#felt like a soul sister since my middle school introduction

[virginiaisforhaters]

[inknopewetrust]

Manipulate Me

Summary: As Peter travels Europe as a normal kid, the world’s peril throws a wrench in his plans. With you by his side chaperoning the trip as an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D agent, the mysterious introduction of Quentin Beck leaves you breathless. 

Pairing: Quentin Beck/Mysterio x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None! 

A/N: Thanks so much for requesting this @mrs-blooooom​ ! I had a great time writing for Quentin Beck again. For context, reader is Peter’s older sister but also happens to be a shield agent (it was the easiest route of explanation as to why she would be meeting with Fury and Maria Hill). Requests are currently OPEN and you can check out who I write for in my request guidelines tagged in my bio. Thanks for reading! :) *gif not mine* I do not own any of the dialogue from the film. 

“May-” 

“-And don’t forget the passports! Oh! The passports!” 

“May!” 

May stopped scrambling around the apartment only to find that you had the two passports already in your hand. The tired aunt pushed her disheveled hair out of her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose, and slowly calming down. It was fine... Peter had you, Peter had all his friends, Peter would be fine in Europe. 

“Everything is going to go fine. I’ll be with him at all times and if he decides to wander off and do his Spiderman stuff––well then I’ll just have to call in some Avengers to stop him.”  

“I trust that you’ll be able to keep him out of trouble if it comes down to it.” May picked up Peter’s suitcase off the floor and listened to his heavy footsteps draw down the hallway and into the living room where you had gathered with her. 

“All ready?” He asked with those inquisitively wide eyes that reminded you so much of your mom. May handed him the suitcase but not before capturing the boy in a tight hug. Her “motherly” instincts grew since she returned from the blip. It was strange without the two of them. You, stuck here in New York without a leader in either Fury or Tony and the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D, Avengers and then the developed Sword, were left to pick up the pieces and build a life without them. That was the most difficult part. 

“Promise me that you won’t get into any trouble?” May asked Peter who in reply rolled his eyes with a chuckle. 

“It’s just a school trip. Besides, Y/n is going to be there and I’m sure she’s told you a million times that she can keep me in check.” You smacked the side of his head but he just ignored you and turned to the door, opening it with a rough pull with his spider-y force. 

“We��ll see you in a few weeks, May!” 

If you were able to take back all the words you said and never go to Europe, you would ask Stephen Strange to reverse time. 

Venice was a mess. The water-creature-man-thing...? had erupted the small city into a chaotic terror with locals and terrified students trying to find cover. Peter was somewhere flying with webs while another hero whom you had never seen before was assisting him. After a few minutes of trying to guide a group of students to safety, you secured cover underneath an awning in front of a store. 

“Ms. Parker! What do we do!?” Flash was almost in tears from fear which you couldn’t help but judge. It was water? the kid survived Thanos’ snap so he could survive this. Not to mention Fury would have your ass if any of the kids died on your watch. 

Out of nowhere the ground started to fill up with water and cracking of concrete or bricks began echoing throughout the small courtyard you trapped them all in. The green man came swooshing in with a cloud of smoke, almost like an illusion, and stopped the water with the sheer force of his magical abilities. The creature reformed into what looked like a water man and the green man dodged the attack with made the sound of bricks tumbling increase in intensity. Suddenly, the tower to your right began crumbling and you pulled as many students as you could closer to the building you sought shelter next to. 

“Get back! Get back!” 

“Who is that guy!?” Jason, one of the students shouted out but you couldn’t answer the question because you didn’t know. 

“I don’t know, but he’s kicking that waters ass.” Brad voiced exactly what you would have said. 

The green man continued to fight the water as the tower crumbled beside you all and then, like the blink of an eye, the monster was gone and the water scattered, soaking your shoes with a safety that was much welcomed. The man landed to sounds of cheering from the students and locals that found themselves in the same spot as you. But something was different. 

Maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t see his face, or maybe the fact that you had never heard of this hero and you literally worked for the agency that worked with them all. Maybe he wasn’t from this world? Space? Another universe? You could have sworn that you heard of the idea of a multiverse. 

But maybe it was the fact that beneath all that smoke and mirrors that made up the helmet of the mysterious man, it felt as though when he looked around at his admiring fans, his eyes trained on you, staring through your soul with some feeling that wasn’t welcomed or unwanted either. Intrigue, that’s what it was. And when he flew off, everyone was left with a curiosity that sparked a great debate throughout the entire world. Who was this man? 

Well, the T.V. at the hotel identified him as Mysterio. Peter managed to make it back in one piece which you were able to celebrate in a brief moment outside before the voices of interested students and the television interrupted the moment. Betty and Ned were searching every website for some kind of clue but nothing other than what the news reported was to be taken as fact. It wasn’t aliens, it wasn’t witches, it was just another hero. 

So that was what you went with. That was until you opened your door to Fury sitting in a chair next to the window. 

“Oh my God!” You shrieked and Fury laughed, laughed, at you. 

“You scare too easy.” 

“What are you doing here? I thought you were in spa-” 

The slight reveal of a green hand made you shut up. "Fury” tilted his head with a slight “Ah, well.” 

“Is this about that Mysterio guy?” 

“We’ve got him at a site. Says he’s from another Earth and that these creatures destroyed his own and intend to destroy this one too.” 

“Another Earth? So, the multiverse.. it’s real?” 

“Fury” didn’t respond to that, but he simply rose and gestured over his shoulder to the window. 

“There is a car outside. Go and wait in it while I go get Peter. The big man told me I need to scare the kid.” You smiled at the thought as the man left to go retrieve your brother. 

You had been part of the world of superheroes far longer than Peter had. You had been there when Loki first attacked New York way back when and that seemed like so many years ago. With the blip, it seems like an entire eternity. Nick never let you in on his secrets of his relationship with Carol Danvers, but you had met the Skrulls when you went on a mission three months ago to visit Monica Rambeau in space. Unlike her, you weren’t blessed with some badass powers, though she didn’t always have them. 

Peter looked terrified walking out to the car and when he saw you inside, he breathed a sigh of relief that he wouldn’t be alone. The site of S.H.I.E.L.D in Italy wasn’t far from where you had all taken up residence for the last day or two, but it was secluded, down in the catacombs of old buildings that no one would suspect. It reminded Peter of a Mission Impossible movie that you had watched with him before the two of you left for Europe, he felt more like a spy than a superhero in that moment. 

As you walked behind the two down the long corridors of the abandoned treasure that was used as a make-shift S.H.I.E.L.D, you were surprised to see Maria at a computer, though now knowing about Fury, you were sure it wasn’t even her. The center of the room was filled with scattered agents who you weren’t familiar with and then a projection in the middle of the room, along with the man without the helmet. 

You weren’t one for fawning over men. Jesus, you worked with Thor sometimes and while you were aware of his Godly looks, you never gawked. But this man, he wasn’t a God, he was just naturally beautiful. Dark hair, blueish-gray eyes that surely did pierce your soul, and a stature of a man who knew how to carry himself with power in the world. It was like he walked out of your dreams and into reality. 

“This is Mr. Beck.” Fury introduced you and Peter to the man. Mr. Beck approached Peter with a small smile and held out his hand. Peter looked nervous but responded with his own shake. 

“Mysterio?” 

“What?” 

“It’s just what my friends were calling you.” 

“Well, you can call me Quentin. You handled yourself well out there today. I saw what you did with the tower. We could use someone like you on my world.” 

Peter looked puzzled but Quentin looked behind the boy to you. He held out his hand with another smile which you returned. Maybe there was a shock when you touched hands, but you were sure it was just your imagination. 

“Y/n Parker, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.” 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/n.” 

“Likewise.” 

Did time rush by faster when you were in the presence of someone you were obviously attracted to? Yes, because before you knew it, the night was over, and Fury was leading you and Peter back out to the car. Peter was absolutely smitten with Quentin and could hardly break conversation. The man gave the attention to Peter like Tony did. It was like life imitating itself in another time. Quentin reminded you so much of Tony. Smooth with words, handsome, gifted in almost an unfair way, and he took an interest in the last piece of close family you had. You wanted nothing more than for Peter to have a figure in his life to give him a positive purpose. With Tony gone, he’s struggled trying to find his niche again. 

“See you, kid.” Quentin looked disappointed but hopefully that his and Peter’s paths would cross again one day, even with Peter trying to avoid being identified by his class or the world. At some point, someone would figure it out if they hadn’t already. 

“Yeah, see you.” Peter said as he walked out, following Dimitri, who Fury ordered to keep Peter in check with you. You were more than capable of doing it yourself but for some reason, Fury felt the need to send another agent. 

“Good luck, Quentin.” You told him and he nodded his head, glancing at the holographic map of Venice next to him. 

“I fear I’ll need it. But I’m hopeful that the good luck will be for more than just winning this fight.”

Swoon. That’s what you did for the remainder of the night and into the early morning. You couldn’t sleep a wink after the revelations that Quentin relayed to you and Peter about the elementals. That worried you too. How in the world was Peter supposed to sit by while other heroes with indisposed and couldn’t help? Sam and Bucky were on their own missions, Carole and Monica were off, Stephen and Wanda were no use and Thor was off on his own adventures with that team of riff-raffs from space–you know, the one with the talking tree. 

But somewhere in all the jumble of thoughts, the scenery of the canal that had been a scene of something far different, calmed the noise. Enjoy the trip. This was the first time in years that you had traveled for something other than work and yet it was still filling every thought and moment. The thoughts were so loud and invasive that you didn’t register the person coming up to your right, ready to take the bag off your shoulders. You felt the tug and turned around, ready to punch the person but they dogged it, pulling it off your shoulder. It was a game of tug of war for the bag, but the person was strong. 

“Let go! I said let go!” You pulled as hard as you could, therefore the bag came flying back to you and its contents spread across the sidewalk. The person glanced at the wallet on the ground and then back at you before you both dove to the ground. They grabbed it first and you tackled them to the ground. Wrestling with grunts and yells, you hadn’t noticed the audience of one that rushed to help. A blast of green light shot the person off of you and you clutched the wallet to your chest tightly, trying to reel in your ragged breath. 

“I heard yelling from my hotel...” The hero started only to realize that it was you and with a turn of your head, you had realized it was him, Quentin. 

“Oh! Are you alright?” He extended a hand, which you readily took to stand. He then helped collect the scattered items and put them back in the now ripped bag before handing it back to you. 

“I’m fine. Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” There was a brief, awkward lull but you weren’t sure what else to say. 

“So, do you always wander around at night in a city you don’t know?” It was an icebreaker, a line that he knew would make you at least chuckle. 

“No... I just had a lot on my mind. What you told us in there–it’s a lot of information to retain.” 

“I’m sure an agent like you could handle it though.” You smiled bashfully at the compliment. Quentin gestured over his shoulder and shoved his hands in his pockets. You realized he wasn’t wearing his uniform anymore but just a pullover sweater and some dark jeans. How he shot the green light in the first place you didn’t know, but all heroes worked a little differently you suppose. 

“Would you like to take a walk? I promise I won’t try to steal your wallet.” 

“How do I know I can trust you?” The conversation was so light, and carefree that for the first time in a long time, you felt like a normal person. Quentin returned your cheeky smile and began walking. 

“I’m pretty sure a woman like you could figure out who trust and who not avoid. Isn’t that what they train you for? Agents?” 

“I suppose so, yes.” 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked Quentin and he looked at you with a nod of his head. 

“How did you know the elementals would turn up in our Earth?” 

“Intelligence. My wife, she had worked for our version of your agency. Before they came to destroy our city, one had already manifested itself in Mexico. It was as if there would be a pattern to follow. So when she passed, I used her intelligence to figure out where they might be, which led me here.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“Thank you, it’s been some time now. She would be glad to see Peter helping me, and you helping out with the cause.” 

“Peter really took a liking to you. I could see it in the way he could barely contain himself.” You laughed, changing the heavy subject to one more light. 

“He’s a good kid. You’re related I assume?” 

“My little brother.” 

“You should be proud of him. He is doing a lot of good for the world. I just wish he was more confident in his abilities to realize identity protect isn’t everything.” 

Quentin was right, it wasn’t everything. But it was more than identity for Peter. It was also no Tony to lead the way, his want to be a normal kid, his need to have friends and well, MJ to like him. But neither of you would know what it was like to be a teen hero, that was a lot of unneeded pressure. 

“It seems that I brought you around full circle.” The sound of Quentin’s voice broke the silence and the realization that you were outside the barely standing hotel. You sighed and tugged the bag on your shoulder. 

“Thanks for saving the day, Mysterio.” 

“Anything to help protect Agent Parker.” 

If you hadn’t just met him a few hours ago, you would have asked him to come upstairs but that was far too forward for the world you created for yourself, so you extended your hand as he had earlier. 

“May our paths cross again.” 

He grasped your hand tightly and agreed. 

“Hopefully under better circumstances.” 

You watched then as he walked away, unaware of the man underneath the facade of Mysterio. How he already knew who you were, knew all your secrets, and was ready to manipulate you to take down the institution that denied him success so many years ago. 

[rhysismydaddy]

365 Days: Part 2 (Feysand)

I feel like this should be beyond obvious at this point, but black lives matter. As a white person, I understand that I’ll never fully comprehend the struggle black individuals face on a daily basis. I stand with them, protesters, and activists as a lifetime ally. “Don’t be mad they’re rioting, be happy you don’t have to.” -- If you are not a supporter of the BLM movement, go ahead an unfollow me. I couldn’t care less. 

OKAY. Sorry this is a day late! This part kind of has it all (humor, fluff, some slightly kinky smut) so I don’t know how to describe it. I also hate it, but whatever. Part 3 (last part) out Friday!

Part 1

________________________________________________________________

Day 1, 7:13 AM

~Feyre~

Something warm laid across her cheek, and Feyre peeked an eye open, only to groan at who she saw staring down at her. “If you make a habit of waking me up at the ass crack of dawn, I can already tell you you won’t live through our year of marriage, Rhysand.”

He smiled. “You have to get up. We're taking wedding pictures.”

She didn’t see the point. They’d signed the marriage license last night. How he’d procured one in less than an hour, she didn’t even want to know.

“Why the hell would we do that?”

“Because I’m a public figure, and the newspaper asked for a quote on our marriage.” She groaned. “Now get your cute ass downstairs.”

She glanced at him speculatively but stayed firmly planted in the bed. “What’s downstairs?”

“Someone to help get you ready. Not that I don’t appreciate the bed head. Up.”

Feyre shook her head. “Ask me again in two hours.” She glanced at the clock. “Make it three.”

Her husband pinched the bridge of his nose, but stood back up. She closed her eyes, happy she’d won their first argument. 

Only to be proven wrong a moment later as the demon spawn flung back her blankets, grabbed her waist, and threw her over a shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

“Put me down,” she shrieked, beating the back of his toned legs with a fist.

Rhysand, calm as always, smoothly responded, “If I put you down, you’ll just get back in the bed.”

“No, I won’t,” she lied.

Even though she couldn’t see his face, she’d bet anything he rolled his eyes. He walked out his/her/their bedroom door and down the stairs, his casual gait suggesting nothing out of the order.

“Good morning,” he said pleasantly to whoever was waiting.

Feyre peeked around his ass to see four complete strangers, varying levels of amusement on their faces. “Um, hi.”

She was placed on a salon-like chair. 

Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of the living room. 

Rhysand pointed at two hulking figures sitting on the couch. “These are my friends Cassian and Azriel. You’ve met.”

The smugness in his voice, combined with the shit-eating grins of the men he was referring to, had her snapping back, “Oh yes, my kidnappers. Sorry I didn’t immediately recognize you. I had a sack over my head last time we met.”

“I’m Cassian.” The larger of the two smiled. “I’m the one you tried to gut with a butter knife.”

“I’ll have to practice my aim.”

Cassian looked at the man standing next to her and winked. “I like her.”

The other man on the couch, Azriel, sighed and shook his head, resigned. 

Rhys just rolled his eyes and continued his introductions. “The two normal people here,” he gestured to a very brightly-dressed pair, “are here to do your hair and makeup and whatever else.”

He gave her a light kiss on the forehead, then spoke to his fellow criminals. “We have shit to do. Come on.”

“Are you off to do illegal activities, my dear husband?” 

“Don’t worry, Feyre darling. You won’t be without eye candy for too long.”

He laughed at the look on her face, then wisely jogged out the door before she could throw something at him.

She turned to the people left staring at her with wide eyes and repressed a groan. “Let’s get this over with.”

~Rhysand~

Two hours after he’d left, Rhys came back to the house, showered, and changed into a tux. Then he went to his backyard where the photographer had set up. 

“Where’s Feyre?” he asked the man as he messed around with lighting balloons.

The photographer gave him a knowing smile. “I want to get a picture of your reaction when you first see her.”

He was about to respond when the backdoor of the house opened and she walked out.

She was wearing a classic gown with long sleeves and a deep neckline, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. Her hair was up, and she had a veil trailing behind her. The sunlight made the white of her dress almost glow.

If she’d been beautiful before, now she was...

There were no words for how she looked.

Fucking radiant was a start.

She walked across the lawn to him and smiled, and he couldn’t keep the matching grin off his face if he tried.

Rhysand heard the faint snap snap snap of the camera and finally understood what the photographer had meant. 

He’d wanted to capture the moment the city’s Son of Satan was practically brought to his knees by a single woman. 

And Rhys didn’t even care.

Feyre finally drew close enough that he could see the details of her face. Even though he had a million more romantic things running through his brain, he murmured, “Who’s the eye candy now?”

“You are,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You look like sex on a spoon.”

His mouth dropped open, but before he could respond, the photographer butted into their moment. “Okay, I want you two to act like I’m not even here. We’re aiming for three or four really good shots, so just be natural, and I’ll let you know if anything has to change.”

They both nodded absently, still staring at each other. Rhys reached down to grab her hand, finger flicking the ring on her finger.

“I can’t believe our marriage is making the paper, and I didn’t even get a real proposal,” she teased. 

It was true. 

He’d put the ring on her bedside table the night before, too much of a simpering coward to give her the ring in person, too nervous about what’d she say. It had been his mother’s, and he’d once sworn to never let another soul have it. 

“I didn’t want to risk your wrath and wake you up.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled.

Almost on its own accord, one of his hands reached out to cup her cheek. He didn’t know if Feyre was acting or something else, but she leaned into his touch, a hand coming to rest against his chest.

“Beautiful, just beautiful,” the photographer cooed.

“You are,” he told his wife. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled.

“Annoying as hell, but beautiful.”

