#exact same outfit of the same exact colored t-shirt and jeans. weirded me the fuck out

[turtlemagnum]

professor birch has such bisexual failboy energy but i also feel like he wouldn't even know that was an option. like if his kid came out to him as bi he'd just go "oh silly, everyone's like that!" y'know. if he were born in my generation he'd be wearing a triforce t-shirt with those khaki shorts, y'know

[stopplayshuffle]

MINI MANSIONS CONCERT: WHY CONFIDENCE MATTERS IN WHAT YOU LOVE

 On Monday, June 24th 2019, I attended a Mini Mansions concert at The Independent in SF CA. I’ve seen Mini Mansions perform live before when they opened for Arctic Monkeys at the Bill Graham Civic Center in SF on October 20th 2018. However, this is my first time seeing them at their own show for their own tour. That night was incredible, not just because of their performance, but because I got to actually meet two members from the band.

If you are not familiar with who Mini Mansions are, I’ll give a bit of background. Mini Mansions is a music trio made up of keyboardist/vocalist Tyler Parkford (touring keyboardist for Arctic Monkeys), bassist Zachary Dawes (the Last Shadow Puppets), and guitarist/vocalist/ (former drummer?) Michael Shuman (bassist for Queens of the Stone Age). Mini Mansions is a side project for the three members since, as you can see, each of them are involved in other projects.

I became familiar with them through Arctic Monkeys, since Alex Turner was featured in their 2015 album, The Great Pretenders (track 6: “Vertigo”, if anyone was interested in what song). Then I saw them perform live when they opened for Arctic Monkeys. This isn’t their first time opening for them either, since they opened for them before in their previous tour. Needless to say, they have a strong relationship with those Sheffield lads. While standing there and feeling curious to what their other music was like apart from “Vertigo”, I came to find that their setlist was pretty good. Their music is unique, which is too simple a word to describe the kind of music they make. It’s like vintage ‘60’s rock n’ roll distorted with psychedelic elements, accompanied with groovy bass lines (compliments of Zach Dawes), poppy piano hits (thanks to Tyler Parkford), and bluesy guitar riffs (from multi-instrumentalist Michael Shuman). I am a huge fan of vintage rock/pop, like the Beatles, Beach Boys, you get the picture. So hearing something that is similar to that kind of music will most likely capture my interest. And I was definitely interested in Mini Mansions.

The concert itself was pretty cheap, about $15 a ticket. After spending about $105 for Muse, $120 for Mike Shinoda, and about $70 for Arctic Monkeys, I was pretty stoked how affordable this show was. I didn’t want to stress myself out by trying to arrive 4 hours early to get a decent spot. My mentality was, whatever spot I get is what I get. My sister, Jenni, and I arrived at the venue about 45 minutes before they opened the doors, and to my surprise, there wasn’t a lot of people waiting in line. There were maybe about 6 or 7 people waiting before us. I’m guessing everyone else had the same mentality as I did going into this concert. I was relieved that my feet wouldn’t be worn out from waiting so long, and I now had the energy to withstand the entire show. When we were finally let into the venue, I walked straight to the front of the stage, not using my peripheral vision to catch anything weird or exciting. While standing in front of the carpeted stage with a tape that ran across the edge reading “NO DRINKS” my sister tapped me on my shoulder and asked, “isn’t that Mikey working the merch booth”? as she pointed towards the corner that was diagonally across from where we were. I was like, “No, I don’t think so”, because why would a band member work their own merch booth, right? At least that’s what my dumbass thought. But then I squinted my eyes towards the direction she was pointing at, and as my eyes were adjusting in that dark room, with only a dim light hovering around the merch booth, I could tell from the gelled back hair that it was indeed Michael Shuman. He was wearing an all-black outfit: black moto jacket, black t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and black shoes. Pretty casual. This is the exact opposite to the outfit he will later change into when he will perform, which was a white satin suit with some watercolor accents on it.

It was like having two personas, one being the regular guy selling band stuff and the other is the performer. I thought it was cool that he was working the merch booth because he wasn’t acting like he was too good to sell his stuff.

Jen asked me if I wanted to buy something, and despite the fact that I needed to save as much money as possible to have enough for my rent and other bills for the summer before school starts I said, “Hell yeah I wanna buy something!” But at the same time, I kept staring at the front of the stage, and I was apprehensive because I got a decent spot for the concert. The woman next to me told me, “You totally should, they’re really nice, I mean I’ll try to extend my arm out as much as possible to save your spot”. God, what a nice woman. I thanked my fellow concert friend and walked up to the line. There was only two people in front of me and they seemed to be a couple waiting next to each other, so I wouldn’t have to wait too long. But the girl took a while figuring out if she wanted a black Mini Mansions shirt or a white one. At this point, Zach Dawes was also at the booth helping his buddy, Mikey, out with making sure he had enough merchandise at the table. She asked Zach for his opinion, “which color do you like best?” And Zach, with his calm voice says, he liked both of them. I don’t even remember which color this chick went with, but they finally left the line, and I was finally next. I was standing face to face with Mikey Shuman, with only a plastic banquet table in between us. My eyes kept darting from his face to the posters to the left of him.

