appeal for his parents’ forgiveness. The whole afternoon, he rehearses a million different versions of the same speech, apologies and admittances, going back and forth about copping to the sinking of Topper’s boat, afraid of his father’s wrath and the legal consequences, but still guilty and anxious to the point of nausea over it, desperate to do the right thing.

Pope was raised with a strong sense of right and wrong, a deep and little-discussed Catholic faith, and a strong sense of familial pride. What Heywards are and aren’t, what they do and don’t do -- it was all drilled into him from a young age. Heywards pay their debts. Heywards don’t complain, don’t argue, don’t talk back. Heywards work hard. Heywards work honest.

Heywards aren’t gay.

It was never said, but Pope knows his dad. He knows what counts as acceptable behavior, the future his father imagines for him. A college degree, a Good Job, a house, a wife, kids -- he knows what’s expected. He tries to wrestle with the disappointment that he’ll never own up to that image as he scrubs the stove, tears welling up as he works at a particularly stubborn grease stain. He’s already disappointed them so much, just in the past few days. What will they say? What will they think of him?

He knows he’s lucky, as a kid in the Cut with both parents still around, still willing to work, still willing to love him. There are too many kids like John B and JJ, left behind, ignored and neglected, the victims of vicious cycles and cruel tragedies. Pope still has a whole family, as small and broken as it may be. He should start acting like it.

He’s just finished dusting the living room when he hears tires in the driveway, the rattling engine of his father’s old pickup, and he freezes like a prey animal caught in an open plain. They’re home. His mother makes quiet comments on the improved state of the house as they toss keys in bowls and remove shoes, speaking calmly to each other, the soft noises of domesticity and routine. Routine he is about to monumentally disrupt, more than he ever has.

Pope has a speech planned. He has things he wants to say, sentences he needs them to hear in the same way he has them planned. Everything needs to follow the course he’s laid out, or it could be open to misinterpretation. He’s prepared. That’s what he does -- he plans, he structures, he researches and prepares. All of that disintegrates the moment his father walks into the living room.

“Pope,” he says. “You cleaned.”

“Dad, I’m sorry,” Pope says, and the words choke him, tears welling and spilling in the same instant, like a faucet turning on after winter. He tells him everything, about Topper’s wakesetter and the failed treasure hunt and the impossible hope that drew him from his scholarship interview, the desperation and the certainty that he was following, determined to be the final piece of the puzzle, the thing that saved his friends. He begs for forgiveness, crying and broken, looking for himself in his fathers eyes. Heyward doesn’t say anything for a long time, soaking in the information. His wife is struck dumb, at Pope’s heart breaks with the horror in his mother’s eyes, at his admittances of all he’s done.

“Please,” Pope begs. “Say something.”

The silence that hangs in the living room feels like a gun against his temple, his father’s finger on the trigger. “Well son,” Heyward says, “What are you gonna do about it?”

“What --” Pope’s brain stops, too overwhelmed to process this reaction from his father. There is grief and anger, guilt and fear, and a thousand other things he cannot name. He is out of words, out of ideas and out of power. He wants someone to tell him what to do, because cannot possibly summon the energy to determine a path himself.

“You sunk that boy’s boat?” Pope nods, dumbfounded, answering on instinct. Heyward looks tired. “You let your friend take the fall?”

“I --” It’s hard, to hear it in his father’s voice, to hear the disappointment there, to feel it, real, metallic, and cutting in the air. “Yeah.”

Heyward shrugs, like it’s simple. “What are you gonna do about it?” Maybe it is. Pope got himself into this mess, and now he needs to get himself out.

“I don’t --” he starts, with nowhere to go.

“You gonna do the right thing?” His father asks, his tone implying that there is one answer.

Pope straightens up, closes his mouth, swallows down all the tears, all the uncertainty and vulnerability. He has asked for guidance, and his father is providing it. There is no more room for weakness here. “Yes, sir.”

Heyward nods, and turns to Yvonne, who has tears in her eyes. “He’ll be fine, sweetheart,” He says to his wife. “We’ve got a good boy here. He’ll be fine.” He wraps his arms around her, folding her into his chest in a familiar, nostalgic gesture. Pope feels awkward, watching his parents comfort each other, but he knows that his feelings are not the most important in the room. His chest hurts knowing he’s the one who caused their pain.

But this conversation still isn’t over. “Dad, um,” he says, and Heyward looks at him with exhaustion in his wizened eyes. “there’s one more thing.”

Heyward turns toward him again, leaving one arm around his wife. “Well I don’t know if you can shock me anymore today, Pope,” he says, “so go ahead.”

The words dam up behind his lips, and his hands flex at his sides, clenching into fists and spreading out again, and there’s no way out of this, not anymore. It was easier with Kie, for some reason.  “Dad, I’m gay.” It hangs there, bigger and somehow more terrifying than anything he’s said since his parents came home. The air in the living room doesn’t move, stale and muggy in the North Carolina evening, without the hum of the fridge or the air conditioner for reprieve.

Heyward blinks. Once, twice. Yvonne shakes on a silent sob, a noise that cracks Pope’s ribs open. “Okay,” his father replies.

It is somehow relieving and disappointing all at once. Pope doesn’t lie to his parents, at least, as much as he can help it. “Is that all?” he asks, because he expected -- something more? Something beyond indifference. Maybe rage, maybe affirmation. Maybe some indicator that this was just as big of a deal as he made it out to be.

“What else do you want me to say?” Heyward asks, knowing this is the most he and his son have talked about anything in years. The last mention at vulnerability came before the ill-fated scholarship interview, less than a minute of conversation before Heyward left his son to take a job. Sometimes he kicks himself for that, wondering about what might have happened if he’d waited, been there when his son made one of the most impulsive decisions of his young life. Could he have caught him coming out the door? Talked him down? What would today be, if Heyward had been there?

Pope looks at his father through a haze of tears, his breath somewhere other than his chest, uncontrollable and foreign. “You don’t hate me?”

Heyward shrugs. “You’re still my son, ain’t you?” Pope nods, sniffling and backhanding tears off of his face. “Well then, I guess I still love you.” Pope doesn’t remember the last time his father said that to him. “Pope,” Heyward sighs, heaving himself off the couch. “You’ve done a lot these past few weeks I don’t understand. I’m not gonna pretend I’m not upset with you.” Pope looks at his father’s feet, weary and sore on the threadbare carpet. “But you bein gay? That ain’t why.”