She shoved his shoulder and turned away, but he grabbed her wrist to spin her back, and decided to risk his life.

He kissed her.

Hands locked around her waist, lips crashing into hers, Rhysand kissed her like he’d been dying to since he’d seen her asleep in his shirt.

And she really, really kissed him back.

Feyre’s hands wound around his neck, and he lifted her up a little to get a better angle. Her lips opened to let his tongue in, and he had no other thoughts in his head besides the woman in his arms.

The photographer coughed pointedly. 

They ignored him.

Until Rhys finally relented and set her back on the ground, both of them panting for air.

“Sorry,” she told the blushing man, but he waved her off and insisted it happened all the time.

The thing was, it didn’t. 

Rhysand had kissed plenty of women in his lifetime, but none of them had made his entire body start simmering like that. 

Her blue eyes watched him speculatively as he slipped the ring off her finger, dropped down to one knee, and smiled. “Feyre darling, will you marry me?”

Despite already being legally married, she bent over and kissed him, then stole the ring back. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

Day 9, 8:04 PM

~Feyre~

Feyre had to admit that while the house outside the city had a charm and wholesome quality she’d come to admire, being trapped here had started to drive her slightly insane. 

Especially since Rhysand had been been on a business trip the entire week, so she’d been here by herself. 

After a tense phone call with her sisters--where Nesta had cackled and called her Satan’s nephew--and getting ahead in her textbooks, she was out of things to do. So she spent most of her time being a nosy little snob and going through her husband’s stuff.

Apparently, the Son of Satan had a very serious addiction to wine, if the cellar in the basement was any indication. 

But other than that--and a mysterious letter from a woman named Amren--he had no trinkets, pictures of family, or any other worthwhile gossip. 

The word “boredom” hardly covered it.

Once upon a time, Feyre wouldn’t have minded a couple days like this. When law school was in session, she didn’t have a spare moment and enjoyed when she got to do nothing. 

She didn’t bother lying to herself about why it was driving her insane now.

She missed Rhysand. 

After only a couple days of marriage, he’d wormed his way into her heart and made her start to rely on teasing him, seeing that devilish smirk, making him laugh. The nightly texts he sent her weren’t enough to satisfy her insane need to talk to him. He’d told her he was coming back later tonight, and she was practically coming out of her skin with excitement. 

She was an idiot, basically. 

This marriage wasn’t supposed to involve actual feelings. It was a publicity save. And despite giving her a hotter-than-hell kiss during their photo shoot, he hadn’t so much as touched her since. 

Feyre had the distinct feeling he was waiting for her to make the first move. 

Which, again, she normally wouldn’t mind. But something about Rhysand... she knew once she started down that path, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

So she slept in his bed, wore his t-shirts, and avoided thinking about how his mouth had felt against hers. 

And how he’d tasted like chocolate and watermelon and-

Cutting that thought off, she resolved herself to be cool and calm and collected when he came back. She needed to nip the feelings she’d started to develop for him in the bud. 

But then the front door banged open, and Feyre instantly disregarded every promise she’d made to herself and raced down the stairs, yelling like a banshee. 

She saw Rhysand standing in the doorway in his usual Johnny Cash uniform and didn’t hesitate before yelling, “You’re home!”

And throwing herself on him.

He dropped whatever he was holding and laughed as she wrapped herself around him like a koala. 

“Are you alright, love?”

She nodded against his neck. “I’m fine. Ignore me. I’ve just been so bored. This place is way too fucking quiet when you’re not here. I think I’m going insane.”

“I believe you.” 

“Asshole.”

He laughed, then did as she’d said and ignored her presence, crossing the living room to the kitchen. 

Rhys bent to look through the fridge, and she tightened her hold on him. 

“We have no food, also,” she told him helpfully. 

“I see that. If you put some pants on, we can go into the city for dinner.”

She laughed. Along with wearing his shirts, she’d taken to stealing a pair of boxers to sleep in. 

Feyre dropped to the floor, and he smirked down at her. “I was gone for five days, and that’s the greeting I got. Next time I’m staying away for six.”

She swung a hand and punched his shoulder, which probably hurt her more than him, and told him, “You’re so very funny, Rhysand. Please feed me.”

Her husband gave her a shooing motion. “You might want to put on something besides my boxers, then.”

She took his advice.

About an hour later, she sat in front of him, watching as he adamantly tried to avoid looking at her.

She’d chosen a dark green dress--unremarkable except for the low neckline and short skirt--black heels, and simple makeup.

“Are you alright, Rhysand? You look like you’re having a stroke.”

Those violet eyes slid to hers. “I’m fine, thank you for asking. I like that dress.”

“I can tell.”

He looked at the ceiling. “When we get home, I’m going to replace your entire wardrobe with burlap sacks.”

Feyre shrugged, then decided to take a chance. “You’d still stare at me.”

His eyes met hers, and when he spoke, it was practically a purr. “Am I supposed to deny, Feyre darling, how attractive I find you?” 

The waiter arrived before she had to respond. She made a mental note to leave him a huge tip.

As they ate their meal, she was overly aware of how many people stared at them. The whispers that surrounded them.

She was about to ask how he dealt with it when a chair was slid up next to her, a heavy-set man settling in. “Hello, Rhysand. I need to talk to you.”

The man was dressed in dark clothes, covered in tattoos, and had the promise of violence written across his every movement. He practically had the words drug dealer floating above his over-sized head. 

“Dante.” The warm look she’d come to recognize in her husband’s eyes was nowhere to be found. “Whatever it is, it can wait. Leave.”

“I promise you, it can’t,” the man said boldly, continuing to ignore her presence entirely. “A shipment’s gone missing.”

Feyre watched, stomach twisting, as Rhysand leaned forward and smiled cruelly. “Would you like to join it? I don’t discuss business in front of my wife.”

My wife. 

Despite the more than tense surroundings, Feyre felt a spark run through her at the words. 

“Then the bitch can leave. I need to talk to you.”

There was a slight pause, then everything changed so quickly she didn’t have time to process it. One minute she was watching the man’s face twist with impatience, the next there was a gun pressed against his ruddy forehead. 

A gun that practically looked like an extension of Rhysand’s arm.

Her husband was standing, entire body stiff with anger. The look on his face was inhuman. And promised a slow, slow death as he looked towards the man on the recieving end. 

“Refer to her as Feyre Asterra, or lose your fucking tongue.” 

The restaurant was dead quiet, everyone holding their breath and waiting to see what happened. No one dared move a muscle. 

Except Dante, who nodded stiffly. 

“Now apologize.”

The way he said it, the command in his voice... a thrill sparked through Feyre, and she bit her lip to keep the gasp in. 

What was wrong with her? Where fear should’ve taken root, there was raw, untapped excitement whirling inside her. Rhysand’s entire body was lined with power and dominance and rage, and it made her breath come quicker as she watched.

Dante looked at her, the hatred clear. “I’m sorry,” he spat, then looked back at Rhys.

Rhysand tilted his head, a king holding court. Another cruel smile. “Beg me.”

Something inside Feyre twisted at his words. 

Beg me.

The man’s jaw flexed as he gritted his teeth, but he still said. “Please, Rhysand. I’ve worked for you for five years. I’m sorry.”

There was a pause, and she wouldn’t be surprised if someone passed out in anticipation. Then Rhys made a soft tsk sound. 

“You no longer work for me. You’re no longer welcome in this city. If I see you after tonight, I won’t be as forgiving.” 

The man opened his mouth to oppose, thought better of it, and sulked to the restaurant of the exit.

In that moment, Feyre knew why people called him the Son of Satan. Knew because, as calm as ever, he turned to their waiter and said, “Check, please.”

~ nsfw warning ~

Rhysand stood in front of the fireplace in their room, silent as the dead. 

He hadn’t said a single word on the way home, and she could tell whatever had happened at dinner had been the tip of the iceberg. Something had gone wrong. 

She replayed the meal over and over in her head, trying to figure it out, but only seemed to be able to remember one thing.

Beg me. 

Something had snapped inside her tonight, and she couldn’t keep herself still. Seeing him like that, seeing the power he had over people...

Slipping off the bed, Feyre walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. 

Her hands were spread on his taut stomach, but he gripped her wrists and took them off. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “I can’t do this right now. I’m not... I’m trying to keep my promise to you.”

Stay good with me. It felt like she’d said that a lifetime ago. 

Rhys turned around, drank whatever was in his glass, and looked down at her. There was violence and anger and animalistic rage in his gaze. 

It did little to calm the roar in her veins.

“Break your promise.”

A muscle in his jaw flickered, but he kept his hands to himself.

She wanted him so bad she could hardly stand. Her hands found their way to his chest, needing to touch him. “Please.”

Suddenly, she was pressed against the mantle near the fire, heat scorching up her leg. His glass fell to the floor as his hands pressed against her shoulders. 

He’d barely touched her, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile. 

A hand came to trace her bottom lip, then he was kissing her, and she finally let out a sigh.

The day of their wedding pictures, his kiss had been decadent and exploring. But that was when he was happy. 

When Rhys was pissed off, he kissed her in a raw, aggressive sort of way that made her lose her mind. A hand pulled her hair, making her tilt her head back, and he deepened the kiss. 

She’d just started to unbutton his shirt when he lifted her by the back of the thighs, then dropped them both to the floor and pinned her underneath him. 

Rhys braced himself over her trapping her arms above her head. She thought about the first time they’d been like this, and the look in his eye said he was doing the exact same thing. 

“I wanted you so bad that night,” he told her, voice rough.

She arched her back, chest pressed against his, and he gave her a wolf’s smile. 

“Did you want me, too?” he asked, lips and teeth on her collarbone. 

Feyre nodded. 

His mouth drifted down to her chest, and his teeth scraped her nipple through her dress. Rhys looked up at her, more monster than man in his eyes, and asked, “Were you wet for me, Feyre?”

Okay. Maybe it had been a mistake to encourage being together right now. 

Only one way to find out.

She nodded again, and his eyes went dark.

A hand remained pinning her wrists, the other drifting up her thigh. His fingers grazed the lace of her panties, then slipped inside. 

He ran a finger up her core, and she shifted beneath him. 

“Stay still,” he ordered, the command in his voice making her freeze. 

His finger slipped inside her, and he nudged the neck of her dress down to take a breast in his mouth. He made a humming sound in appreciation as he moved, then added another finger.

Feyre moaned, pushing uselessly against the grip on her hands. It was too much. He was too much. She wouldn’t survive this.

But she couldn’t force herself to stop. 

She’d been right. Now that she’d started, a shower of bullets wouldn’t make her leave this room.

His stubble scraped the valley between her breasts, and then they were kissing, a deep, wet slide of tongues and lips and teeth. He kissed her in time to the movement of his hand, and Feyre groaned into his mouth.

“I need more,” she panted onto his skin.

Rhysand’s teeth closed softly on her shoulder, and then he was looking down at her. His eyes were so dark they were like the nighttime sky, and then he said the words she didn’t know she’d been craving. 

“Beg me.”

She whimpered underneath him, shifting restlessly. 

A small, knowing smile was on his face, and she would’ve punched it off if she hadn’t been so attracted to it. 

“Please. Please.”

His hand was on her jaw, and he pressed a wet kiss to her lips. “Good girl.”

Lord help me.

He made quick work pulling her clothes off, then leaned back on his knees, surveying her head to toe. 

She repaid the favor. 

She didn’t know when his shirt had fallen open, but she sure as shit wasn’t complaining. 

His chest was covered in tattoos, the dark swirls running across his pecs and shoulders, all the way to his fingertips. The tattoos, the dangerous look in his eyes... Feyre lost a bit of her sanity as she leaned up to drag her mouth up his stomach.

Flicking open his belt, Rhys pushed her back down. Then his pants were pulled down, and he was spreading her thighs and settling in between them before she got a proper look. 

“Again.” He looked half crazed with anger and lust. 

She nipped at his bottom lip. “Please.”

He was pushed inside her, deep and slow and steady. He groaned in her ear, and the sound threatened what remained of her.

Then he gripped her hips, lifted slightly, and began to move. 

Holy gods.

Feyre didn’t know what language she was speaking in, but it wasn’t English. She was murmuring incoherent somethings, not able to string together proper thoughts.

She moved in rhythm with him as he picked up speed, and even though they were spread out on the ground, Feyre felt like a freaking queen. 

He was taking his time, listening and learning what she liked, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge.

Soon she was so loud it was a miracle they didn’t have close neighbors. 

But as soon as she felt release start to come, he paused his movements. 

The sound that came out of Feyre’s mouth was close to a snarl. 

Rhysand smiled, gripping her chin. “Do you want to come, Feyre darling?”

If she wasn’t practically immobile, she’d strangle him. “You’re such an insufferable bastard, Rhysand Asterra. Yes.”

“And what do people say when they want something?”

She bit his lip in frustration, but said, “Please, you pri-”

His hips slammed into hers, a moan cutting her off as release crashed into her. Muscles twitching, face pinched in concentration, he followed her lead, collapsing on top of her. 

They laid there together, both breathing heavily, until she started losing air. He rolled off her and looked over her with male satisfaction.

There was still a little tension from earlier, but his usual brightness and light was back. It was impossible not to smile at the happiness coursing through her veins. 

Then he opened that smart mouth. “Let’s take a moment to remember when you said you could go two years without sleeping with me.”

“In my defense,” she panted back, “I hadn’t seen you in action before.”

He looked adorably shocked. “So threatening to shoot people is hot to you?”

“When it’s because of me, yeah.” She flicked his bicep, unable to help it. “I almost jumped you right then and there.”

He started kissing her neck, grinning against her skin. “I might have to hunt him down, then.”

She laughed, hands playing in his thick hair. Feyre pulled him back on top of her, a deliciously heavy dead weight. “I think I might have to update my pros and cons list.”

Rhysand laughed, and Feyre doubted a year of looking at that smile would be enough. 

Hell, a lifetime might not be enough. 

She didn’t let the thought linger. 

“Do you think there’s some innocent people around for you to threaten?”

A kiss to her temple. “I’ll hire someone if I have to.”

________________________________________________________________

Part 3

@a-bit-of-a-cactus @bamchickawowow @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @rapunzel1523 @negativenesta @burritowithfeels @exciting @sis-it-dont-add-up @mockingjayusa @aelin-is-my-heart @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @awesomelena555 @thekeytohappiness-is-you @keshavomit

[shintorikhazumi]

I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 2: The Eldest Sister, The Younger Sister, and The Youngest

A/N: This chapter is more on Diana and Claudine’s lives and backgrounds. I feel like most of the initial chap plans I have are. Weiss gets her background turn soon tho. She still has some thoughts from her point of view. Some observations. It’s kinda different for her since she’s actually been around Jacques as opposed to Claudine and Diana who have been away from the dude, practically not knowing him at all. Maybe around chapter 4-ish. Rubes, Akko, and Maya come in the next chapter, so I hope you all can hold out until then, haha.

I personally love this concept so much! Like really! I keep writing out plot lines and paragraphs ahead. This is clearly a self-indulgent fic, I apologize.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

 I Have Two Sisters?! Chapter 2: The Eldest Sister, The Younger Sister, and The Youngest

For how shitty he was as a father- and a person in general, Jacques Schnee sure had the devil’s luck. It made perfect sense as he was basically a demon at this point with all that he’s probably done, both known and hidden from the light.

How could someone acquire so much fortune? Riches, intelligence and cunning brought about by his insane amounts of greed, looks (Weiss gagged so hard thinking about it, though it was relatively true), charm that deceived women… or deceit masked as charm? Anyway. He had it all.

Plus, he had three gorgeous daughters to boot.

Had he exchanged his soul for this amount of good karma?

Well, it didn’t matter.

If the angel of death wanted nothing to do with him, then it probably wouldn’t mind if three angel-looking ladies took care of the job instead… right?

They were certainly angry enough to kill.

Or at least Weiss was.

Weiss had been brandishing her sword for the better half of the last two hours as she remained seated on the couch next to an equally fuming Claudine, exchanging opinions about their insufferable… sperm donor, or whatever.

Diana lay peacefully unaware, head on the golden-blonde’s lap, still unconscious since fainting at their front door. The other two…sisters- gosh, it was so weird thinking about it- didn’t quite know what to do with her, so they simply moved her over so she could rest more comfortably.

At first, they had planned on moving to the kitchen area to talk things out, and leave their other sibling to the peace of a quiet room, however, as if sensing the lack of presence, Diana had begun to toss and turn restlessly, hands and arms seeking out something. Upon grasping the edge of Claudine’s shirt, it seemed as though she had no plans of letting go, and thus, they ended up in the position they were in now, all squeezing together on their decently-sized couch.

“-And so, he told me I wasn’t old enough to live on my own, and I was wondering what he meant, because I am most certainly over eighteen! And then he implied something about Japan and that-! That was how I found out about being sent here and… we’re here now.” Weiss had just finished telling her side of this ridiculous story, pissed off being an understatement as to how she felt.

She didn’t want to be a criminal, but Jacques Schnee had a neck that just looked so perfect to slice in half.

Claudine would have laughed at how red Weiss’ face had become, but she refrained, breathing in, readying the words to her own tale. They had broached the topic of how they got here while talking about the house and their first meeting, and so they backtracked a bit to their own backgrounds and history prior to their father’s decision of sending them all to this place in Japan.

“I used to study here, actually. It’s only been a little over two years since I left.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I studied at a music and arts academy and mainly dabbled in theatre.”

“You say, “dabbled”, but I wonder if it’s really just that.” Weiss chuckled, secretly studying her companion’s features. Something in the back of her mind told her that the name, ‘Claudine’ was one she’d heard of before, especially since it had involved music. But maybe she could look into it later. “Sorry, go on.” Weiss encouraged after realizing she had interrupted her sister’s story.

“I was offered a chance at an exchange program in the school that basically “made” my mother’s previous career. It was in Paris and…” Claudine looked like she had loved and regretted at the same time every inch of that experience.

“I get it.” Weiss whispered, not meeting the actress’ gaze. “The biggest opportunity of your life. It could change everything.” Weiss turned back to meet rose-red eyes in understanding. “But that change isn’t always the best.” Claudine nodded. “It’s kind of like that meme, the one that goes ‘but at what cost’.” They shared a light laugh at that, but it seemed as though their chatter was enough to rouse the bundle of British girl on Claudine’s lap.

“Hrrngghnmm… where…?” Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, Diana blinked slowly, rising up to sit on the couch properly. She took in her surroundings, the unfamiliar interior, and the two people she could barely remember. She would have panicked and created as much distance between herself and the strangers, thinking she might have been kidnapped, but it was like she didn’t even have enough energy for that.