He actually spoke first and said, “Hi. How are you?”

And like a square I responded with, “I’m good, how are you?

“I’m good!” He said back, “What can I get you?”

“Uhh, may I have that poster please?” I pointed to the poster, which was signed by all 3 members.

“You may” with a dip at the end of “may” (what a polite gentleman).

(I put the poster on the stage so I can take a picture of it. No one was playing yet, btw. But that’s how close I was to the stage).

I didn’t want just a poster, (which I didn’t plan on where I was putting while watching the concert) I wanted something with it, so I asked Mikey if I could buy the CD that had Mini Mansions written in yellow on the top left corner, with a stuffed toy bunny on an illuminated plate. It was their first full length album they ever released, and I didn’t have that album yet. Which by the way, is hard to come by. It was sold out on Amazon for a while, and sold-out on their website too. I tried going to Rasputin Music a few months ago at the mall where I live to see if they had it. The cashier said there was something by Mini Mansions there, but I couldn’t find anything. I tried looking at a record shop in Santa Cruz, but no Mini Mansions CDs there either. I think it may have been available again on their website, but I waited on buying it, but I don’t remember exactly why. I think I wanted to avoid shipping fees and wait for it to be prime available on Amazon. Or maybe I was hoping I will find it in a record shop around where I live.

Anyway, I asked Mikey for the CD and he asked, “This CD right here?” He pointed to the CD.

“Yeah”

He then looked in another box, and when he put the box down empty handed he said, “Wow that was the last one”.

“Cool!” I responded with, like the fucking shy idiot I am.

It took me a while to get this album, I’m glad I waited so I can actually buy the album from the band themselves, but I wish I could’ve responded better.

(Photo of CD taken after the concert on my desk)

What happens next is so surreal that it took me a couple of days to comprehend that it happened. It’s nothing even that spectacular it’s just something that had never happened to me before. He tapped on the tablet the items I was purchasing and told me my stuff was going to be 35 bucks. I handed him my card and he actually swiped my card into the card reader sticking out from the tablet and asked, “Can you sign right here, please?”

This was mind-blowing to me, because I’m thinking shouldn’t it be the other way around? Shouldn’t I be the one asking you to sign me stuff. But I signed the tablet, in a way like I’ve never been excited to sign my name to a purchase before. I couldn’t believe I was buying band merch from the actual band member himself, it was awesome. After he gave me my stuff, I handed them to my sister and asked him if I could shake his hand. The guy puts the tablet down and sticks out his hand and I’m fucking touching Mikey Shuman’s hand. I thanked him, and if I wasn’t enough of a square, my sister noticed an awkward silence and finally said, “I think you guys are great and I’m really excited for the show!” Both Zach and Mikey said thank you and both shook Jen’s hand. I thanked Mikey again and leaned over to shake Zach’s hand and went back to the front of the stage.

Obviously, I was excited that I met two of the members from the band. I couldn’t believe I actually talked to them. But I still felt unsatisfied, not with them of course, but with myself. I want to be a music journalist and interview bands and study music as a career. Because I have anxiety issues, including a bit of social anxiety, I am always awkward and shy when I meet people, which does not help me in the long run at all. There were so many things I could’ve asked Mikey: What do you like to play more, bass, drums, or guitar? I love how bluesy you get in The Great Pretenders, what was the inspiration for that?  I couldn’t even ask him something as basic as, hey how are you liking SF this time around? Anything weird happen to you yet? Ever been to Oakland? My God I suck. I could’ve even said, Wow, this is the last CD? No way? How lucky am I? Such a missed opportunity to connect with the band, and actually work on my people skills when I meet musicians for the job I want. Despite the fact that I wish I could go back in time to alter how I met Mikey and Zach, I was still grateful for the encounter I had. It’s not a common thing for me to meet the people who make the music I like.

Their performance was also great. After watching two openers, Tyler Parkford finally came out, but to set up his keyboard directly above me. He bent down and plugged some wires in. I’m sure it’s creepy having people stare at you while you’re doing something, so I looked away so he can do his job. But at one point I looked back up at his direction and while he was standing behind his keyboard, he looked at me and I smiled at him. I was happy that he smiled back. Unfortunately I never got to talk to Tyler that night, but I’m hoping I will in the future.

After Mikey sound checked all of the equipment, they began to play. They started off with “Freakout!” which is what they started with when they opened for Arctic Monkeys. The song isn’t super intense but has an upbeat tempo that is perfect for getting the crowd going. They mostly played songs from The Great Pretenders, but incorporated a few from their upcoming album, Guy Walks into a Bar… So we were getting that mix of relaxed familiarity from being able to sing along with the songs we already knew, and the excitement from the new songs from the album that has yet to come. A variety of uplifting emotions that was getting the crowd pumped. The song I connected to live the most was “Works Every Time”. “Works Every Time” is from their upcoming album, but they released it on their EP with the same title first. Since the song had been out for some time now, I was already familiar with it, and enjoyed the calm soulful singing of Parkford and swaggering bass lines of Dawes. The kind of sound that someone can listen to while driving late at night. But hearing it live was a different experience for me. The dreamy tone from the piano was more upfront, maybe because I noticed it more? I don’t know, but it was lovely.