And that, that breaks the tenuous control he has over his emotions, and he sobs, loud and hard and echoing in the small living room. “I thought maybe -- maybe you might --” Pope tries, his arms at his sides, fists clenched, chest shaking. Heyward steps forward, wrapping his arms around his son, because he may not know what Pope is going to do, what he’s going to do as a father, as a man. Even though neither of them know how they’re going to get through this, how they’re going to deal with the police department, the Thorntons, John B’s death, and the rest -- they  know this, they know the faith they have in each other, the love and respect that lives there, even after everything.

Pope’s father pulls back from the embrace, places his hands on his son’s shoulders and levels him with the same stare that Pope has known his whole life. “What are you?” he asks, the same way he’s asked a million times before. This is a routine, between father and son, in moments of desperation, a way of taking a step back up from the most crushing of lows, of taking back control, setting their shoulders and facing into the wind.

Pope knows the answer. “I’m a Heyward.”

[zwantstobe]

I was looking through my notes and found some things I wrote about my classes from the first semester of senior year. I wish I wrote more. But I’m glad I wrote it down, to preserve these memories. Who knew the world could suddenly change?

Note: I’m shortening/abbreviating some names and giving nicknames to preserve their identities.

My brother and I are always running to the bus. There’s only one day where I was able to walk calmly to the bus stop. Sometimes when we’re late my mom or dad or grandma drops us to the stop. It’s dark outside (or light, depending on before daylight savings or after), and the neighborhood is all quiet unless there’s people leaving for work. I get so tired and fatigued. I can’t run the whole journey, I need to walk. I pray that we’ll reach on time. I probably look so stupid running like this, I hope everyone is sleeping instead of staring at me out their window. Sometimes I talk to SBR and my brother’s friend, MHD, at the stop, exchanging like 10 words total. We’re all tired. SBR is just shy and awkward but he’s still adorable. The bus comes 2 minutes late sometimes. The bus driver is nice, he doesn’t talk much but he’s like a tired bear. I say good morning to him and he says it back. The bus is full but I manage to find a seat. I try and sit as far front as possible. The ride is calm, quiet, bumpy. I lay my head on the seat in front of me sometimes, sometimes I sit there with my eyes closed. I wanna stay riding this bus all day instead of going to school. When we get to school, I say thank you to the bus driver and he mumbles “You’re welcome, have a nice day” and I say “you too” whenever I hear him say it. I wait for Manal to get off the bus and when she does, I give her a big hug. Sometimes she gets off before me and she’s the one waiting for me. Sometimes she doesn’t come on the bus and I don’t know so I awkwardly wait for everyone to get off the bus until I realize she’s not getting off so I just go inside. I sit in my usual seat in the library and Manal is sitting with me most of the time; sometimes Zainab is there, sometimes Mahya is there, sometimes Malaika is there, sometimes Leila is there, sometimes Tommy is there. Sunayna joins me after the bell rings and everyone else is gone.

Off campus. This is the time when I just sit in the library and it’s dark outside (or light outside, depending on which time of the year it is). The library is quiet. Ms B or Ms G or both are at the librarian counter, just doing their thing. Earlier on Ms G’s son is there just running around before she leaves to take him to school. He’s a smart kid. There’s a white board that has a word and we need to find out what other words we can make with those letters. I fill up the board with random jumbles of letters that don’t even form proper words. There’s tubes labeled with different genres of books that you can put a ball in to show you like that genre and sometimes I just go there to fill up the tubes with balls and Ms B glares at me. Sunayna is almost always there and sometimes we have deep conversations about philosophy and life and sometimes it’s the two of us stressing over calculus and English. Leila is there sometimes, and she’s either ranting or watching something or laughing at Sunayna and I for being so stressed over a quiz or a test. We get too loud sometimes and Ms B kinda tells us to shush because people come into the library to study quietly and then there’s us who are way too loud. Sometimes we get kicked out of the library, sometimes for being too loud and sometimes for no reason at all, just that the library is closed for the time being. Zeeshan sometimes makes an appearance because he also has first off. Sometimes I see Mahya and Renelle walking around. I’m always opening the door for people who come in late, and sometimes it’s Zunayra and sometimes it’s Palm Tree (he kinda stopped coming through that door), and back when I had a crush on him I’d always try and run to open the door for him. Sometimes Fatima appears out of nowhere and opens it for him. He doesn’t acknowledge you if you open the door. Ayesha comes at the end of first period and Leila sometimes comes later, if she’s not already there. I usually go to Mr T’s class to say hi to him and to talk with him in the last ten minutes of first period, and Leila and Ayesha and Sunayna come with me most of the time. Sometimes we have interesting conversations.

Calculus. I sit on the far right side of the class next to the wall, so sometimes I just rest my head against the wall. There’s also an outlet there if I want to charge something. That class gave me a lot of stress and anxiety and panic. Sometimes I’m so tired I just end up falling asleep while taking notes and I miss things. I’m always a few seconds late to the class since I’m walking with Ayesha or Leila after first period. The teacher is such a cinnamon roll; she’s this elderly middle aged lady with a son who just got engaged a few days ago and she’s planning on retiring this year since she taught here for more than 30 years, so she has senioritis too. She also works at the main committee for her church and does a bunch of her husband’s work and tries to get as much grading done as possible in one day. She likes to complain but it’s the funny kind of complaining. She probably told a lot of her life story to us. She gives off that Hallmark movie mother vibe, where the mother is all chill and happy and jolly and sweet. The guy who sits behind me, Justin, I think? He’s always 15 minutes late because he parks at the pool parking lot and walks all the way to school. Another guy in class has chickens and pigs at home and he talked about how smart his chickens were. One of the other guys in my class makes dark jokes sometimes and the teacher gets so worried and he’s like “nah! It’s all good!” and she responds by saying he shouldn’t joke about suicide or whatever he’s joking about. Sometimes I know what’s happening in the class, and sometimes (most of the time) I just get depressed over it. And I procrastinate 100% in doing the work for it.