“Good morning to you as well.” Claudine jested, patting stray tufts of curly hair into place. “I hope you slept well, because we have a lot to talk about.”

Diana was still in the middle of processing everything in her drowsy state, so she could only nod in minimal understanding.

“Great. So Diana,” Weiss stole her attention.

“How did you-“

“Well, as you failed to introduce yourself to us right before fainting,” Diana visibly winced, and Claudine had chided Weiss on being a bit mean. The white-haired heiress rolled her eyes, but apologized anyway before continuing. “-we took the liberty of checking your pockets for any identification. Don’t worry, we didn’t take anything, and we didn’t snoop around important things that weren’t your ID. Rest assured. At least we respect privacy… unlike certain assholes…” She whispered the last part to herself.

A nod.

“Good, so. Now that introductions are out of the way,” Weiss stood up in front of the pair, hands on her hips. “It’s now time for some very important questions.”

“…such as?” Diana required some elaboration.

“Such as… whatever this thing is.” She stated, spinning her finger about in the air, gesturing to the three of them. “Between us.”

“But I thought…” Diana trailed off, instinctively looking to Claudine for support. The latter got the message.

“Aren’t we siblings? Sisters? Well… half-sisters, but,” she scratched the back of her head, feeling a little shy. “Sisters nonetheless.” Diana nodded in agreement, feeling a little warm deep down.

“Fine. So we’re sisters.” Weiss crossed her arms over her chest. “But there are certain things we have to agree on. After all, we don’t even know each other. Like, at all. How do we know who’s in charge in this house? Money concerns, I’m sure we all have individual banks and means. But things like property and document processes, who gives the rules and all that jazz… Or do we all just go on with our lives, each to their own.” She finished, awaiting the pair’s reply.

“I-…” Diana found herself lost for words once more. She couldn’t admit that she actually fancied the idea of having two new sisters, having wanted a family because she never really had one apart from her mother who had already long since passed. After that event, she had always been alone. She had been an only child, after all. She had always wondered what it would have been like had she had siblings, like her twin cousins. Her mother never married again, nor did she have the chance to as fate was so cruel. She was Diana’s only memory of family, along with a few of their servants who were loyal to them to the core.

But really, it was different when it was family that shared the same blood in their veins. Though quite a number would argue that some friends stuck closer than brothers, there were still instances where blood would prove to be thicker than water.

Even if it was diluted by half-built relationships.

Claudine noticed her distress. It was as though she always did. Placing a hand over Diana’s, she squeezed comfortingly before turning to Weiss.

“After speaking with you earlier, I’m sure we all need family of some sort. I don’t mind acting-“ Claudine caught herself, proceeding to shake her head. “-No, being sisters with you both. I think I’d actually like it. I’ve never had siblings as I was an only child. But then I did stay in a dorm in high school, and being around same-aged peers was truly a beneficial experience, living alongside people I grew to know and trust.”

Diana gave her a relieved smile, and the French responded in kind.

“I believe we could be the same if we tried.”

Weiss sighed, but she was smiling deep down. She had an older sister back home, and a younger brother as well, though they weren’t as close as she was with the eldest. Still, she knew they were all just struggling in their father’s grasp, forced to obey his whims. The two older sisters had managed to wriggle out one way or another, but Weiss sometimes regretted not helping Whitley be able to do the same. Maybe one day, she could introduce him to two sisters who looked like they had so much care and experience to share. Maybe they could all be a family together. Even if they all just consisted of siblings.

“I suppose I can be the eldest then.” It was neither proposition nor suggestion. Weiss was attempting to establish it as fact.

“Why you?” Claudine questioned with a brow raised.

Diana didn’t care who was in charge, she was happy enough to feel the inclusion in a family.

“Well, seeing as I’m the legitimate child here-“ It was like everything froze. There was a cut of silence in the air, kind of like those disc scratches you would hear often in videos when someone made a mistake, or a fumble and everyone realized. Yes, Weiss had suddenly realized what she had just said, and immediately regretted it.

And her string of apologies ensued.

“I’m… I’m so sorry. Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Her eyes were panicked, flickering quickly between Diana and Claudine’s shocked ones, a bit too shaken to come up with a comment or response. “I’m so sorry. I really am. I apologize. I deeply apologize.” Weiss throat ran dry, it was like she was choking. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes in her state of adrenaline with all the heightened emotions she had endured throughout the day.

She knew she had just crossed a horrible, horrible line. She bowed before them deeply, a perfect ninety degrees, not knowing what to do to salvage this situation. She didn’t know much of Diana’s story, but from what she’d gotten from Claudine’s side, as well as observing Diana through their interactions, she was fairly sure that they had been through so many bad things.

So many.

“I’m so sorry. Di-Diana… Claudine, I’m… I’m sorry.” She coughed out. “I can’t believe it… I’m just like… I’m just like that man.” She felt a tear slip out of her eyes, but before more could, a handkerchief was held out to her by a hand that slightly tremored.

“No. You’re not. You’re not like him.” Claudine was someone who was quite good at comforting others, Diana and Weiss realized. “We all aren’t.” All this time since they met, she had been the one to offer it. They had to be sure to thank her and express their appreciation later. They had all the time to. “We’ll do our best to reject his blood that runs through our veins.” She said with a conviction that the two could only agree to. But there was just something about that last bit,

“Pfft-“ Diana ended up cracking first. “I don’t think that’s possible,” She looked to Claudine, mirth in her gaze, something different from the clouds that had shrouded them this whole time. “but… we can at least deny his existence, if you’d like.”

The two blinked, Diana saying her first complete sentence, smooth sentence catching them unaware. It only took them a second to adjust to it however as they giggled along.

“Oh, I’d definitely like that.”

 //-//-//-//-//

 They ended up deciding who would be the “eldest” by asking each other’s ages and birthdates, something they should have done earlier, they now realized, sharing another laugh at their silliness.

They were all currently nineteen years of age, and about to enter their first year of university. At this revelation, they wondered why it was that their ages were so close to one another, particularly Diana and Weiss.

While the former was born in April, the latter’s birthday landed on the fifteenth of May. Claudine had the slightest gap from them, being born a few months later in august.

They tried to reason it out, Weiss trying to share bits and pieces of information she had uncovered after snooping around in her father’s office, as well as things she had heard during her mother’s many lamentations.

Over dinner, their talk led them to the deduction that on the particular year when they had been conceived, Jacques Schnee had a world-wide business operation going on, travelling from place to place constantly, checking on his various corporation branches almost monthly, staying for days to weeks on end in some countries.

Through the magical powers of the internet, they were able to dig up hidden articles that spoke of their biological parent’s notoriety for sleeping around in the many places he visited, and by the universe’s cruel plot, got the other two mothers pregnant around the time his wife was. Weiss had probably been conceived when he came back home from his visit to England which might explain why Diana was now the eldest.

“We should have him castrated.” Weiss proposed, and the other two only laughed nervously, knowing she was dead serious.

Despite this infuriating truth, they were somehow thankful that it allowed them to find each other. It was a mutual feeling that they believed they’d get along nicely.

Their dinner ended with them cleaning up the dishes and kitchen together before wishing one another a goodnight, separating into their individual rooms to unpack and get cleaned up to catch their repose from this stressful day.

Diana had finished quickly, now fresh from a warm bath and changed into comfortable sleeping attire. She fell onto the soft mattress that was a little too big for her taste. It was like the one back at home. Simply large and comfortable, but never comforting. Always so cold because Diana could never warm it all up. Or maybe that was just in her heart.

The peaceful rest she had wanted to attain did not come to her. Instead, she was plagued with nightmares of abuse. The abuse she had had to sustain while in the Cavendish manor, while in the branch house, everywhere that had the family’s eyes on her.

Cold blue eyes, freezing, burning. Yells and screams, screeches, insults, the pressured gazes, the false smiles of the peers and fans that surrounded her. The scrutiny and judgment. The rumors.

The emotional pains, the mental torture, the spiritual crushing, the social stress…

The whip that beat down on her legs, on her back, on her arms, and on her face at time.

And then-

Diana screamed.

In agony, in pain. A deep red gash on her hand never ceased in its bleeding. Her nerves stung, her eyes did too. The pain was searing, she couldn’t take it, it hurt so much. Her hands shook, they quivered, her body wretched and writhed, but still that unforgiving hand still raised the bloody tool for one more-

“I BEG YOU, PLEASE STOP-!”

“DIANA!” Claudine and Weiss had barged through the door, having heard the tormented cries of their housemate and had made a mad dash for her room.

“Diana?! Are you okay?” The said girl remained writhing, needily gasping for air. Claudine attempted to shake her awake. “Diana! Wake up!”

Eyelids flew open, revealing pained ceruleans, hazy from the dream and unfocused. Diana continued her sobbing, but now quieter as she slowly ran out of tears. Her sisters waited for her, understood that she was unable to speak, possibly for moments, possibly for the entire night.

They tried to get her back into bed, hoping she could get more rest at the very least. She must have been exhausted with whatever war she had in her dreams.

But Diana didn’t want to go back to sleep, clinging onto Claudine strongly. To her, it felt as though she was walking right back into the lion’s den, returning to torture’s waiting arms; but Claudine’s arms, she much more preferred. It felt of a motherly presence. When she realized this, Diana felt the embarrassment sinking in at the knowledge that Claudine was the youngest sister and she was the eldest.

And yet, here they are.

Still, she didn’t like being in the bed, she didn’t like how unfamiliar it was.

The girls agreed to move to the living room. While Claudine layed out a few extra foams and blankets for them to settle down into, Weiss prepared some warm, tea to help calm Diana down.

She wasn’t as good at Claudine when it came to dealing with people’s anxieties, Weiss admitted. But she wasn’t bad at it. So, offering Diana a cup gently, she tried to reassure her with a smile and a soft tone.

“It’s p-peppermint.” Damn stutters.

They sat in front of one another on a pile of warm blankets, no words, just the sounds of sipping and blowing of tea.

Claudine was fine with backrubs and handholds, and the like. But anything more than that felt like crossing a line, especially with strangers. Even if those strangers happened to be your family. Huh. This is what it was like to have awkward moments of being a family with strangers. She thought it was such a rare thing, usually portrayed only in books and television or in the plays she did.

But now it she was literally living that odd trope.

Huh.

And the silence continued. And continued. And continued… and still would have painfully continued, if Weiss could take the atmosphere still.

She couldn’t.

So what better way to break the ice than to talk about their horrible shared father?

“Ahh… My dad lied to me about a lot of things.” She began, stretching her arms up into the air, hand still holding her empty cup. That caught her siblings’ attention as they were taken into another conversation. “This place too. He said he had gotten me an apartment. I thought he was being pretty considerate to give me a place to live on my own- ah, not that I dislike staying with you both I just… didn’t foresee this development.”

“I doubt any of us did.” Claudine followed-up.

“This house… even if it’s smaller than the mansion where I grew up… It’s kinda big for just three girls, huh.” Weiss murmured, suddenly feeling the urge to apologize at mentioning wealth when she hadn’t a clue of the living situations her “sisters” had had to endure before this point.

They shook their heads, as if they read her thoughts, knowing.

Diana began murmuring coldly. “My mother’s family is very well-known.” Her younger sisters perked up at this, finally having the chance to hear the eldest’s background pre-incident. “We… were kicked out of the main house in England after, well… after me.” She hung her head low, as if she were shaed of her own existence. And she very likely was.

Diana jumped at the two warm touches on each of her hand, Claudine and Weiss taking one each, squeezing encouragingly.

Diana continued. “We lived in a traditional Japanese manor after moving to this country. A branch of our family used to live there, but at that time, it was unoccupied. It was fancy and large. Certainly made for the luxurious life. Though I never felt rich regardless.” The girls nodded in understanding, and Diana ended her piece.

Claudine then explained that while she understood their sentiments, she was rather satisfied with her life. She had everything she needed. Her adoptive father bought them a larger than average house, and they were a happy family together. Then she stopped.

This time, it was her who received the squeezes of comfort, Weiss now taking her free hand as they sat in this odd circle of angsty reminiscing.

“When he died, we sold the house, not solely for monetary need, but because maman couldn’t take the pain of being reminded of him.” Claudine finished. Weiss just had to comment, though.

“Maman…”

“M-mother!”

Everyone chuckled at that.

“Mothers. Fathers. Family, huh…” Diana tested the foreign words on her tongue. “I… I had my mother for a time, but after that…” She trailed off, a forlorn expression taking place on her features once more.                “I’ve never had a family.”

“…”

“If you’ve never had a family, then we’ll be you family.” Weiss, ever the breaker of silence, declared.

“We will be your sisters, your mothers, your friends, and your fathers. We will be everything for you.” Claudine added, wanting to share these feelings, just like how her mom had made her feel when it was just the two of them remaining.

Those words were too good to be true. Too kind. Too rewarding a promise. Diana searched their eyes. She searched their body languages, their words, and their souls.

She searched and found their loyalty, sincerity, and truthfulness.

And she cried.

 //-//-//-//-//

 They woke up late the following morning, opting to have some toast with jam and hot milk. An easy fix from the things they found in their already stacked cupboards. While cleaning up after a filling meal, they heard a phone go off in one of the rooms.

Identifying it as hers, Claudine goes off to retrieve it, her sisters waving her off as they continued cleaning up.

A few quiet minutes passed, and then the actress came bounding down the hall. frantic in her running about. Once she reached her worried companions, she cries a heart-wrenching sob. The two elders asked what was wrong, and when Claudine says that she had received a call from the hospital, the two are willing to accompany her with no questions asked.

They soon learn of what Claudine had been unable to tell them the day before. Her mother who had been admitted in the hospital for a while, and had been the primary reason for the actress to return to Japan, had a critical attack that morning, and upon their arrival at the hospital, she now rested unconscious.

Diana and Weiss did not know how to comfort Claudine the way she did for them. When they met her, she was feisty, determined, willful, independent and strong. Able to stand on her own two feet, so to speak.

But now they realized she was only able to stand because she had someone behind her, supporting her always. Unconditionally.

And that support was now laying motionless on a hospital bed, the beeps of a machine eerily looming around their atmosphere, rousing such scary prospects.

Claudine sobbed hours upon hours straight, and the pair could only helplessly watch her do so.

They could do nothing, not while the girl’s mother was in such a critical state, no one knowing if she’d ever wake up again.

---

She woke up.

It was late in the afternoon, and Claudine had fallen asleep from all the crying, head rested on her arms on her mom’s bedside.

The woman blinked the sleep away, eyes scanning the room and landing on two strangers, two women who awkwardly bowed their introductions, trying to explain why they were in the room of someone they had just met today. “Hello, um.” They bowed slightly. “We are… well… we are S-Saijou-no… Claudine’s sisters.” One with streaks of mint in her blonde locks tried, scared of the older woman’s reaction to this news.

“I know.”

“What?!” Shocked, they listened to the giggling mother explain why.

She began to express her regrets with the man known as Jacques. It was a mistake. Everything involving him was.

It was a corporation party for a show she had performed in. And the man was one of the sponsors. She had been forced to drink, coerced, probably slipped something strange, and when she woke up…

Weiss face was contorted in disgusted anger. “That man should just get arrested already.” She seethed. They knew it would take a little more effort than just reporting it to police, however. Especially since it had been nineteen years ago. But hey, he had so many faults, couldn’t they just… get him for any of those?

And then she remembered why Diana and Claudine were claimed as his children in the first place. He always tried to look for loopholes out of prison. He just had so much undeserved power. Weiss hoped it would bite him in the ass one day.

They swapped stories until the orange sky turned dark blue, and visiting hours were almost coming to a close. Claudine was breathing softly, eyes puffy, body relaxed. Her mother petted through golden mane, leaning down to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. She then turned to her daughter’s sisters, rose-red eyes, making a life-time request, plea to them.

“Please… take care of her.” They saw her fist tighten for a moment, before relaxing again. “She is the love of my life.” If Weiss used to think that that title could only be applied to romantic partners, her perception was given a fresh wash.

Love of your life. To be able to call someone that, such a pure unadulterated love towards another human being... it was something special. And probably something she herself had yet to experience. Her younger sister truly was blessed, as she claimed. It was clear why she grew up, able to be satisfied with her family life. Claudine surely felt the same for her mother.

Maybe someday, they too…

They stayed a few more minutes, simply waiting until Claudine would wake up. She soon did, and they pushed her to spend the remaining time with her mom right until the last minute before visiting hours would officially be over.

They thought they would have to pry Claudine away from her mother as she had spent almost the entire time hugging her, speaking from time to time, but mostly just holding her wordlessly.

But the girl really was a mature, grounded lass. It was amazing, inspiring, and… a bit sad, they’d admit. What else had she been through to grow this resilient?

They walked home a slow pace. No one had said any word.

The nighttime breeze hit them coldly and they shivered. Then, each sister awkwardly took a hand, at the same time, as if they shared some form of telepathy. It made them feel warmer.

And so they continued their walk home together-

There was a collective growl of stomachs, along wlith blushing and chuckling.

And so they continued their walk to the nearest convenience store instead, grabbing a few chicken nuggets and hotdog buns, some juice, and a few chocolates. Then they went on home.

They learned a lot about each other today. However, it appeared as though there was even more to learn. There always was when it came to getting to know other people. And along with becoming familiar with each other, they’d discover many more of each other’s struggles and troubles.

They’d encounter their own as a family together as well.

But it really didn’t matter anymore, did it?

They could conquer anything. They really did believe they could conquer anything.

Together, they could.

 A/N: It’s 2:15am and my brain is fried. I have to re-enroll for my second semester classes and make my mom’s modules haha. Anyway, The picture I have for this AU’s Diana is actually still reserved, but the soft kind around her sisters. She’ll be cold around other people tho. Kind of meek, in a sense, but that has to do with how bad she’s had it growing up. And although Claud is the youngest, she acts like the mother. Weiss, I can definitely see as the middle child haha. Weiss’ tsundere aspects and Claudine’s slightly prideful self make for a wonderful dynamic in interactions. I love it. Diana is like the regulator of their passionate bickering. It’s like icecream on a hot cookiebrowny. I think.

Comments, kudos, reblogs, let’s go? Please? I’m desperate for feedback haha.

~Shintori Khazumi

[purplesurveys]

1125

survey by nadine07

[..Introductions..]

First Name: Robyn.

Middle Name: I don’t think I’ve shared it on here and I doubt I will.

Last Name: Not providing it either but it starts with a C.

Birthdate: April 21st.

[..First Things First..]