Zach was a little shy when I met him, since he didn’t really say much; however, on stage he wasn’t shy rocking out those bass lines with his buddies. The guy has mad rhythm with his bass, and he didn’t look nervous on stage. If he was nervous, then I couldn’t tell because he played each song so naturally. I know if that was me up there, I’d probably mess up a lot from nerves, since I can barely sing right while singing karaoke with two friends.

When it came to the more fast tempo songs, especially “Mirror Mountain” all the guys got really into it, but Mikey was not shy of wailing around and screaming loud into the mic. I enjoy watching him get this intense honestly, [even though a couple of the audience members who I talked to at the Bart station after the show told me, at another Mini Mansions concert they went to in Sacramento, were afraid of Mikey potentially kicking them sometimes while he was rocking out, but luckily he didn’t]. His punk rock energy bounced across the entire stage, and as a direct result I got pumped watching him go. There was a point during “Mirror Mountain” when he bent down real close to the edge of the stage. He puts the mic close to his lips, and his palm held the back of an audience member’s nape. He sang close to this young man’s ear, and the young man smiled, probably from the attention he was receiving from Mikey, but he was also leaning back, possibly because he was trying not to get too close to him. Looking back at it now, I didn’t know what was going through that kid’s head, but he seemed unsure of how to react when the singer/guitarist for Mini Mansions was singing physically close to his face. I wouldn’t know either, to be honest, if that was me.

Needless to say, there’s a level of boldness that is needed to get that close to someone, without having that internal conversation wondering if you’re doing too much or just enough. He just did it.  While performing, he used his entire body (from his voice to his legs) to express himself, and while some people would think that’s too much or bold, either way, people are looking.

But that’s the thing when you express yourself in something you care about, may that be writing, food, books, or music, it will show. With Mikey, Zach, and Tyler they used their talents to create this interesting concoction of vintage inspired contemporary indie rock. They went with what they had, released it, and was able to perform it in about every part of the world.

In the end, they are going places with it, this thing that they love, or at least what it seems to me they love. In other words, they just went for it. I wish I could possess at least half the confidence of what they have. Maybe if I did, I would’ve been less awkward when I met Mikey and Zach.  Now, I’m not saying confidence is the only thing a person needs to pursue what they want, but confidence helps push someone toward what they want. With confidence, you can stand on a stage and exercise your skills in front of people, you can be yourself without the fear of judgement, you can talk to someone you’ve never met before and have a great conversation. With confidence, you just go for it.

[beepbeep-losers]

IT Secret Santa

this is a one shot for @greywatertrashmouth for the @itsecretsanta !!! I hope you enjoy it! happy holidays, and I hope the holiday season and the new year treats you well ❤❤❤ 

First Date

ship: Reddie

length: 1,578 words

“Richie, you’ve gone to the movies alone with Eddie before. I don’t understand why you’re freaking out,” Stan said, trying to focus on his comic book. The villains bothering Batman were far more pressing than Richie’s panic over his first official date with Eddie.

“That was when I thought I was straight, Stan!” Richie snapped, throwing clothes out of his dresser drawer in an attempt to find jeans that looked good with his shirt.

Stan snorted. “You were the only one to ever think you were straight,” he muttered.

They were in Richie’s room, where he had dragged Stan after school. It was a Friday afternoon, and Richie was supposed to pick Eddie up in an hour. He had been frantic all day, and Stan had come to be a slightly unwilling but supportive friend.

Richie threw a tshirt at him, and Stan wrinkled his nose and tossed it aside when it landed on him. “Gross, Richie, I don’t know where that’s been,” he complained.

“That’s what you get for not being helpful, Stanley!” Richie whined. “How am I supposed to act around him? This is so…different.”

Stan rolled his eyes and shut his comic book. “Can you quit being a dumbass, Richie? It isn’t any different. The only thing you should do differently is talk about his mom less, compliment him, and maybe hold his hand at the movie.”

Richie looked at him for a few moments, before a grin burst out on his face. “Lookie there, Stan the Man, you can be useful!”

Stan glared.

-

Eddie had changed at least seven times in the past half hour. He kept running out of his bathroom and into his bedroom, showing Bill, and then running back before Bill could even finish whatever compliment was leaving his tongue. Bill sighed each time, and went back to sketching to wait until he heard Eddie enter the room again. He was checking his watch and letting Eddie know what time it was every five minutes, just like he’d asked.

“It’s f-f-fifteen til s-six, Eddie,” Bill called, and Eddie darted out of the bathroom.

“Okay, I think this is the one for real this time!”

He was wearing khaki pants that clung tight around the ankles and a cranberry-colored sweater. It must have been a size or two too big, because it hung low and the sleeves threatened to cover his hands even though they’d been rolled up at the ends. His hair was styled perfectly, as always, and his eyelashes looked longer and blacker than usual.

“You l-look great,” Bill praised, grinning at how Eddie was bouncing in place excitedly.