Econ. On the way to this class sometimes I see Manal and Mahya and Vanna. If I wait long enough to go to class Palm Tree walks the opposite way to his class. This class is super chill and usually the lights are off since Mr J is explaining the notes to us. I’m sitting in the back corner with Ayesha, my legs resting on the chair in front of me. I’m eating my breakfast and some of my lunch. Sometimes all of my lunch. Mr J is really sweet and nice and tries to make the class as easy as humanly possible for us. We watch CTV, laugh at all the stupid stuff on it. We watch Abhiram’s short films and try not to laugh. We laugh at the balloon at the front of the class named “Jezegg”. We talk way too much in that class and we watch things and listen to things and quickly do our forensics work and obsess over After Dark. Young Steve Jobs is cute but he’s a jerk, I guess I’m attracted to borderline sociopathic cute jerks. We barely ever pay attention to Mr J and I feel bad because the class has the least amount of work. Everyone’s probably annoyed by all our laughing and talking and randomness but I don’t care because I have the most fun in that class with Ayesha. When we walk out of class Mr J fist bumps us and we encounter Melanie in the hallway, then we see a tired Zainab and she hugs us and she smells like shampoo and she’s adorable. Palm Tree comes this way and I used to get a jump of happiness seeing him but now that my crush on him is gone it’s just a lil jerk of the heart in surprise but that’s it. Ayesha and I part ways and our poop pods (Airpods) disconnect after a few seconds.

I miss everything. I miss all this. Senior year wasn’t the best year but it certainly was eventful - at least in the beginning. Then March came and everything went to crap. But you know what? I’m grateful. I have all these memories to hold onto. I hope we make more memories in the future.

@twinsarekeepers @ayeshintheclouds

[themedicalmanofmystery]

Documentary

November of 2018 I decided that I wanted to return back to school/TAFE/Uni. I have spent a large part of my life trying to find a creative outlet for the ton of idea's that race around my brain daily and not having the means or the confidence to release that creativity. I mean this is before we are even talking about life and health issues getting in the way which eventually leads to a Doctor give me the name of the website and the documentary that is incoming. I had thought about and still think about dabbling with it all. I wanted to be a pro wrestler as I love the industry and its unique way in which melds physical storytelling with verbal and more traditional storytelling, these days because of my medical issues, I now think of how creatively or any other job bar being a wrestler I could get involved with wrestling. I even thought about being and still do think about being a stand up comic again for their unique way of storytelling and how they can make that humorous. I have thought about acting, voice acting, radio, audiobooks, making old school type radio shows, podcasting, heck I even wrote 5 hip hop songs, etc the lot you name it I have thought about it, dabbled a bit into it then for one reason or another be it health, cost, life or the fact that while I portray someone that is confident there is none their, while not worried what people think of me, I am worried about feeding them material. I decide that I want to go to university so I can do a film course as I want to be a director while waiting for offers, one of my medical issues come up and I end up in the hospital. I end up getting an offer come through that I had been accepted on a Thursday morning it stated that I had to enroll tomorrow and that classes started Monday, so I was already under the pump as I only had the weekend to recover and when I re-read my offer I discovered it was a course that wasn't for film and media it was digital technologies which are for graphic design, animation, and video editing. I thought about it for a while and saw it as a chance to develop some new skills and maybe find a passion or an interest in something that I didn't have before. I lasted to partway into the second semester when I made up my mind to leave and apply for the film course at another TAFE/University, I got accepted and basically had 4-5 months to sort myself out and think about what I was gonna film/shoot, etc. My anticipation and vigor to get into this course was something that I hadn't for a while, I spent some much time in and out of hospital and not able to do much of anything that it had killed my passion for a lot of things. This however stoked a fire that hadn't been but needed to be stoked for a long time, my creativity. I have always had a creative mind whatever that creativity maybe from writing stories to writing songs to wrestling, to stand up comedy to making film/tv and the one essential to all my creativity is the storytelling. While never having done any of them as a full-on career, or more than occasional bases or jokingly with mates or even not at all, I have always appreciated the art forms and wanted it to be one of the fields I entered, it has always been my confidence that I have struggled with. Not that many people that know me would believe it but it has always been that which has held me back. The course starts and like most of us in the early days of a new course, I'm off to a flyer. I have stories and idea's coming out my mind left, right, and center. I can barely keep up with my own thoughts most of the time, we are given a task that we are to write and produce a web series. I got a general idea of how and what I want to do and start aiming to achieve that goal. I conduct the research I need to do, continue developing my idea and then the world decides that a global pandemic is happening. I am certainly not questioning the seriousness of the pandemic nor making light of it as people have lost their lives and that is truly horrible, I am only going to be referring to it about my situation concerning the course. What happens, of course, is a situation we are all in worldwide, everything shuts down and we are all required to stay home and social distance.  Classes start being online through zoom and ideas now have to change. We may not be able to hire or use actors, we may not be able to use filming equipment. So discussions with the lecturers lead to them suggesting me to do the one thing I really don't wanna do, they suggest I make a documentary about myself and my family during Covid-19. I joined this course to tell stories and make film/tv and I wanted if anything to make modern Hitchcock/noir-like films, I even wanted to make documentaries but about subjects out in the world probably to do with wrestling or sports or anything, anything that is except Ilario. I don't and didn't want to make a story about myself and certainly not about my personal life, I would have happily made a mockumentary or even fiction with everyone else in the family acting out parts but apparently, I'm and my story is interesting. I have thought about this long and hard, I have also changed my mind about 25 times in the two weeks since it been suggested, I have decided to accept the suggestion and make a documentary about myself. Even though I find it wanky and pretentious the situation I'm in has meant some home movie footage, family photos and 3 smartphones are going to film this documentary. The next bit came up having decided to make the documentary and working out how I'm going to shoot it now came the bit that is rather important, what will this documentary be about. Was it just going to be my life? Was it going to be about my family during Covid-19? Was I just going to hit record and pray a story come out of nothing? Truth be told I thought about and was stuck on one of those 3 but I knew that it wouldn't be good enough, so discussion with lecture gave me some clarity. It will be all 3 of those things plus this lovely bit here because essentially it is my life limitations physically and mentally plus the current pandemic that has left me in this situation, so I can keep having a moan about it or I can finally take the plunge and make the best thing with what I got, so who knows' this could be the worst thing ever or the best thing ever. I will be happy with just a good solid film and then take that knowledge forward and make interesting stories, the thing I wanted to do in the first place.