What was the first thing you did after you got up? I rushed to the rooftop so that I could see the sunrise. I also got in the random mood to do a time-lapse of it, but the sun took forrrrrrrr-freaking-ever to come up entirely. I was holding up my phone for like 15 minutes and nothing was happening, so I quit halfway through lol.

What was the name of your first pet? Goldie, because it was a goldfish.

Who was your first big crush? Gabie, I would say.

Where was the first place you drove after you got your license? Chelsea’s 18th birthday dinner was scheduled right after I happened to get my license, and the event took place in a small, quaint little restaurant in Marikina. 

There’s a bit of a funny story here, too – Aaron needed a ride to get there and so I offered to drive him. I picked him up and we were having small talk in the car, and he asked me how long I’ve been driving. I told him that moment was my literal first time driving out and that I just got my license the day before, and he is my first-ever passenger (at that point I’ve never even tried driving solo yet). The horror and immediate distrust on his face was something I will never forget HAHAHA. We got to the place unharmed, but it’s still one of my favorite stories to tell.

Who was your very first friend? It was a kind girl named Kaye back in kindergarten. We were always next to each other in our class lists, so it was inevitable for us to befriend one another. She transferred schools in first grade and I have not seen nor heard from her since.

What was the first thing you ate today? I had another bag of salted egg chips. I’m extremely hooked, lmao.

What was your first job? I work as an associate at a PR agency.

[..Colors..]

Name something red in the room you are in: We have an unopened bottle of wine here on the dining table and there’s still a red ribbon wrapped around it.

Is orange one of your school's team colors? No, neither of my schools had orange as one of its colors.

How many yellow shirts do you own? I can think of 5 tops hanging out in my wardrobe at the moment. Two of them are class shirts from high school; the others were tops I bought when I started getting into mustard yellow.

Name someone you know who drives a green car: I believe Angel, a classmate from high school who also studies in UP, also drives a Mitsubishi Mirage, albeit a lime green one.

Is it a blue sky outside right now? Yes for the most part, but the sun is setting soon so the sky is bound to change into many pretty colors as it usually does at this time of the day.

What is the first thing that pops into your head when I say 'purple'? Barney the dinosaur, and ube.

Are the walls in the room you're in white? Yes, all our walls indoors are white.

Does black make you think of depressing things? Not always, but if used specifically in that context, it definitely helps boosts the mood.

Jewelry: gold or silver? Silverrr, always.

[..Phone Stuff..]

Who is your provider? Nothing you would be familiar with, but I use Globe.

How long have you had your current phone? It’ll be three years this year. It would be nice to upgrade, but I’m also still happy with my current phone so it doesn’t really matter to me.

What did your last text say? The last one that came through that didn’t come from my mobile services provider was from someone in the media. It was his birthday last Friday and I messaged him if he’d like to receive a gift from us, on behalf of one of our clients; he just replied with his confirmation and details.

If you woke up naked next to the last person to call, would it be awkward? Yep and I’d feel like throwing up almost immediately.

Was your last missed call male or female? It was from my mom.

Who is your 10th phone contact? It’s from Jum, who I realize is still listed as Ate Jum on my phone. That’s cute hahaha; I must have gotten her number when we weren’t super close yet. Anyway, she’s been super MIA for like the last two years...basically, ever since she graduated. I believe she has also since moved back to Bicol, so it’s become virtually impossible to see her again. Bums me out and I look forward to the day we somehow end up in the same room once again.

How did you meet them? I met her in my very first journalism major class. I had mixed feelings towards her at first since I found her to be super loud in class, and I initially thought she would only be a one-time classmate and nothing more; but I got to know her more and we even ended up as orgmates, and it turns out she is literally the most hilarious person I know.

Are you related to your 17th phone contact? I have absolutely no clue who it is. I no longer remember what led to it, but Gabie and I swapped the SIM cards in our phones at one point, and for some reason it made me have access to her contacts; the 17th contact on my phone is someone from her list. And since I never hang out in my Contacts app, I’ve never gotten around to deleting those extra numbers I received.

How long have you known your 1st phone contact? Around 6th or 7th grade. I can’t remember the exact grade level she transferred to my school as a new student.

When was the last time you saw them? It’s been at least a year. I remember seeing her on campus very briefly when I was on my way to a certain building for class, while she was walking out of it.

Who is your 4th phone contact? LMAO, again, it’s from her contact list. Said person is one of her older cousins, I believe.

Have you ever kissed that person? No, and that is very weird and uncomfortable to think about.

When was the last time someone drunk dialed/texted/left a voicemail? Andi drunk messaged me a few months ago. November, I think.

[..Friends..]

Who is your #1? No Myspace but I’d say my top best friend is Angela.

How long have you known them? It will be 16 years this year.

Have you ever kissed? Oh my gosh, hell no. It would be like kissing a sister haha. She’s super affectionate and will sometimes kiss my shoulder or cheek, though.

Are you dating this person? No, never did and never desired to.

Do you have nicknames for each other? Not really exclusive to each other, but I call her Anj (and only a few people call her so) and she will occasionally call me Reben or Rolayn, both from past inside jokes.

What is your #2's full name? I am not sharing that, but I refer to them as Andi (you may remember them as Andrew from the past times I’ve mentioned them).

Do they live within 20 minutes of you? If there is zero traffic, I can probably make it to their place within that timeframe, yeah. But realistically, no they don’t.

How did you meet? We initially met in an anti-Marcos protest/rally – I approached they first because they had a wrestling shirt on, heheh – and that’s when I learned we were from the same college. But they rubbed me off the wrong way from our first meeting as they were too extroverted for my liking, and I spent a good chunk of time ignoring him whenever we crossed paths, lmfao. Eventually we were put in the same class at some point, and they even joined my org, and an intensely close friendship started from there.

Could you live with this person? Sure. I think they would never be a boring roommate.

Who is your #3? I’m gonna go with Kate for this one.

Where are they right now? I have no idea. We don’t really catch up with each other’s lives on a regular basis; we have a very chill, low-maintenance friendship.

When is this person's birthday? January 1st.

Has this person ever seen you naked? I don’t think so.

What is your #4's full name? I don’t think I have a 4th-tier best friend haha, but I’m gonna pick Tina.

When did you last see them? Last year, on the last normal day I was able to be on campus. She was set to present one of her projects at a journalism conference that was taking place in campus that day, but I was able to hang out with her for a short time before the event.

Have they ever dated one of your other friends? No. I knew she had a crush on someone from the college, though.

Do you know their favorite movie? I’m not sure about her favorite movie but I do know she loves Adam Sandler. I was never able to figure out if her interest was ironic or genuine but yeah, she enjoys a good number of his works.

[..Randomosity..]

What time is it? 6:20 PM.

Are you supposed to be doing something other than this? I wouldn’t say so. I do have deliverables for work but since it’s the weekend, I’m not thinking about them nor do I have the desire to touch those tasks until Monday.

Do you live on your own or with your parents? I live with my family. Considering my monthly income, it’d be close to impossible to sustain myself in my own place this early in my adult life.

Are you more of a cat or a dog person? Dog, for sure.

Are you allergic to anything? I don’t believe so.

Does your shirt have anything written on it? Yeah, it says “UP Fighting Maroons” styled in a varsity font since that’s the term for our sports team.

Have you ever tie-dyed something? I have, but only back in like Grade 6 when we had to do it for a home ec class. I remember wanting to buy a tie-dye set recently so I could revisit the activity, but I never got around to it.

Who can you always count on to cheer you up? Angela for the most part; but I also don’t want to be too reliant on my friends in this way. Sometimes I simply allow myself to be sad or upset, and sometimes I count on myself to cheer up.

How many places have you been today? I have been nowhere but at home today lol. I’ll be going to BGC tomorrow to have lunch with my godfather and my cousins, though.

Are you a forgiving person? No.

When was the last time you felt let down? Last night when I read the news that the government will be making All Souls’ Day, Christmas Eve, and New Year’s Eve working days this year. I already know I’ll be half-assing my way through those days lmao because whyyyyyyy the fuck would you make people work on family-centric holidays such as those

What is the title of the nearest book to you? There are no books here at the rooftop.

Are you wearing anything that belongs to someone else? Nope.

Can you whistle? Only through my lips. I can’t do the kind of whistle where you put your fingers in your mouth as well.

Do you look more like your mother or your father? My mom.

Are you still in high school? I’m well past that chapter.

Are you the oldest, middle, youngest, or an only child? I’m the eldest.

Has anyone ever told you that you talk in your sleep? No, because I don’t.

How many people have you kissed this year? None.

Is there anyone of the opposite sex you trust fully? Hmm, no one comes to mind.

Are you a night owl or an early bird? More of a night owl.

If you could have an exotic pet, what would it be? No thanks. I’ve never had the desire to have one.

Would you rather go to Brazil for the weekend or Finland for a month? I’d have to go with Finland. I feel like the cultural differences would be a lot more marked, plus the vacation is longer so that is an instant win for me.

[..And Finally..]

Where did you go the last time you drove somewhere? I was driving to the local coffee shop to spend some time with myself, and do a liiiiiiiittle bit of work as well.

Where did you last go out to eat at? Ramen Nagi. I was initially hesitant to show up there and ask for a table for one on a Sunday evening...but it turned out to feel incredibly empowering and freeing. It was definitely awkward at first, but it got a lot easier once I realized literally no one gives a fuck. Or if they did, they didn’t do anything about it and let me mind my own business. That evening was a crucial step in reclaiming my happiness, so I’m glad I made the choice to suck it up and enter the restaurant.

When was the last time you let someone borrow something from you? Last week, when Angela needed our abaca mat as an aesthetic for her grad shoot.

Was your last breakup a bad one? Yes.

What was the last song you listened to? Just checked my Spotify and the current song I have on pause is Descansos by Hayley Williams. 

What was the last movie you watched? Midsommar.

Did your last kiss happen in a public place? Not technically, but it did take place outside of my house so we were outdoors for some neighbors to see.

How did you meet the last person to leave you a comment? It was Andi, and I already explained how we met earlier in this survey.

[teffyjeffy]

(Most of) JoJo’s Bizzare Adventure: Stardust Crusaders but almost everybody are kids having fun at recess.

Want a random JoJo post out of nowhere? No? Okay well here you go anyway!

A lot of the time when I was watching JJBA I felt like I was watching a very dramatic retelling of what was actually two kids playfighting.

“My guy punches super fast!” “Oh yeah? Well my guy can stop Time!” “Oh yeah?! Well, mine can too! I just discovered it!” “WELL MINE CAN DROP A ROADROLLER ON YOU” “THATS CHEATING”

Anyway, the idea started to snowball, so please enjoy my masterpost of (most of) JJBA Part 3 where the Stardust Crusaders are a group of 9 year old rascals who met up one day during recess. This is just for fun ^_^ also these are all copied and pasted from discord so the structure is a little jumbled. Enjoy!

Oh, and Spoilers are ahead.

“I can punch super fast!”

“Well I can use cameras and TVs as crystal balls, but I need to break them!”

“Mine can shoot flames, ooo ooo and-and I can control them at will!”

“Mine has a sword that can stab anything”

“MINE HAS AN ATTACK THAT IS UNBLOCKABLE AND ITS AREA EFFECT IS THE WHOLE PLAYGROUND-“

“No Kakyoin that’s not how we play. Youre not allowed to have an invincible attack”

Kakyoin’s introduction:

“I have an invincible attack”

“That’s not how it works Kakyoin but you’re cool, so you can keep playing with us”

The insect stand “Tower of Gray” was when the group was bothered by a fly on the school bus and they got a little too rowdy in their attempts to kill it, which pissed off the elderly bus driver. Thus the kids agreed that he was responsible for bringing the fly onto the bus in the first place. They got detention.

Jean Polnareff’s introduction:

“I have a sword that can pierce through anything!”

“Okay Jean, you can play with us, but you have to promise to stop pushing Avdol into the wood chips, he doesn’t like it.”

The stowaway girl is actually a 5 year old girl who wants to play with them and they hate it at first but they eventually warm up to her. The monkey with a ship stand was actually a retelling of the groups trip to the town’s public swimming pool. The boat was just an inflatable tube and the monkey was a chipmunk. And the original boat that blew up? That was the group’s original inflatable tube that got popped because the 5 year old wouldn’t stop gnawing at it

Later, the kids SOMEHOW convinced their parents to let them stay in the same hotel while the parents all hate business trips to go to. They “promised” not to pillow fight, then everyone except for Jean went to go get snacks while Jean went to explore the new room.  Unbeknownst to them, the previous guests of the room accidentally left their daughter’s doll behind. Jean HATES dolls. He accidentally stumbled upon Child’s Play when he was surfing channels way too late at night without his parents knowing. Fear turns into aggression and someone from the hotel staff goes to check on him. He finds Jean and realizes it’s the same kid who shot him with a water gun earlier. Jean is kicked out and the parents have to pick their kids up. Jotaro and everyone else weren’t happy. 

Rubber Soul is actually just that one bratty kid who thinks it’s sooooooooo funny to mimic other people while also making fun of the person they’re mimicking. It makes them feel “powerful.” Jotaro encounters Rubber Soul when the latter is mocking Kakyoin one day, while Jotaro is playing with the 5 year old; he then chases Rubber Soul all around the playground, and when he finally gets him, he busts his teeth in. They were only baby teeth though, they grew right back, which saved Jotaro from a brutal punishment. He was still forced to go without dessert for a month. He didn’t complain though because his mother was dealing with the flu at the time. He would give all his desserts to Kakyoin, which his how Jotaro discovered Kakyoin’s creepy habit of juggling maraschino cherries in his mouth.

J. Geil was somebody who used to play games with Jean’s sister. When she found out he sucked at party cake and teased him for having “Two left hands”, J pushes her into the mud and never plays with her again. Jean has held a grudge ever since.

Hol Horse is Geil’s “New friend” which pisses off Jean. Hol Horse, being a member of the wrong crowd, beats up Avdol and J. Geil just goes along with it. Jean is all “Avdol why are you even here, you had nothing to do with this!” And Kakyoin’s like “Should we call 911?” And Jean responds “Not yet, I need to beat up these guys first!” And Kakyoin calls 911 anyway.

The Mirror stand is just J. Geil going “Made you look” and punching your shoulder.

And Hol Horse’s stand is just a nerf gun. The reason it hurts is because he likes to get right up in your face before firing it. It’s ineffective if you’re too far away from him, because the dart bullet loses momentum and hits the ground harmlessly.

Jean eventually gets back at J. Geil by chasing him into the middle of a group of kids, then pointing up at nothing, shouting “Made you look,” and poking J. Geil in the eyes, which causes him to cry like a baby. And later, Jean is like “Oh yeah, I totally stabbed him with my sword!” when Jotaro asks him what happened.

Then Hol horse runs away because he realized J. Geil was a total loser.

The Empress stand was just Joseph’s retelling of his parents taking him to the doctor’s office so they could deal with a wart on his arm. He hated how boring the actual process was, so he pretended that he bested the wart in a game of wits and tore it asunder. Jotaro was grossed out. 

(Btw in this AU Joseph is only a grade older than Jotaro, instead of being his grandpappy)

Wheel of Fortune is just the result of a very nasty game of tag with a brat who wouldn’t leave the group alone.

Enya is the crazy cat lady at the end of the street whose house the kids were forced to pass one day when they missed the school bus.

Steely Dan is the snobby “Cool Kid” of the playground, and a sore loser when the kids don’t play the way he wants them to. So Jotaro gives him a black eye.

The Sun is a kid who likes to fry ants with a magnifying glass. But Joseph likes bugs, and seeing this made him cry. So Jotaro, Kakyoin and Avdol plot to destroy the magnifying glass, which they thought was really funny. But at that point, the magnifying glass had to be returned to the science lab, so the kid was spared. 

Or, in another interpretation:

“Hey guys, I wanna play! My guy’s power is that he’s literally the sun!!! ” 

Joseph: “Wow, that’s pretty powerful-“ 

J,K,&A: “YOUR POWER IS STUPID, GET LOST”

Death Thirteen was the result of the kids being forced to deal with a baby who was throwing a tantrum while they all waited to get on the giant slide at the County Fair. Kakyoin was especially pissed. 

I have nothing for the Judgement stand.

I don’t have anything for High Priestess either.

And Iggy is still a dog, but I’m getting rid of his tendency to fart because I just HATE IT

N’Doul isn’t blind, he wears glasses and can’t see shit without them. And he has a water pistol. And he hoards the playground’s sandbox.

Oingo and Boingo are a 6 year old and his 1 year old brother and they’re just the cutest little demon spawns.

Anubis is a dog that snatched Jean’s toy sword in its mouth, and the sword’s power to transfer souls was just Jean fearing that the dog had rabies. Jotaro rolled his eyes but convinced Joseph to help him buy a new toy sword to shut Jean up.

Mariah... I dunno man, I didn’t really care for her arc and it definitely doesn’t fit the “kids playground” scenario I’m going for.

ALESSI IS WRITTEN OUT COMPLETELY. HE IS NOT ALLOWED ON THE PLAYGROUND.

The D’Arby brothers are known for being the cheaters of the playground. So Jotaro scares the eldest brother in a game of Go Fish, and it messes D’Arby up so much that it triggers his Asthma and he he has an Asthma attack. 

Pet Shop went down as the day when Iggy had a fight with a seagull and got pecked the ever loving SHIT out of. Jotaro tells the story at every Christmas party.

The younger D’Arby battle happened on a day when he and Jotaro were playing video games together. They accused each other of cheating, which resulted in Jotaro insulting him for liking dolls before pummeling him and consequently getting kicked out of the house. Joseph gave him a high five though, so it was worth it.

Vanilla Ice was the toddler who didn’t bother to move out of the way if you got in his path while he was driving his toy mini jeep. But if you asked Jean or Avdol, they’ll tell you that the toddler deliberately puts people in his path to run them over. And the occasional dog.

And finally, DIO.

DIO was a kid who got transferred to Jotaro’s school after being expelled because the principal of DIO’s previous school couldn’t get him to leave two of the students alone, by the names of Johnathan and Erina. He was pen pals with Johnathan, but that was the only connection DIO bothered to maintain.

Jotaro thought DIO didn’t even deserve the title of “School Bully.” He thought DIO was just a weird freaking kid. Despite that, most of the kids were scared of him, Jotaro’s friends included.

DIO loved to utilize the classic “Time Out!” whenever he played with the kids, and if they didn’t abide to the time out, they got a knuckle sandwich.

Jotaro was the first kid in a long time to just say “Nope.”

That’s when he learned that DIO was a kid who liked to screech like a banshee when things didn’t go his way. As well as throw a whole bunch of pencils (seemingly from out of nowhere) at any person that he upset with.