“Am I supposed to pay for him?” Eddie asked suddenly, eyes widening. “Or is he paying for me? Are we paying separately? Fucking shit, I should text him and ask –“

“Eddie,” Bill said, “calm down. It’s only Richie. You guys will figure it out on the way. It isn’t a big deal. Just take some money just in case.”

Eddie nodded, but still looked fretful. He made sure that he had two twenties in his wallet and slipped on some of his favorite chocolate brown leather shoes. He’d just put them on when he heard the familiar, ragged beep of Richie’s truck. His heart jumped in his chest and he gave Bill a panicked look.

Bill closed his sketchbook and stood, reaching out to put a hand on each of Eddie’s shoulders. He looked his long-time friend in the face. “Breathe. It’s f-f-fine. You’re going on a d-date with the t-tr-trashmouth, Eddie. If it goes badly, how m-much of a loss is it?” he grinned.

Eddie laughed, playfully shoving Bill away. “Yeah, I guess.”

They left Eddie’s room together, Bill’s sketchbook and pencils tucked safely into the backpack on his shoulders. When they left the house – after a hasty goodbye to Mrs. Kaspbrak – Bill went to his car with a wave “goodbye” to Eddie and Richie, and Eddie walked as calmly as he could manage to Richie’s truck.

-

Richie’s truck smelled like a mix of cigarettes and the evergreen car freshener that hung on his rear view mirror. The smell of smoke wasn’t strong enough to bother Eddie’s lungs, but he always playfully complained about it and Richie always rolled down the windows whenever Eddie was in his truck. Eddie would never admit it, but he actually loved the smell of Richie’s truck. It smelled like…Richie. But he would never tell him that.

There was a weird silence that settled over them after their initial hellos, and it lasted all the way until Richie parked his car at the Aladdin. Eddie felt like he was completely incapable of producing words. Richie couldn’t stop his fingers from tapping nervously on the steering wheel. He’d nearly had a heart attack the second he’s seen Eddie wearing what Richie knew was his favorite sweater for him. Eddie only wore that sweater to things he was really excited about. What if Richie didn’t live up to the sweater’s hype?

When Richie parked the truck, they sat in silence. They were early, for once in their lives. Their movie didn’t start for fifteen minutes. Richie ran a hand through his hair anxiously. What if this had all been a bad idea? What if he and Eddie weren’t meant to be? Were they fucking up a perfectly good friendship because of some stupid hormones?

But….well, Richie liked Eddie. He didn’t just want to get in his pants or something. But the silence around the two of them was enough to make him begin to doubt all the convincing he’d done to get himself to try and get a date with Eddie in the first place.

When it was apparent Eddie wasn’t going to say anything, and Richie felt like he was going to burst if he didn’t talk, he finally broke the silence.

“Well, Eddie Spaghetti, I didn’t expect to render you speechless so soon into our date –“

“Is that a new shirt?” Eddie said suddenly. When Richie looked over at him, the smaller boy was looking at him with large doe eyes.

It totally was a new shirt. Richie had forced Stan and Ben to go shopping with him a week ago to find something that wasn’t a Hawaiian shirt or a band tee to wear on this date. They had found a nice, dark plum sweater that he was wearing with light, ripped jeans and black converse. Out of habit and knee-jerk reaction, Richie denied the effort he’d put in.

“Uh – what – no! This old thing?”

Eddie knew he was lying – he’d seen every piece of clothing Richie owned and he’d never seen that one before. It was also a far leap from his usual outfit. It seemed – Eddie was almost sure, in fact – that Richie had gone to buy a shirt just for their date. For him. He grinned smugly.

“You’re a sap, Richie.”

Richie gaped at him, and opened his mouth to deny it, but then smirked. “Only for you, Eds.”

Eddie beamed, and threw open the door to Richie’s truck. “Come on, before we’re late. I want sour punch straws.”

“Anything for you, Spaghetti Man,” Richie cooed, scrambling to follow him out of the truck. They started walking toward the theater, and Eddie shoved Richie lightly.

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate that.”

Richie looked at him fondly as he got out money for their tickets. “And you know I don’t believe you.” He waved some bills in front of Eddie’s face. “I pay for tickets, you pay for snacks?”

Eddie nodded, heart fluttering for what felt like no reason at all. “Yeah, sounds great.”

Once their silence had broken, it was almost like they were going to the movies as friends like always. They got their usual snacks – sour punch straws and a lemonade for Eddie, popcorn and twizzlers and a coke for Richie – and sat in their favorite spot – the exact middle of the theater. They were laughing and talking and everything was almost the same as usual.

But there was something underlying that they both felt. Like they were on the brink of something completely unlike all of the times they’d been to the movies together before. It provided an exciting tension, the feeling that everything was new and strange. Neither of them could tell what it was, or why it was, until about halfway through the movie.

Richie’s fingers were tapping against the armrest between them. He’d been bouncing excitedly all throughout the movie, and Eddie was pretty sure it wasn’t because of the film, and instead for the same reason that his heart wouldn’t stop beating too quickly. Eddie had watched him tap his fingers for a few minutes, and suddenly he got the overwhelming urge to do something to break the tension. So he reached out and slipped his hand under Richie’s, intertwining their fingers.