[matt-eldritch]

Mortal Kombat Akademy

In between my work on the 31 Days of Original Characters challenge, I've begun to revisit my plans for the big Mortal Kombat story I'd wanted to do for awhile; Mortal Kombat Akademy. I've done a lot of character busts with backstory info and I did a sort of "season one" plots but this is something I'm not really satisfied with anymore. I'm gonna spend the new year trying to readjust and rework the overall story and characters to something more workable. Here's a few odds and ends of what I've planned so far;

Story Outline

Shaolin Monks, Lui Kang and Kung Lao, are recruited into the Mortal Kombat Akademy, the secret fighting school located on the island paradise of international crimelord, Shang Tsung. But those who step foot on the island are subjected to terrors beyond comprehension once they learn the true purpose of the school; a training ground for the soldiers of an interdimensional tyrant who conquers by use of a fighting tournaments ordained by the gods themselves. But one of the gods, Raiden, is willing to give Earth a fighting chance by training as many chosen Earthlings as he can so they may finally defeat the forces of evil in the Mortal Kombat tournament.

Kinda bare bones but for plot synopsis go, it helps me sort of make a launching pad for the ideas. Like my original idea, the story is still primarily about Lui Kang and Kung Lao going to the school and meeting/befriending the typical heroes of the Mortal Kombat world, Raiden being their mentor and Shang Tsung being the big bad to overcome.

But the story ideas I had just don’t really cut it for me now. I feel as though I was sort of putting the cart before the horse by putting so much time making elaborate details instead of snowballing one idea to make a big bright idea. I’ve made some titles for them;

Start the Semester!

Tour the Akademy!

Prepare for the First Exams!

Bond Like Your Lives Depend On It!

Learn the Fatalities!

Wills and Testaments!

Survive the Detetionrealm!

Survive the First Round of Exams!

Survive the Second Round of Exams!

Survive the Last Round of Exams!

Party Your Asses Off!

Mortal Kombat Akademy V. The DC Universe: Dawn of Pain!

To give some context to them, I had a storyarc planned; Early on, Raiden would want the Earthrealm class (the class would have Kang, Lao, Johnny, Sonya, Jax, Stryker and Nightwolf) to be friends and allies in order to survive the matches and save the world. Easier said than done when so many personalities were clashing together. And once they learn about fatalities, the class goes through some mental anguish over having to kill or be killed, Kang being the only one vowing to never kill anyone, to the disbelief of everyone else. Things start looking up once the class starts to trust and respect one another and become stronger fighters.

But Kano, on the behalf of Goro’s Class (Mileena, Kitana, Jade, Baraka, Sheeva, Skarlet, Reptile, Tanya and Kano himself) frames Sonya and Johnny for a crime, leading to Professor Quan Chi to exile them to the “Detention Realm” where his goons, Drahmin and Moloch, deal out the punishments. My idea for them that they’d be bumbling and dim so Johnny and Sonya could escape them, bonding while trying to make it to the final exams. Everyone but Kang and Lao have been defeated and since Sonya and Johnny were late, it’d all be up to them to beat Goro. Once Goro beast Lao half to death, Kang faces his fears and manages to defeat Goro without killing him, but not without making him suffer for all the pain he’s caused.

The class’ reward for passing the exams is an-all expense paid vacation to Edenia, which is basically a hellhole built to Shao Kahn’s pleasure. Here, Kang and Kitana get some alone time to romantically connect to one another during the celebratory feast hosted by Kitana and Mileena’s parents, Shao Kahn and Sindel. But really, the feast is for the Kahns to asses the threat that Raiden’s students hold to their long term plans. And finally, the DCU story is just a fun breather where I have the mid-1990s versions of their heroes (Superman with a mullet, Batman Forever styled Batman and the two Wonder Women, Artemis and Diana, for example).

And after rereading what I had for plots, I noticed how little the Lin Keui featured into the stories since I designed a lot of them for the series. Should try to fix that somehow.

Overall Art Style

As I stated in previous MKA concept art, I based the art style on the look of Steven Universe. I still intend for the project to be written fanfiction, but I do wish to have some elements of it to be drawn by myself. Not a full adaptation but maybe a full page illustration of each chapter, along with the general character/environment sketches, or like the ending credits of The Mandalorian series.

But back to the art style, I wish to change it. I can’t really go further on the style of Steven Universe if this story is going to be about such heavy violence and gore. It wouldn’t really look right, might cross over into unintentional hilarity or into the uncanny valley. I’m looking at something like the artist One, the man behind One Punch Man and Mob Psycho 100 whose style is really unique, fast, sketchy and frenetic, all attributes I think will work well. I also love the anime aesthetic of the 1990s so that’s definitely a goal to achieve since I’m setting the story in 1995.

Story Ideas To Keep

* Koins: My idea for an in-canon reason for the koins you win in matches (at least in Mks 9-11, IDK how far back they go) to unlock Krypt stuff will be used as a way for the students to buy things like food, clothing and resurrections due to being killed by another student’s fatalities since its primarily a learning facility instead of a battlefield. Though if you’re broke, you’re not gonna be saved. Koins, like in the games, will be given for performing a fatality and a moral choice comes up when you think “do I do good and be paid less, or do something terrible but get more chances of being resurrected if I die?”

*Profiles: I’ve got to do some rewrites for the characters. Nothing too too major since I do like a lot of what I wrote, but its more to streamline it to fit in the new direction I’m doing. Like, having Sonya, Jax and Stryker being Hall Monitors, I don’t think something like that is gonna be part of my story since I’m trying to take it a tad more seriously. The idea of Detention Realm and having Dharmin and Moloch as lovable henchmen is still canon, as far as I’m concerned. Think the two mice henchmen from the film “Flushed Away”. And on a final note, the newly retconned origin for Sindel...that shit isn’t gonna be part of my story.