The road roller in this AU is the closest thing to a lethal heavy weapon that you can get on the playground: a frickin BIKE. 

And DIO is like “TIME OUT SO I CAN SLAM THIS BIKE ON YOU” And Jotaro goes “Nope, your time out is cancelled because you’re a freak and also you tried to bite Joseph which was just gross, anyway-“ and he punched DIO in the leg, pushed him to the ground, and kicked woodchips in his face.

They both got expelled.

A few years later, on his way to middle school, Jotaro bumps into a kid named Josuke...

<============ TO BE CONTINUED

BONUS JJBA BATTLE TENDENCY

The Pillar Men are a reflection of the infamous day when three highschool bullies showed up to the playground. One of them beat a kid named Ceasar in a Rock Paper Scissors match; in responce, Joseph (who at the time was only 4) went apeshit. He kicked the first highschooler off of the carousel at the County Fair. Then he located the second highschooler, tied up his shoelaces, then lit them with a match. Finally, during the school’s annual science fair, he tracked down the third highschooler, who had just finished rigging a student’s baking soda volcano to blow up in his face. Joseph threw a bunch of rocks that he found outside at the highschooler, and then proceeded to lock him up in the school’s astral observatory. The first two highschoolers fled town after that, but rumor has it that the third one is still stuck in the abandoned observatory.

[petersquips]

Stark Contrast [CHAPTER THREE]

Masterlist | Introduction | Chapter One | Chapter Two || Chapter Four (pt 1) | Chapter Four (pt 2)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word count: 5,991

Warnings: Slight aggression, but mostly it’s all the ever-loving fluff you could want.

Chapter Summary: Y/N is suspended for hitting Amadeus Cho and struggles to make amends with her family. While she continues to wrestle with her place as a young woman in the world, now in the spotlight, Peter invites her to a sister march.

A/N: Inspired by the album “A Woman’s Guide to Survival” by Miss Li. This is the chapter that came to me on the tram and made me want to write this fic, so I hope I’ve done it justice.

If you want to be added to the tag list for this fic, Inbox me and I‘ll add your username. Members of the tag list MUST reblog. I look forward to your feedback, friends!

Y/N was sitting in the middle of the training room working on yesterday’s schoolwork. She liked the training room. It was wall to wall windows on three sides, the floor was black and glossy, and it just felt vast. It was a good place to be alone, and more than ever Y/N wanted to be alone this week. Tony still hadn’t really forgiven her for forcing him to talk the principal down from expulsion to suspension, Pepper was unsuccessfully trying to act normal, and Steve just seemed disappointed. So if she could avoid all of them for the week of her suspension and keep up on her school work, it was really the best she could ask for.

“There you are.” The warm voice of Peter echoed through the giant room as his amplified footfalls grew closer to where she sat in the center of the floor. “Delivery,” he lamely joked, as he approached and dropped a pile of paper next to the girl. Y/N didn’t move from the problem she was working on and she didn’t so much as acknowledge her friend, so Peter carefully sat down next to her and asked, “Still that bad, huh?”

“They’ll come around,” Y/N assured him, or perhaps herself, as she finished writing down the answer to the math problem she had been working on when the boy walked in. She sighed in disbelief. She didn’t really know any of them at all. She’d only been around for a few weeks and she’d already screwed up. She had no way of knowing how long this would last, and her new family aside, she herself had been struggling with the grey moral area she seemed to be sitting in. Disgruntled, Y/N pushed the textbook away from herself, asking, “Is what I did really that bad?”

“I mean, it’s not the approach I would have taken…” Peter pandered lightly.

Y/N jumped on his statement asking, “and what approach would you have taken?” She was desperate for some form of validation. She didn’t want to feel like a bad person. “If someone was boasting, lying about you like a sexual conquest, making you a trophy to be won because of your name, what would you have done?” She was staring straight into Peter’s soul, begging him for an answer.

Peter looked away uncomfortably. “I don’t know,” he admitted to the floor, pulling one knee up to his chest.

“I can’t even picture it,” Y/N realized. She looked off into the distance and could see the quin-jet through the far wall. She lived in a place full of such integrity. This was a place of heroes, and she was just some kid who could handle a cafeteria tray like a baseball bat.

After a moment's silence the gentle boy finally inquired, “Why did you do it?” She’d been asking herself the same question. She paused the think, and then came to a conclusion.

“Because my words meant nothing,” Y/N responded urgently. “No one was going to believe my word over Amadeus Cho, you know that. So I had to be louder.” And she was. The sound of the plastic smacking against Cho’s face was very loud, indeed.

“You really thought all that out during the walk from our table to his?” Peter quizzed in disbelief, looking back at the girl in awe.

“No!” Y/N scoffed as she gave the obvious response. “He was being a dick and I got angry.” Peter snorted at the abrupt change of tone in their conversation and began laughing along with the girl. Y/N was relieved to be laughing with Peter after everything that had happened. If she could laugh despite the guilty pit in her stomach, maybe things would be okay. The two began to grow quiet again, and Y/N sighed and confessed, “I do feel bad.” She didn’t like the serious conversation and she didn’t like feeling guilty, but she knew she needed it, so she continued to explain, “He’s not a bad person. I mean- I don’t think I believe that he’s a bad person, he just did some bad things-“ she paused to self-assess, “But did you hear that smack?” She was mortified. “That shit had to have hurt, and at the end of the day he made some bad choices, but I’m the one who actually hurt someone.”

“Hey,” Peter said as he elbowed Y/N in the side. “He did hurt you. In more ways than one,” the boy mumbled the second half, before quickly inquiring, “How’s that healing up, by the way?” She knew what he was referring to, but Y/N preferred to pretend it wasn’t there, because if it wasn’t there, maybe it didn’t happen. Peter kindly held out a hand to receive the Y/N’s arm and examine it. The bruising had mostly healed, but the last yellow remnants wrapped around her wrist in a splotchy fashion. He frowned and sighed at the sight. “Tell you what,” the boy said, staring at the remnants of her encounter with Amadeus Cho. “Don’t schedule anything for Sunday,” Peter commanded before suddenly standing up and casually walking toward the exit of the vast room.

“What?” Y/N quizzed. When she got no response she yelled after him in her confusion. “Peter!”

“Don’t ask any questions,” Peter called back as he turned around and began walking backwards. “Just trust me on this.” Y/N was confused why her friend would be so coded and was tentative to let him walk away on that note, but she inhaled sharply and nodded in agreement, earning a charming smile from Peter before he disappeared from the room.

It was quiet again and Y/N felt small in the huge facility. The teen miserably looked at the fresh stack of assignments Peter had left her. She had only just reached the end of the work he dropped off yesterday, and she didn’t want to keep going. Y/N groaned and dropped her face into the trigonometry book she’d been working out of before Peter had shown up. “Just land the fucking quin-jet on my head,” she mumbled into the pages, the sound of her voice echoing circles around her. She realized how pathetic she must look and quickly sat up with a gasp, shaking her head as if to wring out the bad vibes. She was completely determined to keep chipping away at the pile of work before her.

She begrudgingly crammed in the last of her trigonometry work and threw the heavy textbook across the room just to get it further away from her. It landed on the tile floor with a resonant smack that rang in her ears and made her immediately regret the impulsive act. Still, she was intent on powering through and picked up the fresh pile of work are started from the beginning of her day, pulling off the AP Lit sheets on existentialism and transcendentalism. She pushed through organic chemistry equations and the introductory history of the world, and by the time she had finished it all the training room was glowing orange with the light of the sunset over the horizon. It was beautiful. The same sunset she’d watched with such uncertainty her first day in the facility. Now it simply filled her with peace, a familiar view in the midst of her renewed confusion.

Y/N began to collect all of the completed paperwork as she watched the warm light of the sun disappear into a blue haze. Gathering everything into her arms, she quietly made her way out of the comforting room and across the building in the dim light. As she wandered down the many halls it took to get to her room, she caught a glimpse of Tony sitting on the couch of the lounge with a drink in his hand, a nightly ritual for the man. The girl paused. She didn’t want to be seen by him, and she especially didn’t want to talk. Y/N nervously ducked her head and tried to sneak by unnoticed.

Just as she’d reached the opposite wall, the man called, “Y/N.” Clearly, he’d noticed. The teen awkwardly stepped backwards, reversing back into view.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked tentatively. Tony didn’t speak, just curtly waved his free hand, a gesture that said, ‘come over here’ with ultimate clarity. Y/N anxiously hurried over to the man, setting the heavy pile of books and homework on the coffee table. She had a feeling this might take a while, and if she kept holding all of those papers her arms would give out before the conversation even started. She didn’t feel like sitting. She’d been sitting all day, so the teen opted to stand in front of the aloof man. She was antsy and began rolling her feet over to the side and back just to keep moving.

Tony rubbed his mouth with his free hand as he leaned forward and set the glass of liquor next to his child’s assignments. As he sat back into the couch he revealed his first card, “Peter told me what you said today-”

“Traitor,” Y/N whispered to the side.

Her  heart leapt into her throat when Tony aggressively demanded, “No, see, this is where you listen.” The violent tone made Y/N fearfully snap back to center, looking at the man and trying to ignore the pounding in her chest. “Peter’s a smart kid and he cares about you. He told me because I care about you, too.”

This was a statement that made Y/N uneasy. She wasn’t convinced and she immediately argued, “You barely even know me.” It was in a hushed, hurt tone. She couldn’t understand where Tony got this idea that he had to put on this concerned parent persona when he’d only known her for a few weeks. She hadn’t exactly done anything to earn his affection since she’d shown up. It hurt to know that she didn’t really have anyone to care for her the way family should, and her own body betrayed her as water began to flood across Y/N’s eyes.

“Don’t I?” the man asked as he pushed off from the couch to stand, causing Y/N to stumble backward in her fear. “I know you’re a strong personality, you don’t like being told what to do. If someone tells you what to do you’re most likely going to do the opposite. You like black even though it’s not a color. Your favorite flavor of ice cream is cake batter, I know because it keeps disappearing from the freezer, and I know that you feel guilty about hitting that boy,” Tony finished. His face softened as he begged, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well…” Y/N was annoyed by the persistence of this conversation, and insisted with a bitter tone, “it doesn’t exactly make a difference, now does it?” She didn’t understand this mode of conversing with Tony. So much of what they had done so far was quips and arguing. She didn’t understand why he was so determined and concerned, and she was completely unprepared to deal with it.

“It makes all the difference,” Tony protested. The aggressive nature in his sharp tone startled Y/N and caused the first tear to brim over and roll down her cheek. She thought she wanted to argue with her biological father, but she felt so emotionally fragile she wasn’t sure she could handle it anymore. “We all make dumb mistakes in the heat of the moment, but feeling remorse is what makes you a good person. It means you care about doing the right thing.” Y/N took two steps back, needing to distance herself from the man. She was overwhelmed. Where was this conversation days ago? Before she felt so alone in the great big office building she was so lucky as to call home. And now that it was here she was terrified, this wasn’t what she wanted. It didn’t feel good to be receiving this relentless support, it felt like suffocating and she couldn’t breathe.

The tears began to rain down her face and Tony took a step toward his daughter, while the girl took another step back and yelled, “Stop!” she paused to summon enough air to finish the command, “…consoling me, it doesn’t help!”

“What do you want me to do?” Tony asked pointedly. He was at a loss, but he just wouldn’t give up.

“I don’t know!” The teen near screamed back. She felt her face turning red and thought she must look like a maniac with the water drenching her cheeks. “I’m going crazy here! One moment I’m fine and I understand that what happened with Cho was not my fault, and the next I’m tearing apart all of my clothing in frustration!” She was ranting with no end, and she didn’t feel like stopping. “I keep saying I don’t think he would have forced anything on me and I don’t think he would have hurt me if Peter hadn’t shown up, but I don’t know that. I don’t feel safe anymore, Tony.” She stopped to breathe. The tears suddenly stopped as she said her peace and her face felt sticky like rice as the trails of water began to dry.

Tony inhaled deeply and bumbled the air out through pursed lips as he dropped back on the couch. Y/N watched as the man desperately picked up his drink from the coffee table and downed the mostly-full glass in one go. It was nerve-wracking. These were not the actions of a man in control, and Tony controlled everything in that tower. Tony sat with the empty glass in his trembling hand, hanging limply at his side. He stared at the unlit fireplace across the room and for a moment things seemed still. Then Stark unexpectedly jumped up and yelled as he violently threw his glass across the room. Y/N flinched in terror as it thunderously shattered against the wood floor, scattering in devastation.

Pepper came running into the room in a frenzy, her long silky robe flowing behind her. “What happened?” she asked urgently as she observed the shards of glass and the horrified teen. “Tony?” Pepper inquired carefully as she slowly approached the man consumed by stifled rage. Y/N watched as Pepper strategically touched his stiff shoulder. Carelessly, Tony shook her off and dropped to the couch once again, burying his face in his hands as they worked their way into his hair. He looked ill, almost like he might vomit if the eyes in the room weren’t staring at him. Pepper sat next to the distraught man and glanced up at Y/N, suggesting, “Maybe you should head to your room for the night.”

Y/N nodded and without any argument began hurrying out of the lounge in her panic. Tony held up a hand to signal her to wait. The girl slowed down as she approached the hallway before deciding to stop and listen to what the man had left to say. He hesitantly lifted his head from the other hand and looked at the teenager in anguish. “It’s tearing me apart, too, kid,” Tony mentioned hoarsely. Pepper began to coddle the man only to be met with him holding up a hand to her and complaining, “I’m fine.” Tony got up and walked toward the teenager who was waiting frightfully where the hallway met the corner of the room. He spoke as he crossed, “I don’t know what to do to help because I couldn’t keep this from happening to you in the first place, and I can’t help feeling that that’s on me.”

“I-i…” Y/N stuttered, the sound barely reaching her lips. “It’s no one’s fault,” the girl insisted quietly. At some points, she believed it more than others, but she maintained that it was true. Tony finally stopped face to face with the young and vulnerable teenager. She fearfully looked between his sad eyes, unsure what to say to the man who was meant to care for her. “I don’t blame you,” she whispered.

Tony nodded irregularly and simply said, “Get some sleep,” before turning around and walking back to Pepper. Y/N watched the broken man sit down next to his wife and lay his head on her shoulder. The teen felt stupid to have never realized that Tony took a hit that night, too. She glanced once more at Pepper combing through the mans hair and whispering comfort to him before tearing away to her room. She needed sleep. She needed today to be over.

She woke up early Sunday morning and was eager to see Peter after avoiding Tony all of Saturday. It scared her seeing him so manic Friday night, and she didn’t want to encounter it again. She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or excitement, but as she glanced at the clock she wasn’t surprised to see it read, “4:48 AM”. Y/N knew herself and she knew she wouldn’t get back to sleep, and she’d felt so trapped and stiff being suspended in the facility all week. A peculiar urge came over her that she just couldn’t shake and she rushed across the room to her closet, throwing on her Midtown gym tee with some ill-fitting shorts. She hurriedly pinned her hair back and ran downstairs to the lobby of the building. She saw Steve on the front patio stretching out and jogged to the entrance. As she opened the door, she felt the crisp morning air of autumn cool her skin and Steve looked over the shoulder he was stretching in calm surprise. 

“Can I come with you?” the teen asked uncertainly. She knew she couldn’t keep up with a genetically enhanced soldier, and it seemed silly to even entertain the notion, but it was less about getting out and more about being a part of the family she was dumped into. She could run on her own anytime, and while she needed to feel the movement and the burning in her limbs after such a stressful week, she had an overwhelming urge to do it with Steve.

“As if you hadn’t been punished enough already,” Steve teased, smirking as he waved the girl over to join him in stretching. She wasn’t exactly an expert in the sport of running. She did some track and field in elementary school, but not much else. So she tried to follow Cap, doing the stretches as she saw him doing them. After about five minutes of loosening the tension that resided in her stressed joints, Steve asked, “Are you ready?” Y/N was uncertain if this was a trick question or not. Of course, she’d never be ready to keep up with the mighty Captain America, but she nodded, determined to try her best.

Steve began jogging down the long driveway, and Y/N ran beside him. She knew he was holding himself back for her benefit, but she was kind of glad he was doing it. It meant he wasn’t doing anything begrudgingly. He actually wanted to spend the time with the teenager, and that meant the world to Y/N in the midst of her internal crisis. Everything was so uncertain lately, swirling with confusion in an ever-changing atmosphere. She wanted to join Steve’s ritual because it was consistent. It was always the same, and it was reliable, and Y/N needed that after everything that had come crashing down in her life over the last month. So she pushed, even when her tongue began to taste of metal, she sped up when her body begged her to slow down, and when her mind started to wander from the present task she would glance at Steve, and the determined look on his face as he watched the road before them would inspire her to keep present.

They paused at a drinking fountain located in a nearby park where Y/N could catch her breath and get a drink. She knew this wasn’t Steve’s normal ritual, but she could tell he was looking out for her, trying to make sure he didn’t push her too hard, so he forced her to stop and take a break. As she leaned into the bubbling stream of water, Steve placed his hands on his hips and looked off into the distance mentioning, “You know, Tony means well.” Y/N pulled her face away from the refreshing water and looked at the man, imitating his posture as Cap continued, “He just doesn’t know what to do this time.” Y/N was both intrigued by Steve’s insight and annoyed that her life continued to be the business of everyone in the Avenger’s Facility. The large man sighed and shook his head as he explained, “He wants to do the right thing to help you, he just doesn’t know what that is and it scares him-“

“I’m fine,” Y/N interrupted bitterly. She began walking along the path they’d been running down. “I don’t need his help.”

“Do you really believe that?” Steve asked with the kind of insight only a 100-some-year-old-man could provide. It was infuriating how considerately aware he was.

“I appreciate it, Steve,” Y/N mentioned limply, turning back around to face the man who was still standing at the water fountain, “but I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” At that she turned around and began running again, forcing herself to go faster than she thought possible. Within the blink of an eye, Cap was running right by her side once again like a bug you just can’t seem to shake off. She was really thankful that he hadn’t pushed the matter. It made her feel like she’d been listened to, and that triumph made her want to push harder, to run fast enough that Steve was doing more than just a jog beside her. She tried to smash her feet into the pavement as hard as they would allow, and lengthened her stride, catching that knowing smile in Steve’s perfect teeth as he sped up.