The tension broke at once. It felt like a flood of warmth washing over the both of them. Richie stopped bouncing, Eddie’s heart skipped a beat in his chest (and if he wasn’t so happy he would have panicked). They looked at each other, Eddie blushing a deep red and Richie’s lips parted in surprise. At the same time, a grin burst out over their faces. They turned back to the movie, squeezing their hands together, and Eddie laid his head on Richie’s shoulder.

This was definitely not a mistake.

This was the exact opposite.

hope you enjoyed!!!! 

permanent tag list: @gingerbreddie @reddietofall @turtleneckrichie @eddierichietozier @secretblog1212 @lonewolfhard @satinkors @gryffinclaw-marauder @allison0609 @fabulousprinceali @sad-synth @itsloveit

[mike-faist-is-the-best]

Believe (Connor)

Summary: You find out a secret about Connor

Warnings: swearing, and I think thats it

A/N: Here it is! I worked really hard on this, and yes, there will be a second part. Enjoy :) @mekiimaki here you go babe

masterlist

When you were younger, you always wanted to believe in magic. Your parents were supportive, and bought you plenty of books about magic and mythical creatures to fuel your imagination. At age 11, you would play by the lake just a few minutes away from your house, pretending that there was mermaids in that lake. You’d imagine big, beautiful mermaids with blue luxurious tails and hair that was made of silk being your best friends. At school, you would brag that a mermaid was your best friend. As you grew older, though, those days of playing by the lake drifted away. You realized that there was no possible way that mermaids existed. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Hey, mom, I was thinking of going to the coffee shop after school.” You said, sitting down with an apple for breakfast.

“That’s fine, just make sure you have enough time to finish your homework.” She said, kissing your head before leaving for work. You knew she cared, but it was difficult to talk to her when she said a sentence to you a day.

“Thanks mom.” You said even though you knew she didn’t hear you.

“Hey kiddo. You going to the lake after school today?” Your dad asked, smirking slightly.

“No, dad.” You groaned.

“I remember you used to spend all your time there. You would grab your little drawing book, and draw pictures of mermaids and then run back home to show us a new friend you made.” Your father said, remembering the days you were naive and full of imagination.

“Dad!” You exclaimed, embarrassed about your past self.

“Hey! It was adorable.” he said, kissing your forehead before leaving for work himself. You decided to get ready for school, putting on a simple t-shirt and jeans, along with a necklace and couple of bracelets. It was tradition to you, wearing bracelets. One was a simple string with different colored beads, mostly blue, and the other one was a friendship bracelet you made yourself, but said a mermaid gave to you when you were younger. The only reason you kept it is to remember your childhood, and to have the same innocence as before.

“Hey, mermaid girl, seen any mermaids lately?” A boy mocked, looking at you as he was passing the halls. You heard light laughter from a group of girls who heard the comment. You ignored them, and focused on getting to your locker. Nothing anybody said would physically affect you, you thought to calm yourself down.

“Mermaid girl!” Someone called out, making you put your head down. Just ignore them, you thought, they don’t know anything.

You finally made it to your locker, and sighing when you saw stickers and drawings of mermaids on your locker. Slowly, you got the wipes from your backpack to try and get them off. This was a daily occurance, to have to deal with assholes like that. It was frustrating, but nothing like when people used to pour water on you to ‘be with them’. Your life wasn’t that miserable, most days, people left you alone, and only talked about you behind your back.

“Hey.” Someone said, scaring you slightly.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” You asked, thinking that they were trying to get to their locker.

“No, just, god this is stupid, I think that you don’t deserve the shit you get.” The boy said. He had shoulder length brown hair, but it seemed to be more of a golden brown, most likely form being in the sun a lot. He stood awkwardly, with a black hoodie, black jeans, and black combat boots. The only thing that he was wearing that wasn’t black was his socks that were bright orange and barely showing above his shoes.

“Oh, thank you.” You said, shocked by what he said.

“Oh, I’m Connor. Connor Murphy.” He said, holding out his hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You said, shaking his hand. He smiled slightly before rushing off, presumably to class. That was weird, you thought, although a nice gesture. Looking at the time on your phone, you realized you needed to start walking to class, since it was on the other side of school and you didn’t want to run into anyone else after that bell rang.

“Mom! I’m back from the coffee shop!” You called out, walking into your house. “I got you a croissant!”

You sighed, realizing nobody was home. Dropping the bag on the counter, you made your way to your room. Your room was unlike other teenagers. It was fairly clean, with a few papers on the floor. At age 13, you wanted to paint one of your walls a light blue, so your parents painted it for you. The other walls were an off-white color, but were filled with drawings and posters of your favorite movies. It also had a rug on the floor that you’ve had your whole life. The rug was a blue color, slightly darker than your wall. When you were younger, you’d pretend that it was water, and you would swim with the fishes and mermaids. Some part of you still wanted to believe in mermaids, even if you got shit for it. Your bed was a decent size. It had been the same bed you’ve had for about 8 years. It lasted through silly sleepovers where all of you would jump on the bed. It lasted when you got your first boyfriend in freshman year and you’d roll on the bed to express the love you you thought you had, and then a week later when you got dumped, it sympathized with your broken heart and the tears you shed over that boy. Now, you didn’t really have those fun, childish moments. Your bed was mainly used for sleeping and occasionally sitting on to do homework.