Overall, whatever backstories that’ll be changed will likely be on a case by case basis. No telling who or what will be changed right now, but I’ve now thought of some parts to start with.

Diversity and Inclusion

This one is probably gonna be one of the hardest to accomplish since I really want to make the series really diverse with body types, genders and sexuality, race, neurodiversity, that type of subject matter. Inclusion is really important to me, and I’m scared how I might screw it up like how Disney, JK Rowling, SNL, Simpsons, Big Mouth, Voltron so many more screw it all up since they all serve the needs of the capitalist, neoliberal status quo over the voices of the marginalised.

And with that, brings up some more challenges. Will I make so many diverse original characters that they take time away from the canon characters? Should I make more canon MK characters differently diverse?

I'm also planning on having the characters display prejudices and bigotries but I'm scared I'll go in too much of "Bright" territory, if you know what I mean.

Tackling Mature Content

I mean, it goes without saying that the series is going to be full of violence and gore since that’s basically in the DNA of Mortal Kombat in the first place. But there’s much more serious topics I want to try to write. Like the effects of abuse, queer rights, the above themes about diversity and inclusion, the seemingly never ending war and the ideas of the long defeat. Of course, my chapters will be marked with as clear as possible content warnings, those are important.

A Shared Universe

A month ago, I watched a video about Midway trying to recreate the success of Mortal Kombat into other fighting games. The video, “Remember when Midway tried to copy Mortal Kombat?” talked about three would-be franchises of Midway fighting games; Mace: The Dark Age, War Gods and Bio FREAKS. After watching the video and reading about the games, I think it’d be good for lore if they were integrated into my story. Mace and War Gods could be used as part of the backstory of the series. Like the idea of the Earthrealm Kombatants being the descendants of the characters of Mace and War Gods, maybe Raiden was involved with the later, I’m not sure. Bio FREAKS could be latter used if I go into a time travel story. Maybe a mix of the game and the story/characters of Mortal Kombat X. As for Midway’s other successful but overlooked franchise, Killer Instinct, that is probably going to be the most recurring element in the shared universe. UltraTech, the main villains of the series would be the people behind such things as Kano’s cyborg eye, the Lin Keui’s Cyber Initiative and being the rulers of Neo-Amerika in the Bio FREAKS timeline. I also wrote in the profiles of Nightwolf and Sub-Zero that the Killer Instinct universe is linked to my story (one of his divorced parents is dating one of the parents of KI’s Black Eagle and Thunder while Glacius was an alien that helped give Cryomancers their powers).

And on a side note, there is another Midway MK clone called Primal Rage, which I swear I had one of the toys based on it and saw a parody of it on an episode of Dexter’s Laboratory. Its pretty gruesome, its a bunch of savage Kaiju in a post-apocalyptic earth that resembles the stone age. Probably an alternate timeline/dimension if I use it in my series. Who knows, maybe elements of the worlds of Street Fighter and or God of War could make an appearance...

Writing the Damned Thing

Probably the absolute hardest part of this entire thing. I struggle with actually keeping attention to writing since I’m primarily a visual artist and it feels terrible to not even follow through on any idea I have and it just kinda sits and collects dust in my brain. If its sketching and rendering, I can do it. If its writing shit down, I just have executive dysfunction when it comes to it. I never know where to start writing it, how to continue writing it, how to finish it or how to put it all together cohesively.

I can’t do this without at least writing the complete first season, if I do it on a semi-regular basis, nothing is going to be done. Even like, less than a week of non-recurring writing is like a poison to me. I don’t know how, but if I make room for an hour or two of writing a day every day might help me get more prepared for longer writing.

In Conclusion

When will the first chapter be done? I don’t know. When will I start writing? Hopefully as soon as I can. I can try to post updates or work in progresses, but that’s still a pipe dream, in my honest opinion. But I want to make progress in 2020, I need to make a difference and to actually make this coming year worthwhile.

[maddie-grove]

The Top Twenty Books I Read in 2019

My main takeaways from the past year’s reading:

Sometimes you think something is happening because of magic, but then it turns out to have a non-magical explanation so weird that you find yourself saying, “You know what? I wish faeries or God were responsible for this. I’d honestly feel less disturbed.”

Stop bathing and changing your clothes and shaving for three years, three months, and three days. You’ll find out who your real friends are. I promise you that.

I want more books about bisexual ladies!!! Give them to me!!!

Anyway...

20. The Prodigal Duke by Theresa Romain (2017)

Childhood sweethearts Poppy Hayworth and Leo Billingsley were separated when his older brother, a duke, sent him away to make his fortune. Years later, the duke is dead, a financially successful Leo has come back to England to take his place, and Poppy has become a rope dancer at Vauxhall Gardens after a life-shattering event. New sparks are flying between them, but is love possible when so much else has changed? Leo and Poppy are believable and charming as old friends, Romain makes great use of obscure historical details from the oft-depicted Regency period, and I loved Leo’s difficult but caring elderly uncle.

19. Simple Jess by Pamela Morsi (1996)

Althea Winsloe, a young widow in 1900s Arkansas, has no interest in remarrying, but almost everyone in her small Ozarks community is pressuring her to remarry, and she still needs someone to help farm her land. Enter Jesse Best, a strong young man with cognitive disabilities who’s happy to take on the work. As he makes improvements to her farm and bonds with her three-year-old son, Althea gets to know him better and starts to see him in a new light. This earthy romance could’ve been a disaster, but instead it illustrates how people with disabilities are often...uh...simplified and de-sexualized in a way that denies them autonomy. Morsi has a similarly nuanced take on Althea and Jesse’s community, which is claustrophobic and supportive all at once.

18. Leah on the Offbeat by Becky Albertalli (2018)

Outspoken and insecure, bisexual high school senior Leah Burke is having a tough year. Her friend group is in turmoil, her single mom is seriously dating someone, and she’s caught between a sweet boy she’s not sure about and a pretty, perfect straight girl who couldn’t possibly be into her...right??? The sequel to the very cute Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, Leah on the Offbeat pulls a The Godfather: Part II with its messy protagonist, sweetly surprising romance, and masterful comic set piece involving the Atlanta American Girl Doll restaurant.