The burn of the rest of the run was almost unbearable, but Y/N was persistent. By the time she got back upstairs to her room and into the shower she was spitting down the drain, half expecting red blood to be swirling around at her feet. The cool water felt relieving as it ran over her sweaty body. Her muscles were sore, but the burning had died down. She used her favorite soap to thoroughly cleanse her body, delighting in the sweet scent, and took extra time to care for her hair even if Peter would be there in less than an hour. She was in a push for time as she stood infront of her wardrobe wrapped in a towel with a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, trying to figure out what to wear when she didn’t even know where they were going. She decided to just wear her normal ensemble with the exception of pulling out her light-wash denim jacket instead of the leather jacket. It seemed brighter, and it may have been the adrenaline from the run, but she was feeling more playful and present. She was lacing up her classic red converse when her phone began vibrating with Peter’s text that he had arrived. The girl bounded down the stairs and across the building, feeling the pain of the mornings run as she hurried to the lobby where Peter stood speaking to Tony. The sight of her friend made her smile. She felt really good about today.

His Aunt May had dropped him off at the facility, but they took Y/N’s Audi. It was strange for her to have to look away from the console so Peter could secretly type in the address of where they were going just to preserve the surprise. She never could have been prepared for where they arrived. It was a small park, but it was full of people. There were some stands around the edges of the field for groups and organizations from Planned Parenthood to Midtown School’s own feminism club. Without stopping to explain what he’d gotten them into, Peter walked off straight toward the booth from their school, and Y/N raced after him in confusion. The Midtown Feminist Club had small tent covering a modest table with a single petition in the center of it. There were only a few girls from school at the table, but front and center shouting at the crowd was MJ, only pausing her rallying to smile at Peter and Y/N as they approached.

“You guys made it!” Michelle exclaimed gladly as she reached over the table and embraced Peter.

As the two pulled away from each other Y/N admitted, “I’m still not exactly sure what we made it to,” hoping for some voluntary answers.

“Its a sister march,” MJ explained. “It’s not that big, but we’ve been growing every year. It's a festival and march for supporting women, which is why I’m standing here with a petition you two have yet to sign,” the girl pointed out, not caring to hide her ulterior motives as she held up two pens expectantly.

“What for?” Y/N asked as she leaned down to push pen to paper and sign it regardless of the answer. She may not know MJ like Peter did but the girl was still her friend and Y/N wanted to support her.

“We at the Midtown School Feminist Club believe that feminine hygiene products should be supplied in all bathrooms in the school, so this is a petition to the head of schools to divert funding toward that cause.” Y/N was thrilled by MJ’s proposal as she added the still unfamiliar ‘Stark’ to the end of her signature. Having to bring and organize one’s own sanitary products was like asking someone to carry around their own toilet paper. It wasn’t exactly a choice. It seemed like every day there was a teenage girl asking around for a tampon because they just so happened to run out, or not have one because their period took them by surprise. It was a common and biological issue, and it made sense to her that these products should be accessible. Y/N smiled kindly as she handed the pen back to Michelle.

As Peter leaned down on the table to sign his name on MJ’s petition, Y/N asked self-consciously, “So what exactly does one do at a sister march?”

“I have schedules if you want one,” the girl at the table offered. She grabbed a post-card looking itinerary from the left side of the table and handed it to Y/N, who glanced it over as MJ explained, “The booths will be up for another hour and then we march.” Peter lifted his head and MJ gave a closed-mouth grin as she took the second pen back. She seemed to be in her happy place. Y/N noticed she was much more talkative when there was activism involved. “Oh, I have pins, too!” the girl exclaimed as she pulled a couple of buttons from a small cardboard box and handed them to her friends. Y/N examined the baby pink pin in her hand. It had a multi-gender symbol in the middle and around it read, ‘Midtown School Feminist Club’. It looked like it had been designed in Microsoft Paint 15 years ago, but the identity of it made Y/N’s heart flutter as she proudly placed the pin over her heart on the denim jacket. It felt like being a part of something bigger than she was. She looked at a smiley Peter who had just pinned the button onto his sweater and felt the corner of her lip turn up at the adorable boy.

When Michelle began explaining the petition to attendees who approached the table, Peter and Y/N decided to keep walking and explore the festival. They were approaching the booth next to MJ’s when Y/N asked, “So why did you take me here, Peter?” He picked up a pin from a bowl and handed it to Y/N as she strolled alongside the boy uneasily and stumbled over the uneven terrain.

Peter glanced at the ground nervously, before responding, “I thought you could stand for seeing that you’re not alone and that you’re supported.”

Y/N sighed, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to get away from this conversation with anyone. “Is this about the Amadeus Cho thing?” She didn’t want to talk about it. Why could no one get that through their thick heads? She was fine. It sucked, but she wasn’t stuck on it.

Peter stumbled over a bump of grass as he attempted to explain, “Well, yeah, but-”

“Peter, I’m fine,” Y/N insisted, her heart sinking at the topic that resurfaced like a buoy. It was incessant and she was tired of having it.

“I don’t think you believe that as much as you want everyone else to,” Peter stated firmly, taking Y/N back. This was a level of assertiveness she’d never seen from the boy and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it.

The boy handed her another button he’d picked off of the table for Planned Parenthood and Y/N systematically added it to her jacket as they continued wandering. “He made some bad decisions, but he didn’t hurt me. If anything I’m more angry at him spreading rumors that he scored a Stark,” Y/N admitted, turning to look at her feet in shame and discomfort.

Peter stopped walking and looked at the closed-off girl. He sighed and confessed, “I don’t get why you’re more upset about him lying about what happened than you are what actually happened.”

It was a revelation to be had. Y/N hadn’t even realized that was what she was feeling and it was hard to come to terms with. It was the presumptions about her for sure, the disgusting toxic masculinity, yes, but at its core, it was all about that name. She wasn’t mad about the party because he did listen to her, and he did stop, but when she showed up to school Monday, “He reduced me to nothing but a name,” she spoke aloud for Peter as she continued to process this realization. “Ask anyone at school and the first thing they’re going to say about me is that I’m Tony Stark’s daughter, but I’m not Tony Stark.” It was hard to explain how being know as Tony Stark’s daughter, how even with all those eyes watching her, or even because they were watching her, she could be completely erased and ignored.

“Well if you ask me,” Peter began unsolicited, “You need to own your name.” Y/N looked up at him, baffled. “People aren’t going to stop knowing you as Tony Stark’s daughter, so you need to change what that means to be a Stark.”

“I guess you’re right,” Y/N responded slowly, still trying to fully comprehend what it was she was agreeing to. They began walking again as she mulled it over. The made their way to the next booth for a nearby safe house for victims of domestic abuse, and Peter handed the fretted teen a small pin that said ‘You are not alone.’ The more she read that message, the more she felt like she understood what Peter was trying to do for her. She was surrounded by people who got it. She’d been having this conversation for days now about Amadeus Cho and how she was dealing with it and it only led to more confusion, but she was standing in this crowd of women, and they understood because they were going through it, too. She didn’t have to tell them a word about what happened, or why she did what she did, or how she felt. They all knew it because they’d felt all those insecurities themselves. She pinned the button on with the rest and continued on with Peter with an open mind and willing attitude she hadn’t held before.

After an hour of visiting all the booths, Y/N’s jacket was plastered with buttons of varying sizes. Planned Parenthood, “Sisters not Cisters”, and “The future is female” littered across the denim, and Y/N was ecstatic. She felt like she could be proud of the beautiful controversy she was wearing and she was ready to show it off to the streets of New York. They caught up with MJ as the crowd began to move and Y/N’s heart fluttered with excitement. Taking those first steps felt momentous, and it was huge. Michelle held up a sign between her two friends and yelled protests and chants along with the crowd, and it made Y/N feel powerful to follow such strong young woman’s lead. Soon enough Peter joined his friend in shouting and Y/N mustered the rest of her energy to scream, “My body, my choice!” on repeat with the mass of women. She felt supported and safe, not just with this crowd, but Peter who had the perspective to bring her to the sister march in the first place, and was now yelling feminist chants full-heartedly at her side.

By nightfall, the group spread around candles to be held as they continued through the darkness. MJ had pushed her way to the front lines and left Y/N and Peter to slow down to the back of the crowd. As a nice woman in front of them lit their candles, Y/N couldn’t help turning to her friend and saying, “Thank you for bringing me today, Peter.” She couldn’t explain how much it meant to her to be in that street. It didn’t fix anything, and it didn’t take away her confusion about everything surrounding her incident with Cho, but she finally felt free again. Walking with Peter in the crowd, felt like facing her fears, and she knew she could return to school Monday with renewed energy, holding her head high.

“You know I would have done anything to bring that smile back to your face,” the boy teased, poking her cheek with a free finger, which caused the girl to turn away shyly. For the first time she felt beautiful, her guard dropping away completely as she marched alongside the supportive boy.

“Would you want a ride to school on Monday?” Y/N asked quickly, eager to change the subject to something normal and friendly.

“Yeah,” Peter accepted mindlessly.

“Yeah?” Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected, but still his answer surprised her. “Cool,” she said, looking forward awkwardly as they continued following the warm candlelight through the sleepy streets of New York.

It was a beautiful orange glow that flickered on the walls of brick buildings. The screaming of chants had mostly died down to soft murmur as the women peacefully marched on. Y/N felt the back of Peter’s hand sweep across her cold fingers as she listened to the lullaby of the protesters. She couldn’t stop thinking how safe she felt surrounded by these people she didn’t even know, and with whom she’d just started walking with this morning. She felt courageous for the first time in a long time as she observed the giant shadows of their bodies casting on the wall. Y/N felt Peter’s hand once again, as it slowly brushed down her wrist and caught on her finger. The clear intent on his end made her pulse flutter. It seemed strange as she tangled her fingers uncoordinatedly with her friend, but as they sorted themselves out and he took her hand in his, it felt so right, she knew it couldn’t be wrong. 

[michelletheemann-blog]

The Irony

There is no space more aptly named than the sanctuary in a black church. It is a meeting space, a room of creation and inspiration, a refuge from a country that often refuses to acknowledge your humanity.

At my church, our pastor can sing very, very well, and he can conjure the holy spirit at the drop of a hat in that truly Southern Baptist way. As a kid, I loved to look at the photo of Jesus—loose black curls, milk chocolate skin, and a short wooly beard—hanging crooked in the stairwell. My best friend from youth choir’s granny always sat in the same seat crowned with a new hat. With fondness, I used to look around at the giants, black kings and queens, clothed in their finest royal Sunday garb and always with a smile and hug to give to Tony and Colette’s baby girl. After service, I would lollygag between the pews, poorly helping my dad, the head usher, pick up any forgotten bulletins and whine about going to McDonald’s when I knew good and well I ain’t have no McDonald’s money. On special Sunday’s the smell of fried chicken and greens would waft up from the basement into the sanctuary, flirting with my nose, and when my friends and I would rush down the stairs to be the first in line we were chastised by Mrs. Somebody for running only to have an Auntie save us with a definitive, “let the babies eat, girl.”

This is a village that raises many a child, myself included, and reminds us children that it is our duty to honor those that have come before and work hard to make things better in the future. I grew up in love with everything church and it has always been my home and foundation, my sanctuary. So, one day in college when I finally stopped pushing down those dark, omnipresent feelings and said “I’m gay” out loud I knew I was going to have a few problems.

Twenty or so years ago my parents carefully chose a church, a village, to balance the experiences that my younger sister and I would have in the suburban life they hesitantly birthed us into. Yes, they wanted us to know God for ourselves and for us to have a strong sense of religion but they also wanted to make sure their kids would have a taste of the blackness they were raised on. They knew that our upper-middle-class, white education wouldn’t teach us about Henrietta Lacks or Madam CJ Walker and the name Fannie Lou Hamer wasn’t going to make it into our lessons about black history. Instead, my understanding of blackness and black excellence came from the Vacation Bible School talks, Sunday School Black History Month celebrations, and the pulpit. I was to have examples of all sorts of black people in my church and role models for me to look up to, a village to raise me. Though in the suburbs schools may have been better and the crime rates low, my parents made sure I knew that these white people were never supposed to be my everything because them white folks is crazy and my church, my people, are my real foundation in this world.

But herein lies the problem. “The fact that this particular child had been born when and where he was born had dictated certain expectations” (“Introduction”, xvi). For most of my life, these invisible expectations felt like simple—unachievable—goals and the drive to meet them was fueled by an incessant desire for perfection and affirmation. Follow your parents’ footsteps. Be successful. Achieve even more than your parents and your grandparents, they have worked so hard. Help your people prosper. You’re going to make us all so proud. As a girl, I remember that one lady who always dressed a little different, the woman with the short-cut who was whispered about at book clubs and post-church brunches. She was raised here too and she very quickly hauled ass out of the church, occasionally slipping into the back row on holidays. Yes, there was an expectation for her, an expectation for people like that, which I did not know how to articulate, but I knew that she was doing something wrong. “The child does not really know what these expectations are—does not know how real they are—until he begins to fail, challenge, or defeat them” (“Introduction”, xvi). I had a sense of these expectations and still one day I came home and broke my mother’s heart. Apparently, I had been keeping up my farce a little too well, both for hers and my own sake. “Since when??? How can you want this for yourself???” she pleaded. I am sorry, Mom, but when you imported boys from church for me to take to homecoming dances (the black boys at white schools “don’t go for black girls”, but that is another essay) I was looking over their shoulders at Grace, the only openly black lesbian at my school who, paradoxically, wanted nothing to do with me.

Anyway, there is indeed a difference for when black people are gay than for white people. It is not that black people are more homophobic nor do I believe that the black struggle can be compared to the white, queer struggle. The difference is that when a young black person is gay there is something more at stake: the possibility of losing the only community that accepts you. As a black geek articulated, “Blackness can be a rigid, didactic identity, with people stepping out of line facing ridicule and admonishment or, worse, condemnation. Those who reject the perceived identity of Blackness can be seen as rejecting the whole of black worth itself” (Johnson, 15).

Personally, I gained my entire sense of self, associated all my blackness with an organization that had very specific rules for what it meant to be black. The politics of respectability once disguised as a coat of armor and nobility now choked me like a straitjacket, locked into an idea of who I was supposed to be one day: a successful career woman, a role model in my church just as my parents had been, and, most importantly, a wife to a strong black man. I have always been gay but it is only recently that I have begun to accept and love myself for being gay, for changing a small yet fundamental part of that vision. Still, for a long while, I thought that I had betrayed my people and felt the need to hide that which would make me a stranger in my own village. I would return to the sanctuary and look upon the kings and queens with fear and sadness as “…they move[d] with an authority which I shall never have” (“Stranger”, 83). Instead, I would avoid going to church, stay at school for breaks, drop my girlfriend’s hand every time anyone who knew my family walked by. When I did go to church I felt like everyone could see all the lies pulsing just beneath my skin. My sanctuary became a jungle in which I did not know where to hide and where the possibility of being eaten alive felt invisibly imminent.

Then one day I met Audre Lorde. And Bayard Rustin. I learned that there is quite a bit more to Angela Davis’ story than just having a sick afro. Suddenly I had a new village and I had a reason to hope. After a lot of self-reflection, a very simple yet revolutionary idea crossed my mind. I realized, really considered for the first time, that I could be just as gay as I am black. I learned that the person whose love is most important in my life is that which I have for myself. “Coming out to yourself and to others, and then staying out as you walk out the door brings strength in its action,” and, yes, I could feel my strength beginning to build (Johnson, 17). At times the old thinking that lurks on the fringes of my memory, that which is embedded in my reflexes, begins to creep up and make me doubt myself and my wholeness once again, but now more than ever I refuse to let it control or define me. One day far from now my soul will look back and wonder how I got over.

Works Cited Baldwin, James. "Introduction: The Price of the Ticket." The Price of the Ticket: Collected Non Fiction. New York:St. Martin's/Marek, 1985. Print.

Baldwin, James. "Stranger in the Village" The Price of the Ticket: Collected Non-Fiction. New York: St. Martin's/Marek, 1985. Print.

Walker, Rebecca and Mat Johnson, “The Geek” Black Cool: One Thousand Streams of Blackness. Berkeley, Soft Skull Press, 2012. Print.

[monaedroid]

She rose to fame as an endlessly inventive pop android. Now, she's finally revealing the real person waiting inside

Janelle Monáe is crying in her spacesuit. It's early April in Atlanta, and she's in one of the basement studios of her Wondaland Records headquarters, surrounded by computer monitors and TV screens, one of them running a screensaver that displays images of her heroes: Prince, Martin Luther King Jr., Pam Grier, Tina Turner, Lupita Nyong'o, David Bowie. She's about to reveal, for the first time, something the world has long guessed, something her closest friends and family already know, something she's long been loath to say in public. As she sings on a song from her new album, Dirty Computer,"Let the rumors be true." Janelle Monáe is not, she finally admits, the immaculate android, the "alien from outer space/The cybergirl without a face" she's claimed to be over a decade's worth of albums, videos, concerts and even interviews – she is, instead, a flawed, messy, flesh-and-blood 32-year-old human being.

And she has another rumor to confirm. "Being a queer black woman in America," she says, taking a breath as she comes out, "someone who has been in relationships with both men and women – I consider myself to be a free-ass motherfucker." She initially identified as bisexual, she clarifies, "but then later I read about pansexuality and was like, ‘Oh, these are things that I identify with too.' I'm open to learning more about who I am."

It's a lovely spacesuit she's wearing, a form-fitting white NASA artifact complete with a commander patch on one arm and an American flag on the other. She's put it on for no reason at all – there are no cameras in sight – as she lounges around Wondaland. The outfit is a remnant, perhaps, of the android persona, known as Cindi Mayweather, that she fed us all these years: a messianic, revolutionary robot who fell in love with a human and vowed to free the rest of the androids.

Early in her career, Monáe was insecure about living up to impossible showbiz ideals; the persona, the androgynous outfits, the inflexible commitment to the storyline both on- and offstage, served in part as protective armor. "It had to do with the fear of being judged," she says. "All I saw was that I was supposed to look a certain way coming into this industry, and I felt like I [didn't] look like a stereotypical black female artist."

She is also a perfectionist, a tendency that's helped her career and hindered her emotional life; portraying a flawless automaton was also a bit of wish fulfillment. It's one of the many reasons she thought she had a "computer virus" that needed cleaning, which led her to years of therapy, starting before the 2010 release of her debut, The ArchAndroid. "I felt misunderstood," she says. "I was like, ‘Before I self-destruct, before I become a confused person in front of the world, let me seek some help.' I was afraid for anybody to see me not at the top of my game. That obsession was too much for me."