“Y/N, hey, it’s Aunt Sylvia! Just wanted to say hi! I miss you so much and I really wish you’d call more! You remember when you would call me and talk about your mermaid friends-” You deleted the voicemail before your aunt could finish. It wasn’t that you didn’t love your aunt, of course you loved her, but your aunt Sylvia often loved to talk about your former obsession with mermaids that it made it annoying to talk to her. When Christmas would roll around a while ago, the only thing you’d ever ask for was mermaid toys and mermaid books. And everybody got them for you of course, but some of your older cousins laughed at how obsessed you were, but at that time, you didn’t care. Now when you faced your cousins, usually at family gatherings or around the holidays, you could barely have a conversation with them. You were embarrassed of your past, and you probably wouldn’t be if nobody made fun of you for it.

“You know what?” You said to yourself. “Who do I need to prove? I can go to the lake, and I can just look at the water.”

Getting to the lake was like a trip down memory lane. There was a little forest-y area you had to cross and you remember that you would wander through as if you were an explorer, searching for the sacred lake, or the home to the mermaids. There was a rock right by the lake, where you would sit and draw the mermaids. Another rock resided a little ways into the lake where you’d imagine a mermaid would sit, running a hand through their hair and flapping their tail happily. But, as you approached the lake, you noticed something. Someone’s clothes scattered around the shore. A black hoodie, black jeans, and, no, it can’t be, orange socks stuffed inside combat boots. The exact outfit you saw Connor wear earlier. Did something happen to him? Did he decide to run around naked? Skinny dip in the lake? That was crazy, especially since it was freezing this time of year, and you couldn’t see anybody inside of the water. It was almost dark, but you couldn’t help worry about Connor.

“Connor?” You called out, and you realized how small your voice sounded. If he was here, he would have to be extremely close to be able to hear you. “It’s Y/N, we met today. I don’t even know if you can hear me, but if you can, can you do something to tell me you’re okay? Like, if you’re in the water, splash or something, and if you’re in the forest, throw a rock or something. I’ll leave, I just want to know if you’re okay.”

At first, nothing came, but after a minute, a hesitant splash from the water was heard. You turned around quickly, trying to find Connor, but all you saw was unsteady water. You assumed he was hiding, maybe he was naked, or just didn’t want to be seen. You understood that.

“Okay, I’m leaving. Just, please, be safe.” You said, walking away from the lake.

The next day, you had a desire to go to the lake again. This desire hadn’t been there in such a long time. You smiled slightly, maybe you could grow to love it again.

Walking straight to the lake after school, you were cautious to avoid anyone from school. If they knew you were going to  the lake, you’d never hear then end of it. You reached the lake fairly quickly, taking different paths than you normally would. As you got there though, you heard someone else’s footsteps, cruching the leaves around you. Perhaps it was some teenagers who decided to make out in a secret place, or it was someone doing drugs away from home. But, as you peeked overthe tree you were currently hiding behind, you noticed someone with brown hair undressing. Oh my god! Connor was here again! Did he always have to be here? It wasn’t that you didn’t want him here, more that you were sure he didn’t want you there. As you were going to leave, you watched Connor dive into the water and something appear where his feet and legs were. It couldn’t be. Connor had a fucking tail.

“I need to talk to you.” You said to Connor as you found him in one of the halls after school.

“Uh, Y/N, hi.” He said with a hesitant voice.

“I saw you yesterday.” You said, pointing at him.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He was trying to act casual, and he was doing a good job at it, but you know what you saw yesterday.

“Yes you do. After school, you went to the lake and you jumped in the water and guess what I saw? A fucking-”

“Would you shut your goddamn mouth?” He asked, putting a hand over your mouth.

“What’s the real reason you talked to me a couple days ago?”

“Because you were getting shit-”

“No. It’s because you have a tail!” You exclaimed quietly as possible. Even if it was after school, there were still some people lurking in the halls. Some of them briefly looked over to the two of you fighting, but they didn’t understand what was going on and quickly lost interest.

“Okay fine!” He exclaimed. You couldn’t help but smile slightly. You dreamed of this moment for so long, and all that teasing, all that bullying. They didn’t know. “Why the fuck are you smiling?”

“I have so many questions.” You said.

“Well can we go somewhere else? I really don’t want to talk about this at school.” He said and you nodded

The two of you ended up at the lake, where you had put your feet in the water, and Connor was somewhat far away from it.

“When did you become a mermaid?” You asked and he rolled his eyes. “What, what’s wrong with that question?”

“At least say merman.” He said and you smiled.

“Okay, well when did you become a ‘merman’?” You rephrased.

“My whole life.” He said.

“Does anyone else know?” You asked and he shook his head.

“The only people who know are my family and now you.” He said.