17. Copper Sun by Sharon M. Draper (2006)

Kidnapped from her home in eighteenth-century Ghana, fifteen-year-old Amari is sold into slavery and winds up on a South Carolina plantation, where she faces terrible cruelty but finds friends in an enslaved cook, her little son, and eventually a sulky white indentured servant around her age. When their master escalates his already-atrocious behavior, the three young people flee south to the Spanish Fort Mose in search of freedom. Draper’s complicated characters, vivid descriptions, and deft handling of heavy subjects makes for top-notch historical YA fiction.

16. A Prince on Paper by Alyssa Cole (2019)

After her controlling politician father was jailed for poisoning a bunch of people in their small, prosperous African country, Nya Jerami gained unprecedented freedom but also became the subject of vicious gossip. Johan von Braustein, the hard-partying stepson of a European monarch, wants to help her, partly because he sympathizes and partly because he has a crush, but she thinks he’s too frivolous and horny (if wildly attractive). After an embarrassing misunderstanding compels them to enter a fake engagement, though, she begins to wonder if there’s more to him. I’m not a huge fan of contemporary romance, but this novel has the perfect combination of heartfelt emotion, delicious melodrama, and adorable fluff. 

15. One Perfect Rose by Mary Jo Putney (1997)

Stephen, the Duke of Ashburton, has always done the proper and responsible thing, but that all changes when he learns that he’s terminally ill. Wandering the countryside in the guise of an ordinary gentleman, he ends up joining an acting troupe and falling in love with Rosalind, the sensible adopted daughter of the two lead actors. Like another Regency romance on this list, this novel celebrates love in many forms: there’s the love story between Stephen and Rosalind, yes, but there’s also Rosalind’s loving relationship with her adopted family, the new bonds she forms with her long-lost blood relatives, the way her two families embrace the increasingly frightened Stephen, and the healing rifts between Stephen and his well-meaning but distant siblings. Stephen’s reconciliation with his mortality is also moving.

14. My One and Only Duke by Grace Burrowes (2018)

Facing a death sentence in Newgate, footman-turned-prosperous banker Quinton Wentworth decides to do one last good thing: marry Jane McGowan, a poor pregnant widow, so she and the baby will be financially set. Then he receives a pardon and a dukedom at the literal last minute, meaning that he and Jane have a more permanent arrangement than either intended. I fell in love with the kind-but-difficult protagonists almost at once, and with Burrowes’s gorgeous prose even faster. 

13. Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell (2013)

It’s 1986, and comics-loving, post-punk-listening, half-Korean Park and bright, weird, constantly bullied Eleanor are just trying to get through high school in their rough Omaha neighborhood. He’s only grudgingly willing to let her share his bus seat at first, but this barely civil acquaintance slowly thaws into friendship and blossoms into love. Far from being the whimsical eighties-nostalgia-fest I expected, this is a bittersweet love story about two isolated young people who find love, belonging, and a chance for self-expression with each other in an often-hostile environment (a small miracle pre-Internet).

12. Shrill by Lindy West (2016)

In this memoir, Lindy West talks about the difficulties of being a fat woman, the thankless task of being vocally less-than-enthused about rape jokes, the joys of moving past self-doubt, and the very real possibility that Little John from Disney’s Robin Hood was played by “bear actor” Baloo, among other subjects. I was having a hard time during my last semester of law school this past spring, and this book’s giddy humor and inspiring messages really helped me in my hour of need.

11. Seduction: Sex, Lies, and Stardom in Howard Hughes's Hollywood by Karina Longworth (2018)

In 1925, very young businessman Howard Hughes breezed into Hollywood with nothing but tons of family wealth, a soon-to-be-divorced wife, and a simple dream: make movies about fast planes and big bosoms. He got increasingly weird and reactionary over the next thirty years, then retired from public life. More a history of 1920s-1950s Hollywood than a biography, this book has the same sharp writing and in-depth film analysis that makes me love Longworth’s podcast You Must Remember This.

10. The Beguiled by Thomas Cullinan (1966)

In Civil-War-era Virginia, iron-willed Martha Farnsworth and her nervous younger sister try to run their nearly empty girls’ boarding school within earshot of a battlefield. When one girl finds Union soldier John McBurney injured in the woods, she brings him back to the house, where he exploits every conflict and secret among the eight girls and women (five students, two sisters, and one enslaved cook). Charming and manipulative, he nevertheless finds himself in over his head. Cullinan makes great use of the eight POVs and the deliciously claustrophobic setting; it’s fascinating to watch the power dynamics and allegiances shift from scene to scene.

9. A Gentleman Never Keeps Score by Cat Sebastian (2018)

Reserved tavern keeper Sam Fox wants to help out his brother’s sweetheart by finding and destroying a nude portrait she once sat for; disgraced gentleman Hartley Sedgwick isn’t sure what he wants after having his life ruined twice over, but he happened to inherit his house from the man who commissioned the painting...plus he’s not exactly reluctant to assist kind, handsome Sam in his quest. I wrote about this heart-melting romance two times last year; suffice it to say that it’s not only one of the best Regencies I’ve ever read, but also possibly the best romance I’ve ever read about the creation of a found family.

8. Frog Music by Emma Donoghue (2014)

Blanche Beunon, a French-born burlesque dancer in 1876 San Francisco, has a lot going on: her mooching boyfriend has turned on her, her sick baby is missing, and her cross-dressing, frog-hunting friend Jenny Bonnet was just shot dead right next to her. In the middle of a heat wave, a smallpox epidemic, and a little bit of mob violence, she must locate her son and solve Jenny’s murder. This is a glorious work of historical fiction; you can see, hear, smell, and feel the chaotic world of 1870s San Francisco, plus Blanche’s character arc is amazing.

7. The Patrick Melrose novels (Never Mind, Bad News, Some Hope, Mother’s Milk, and At Last) by Edward St. Aubyn (1992, 1992, 1994, 2005, and 2012, respectively)

Born to an embittered English aristocrat and an idealistic American heiress, Patrick Melrose lives through his father’s sadistic abuse and his mother’s willful blindness (Never Mind),  does a truly staggering amount of drugs in early adulthood (Bad News), and makes a good-faith effort at leading a normal life (Some Hope). Years later, the life he’s built with his wife and two sons is threatened by his alcoholism and reemerging resentment of his mother (Mother’s Milk), but there may be a chance to salvage something (At Last). Despite the suffering and cruelty on display, these novels were the farthest thing from a dismaying experience, thanks to the sharp characterization, grim humor, and great sense of setting. Also, I love little Robert Melrose, an anxious eldest child after my own heart. 