So she overcompensated, as she puts it, leaving fans to puzzle over the sight and sound of a dark-skinned, androgynously dressed black woman creating Afro-futuristic fantasias as trippy as the Parliament-Funkadelic soundscapes she grew up hearing. She became a pop anomaly, a sometimes incongruous interloper in the universes of her earliest supporters, Big Boi and Puff Daddy, the latter having signed her to a partnership with Bad Boy Records in 2008. The ArchAndroidwas a buzzy introduction, and 2013's Electric Lady – certainly the first progged-out concept album in the history of Bad Boy – established her as one of the 21st century's most inventive voices. Years before Frank Ocean, Solange, Beyoncé and SZA pushed arty, alternative R&B to the mainstream, Monáe was already there, bridging the gap between neo-soul and all that was to come, unafraid to fuse rock, funk, hip-hop (when she feels like it, as on her recent single "Django Jane," she's a top-flight rapper), R&B, electronica and campy, drama-kid theatricality.

She always ducked questions about her sexuality ("I only date androids" was a stock response) but embedded the real answers in her music. "If you listen to my albums, it's there," she says. She cites "Mushrooms & Roses" and "Q.U.E.E.N.," two songs that reference a character named Mary as an object of affection. In the 45-minute film accompanying Dirty Computer, "Mary Apple" is the name given to female "dirty computers" taken captive and stripped of their real names, one of whom is played by Tessa Thompson. (The actress has been rumored to be Monáe's girlfriend, though Monáe won't discuss her dating life.) The original title of "Q.U.E.E.N.," she notes, was "Q.U.E.E.R.," and you can still hear the word on the track's background harmonies.

Monáe is the CEO of her own label, a CoverGirl model and a movie star, appearing in the Oscar-winning Moonlight and the Oscar-nominated Hidden Figures, two hits led by black casts. In both films, she tackles black American stories that don't typically get the big-screen treatment. "Our stories are being erased, basically," she says of her attachment to those scripts, which made her "want to tell my story." Monáe does worry that the human behind her masks may not be enough. She has asked aloud, including in therapy, "What if people don't think I'm as interesting as Cindi Mayweather?" She'll miss the freedom of being the android. "I created her, so I got to make her be whatever I wanted her to be. I didn't have to talk about the Janelle Monáe who was in therapy. It's Cindi Mayweather. She is who I aspire to be." On Dirty Computer, the only hints of sci-fi are in the title and the storyline of the accompanying film. The lyrics are flesh-and-blood confessions of both physical and emotional insecurity, punctuated with sexual liberation. They're the unfiltered desires of an overthinker letting herself speak without pause, for once. And she wants to help listeners gain the courage to be dirty computers too. "I want young girls, young boys, nonbinary, gay, straight, queer people who are having a hard time dealing with their sexuality, dealing with feeling ostracized or bullied for just being their unique selves, to know that I see you," she says in a tone befitting the commander patch on her arm. "This album is for you. Be proud."

Monáe grew up in a massive, devoutly Baptist family in Kansas City, Kansas, or as she likes to put it, "I got 50 first cousins!" Not all of them know details of her romantic life, but they have almost certainly seen her wear sheer pants and share a lollipop with Thompson in the "Make Me Feel" video. "I literally do not have time," she says, laughing, "to hold a town-hall meeting with my big-ass family and be like, ‘Hey, news flash!' " She worries that when we visit Kansas City tomorrow, they'll bring it up: "There are people in my life that love me and they have questions, and I guess when I get there, I'll have to answer those questions."

Over the years, she's heard some members of her family, mostly distant ones, say certain upsetting things. "A lot of this album," she says, "is a reaction to the sting of what it means to hear people in my family say, ‘All gay people are going to hell.' "

She began questioning the Bible and her family's Baptist faith early on. Now, she says, "I serve the God of love" – love, she's determined, is the common factor among all religions, an idea Stevie Wonder expanded on in a Dirty Computer interlude.

When we arrive in the flat, industrial Kansas side of Kansas City, her family doesn't actually have any questions – or anything unkind to say, for that matter. There's just a whole lot of love for their homegrown superstar.

Janelle Monáe Robinson was born here on December 1st, 1985, to a mom who worked as a janitor and a dad who was in the middle of a 21-year battle with crack addiction. Her parents separated when Monáe was less than a year old, and her mother later married the father of Janelle's younger sister, Kimmy.

Monáe's loving warnings about the sheer size of her family ring true as soon as we step into her old neighborhood. On one street, her maternal grandmother owned several homes in a row that housed cousins, aunts, uncles and Monáe herself. A few minutes away is her paternal great-grandmother's pastel-coated house. Monáe spent a significant portion of her time there – it was her main connection to her dad and his family as he went in and out of prison; their relationship was rocky until he got sober 13 years ago. Another short car ride away is her maternal Aunt Glo's home, where we meet her mom. "She's my favorite slice of pie," her Auntie Fats says, referring to Monáe's familial nickname of "pun'kin."

Monáe was raised in a working-class community called Quindaro. It started as a settlement established by Native Americans and abolitionists just prior to the Civil War, and became a refuge for black Americans escaping slavery via the Underground Railroad. A few weeks before our visit, vandals painted swastikas and "Hail Satan" on a statue of abolitionist John Brown in the neighborhood. It's since been repainted. "I know nobody in this neighborhood did that," her great-grandmother says, shaking her head. "Outsiders."

On the Missouri side of the bridge, Kansas City is predominately white, but Monáe's community is overwhelmingly black. "I would read about where I was from," she says, "and understand who's really disadvantaged coming from these environments. It sucks. It's like that for brown folks." It's hard to miss her family's religiosity – they hardly get a sentence out without a mention of God's blessings. At 91, Monáe's great-grandma still monitors the halls at the local vacation Bible school with a switch in hand. During our visit, she sits behind a piano to lead a gospel singalong. Monáe, beside an aunt and a cousin, joins in, belting "Call Him Up and Tell Him What You Want" and "Savior, Do Not Pass Me By."

Monáe is never more relaxed during our time together than when she's in Kansas City. Her Midwestern drawl comes back as she screams and sings while running into the arms of her cousins, aunts and uncles, many of whom she gets to see only during the holidays or tour stops nearby. At one point, she curls up into her mom's lap while they look at a homemade poster full of sepia-toned childhood pics. "She was a delightful baby," Auntie Fats recalls.

Monáe's family members all share different versions of the same story: She was born to be a star, and she made that clear as soon as she gained motor skills. There was that time she got escorted out of church for insisting on singing Michael Jackson's "Beat It" in the middle of the service. There were the talent shows for Juneteenth where she covered "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" three years in a row and won each time. She was the star of the school musicals, except for The Wiz her senior year, when she lost the role of Dorothy because she had to leave the audition early to pick up her mom at work. She's still a bit miffed about not getting that part.

Monáe soon passed a bigger audition, for the American Musical and Dramatic Academy, and headed to New York. She studied musical theater and shared a small apartment with a cousin where she didn't even have a bed to herself. When she wasn't in class, she was working.

Meanwhile, an old friend was having the college experience Monáe desired, in Atlanta, so she relocated. The rest is well-trod history in the myth-building of Monáe: She was an Afro'd neo-soul singer strumming her guitar on college quads and working at Office Depot. She was fired from that job for using one of the company's computers to respond to a fan's e-mail, an incident that inspired the song "Lettin' Go."

That song caught the attention of Big Boi, who put her on Outkast's Idlewild and helped connect her with Sean Combs. "I'm-a be honest with you," her dad says, recalling an invite to one of Monáe's shows in Atlanta, where Combs was supposed to be in the house. "I was like, ‘Yeah, right.' I didn't think Puff Daddy was coming."

Skepticism aside, Michael Robinson was proud of the invite. He'd recently gotten sober, and the two were repairing their relationship. He spent much of Janelle's childhood hearing about her immense talents from the more-present members of their family. He was honored that they had come far enough for Monáe to want him to be there for such an important concert. But he still didn't believe Puffy would be there.

"I go down there with my two cousins, and she says, ‘Dad, everyone's gonna know you're not from here. Your jeans are creased.' " Fashion faux pas aside – he insists he hasn't creased his jeans since – Robinson was in for a pleasant surprise when one of his cousins spotted Combs and Big Boi in the back. It was the beginning of his daughter's new life, and he was just in time to be along for the journey. "I remember thinking, ‘This is what the big time is like,' " he muses. "They had all the cameras, all the lights. It was all about Janelle."

Wondaland Arts Society's headquarters feels like a utopian synthesis of Monáe's past lives in Kansas City and Manhattan. It sits inconspicuously in the midst of suburban Atlanta and looks like every other neighborhood home, with its two floors and brick exterior. Inside is much more ostentatious, with vintage clocks wallpapering the foyer, pristine white couches in the communal living spaces, and books and records everywhere.

It mimics the close-knit, constant accessibility of her childhood in Kansas City, with all its artists popping in and out of the space throughout each day to record new music, rehearse for shows and present the final product to the rest of the collective. At one point, the singer-rapper Jidenna shows up, having recently returned from a trip to Africa – everyone immediately starts teasing him about his newly buff physique.

Simultaneously, Chuck Lightning, seemingly the more extroverted half of two-man funk act Deep Cotton, who make their own music as well as work with Monáe, grabs a bowl of quinoa from the kitchen as Monáe doles out decisions on which version of the "Pynk" video will be released (they settle on the one without the spoken-word love poem that appears within the song in the film).

Monáe recorded most of Dirty Computer here, in a small studio with Havana-inspired decor. Guests and collaborators ranged from Grimes to Brian Wilson, who added harmonies to the title track. The album's liner notes cite Bible verses and a recent Quincy Jones interview alongside Monica Sjöö's The Great Cosmic Mother and Ryan Coogler's Black Panther.

But she was particularly close to one inspiration. Monáe was good friends with Prince, who personally blessed the album's glossy camp tone and synthed-out hooks. "When Prince heard this particular direction, he was like, ‘That's what y'all need to be doing,' " Lightning says. "He picked out that sound as what was resonating with him." Prince gave highly specific music and equipment recommendations from the era they were drawing on, including Gary Numan, whom he loved. "The most powerful thing he could do was give us the brushes to paint with," Lightning says.

Rumors spread that Prince co-wrote the single "Make Me Feel," which features a "Kiss"-like guitar riff. "Prince did not write that song," says Monáe, who sorely missed his advice during the production process. "It was very difficult writing this album without him." Prince was the first person to get a physical copy of The ArchAndroid – she presented the CD to him with a flower and the titles written out by hand. "As we were writing songs, I was like, ‘What would Prince think?' And I could not call him. It's a difficult thing to lose your mentor in the middle of a journey they had been a part of."

Stevie Wonder was another early fan of Monáe, and a conversation between them – Wonder insisted she record it – appears as an interlude on Dirty Computer. At one point, years ago, her budding friendships with both legends collided: She had to choose between playing with Prince at Madison Square Garden or with Wonder in Los Angeles. Prince encouraged her to pick Stevie.

On election night in 2016, Monáe found herself experiencing an unfamiliar emotion. "For the first time," she says, "I felt scared." Overnight, she went from living in a country whose president loved her music and had her perform on the White House lawn to one where it felt like her right to exist was threatened. "I felt like if I wake up tomorrow," she says, "are people going to feel they have the right to just, like, kill me now?"

Monáe had already been a committed activist. In 2015, with members of Wondaland, she created "Hell You Talmbout," which demands we say the names of black Americans who have been victims of racial violence and police brutality. Before #MeToo and Time's Up, Monáe created an organization, Fem the Future, which stemmed from her frustrations about opportunities for women in the music industry. She was called on to perform at the 2017 Women's March and to speak about Time's Up while introducing Kesha at the Grammys. "We come in peace, but we mean business," she told the cheering crowd.

That sums up Monáe's mindset in the Trump era. She hopes not to destroy the oppressors but to change their minds. "The conversations might not happen with people in the position of power," she says, "but they can happen through a movie, they can happen through a song, they can happen through an album, they can happen through a speech on TV. Most of them will probably turn off their TVs, but . . ."

She's in a New York hotel now, two weeks before the album's release. "There's some anxiety there, but I feel brave," she says, teetering between her typical sternness and a bit of vulnerable shakiness. No tears will be shed today. "My musical heroes did not make the sacrifices they did for me to live in fear." Her activism isn't the focus of Dirty Computer, but it's there, hovering above every note. She ended band rehearsal in Atlanta by asking the musicians to reflect on how American this album is. Monáe's America is the one on the fringes; it accepts the outsiders and the computers with viruses, like the ones she thought she had.

She understands the significance of now making her personal life a bigger, louder part of her art. She cites the conversation around one of her films as an example of how she might use her own story to engage with more-conservative listeners. "When I did Hidden Figures, there were some Republican white men tweeting about it and how they just felt bad. You could feel through their tweets that they were just like, ‘These black women did help us get to space. How could we treat them like that?' "

Meanwhile, she's again anticipating questions from her family back in Kansas. She seems more worried about them than what anyone else has to say. Still, Dirty Computer is meant to be a celebration, and if she loses a few people along the way, Monáe seems OK with that risk.

"Through my experiences, I hope people are seen and heard," she says, sitting at a hotel-room desk, dressed up from a day of promo in a puffy black-and-red jacket, matching red pants and terry-cloth hotel slippers. "I may make some mistakes. I may have to learn on the go, but I'm open to this journey." She sighs, voice confident and stare unfaltering. "I need to go through this. We need to go through this. Together. I'm going to make you empathize with dirty computers all around the world."

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/features/cover-story-janelle-monae-prince-new-lp-her-sexuality-w519523

[jonathaniketem]

Coming to Terms

I was the last to introduce myself at my table, comprising four desks facing each other. World cultures—my very first class as a middle schooler. I couldn’t have been more excited. Our teacher sat in the front of the room just surveying her surroundings; her pearly, white smile was about as bright as the hot Texas sun. I still remember Ms. Juarez getting up herself, flattening out the creases from her outfit like she usually does once she got up and and introduction herself. Right after she spoke a few words and while the crowd gasped in excitement, I stared at my table, aghast. “You guys will make a presentation about your own culture by the end of the year, it only seems fair as this is a world cultures class,” she smiled as she always did while stating something that felt similar to a death sentence. How was I to complete something I had so much trouble accepting?

Now let’s turn back in time—back to when I was nine years old meeting some of my closest friends for the first time. I came across a group of kids my age range playing soccer right in front of my house on the street. I was too shy to come out and just ask if they would let me play with them; with the knowledge I’ve amassed now I know children are much easier to congregate with peers than adults who may be a bit pretentious to ever allow anyone foreign join their clique. I only walked away from the screen gate concealing my gazing presence for a bottle of water when I heard a thump against the familiar sound of something hitting the plastic exterior of a car. I ran outside yelling at those rowdy individuals who dared to hit my father’s sedan. They did what kids knew best and ran for their lives, and as a kid myself, I ran after them. We ran and ran until the sun went down only for all of us to collapse from exhaustion. We laughed about how stupid this all was while apologizing for hitting my dad’s car. My summer as a nine year old then on was me going out and having fun with the new kids I met. I started to grow bonds with them and create memories hoping nothing would throw a wrench into the fun I was having. Sadly it’s always those who try to escape bad luck who end up chasing its tail. One day all my new friends came to our friend Tobias’s home for a game day. The environment was much different than it was in my house: R&B music playing in the house, friends of Tobias’s dad in the backyard having a barbecue, and a marathon playing of a show I had never heard of before called Martin. I must have been very tense as Tobias noticed and tried to calm my nerves, and if Tobias noticed my other friends did too. They must’ve realized I wasn’t feeling like my regular self, all from being in a different setting. “Hey why do you look like you’re out of place? You’re Black too, aren’t you?” The question I always felt uneasy about. I stood there and stared at everyone unable to say a thing for awhile. To this day my present self could never understand why I agreed that I was such instead of the truth, but the lie was played and it had to be kept up or my image would’ve been ruined.

I am an African American, an American citizen who just so happens to have African roots. This is what I have finally accepted myself to be ethnically. Though it was never easy for me to accept as a youth. I have parents from the Eastern horn of Africa, born and raised in the country Eritrea. They sadly had to leave their homes to escape the war for Eritrean independence from Ethiopia, later meeting each other in Houston. They were proud of their Eritrean ethnicity, yet they gave birth to and raised a son who was ashamed of who he was. I was surrounded by people who identified as what the average person would imagine to be the Black American. I was constantly seeing myself as fitting into this group without also being apart of my own group. I didn’t have the knowledge to be able to be apart of both the African American community while also being proud of my roots as an Eritrean youth. I saw it as wanting to be able to accommodate myself into this community I was around so long that being a bit different would only make me feel segregated deep within, so my only solution was to lie about who I was. I’ve been questioned continuously as I differed visually from the peers I so wanted to be apart of, the loose curly hair, my bulging eyes, and complexion that made it seem I was from the Middle East. Because other people have continuously made assumptions about my race, I have found myself frequently discouraged. Discouraged to the point that lies flowed smoothly out my mouth like water surging from a faucet. Embarrassment followed me no matter who asked the question I dreaded: “Hey what are you? Are you Black?”, and no matter how many times I was asked my lies never failed to put me at ease. 

A thing about lies I’ve come to realize—they may start out as little white lies, but the constant repetition of a lie breathes life into the lie. The lie starts to become its own entity, an entity I despised but kept molding with the eccentric tales I formed that would’ve put a seasoned politician in awe of what the mind of a youth could conjure in fabrication. My lies started with only a few peers; later, newer mouths would ask the same questions with familiar ones standing close by; my lies couldn't change there or I would be a liar. The lies began to form an identity—latching on to my person like the backpack I so proudly carried through the hallways of the school I spread my lies, instead the lies were a burden to my conscience. The typical person would try to fix something weighing heavily on their mind, but the lies were an addiction that sadly started to rope in others that weren’t supposed to be involved. Since my sister, two years my junior, started to attend my school I’d tell her to start lying about our identities. She could never figure out why it was such a big deal to me, but I started at her just as drug addicts stare at their loved ones asking for a bit of cash to get high one last time. Looking back it was quite repulsive doing something so crude to the innocent minded. I was her source of wisdom as her older sibling, yet I tried to bring her into the darkness I created out of disregard for myself trying to fit in with the groups of people I just happened to want to be a part of. Another thing about lies that I often hear and can confirm for myself are that they most likely will always catch up with their creators no matter how hard they try. As children get to meet others outside their family, they start to bringing them into the homes they were raised in and subsequently meet the ones who did the raising. For the liar I had become I could not believe I made the simple mistake of leaving my parents alone with friends to talk—the same parents who love to represent and share their information about their homeland. To hear one of the many customers you’ve sold your lies to ask what an Eritrea is feels probably about as painful as getting shot in the heart. I was truly grateful the attention span of my peers was about as long as a toddler’s who still hadn’t formed object permanence yet. There needed to be a remedy for the troubles I was causing myself, some soul searching before I was completely branded as a liar and someone who couldn’t come to terms with who they were. Surprisingly, all it took was a summer trip and a bit of contemplation about life to get myself on the right track.