“Is your family merpeople?” You asked and he nodded. “Do they live in the water?”

“Yes. But it’s different.” He said. “Listen, my family, they aren’t human like I am.”

“What?” “It’s more like you think it’s weird and different that I’m a merman, but they think it’s weird that I’m a human.” He said.

“Do merpeople have blue tails?” You asked and he laughed. “Why’s that so funny?”

“Yes, they do. But not all of them. It’s like hair color, except it’s colored tails. Most people have blue or green tails.” He said.

“Can you change the color of it?”

“No.” He said.

“What color is your tail?” You asked.

“Gray.” He responded and your eyes widened slightly.

“Are you like the odd one out?” You asked.

“I guess you could call me that.” He said. “My family’s royalty.”

“Holy shit. This is the best thing in the world. You’re like the Little Mermaid.”

“No! I’m not like the Little Mermaid!” He exclaimed, which made you laugh.

“Wait. If your whole family lives in water, where do you live?” You asked.

“Um, in the water?” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Where does your family live?” You asked.

“I don’t live with my family. I live in the water. But if you actually wnated to know, they live in the Pyltics.” “Pyltics?” You asked.

“Sorry, it’s like the rich peoples area.” He said and you nodded.

“This is like the best thing ever. You know, when I was younger, I dreamed of mermaids and eerybody told me they weren’t real. This moment right now, I finally believe in my dreams.”

[infinitehouseofbooks]

YOUNG ADULT FRIDAYS - Riding With Brighton

Welcome to Shannon Muir’s Infinite House of Books!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by YA Bound Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Riding with Brighton by Haven Francis Genre: YA Contemporary Fiction Release Date: June 27th 2017 Harmony Ink Press

Summary:

In the small town of Spring Valley, molds weren’t made to be broken, and high school senior Jay Hall’s been living comfortably in his popular jock one since adolescence. If it weren’t for the colorful, outspoken artistic anomaly Brighton Bello-Adler, he might have been willing to remain there. Unnaturally drawn to Brighton, Jay knows he needs something from him, but is he ready to find out what that something is?

Temporarily ditching his old life, Jay climbs into Brighton’s Bronco and finds himself on a whirlwind road trip through parts of his small town he didn’t know existed. When the excursion takes an unexpected turn, Jay is cracked wide open, and the person who’s revealed does strange things to Brighton’s heart.

But just when it appears they could be headed toward their own shared piece of paradise, the road takes a sharp right turn into Jay’s life—where the real trip is about to begin.

In an unconventional love story that defies labels, two young men embark on a journey toward growing up, coming out, and finding their place in the world. It’s a trip that ranges from heartbreaking to uplifting, funny to sweet, but always unique and personal.

  BUY LINKS:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Riding-Brighton-Haven-Francis-ebook/dp/B072PXK5S8/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1496207411&sr=1-3

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/riding-with-brighton-haven-francis/1126387180?ean=2940157197919&st=PLA&sid=NOK_DRS_NOOK+EBooks_00000000&2sid=Google_&sourceId=PLGoP75008

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/riding-with-brighton

    Excerpt:

Prologue—Jay

When I woke up Friday morning, I knew it was going to be the day I would finally change my life.

Which, in retrospect, seems like a totally unattainable goal for the day. I mean, who can really change their life in a single day? Just to be clear, I’m talking about for the better. Fucking up your entire life in one day—that’s totally doable. Really, all it would take is 140 characters exposing your dirty black soul on Twitter. You wouldn’t even have to leave your bed.

Realistically, fucking it up would have been the more likely outcome considering the exact changes I needed to make. Again, I’m only realizing this in retrospect, which I’m suddenly starting to despise. Why the delayed reaction, common sense? Seriously.

In my defense, I was blinded by an epiphany. I shit you not. It’s the only explanation for the clarity that pushed out all the regular crap that usually occupies my brain.

Has that ever happened to you? Have you ever opened your eyes and immediately cringed because suddenly the exact depth of suck-ass your life has reached is slapping you repeatedly in the face? Trust me, it sucks. I mean, you go to bed in a comfortable state of denial thinking life’s great. In my case my girlfriend had watched me hit the game-winning double, and afterward my teammates and I had knocked back a few beers before heading home to our McMansions in Folsom Hills. Life is dandy. You sleep like a damn baby—that’s how comfortable you are in your warm shit pile of a life.

And then—ka, fucking, boom—you wake up and… oh hell no, how the hell did this happen? Someone bring me a fallout shelter because I need a safe place to escape from my life for the rest of eternity.

But no fallout shelter comes, and eventually you’re forced to see that your entire life must be destroyed and then resurrected. And all you can think is thank God this mayhem came in the form of an epiphany, because you’re definitely gonna need some divine powers to help you out.

It was all a mess, but the thing that was really screwing with my head was why it all had to change. I mean, I knew why. Deep down I’d always known why, but I had managed to live in the safety of denial for years.

Not anymore. The veil of delusion was lifted and suddenly, everything was blindingly clear.