6. The Perilous Gard by Elizabeth Marie Pope (1974)

In 1550s England, no-nonsense Kate Sutton is exiled to the Perilous Gard, a remote castle occupied by suspicious characters, including the lord’s guilt-ridden younger brother Christopher. Troubled by the holes she sees in the story of the tragedy that haunts him, she does some problem-solving and ends up in a world of weird shit. Cleverly plotted, deliciously spooky, and featuring an all-time-great heroine, this book was an absolute treat. The beautiful Richard Cuffari illustrations in my edition didn’t hurt, either.

5. An Unconditional Freedom by Alyssa Cole (2019)

Daniel Cumberland, a free black man from New England traumatized from being sold into slavery, and Janeta Sanchez, a mixed-race Cuban-Floridian lady from a white Confederate family, have been sent on a mission to the Deep South by the Loyal League, a pro-Union spy organization. Initially hostile to everyone (but particularly to somewhat naive Janeta), Daniel warms to his colleague, but will her secrets, his shattered faith in justice, and the various dangers they face prevent them from falling in love? Nah. Alyssa Cole’s historical romances deliver both on the history and the romance, and this is one of her strongest entries.

4. The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite (2019)

Heartbroken by the death of her father and the marriage of her ex-girlfriend, Lucy Muchelney decides she needs a change of scenery and takes a live-in position translating a French astronomy text for Catherine St. Day, the recently widowed Countess of Moth. Catherine, used to putting her interests on hold for an uncaring spouse, is intrigued by this awkward, independent lady. I’ve read f/f romances before, but this sparkling Regency was the first to really blow me away with its fun banter, neat historical details, and perfect sexual tension.

3. The Wager by Donna Jo Napoli (2010)

After losing his entire fortune to a tidal wave, Sicilian nineteen-year-old Don Giovanni de la Fortuna sinks into poverty and near-starvation. Then Devil makes him an offer: all the money he wants for as long as he lives if he doesn’t bathe, cut his hair, shave, or change his clothes for three years, three months, and three days. This fairy-tale retelling is an extraordinarily moving fable about someone who learns to acknowledge his own suffering, recognize it in others, and extend compassion to all. 

2. Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russell (2013)

In this collection, Russell weaves strange tales of silkworm-women hybrids in Japan, seagulls who collect objects from the past and future, and, yes, vampires in the lemon grove. She also posits the very important question: “What if most (but not all) U.S. presidents were reincarnated as horses in the same stable and had a lot of drama going on?” My favorite stories were “Proving Up” (about a nineteenth-century Nebraska boy who encounters death and horror on the prairie), “The Graveless Doll of Eric Mutis” (about a disadvantaged high school student who discovers an effigy of the even more hapless boy he tormented), and “The Barn at the End of the Term” (the horse-president story). 

1. The Wonder by Emma Donoghue (2016)

Lib Wright, an Englishwoman who has floundered since her days working for Florence Nightingale during the Crimean War, is hired to observe Anna O’Donnell, an eleven-year-old Irish girl famous for not eating for four straight months. With a jaundiced attitude towards the Irish and Catholicism, Lib is confident that she’ll quickly expose Anna as a fraud, but she finds herself liking the girl and getting increasingly drawn into the disturbing mystery of her fast. Like The Perilous Gard, this novel masterfully plays with the possibility of the supernatural, then introduces a technically mundane explanation that’s somehow much more eerie. Donoghue balances the horror and waste that surrounds Anna, though, with the clear, bright prose and the moving relationship that develops between her and Lib, who grows beyond her narrow-mindedness and emotional numbness. I stayed up half the night to finish this novel, which cemented Emma Donoghue’s status as my new favorite author.

[alj4890]

For @krsnlove who asked for something for today, LOL.

(Thomas x Amanda) (Maxwell x Nadia)

@walkerinfolkvangr @alleksa16 @penguininapinktuxedo @blackcoffee85 @stopforamoment @fullbeaumonty @cocomaxley @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject   @krsnlove    @annekebbphotography @gibbles82   @bella-ca  @hopelessromantic1352 @pixieferry

"Must we spend the entire weekend with them?" Thomas asked as he buttoned his shirt.

"They came into town specifically to see us." Amanda called out from the bathroom. "They plan on doing other things, but they wanted the evenings with us."

He frowned as he tucked in his shirt and walked into the bathroom. Amanda was standing before the mirror finishing her makeup and looked at his reflection.

"Thomas, they love us."

"No, they love you. Since you love me, they tolerate my prescence." He propped his hip on the counter and folded his arms.

"You know that's not true!"

He sighed. "Yes, they consider me a friend, but...couldn't they consider me a long distance friend?"

She chuckled as she placed her makeup back in her bag. "You are a long distance friend. You just happen to be friends with two people who love to spontaneously travel and you reside in a very popular state."

"I suppose that's fair. I had wanted you all to myself this weekend." He took her hand and tugged her closer. "I had plans for us."

"Oh?" She said softly as he moved her closer.

"Yes, plans for just us. Plans that started tonight and didn't stop for days. Nights made for you and me. No one else." Each word was breathed against her skin as his lips hovered over her neck.

They both jumped when they heard the doorbell ring. "There they are." Amanda looked up at him and kissed him. "Perhaps you will have what you want."

He shook his head no as he followed her down the stairs. "Not with those two involved."

"Here we are!" Nadia squealed as she hugged them both. Maxwell in turn hugged Amanda, squeezing a yelp out of her then shaking Thomas' hand. Nadia produced a basket filled with sweets, cheeses, and wine.

"Let's get the night started!" Maxwell exclaimed.

The boisterous couple seemed to hold within them the very fabric of a nightclub filled to the brim with people having a good time. Thomas was amazed how between the two of them, they managed to turn his quiet home into one of skull thumping loudness.

Amanda encouraged them to sit down and be comfortable while she retrieved some glasses. Thomas followed her and pinned her between the counter and his body.

She began to laugh softly. "May I help you Mr. Hunt?"

He turned her around and kissed her. "Only if you can figure out a way for us to be alone." He thought of the long hours he had spent editing his current film and the need to be near her. That was what this weekend was supposed to be about.

Amanda let out a sigh and kissed his cheek. She handed him two glasses and gently nudged him back to the living room.

As they caught up on what everyone had been doing, they opened the contents of the basket and were soon sitting on the floor near the fireplace.

"Oh! Let's play a game!" Nadia offered. She looked expectantly at Maxwell who beamed at her way of thinking.

"Let's make it an interesting one. Amanda, we will need paper and pens please." Maxwell said.

"What are we playing?" She asked as she went to get the items.

"Two truths and a lie!" He announced.

"Oh! I love that game, pumpkin." Nadia wrapped her arms around Maxwell.

"I know you do, angel eyes." He kissed her nose.

Thomas rolled his eyes at their pet names and settled more comfortably when Amanda returned.

"Who's going first?" Nadia asked.

Everyone was silent. "I'll go first." Amanda offered.

Maxwell leaned forward, his blue eyes staring directly into hers. "Remember. Make them interesting and difficult. You have two of us here who know you very well."

"Okay, okay." She muttered as she quickly wrote out her two truths and lie. She put a star next to the lie and folded it up, setting it on the stone hearth.

"First thing is...I once threw my drink in a date's face when he accused me of inviting a tipsy guy to kiss me. Second, I once was a bartender for a hockey team's party. Third, I once changed my college major to geology and then changed it back to English the following semester."

Maxwell and Thomas sat there studying her while Nadia shook her head. "Has to be the bartender that's the lie."

Maxwell narrowed his eyes. "I know you collect rocks, I can't remember if you changed majors or not. I think I'm with Nadia on this one."

Thomas studied her. "You are much too sweet to become overly dramatic and throw a drink in a guy's face."

"Is that your final answer?" She asked with a grin. They all nodded. She opened up the paper and they gasped.

"You really were a bartender for a night?!" Nadia exclaimed. Thomas shook his head. "I can't believe you threw a drink in a man's face."

"Wow. Okay, clearly we did not hang out as often as I thought. Now who's next?" Maxwell asked.

"I'll go next." Thomas replied. He quickly wrote out his three and marked the lie before folding the paper and setting it on the table. He cleared his throat. "First, I once moved to San Francisco and developed a business plan for a local smoothie franchise. Second, I was an assistant manager at an electronics store. After closing, I would kill all the lights and project movies on the blank wall inside. I charged friends and friends of friends two dollars a person to come in and watch them. Third, I was once an underwear model."

Amanda snorted and choked on her sip of wine. "Thomas! An underwear model?" She had tears falling as she laughed. No one else laughed. She looked at them all surprised. "Are you serious?"

Maxwell and Nadia shared a glance. "Everyone knows that was his job before directing."

"I didn't know!" She said, her voice getting defensive. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, I thought you knew. I assumed you knew all about me before coming to work with me."

"I didn't! I had no idea that everyone had seen you naked!" Her tone was now a mixture of hurt and anger.

"I wasn't naked! I had on underwear!" He responded, a bit touchy at how she was acting.

She turned toward the other couple. "Have you seen my husband in his underwear?"

"Well, yeah. I mean it was a pretty big ad campaign of Calvin Klein's, so..." Maxwell trailed off as her eyes narrowed. Nadia slumped down Maxwell's side as she confirmed she remembered the ads.

"That's just great. Everyone has seen my husband naked." She nearly yelled.

"Oh for the love--I wasn't naked!" Thomas yelled.

Amanda glared at him. "I can't believe this."

"Come on Amanda. Isn't Hollywood filled with folks that have seen each other in their underwear?" Maxwell asked, trying to help out.

"He is not an actor. No one should have knowledge of how he looks in his underwear, except me! I bet Nadia just loves the fact that on Google Earth, when you zoom in on Ramsford, you are seen naked in the window."

"What?!" Screeched Nadia. "Maxwell Percival Beaumont!"

Maxwell covered his face. "Why? Why would you reveal that?"

Amanda suddenly stood up. Her anger rolled off of her in waves as she stormed upstairs and slammed the bedroom door.

Thomas got up to go after her, when Maxwell stopped him. "We're going to get out of here and give you guys some privacy." He glanced at his own shocked wife and groaned. "I think we both have some things to work out."

Thomas walked them to the door and apologized at how the night had fallen apart. He locked up and turned out the lights, delaying the moment when he had to face his wife. He squared his shoulders and walked up the stairs and down the hall to their bedroom. He raised his hand to knock and then decided to try the door handle first. It was unlocked.

He slowly came in and saw Amanda calmly flipping through channels on the bed. He paused in surprise.

"Are they gone?" She asked quietly

"Yes." He said slowly. "Um, about the modeling, I--"

She started laughing. His shock kept him immobile.

"I already knew all about it." She said after wiping her eyes. She grabbed her phone and opened up her calendar app before tossing it to him.

"April first." He muttered as he raised his head to look at her.

She chuckled. "Sorry. I had to trick you too if I was going to empty our home of company."

"So you knew all along about my past career?" He asked as he stood before her.

"I did. When you offered it up as the last during the game, I'm afriad I took it as a way out. It would have been hard to get upset over your business plan in San Francisco." Her eyes twinkled with humor.

He shook his head in amazement of her trickery and it resulting in what he wanted. "So? Did you see those ads?"

Her cheeks turned red. "Um, yes. I might have been a big fan of them"

"Really? Is that why you agreed so quickly to come here and work with me?" The look in his eyes made her nervous.

"What? No! I mean they didn't hurt my making the decision." She began to scoot over to his side of the bed as he advanced on her.

"Thomas!" She squealed when he pounced on her. He smoothed the hair out of her face and kissed her.

"I know I shouldn't still be in awe each time you manage to give me what I need, but I can't help it." He said softly.

She smiled and gently pushed him off of her. "I know a way you can thank me?" She winked suggestively at him.

His smile was mischievous as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "And how long am I supposed to pose in my underwear?"

"Hmm. One shouldn't rush art."