And what was clear to me that morning was that I had forfeited the life that should have been mine. In fact I had veered as far as I possibly could from my should-have-been life. The path I’d chosen was definitely not the one less traveled. I took the path that had been tromped over a million times. It was a sharp right turn, backward a good mile and a half, around corners, down hills, through a forest, and across the universe from where I’d really wanted to go.

But suddenly I was forced to go there. The maze I would have to navigate in order to backtrack be damned.

Once the shock and terror passed, I felt inspired. I was all knowing and all-powerful and anything was possible. Reality could suck me, because I wasn’t taking its crap anymore.

That Rambo bullshit lasted for a good hour. And then I walked into school.

I could feel my confidence crack as soon as the big metal door closed behind me. But a crack wasn’t going to stop me from doing what had to be done because, dammit; I had an epiphany. I was working alongside higher powers, and it was now or never.

But hell, I mean I couldn’t just change everything immediately. So I wrapped my arm around Sadie and walked to my literal circle of friends who were huddled in the middle of the commons like they were every morning. At first I looked at them with my brand-new superior eyes and thought, I’m better than this. I have more to offer the world than my exceptional athletic ability, good looks, and diligent study habits. I have nothing in common with these people. My should-have-been-life is so much better than this.

While thinking these thoughts, I was midsentence—talking to Jones about the party he was having on Saturday—when Mack slapped me on the chest. He started insulting my performance from the night before, which was obviously bullshit because I always kill it on the field. I insulted him back. This was the banter we were comfortable in. Friendly digs were thrown around for a minute, and then he brought Sadie into it, telling me she needed to do a better job of “warming me up” before our next game. I didn’t defend my virginal girlfriend, but instead told him I was always plenty warmed up (wink wink). Which probably should have been the first, or now that I’m thinking about it, at least the third (seriously retrospect, damn you) sign that my life was not, in fact, on the fast track to change. But really I didn’t see it until I began to turn my head back to Sadie.

That’s when my world went into some weird stop-start motion of clarity:

Jesus, all these guys are wearing the same damn outfits: basketball shoes, perfectly distressed jeans, and brand-name T-shirts under their letterman jackets.

Holy shit, almost all of them have their arms wrapped around popular, beautiful cheerleaders.

And, for fuck’s sake, they’re all talking about last night’s game or Jones’s party.

It freaked me the hell out because—God, this is just too sad—they were clones. They could have all been the same damn person. It was eerie as hell. And at first it felt like more proof that I deserved better.

But then, when I finally looked at Sadie, I saw my arm: my letterman jacketed arm was wrapped around a popular, beautiful cheerleader, and it all hit me again without warning—because that’s how theses god-awful epiphanies work.

I woke up that morning convinced I was different, that I deserved more. And yet, I put on the exact same jeans, T-shirt, and basketball shoes as all these guys. Then I automatically walked into that circle, wrapping an arm around Sadie and dragging her with me because she was the piece that completed my jocktastic ensemble. And then I spewed out the exact same words all these guys were spewing out.

And that’s what got me.

I had nothing else to talk about. Sports, parties, and girls—that was pretty much the extent of my vocabulary. There wasn’t actually a unique and interesting person locked in some weird chamber inside of me trying to claw his way out. I was Jay Hall: quintessential popular jock asshole. Despite the fact that I knew there was one thing that separated me from these guys, it didn’t make me different from them. I had no right to even consider that I deserved to be anyone else.

Mind. Blown.

As the day went on, I couldn’t deny the fact that I was trapped, cocooned by a mass of kids living the exact same life as me. The roadblocks were clean-cut, attractive, and popular, and they were as deep as childhood and adolescence combined. And the road I was trying to go down was narrow, muddy, and filled with potholes anyway. So why did I even give a shit?

By third period I had given up the dream. And I was feeling claustrophobic.

When I woke up on Friday morning, I knew it was going to be the day I would finally change my life. I thought I’d had an epiphany. I thought I needed a divine, unexplainable act to finally give me the courage to do something.

But in the end it wasn’t divinity at all.

It was a simple piece of paper with a few numbers scratched on it. A piece of paper that ended up turning my life upside down and cracking me open in the process.

On Friday morning if you had told me that a damn piece of paper would, within twenty-four hours, cause my entire world to implode, I would have told you to shove it up your ass. Paper schmaper, I was working with a goddamn epiphany.

    About the Author

An escapist filled with wanderlust, writing is Haven’s responsible adult version of getting in the car and driving without aim. Reading and music are close seconds. She and her husband can often be found checking out their favorite bands locally or hundreds of miles away via road trips. Reading is something they don’t have in common, but he tolerates her dimly lit late-night habit.

Haven once made a living writing about trends in interior design but thoroughly enjoys that fact that people, unlike furniture, can fall in love. She especially loves when they fall desperately and into a forbidden kind of love. Haven also works as a graphic designer but considers Mom her most important title.

She has a slightly embarrassing fascination with the period of life that sits awkwardly between childhood and adulthood; the years when nothing is certain, lots of mistakes are made, falling in love is inevitable, and finding yourself is a struggle. For her it’s a fun place to escape to and she hopes her readers agree.

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YOUNG ADULT FRIDAYS – Riding With Brighton was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.