Summer before the start of the nerve-wracking middle school experience, a family trip was presented to the June-born siblings as a gift. I didn’t know how to feel about going to Eritrea to see and experience the environments my parents grew up in. The trip was for the entirety of the summer, coming back only two days before the school year was about to start. We would be taking the German airlines Lufthansa stopping in Frankfurt, Germany and Istanbul, Turkey for gas and once again taking off until we landed in the capital of Eritrea: Asmara. Summer is the perfect opportunity for friends to make a few more memories before they went to different schools and possibly losing contact with each other. It hurt my child heart to know that I couldn’t go out and have fun, but instead I had to go to the place I tried my best to hide the existence of. The constant questions of why I wouldn’t be home got my creative process running, my solution being that I told everyone we would be visiting family in Europe. My lie wasn’t completely far-fetched though; my mother and father both had brothers located in Sweden and Norway, so coming up with this I felt proud of what I conjured up. The trip there wasn’t an easy journey: our first flight cancellation due to the 2011 eruption of the Nabro volcano, TSA possibly giving White House security a run for their money, and the long flight hours accompanied by the sounds of my sister heaving up her airline meals every moment of turbulence. I couldn’t have been happier once I had both feet on the motionless earth. Finally stepping out of the airport, I stood by the entrance waiting on my mother to get her bearings. Hand stretched out tugging at my luggage, I watched in awe at the deep lavender masterpiece in the sky the sun had left once it set ready to rise once again from where I came from. “Not bad,” I thought quietly to myself, “I guess I’m home.”

Asmara is the capital of Eritrea as well as my parent’s birth place. There are many ethnic groups living in Eritrea; my family is a part of the largest group in Eritrea called Tigrayan due to the language we speak: Tigrinya. Because of my delayed learning of English and natural tendency for Tigrinya as a child, my father decided to withhold my learning of the letters my parents grew up with called Ge'ez. They decided the 26 letter alphabet worshiped by this new country they settled in was much more important than millennia of history and culture. Though I regret their decision now I never cared much for it back then, especially during our trip when I had two translators by my side. The air there was very cool, which never made much sense to me until my parents explained how we were many feet above sea level, basically living on top of a mountain. Walking to our grandmother’s house from when the taxi dropped us off, we were headed to where would be staying for the entirety of our trip. I saw that everyone was walking, reminding me much of the climate of New York from various videos and photos I have seen. People walked and talked mostly in Tigrinya and to my surprise English as well. Asmara is much more advanced when it came to popular culture and what was big in societal trends as the capital of this country compared to the more rural cities my great grandparents and so on came from. My father thought it would be best to walk the rest of the way while my mother took the taxi back to her childhood home preparing for our arrival. We walked the streets taking detours walking past the many food stalls and shops out in the open, like shopping at a bazaar. The stained homes and buildings from the sun and style to the colorful, but bleached architecture made it feel like I was vacationing in one of the South American countries. I couldn’t believe what beauty Africa had housed. 

Living in Asmara for just less than three months I started to see what it felt like being more than just American. It wasn’t as big of a difference as I thought, especially not from the rumors about Africa that I heard back in America. Of Course as popular as Asmara was, it couldn’t be used as a standard when comparing all of Africa, as if comparing a mansion to low-income housing provided by the government for struggling individuals. Things like famine, poverty, and horrible living conditions existed, but I was living as lavish as I could in my grandmother’s home. I was woken up to this sad reality when we traveled to my great grandparents village of Maiha, which also served as my grandfather’s burial place. My grandfather died before I could ever meet him two years from when we left to come to Asmara—another reason that warranted this trip. The trip there was suffocating; the advent of the air conditioner seemed to not have reached east of Africa just yet as the bus ride there was unpleasant. The whole ride we were leaving the cool mountains and entering sea level, and humidity was coming at full force that summer. At our stop we walked to Maiha, my mother’s family village where she hugged, kissed, and introduced us to our family. Maiha was a desert from what I perceived it as, almost no vegetation anywhere with everyone’s skin clinging tightly to bone where muscle should’ve been missing. I couldn’t fathom how people could be living here, but these were also my roots. We walked to an area that presented itself as a miniature version of a cemetery I remember once seeing as I joked around with my siblings, holding our breaths until my father drove past it. My father pointed out my late grandfather with his image on a tombstone, I quickly noticed the resemblance he had with my cousin that was back in Asmara. My mother and her sisters circled around his final resting place as their sounds of sorrow hit my eardrums, their wails had hints of grief and sorrow I couldn’t help but feel regrettably sad my mother felt this way. Something in that moment made me think life was fleeting, it wasn’t very normal for a child so young to be thinking about such things. Our journey back to Asmara was filled with reminiscent stories of young girls and their time with their father. A grandfather who would spoiled his grandson every minute he spent with him would’ve been joyful to experience, but loved ones are taken before these moments can even be recorded. I learned that my grandfather had an avid love for language, housing the ability for speaking many languages during his life. It was something about that fact that resonated within me even though at the time it seemed to be just one of the many accomplishments he had under his belt. Once we made it back I remember sighing loudly that we were back home, which made me question my word use at the moment. I was finally comfortable enough to call the place my mother grew up in home, and I wasn’t at all ashamed by it. This new found respect I had garnished upon myself seemed to keep me on a high. In the coming weeks of traveling around the country and enjoying the cuisine, to my surprise was a lot of pasta and pizza, only added to my enjoyment for my summer. I later learned there was more Italian influence in Eritrea than I knew back from when Italy used to control this little country. From words such as eyeglasses and car borrowed from Italian to the architecture and food, Eritreans used their suppressors identity and incorporated it into their own. The love for the language and learning more words in Tigrinya took new heights when I decided it was time I learned the alphabet from my uncle who was a school teacher. It was no easy feat, but the dedication I had for this task was marvelous and quite miraculous looking back. By my age at the time, my brain had most likely already made its last connections with neurons in the language department, cutting its ties with neurons that most likely would’ve made learning these symbols a lot faster. Though with my effort, my plastic brain must have given me a chance to redeem myself from my ignorance as before I knew it I could read small segments from the local newspaper like an infant reading the big text from a picture book. The applause I received from family members in the room during my recital was very heartening and exciting as I showed off my new trick unbeknownst to my audience. 

Before I knew it my first year as a middle schooler was only a few days, just under two weeks. The sorrowful goodbyes and hugs hurt my little heart. I made ties and bonds with people I never knew existed until three months ago and I never wanted to leave. The environment there was very free and fun and I couldn’t fathom coming back to America. The smiles I once had plastered on my face now masterfully painted to express an aghast look. If someone said this was the same happy little boy enjoying his life in eastern Africa, they would’ve been taken as a joke. Ms. Juarez’s words still rang in my ears and my trip playing in my head over and over. Before I knew it the bell rang signaling us to our next class before I could over think how I felt my life was over. The whole school day consisted of trying to distract my foreboding thoughts with the workload I was piling up on my first day, yet I still couldn’t get world cultures to stop taking over my thoughts. This kept on up until I finally made it home after a tiring day of school. I had to come up with something soon as I laid in my best going through every decision I could’ve made about a school project possibly changing my outlook on many things. My thoughts raced back and forth when I suddenly remembered all the fun I had during our trip and remembering the times I struggled learning a new alphabet for the sake of trying to please family who passed on before I even got to meet him. Though I broke my promise of continuously practicing my Ge’ez I couldn’t help but smile at myself struggling to get better at something I had put my mind to. This trip couldn’t have been scheduled at a better time, a time when something as important as a cultural showcase was announced just after my return. I was finally more accepting of something I despised for so long even though I wasn’t going to change over night I was taking the necessary steps and that's reason enough. I hopped off my bed and ran downstairs to my father reading his newspaper at the dining table as usual. I remember him looking up waiting for me to tell him whatever it was I had to tell him, but nothing wanted to come out. I couldn’t just close up now after I finally told myself it was time for a change. I started to hate myself even more for making such a topic embarrassing for myself in the first place when I should’ve embraced it like other Eritreans I knew. This was my time to finally leave my cocoon of hate and emerge as not a full fledged Eritrean just yet, but however far baby steps would take me for the meantime. I took a breath in and out and before I knew out came the words “dad I need help with a project at school.”

The lights were off and seats were rearranged so that everyone was facing the front of the room. The student right before me alphabetically decided to make a powerpoint slide about what being Mexican American meant to him. I wasn’t listening closely, only paying attention in little bits before I would stare out the window watching the trees waving hello in the wind. Time kept ticking and I knew soon the 10-minute interval for our presentation would start over again for the next student. My heart ticked in rhythm with the second hand on my watch and I realized my heart seemed to go faster and faster, a heart attack was all I could think of which only sped up my heart beat and didn’t make the situation any better. As I took deep breaths to calm myself I heard the class start to clap, my time was up. I wasn’t going to let 10 minutes ruin my life, this was going to be nothing but a simple speech to a bunch of people I met during my sixth grade year. I got up with the most confidence I had in awhile once I heard my name, tri-fold board in my right hand, a garment worn by women from Eritrea and Ethiopia in my left hand, and a traditional drum given to me by my late grandmother on my father’s side slung across my shoulder. I stood in front of my audience with my presentation set up, like I was at a science fair nervous to explain my booth. I took a deep breath, yet this time it wasn’t going to be used to spew lies any longer. I was standing my ground against all my demons ready to release myself all by giving a presentation. To many it may have looked like a child talking to his school friends about how he grew up, but to me it was a life changing moment. In that moment as if all at once my lies seemed to disappear into thin air relieving the stress I made for myself all those years; I was finally ready. “Hello my name is Jonathan,” I smiled a nervous, toothy grin, “and this is my presentation on what it means to be Eritrean.”

——————————————————————————————

Afterword

My thoughts were built selfishly upon self-love that was never present. I owned information that many peers I share my skin color with would never get to know. I couldn’t accept something that many could try to search for after it was stolen from them centuries ago, but I was ignorant to that fact. I was ignorant to the culture I was blessed to have information about and in my selfishness pretend to have no such knowledge. I am thankful for this gift many of my brothers and sister will never get to know: another language, another culture, another home. I care for my roots ever greater now since I’ve learned the significance of where I came from. I am African American with known roots from Africa. I am able to speak my African tongue. I am proud to say my heritage lies in another continent. I am me. 

[kainna15]

Lend Ne Your Sanity

Chapter 3

https://www.fanfiction.net/~kainna15

Jasper sat rigidly at the cafeteria table, his posture straight and eyes trained on the entrance doors. Alice informed their little group of the surprising occurrence (to anyone besides Alice of course) of Rosalie becoming friends with Scarlett. The two girls shared their first class, AP English Literature, and their fourth class that was before lunch, French 4. And now they were both on their way to lunch, the plan of having Scarlett sit at their table already underway.

“Jasper....you should blink bro.” Emmett's deep rumble of a voice broke Jasper out of his staring contest with the lunchroom double doors.

“Noted.” Jasper spoke with a small smile. He didn’t realize how stone still he was sitting and slowly relaxed his muscles. He blinked a couple of times to moisten his eyes and started to pick apart his lunch. He could hear Rosalie’s voice from the hallway and knew any moment she was going to be walking through those doors.

"There she is." Alice's voice excitedly spoke. Jasper turned his head so quickly that any normal person would have broken their neck. His eyes quickly searched the small group of students before finding Rosalie, who was smirking at something the girl to her left said. His eyes trailed over said girl's form quickly; her beautiful smile, the brightness of her eyes, the gorgeous auburn of her hair. His eyes went further down, stopping momentarily at her breasts, average for her form but delicious nonetheless, and settled on her full hips and thick thighs. Venom pooled in his mouth and his eyes continued to following her as she walked across the cafeteria to the lunch line. He let out a small groan watching her plush ass as she walked. He appreciated all forms on women, Rose and Alice were equally beautiful to him, but he had to admit he was very pleased with how his mate looked. He was used to thicker women, a man coming from 1800s Texas should be, and he found himself immensely attracted to his mate's full child-bearing hips, despite the fact that he could not have children, the thought alone of grabbing those hips while he thrusted deep in her-

"Jazz, control your thoughts please." Edward rolled his eyes at the vulgar thoughts that were coming out of the normally proper gentleman. Jasper quickly emptied his mind, a skill he learned while practicing meditation at the beginning of his vegetarian diet. He could grant Edward a little peace for now, but tonight he couldn't promise to have control over the thoughts that might roll through his head.

"Hey everyone, this is Scarlett." Rosalie drawled as she finally arrived at the table, lunch tray in one hand and purse in the other.

"Hi! It's great to meet you! I'm Alice!" Alice stood up quickly and hugged the startled girl. She knew already that Rose and Scarlett were going to be on more friendlier terms than herself and Scarlett, just like Bella would be better friends with herself than Rose. She didn't mind, they were all going to get along fine.

"Bella?" Edward asked lowly in vampiric speed. Alice quickly shifted her thoughts while ignoring Edward's penetrating gaze.

"Nice to meet you." Scarlett answered in a small voice, her hands held tightly onto her bagged lunch while she glance around at the more than possible beautiful family. Self-conscious of herself and trying not to dwell too much on it, she nervously ran her hand through her hair. Simultaneous smiles broke out around the table, Edward finding it especially funny that she had a habit of running her hand through her hair as well, creating a bed-head like hair similar to his own.

"This is Emmett, my boyfriend." Rosalie continued on with the introductions. Pointing to each one, Scarlett tried to remember each of their names. Emmett was the big muscular boy, she used boy to describe his cute dimples and child-like friendliness he displayed at his introduction.

"Wow Rose, you actually made a friend?" Emmett joked with an affectionate smile. Rosalie rolled her eyes and pointed to another man.

"That's Edward, my adopted brother." Edward was handsome in a dark way, like he spent to much time thinking negatively than positively. Scarlett could tell by his cautious and intelligent eyes that were paired with bed-head that rivaled her own. The realization of what they were smiling at hit her as she watched Edward run a hand through his bronzed hair creating a neat messiness that matched hers.

"Hello." His greeting was simple and she appreciated that, the nerves in her stomach made it hard to speak at the moment.

"Alice has already introduce herself." Rosalie breezed by the small short girl who seemed too happy to be a normal teenage girl.

"And this is my twin, Jasper." It seemed like everyone was holding their breath, metaphorically since they didn't need to breath anyways. Jasper for a moment didn't know what to say; speechless, he searched his mind for something.

"Hello, darling" He spoke a simple greeting, allowing his southern twang to enter his voice. Scarlett stared at the most handsome man she had ever seen. His blonde hair and gold eyes gave him an angelic look that she would have believed if not for his dark pained look he carried. His body was fit with lean muscle and she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in those strong arms of his. Her heart stuttered at the sight of his knowing smile, as if he could hear how fast her heart was beating.

Realizing that she was checking out the twin of her first real friend sent panic and guilt through her. Coupled with the awareness that she hasn't said anything sent her anxiety off.

Jasper felt her emotions, a frown settling on his face. He reached out and sent a wave of calm only to discover her feelings hardly changed. It was like trying to wade through muck instead of water, it clung to her and was resistant to budge. Her emotions were too strong for him.

"Hi, pleasure to meet you all." Scarlett managed to utter, her voice timid and hesitant. Rosalie took that as a que to slide into the empty middle seat next to Emmett who was at the end and patted the seat next to her for Scarlett; right across from Jasper. Scarlett sat down, placing her lunch bag on the table as she did so. Jasper felt his hands morph the metal of his seat as her scent assaulted him. She smelled delicious, and Jasper wanted to taste her in a way only her mate could. His eyes turned pitch black and it took everything within him not to jump her.

In the vampire world, it would be normal for them to be all over each other already. Vampires felt and accepted the mate bond more quickly than humans did. The sexual tensions that came with meeting ones mate were overbearing on vampires’ senses and were therefore quick to accept it when the knowledge that they were your soul mate came crashing down moments later. But humans couldn’t feel this, humans couldn’t instinctively know when they met their soul mates. The metal under Jasper’s hand bent more, he would have to have her fall in love with him before he could touch her, and he was all too excited to start.

Scarlett on the other hand felt too nervous at the moment to do anything but stare at her clasped hands. Which was a convenient time for Jasper to regain control of himself. She was thankfully relieved when Rosalie struck up a conversation.

"So an asshole of a human dumped orange juice all over my bag this morning." She complained as she opened up her milk and delicately placed a straw in it. Scarlett smiled at her foul language, and started pulling out her own lunch. Fresh chicken breast and cheese with spinach and light mayo on whole grain bread, some carrots since she had plenty of carbs in the bread, and a bottle of water.

While her mother had thought starvation was the key to weight loss, Scarlett herself knew better. Nutrition was the key and she spent most of her health classes throughout high school in perfecting her diet. It was useless until now, her mother still took away half the portions that she should have had and Scarlett suffered because of it. But she was happy she could finally eat the way she wanted, she missed cooking. And now with the proper nutrition and without her overbearing mother, she could finally go back to sports and working out. Don’t want to get too bulky, no man wants a muscular woman. Her mother’s voice sang in her head and Scarlett started to feel her appetite go away.

Edward couldn't help but to hear the thoughts that flooded through her mind, quicker than normal for a human but he managed to follow along fine. Hearing the other voice of a woman he could only assume was her mother was unsettling. Most people don’t actually hear another voice, not one they themselves didn’t create. Hoping to make her feel more comfortable, and in an effort to calm his restless brother who was currently thinking of 50 different conversation topics to talk about, he spoke to Scarlett.

"Is that homemade bread?" Edward asked, speaking over his sisters as they inspected Rose's bag for damage. Scarlett snapped up her head at Edward, a small shy smile played on her lips.

“Yea, I baked it myself Saturday.” She answered as she started eating her carrots. Jasper was relieved to see how healthy she was eating compared to the rest of the teenagers her age. He had been reading some of Carlisle's health and anatomy books these past few years to better understand the human body. They were even more fragile than he had originally thought, any imbalances to their diet could throw off their whole system. Eying her food, he approved of her eating habits although he wondered why she didn’t grab a treat. Humans usually had some sort of processed sugar and going long without some usually produced binge eating. Maybe he was just thinking too hard, but he didn’t want his mate to prohibit herself.

“You baked your own bread?” Alice asked to try to help her talk more. She discreetly nudged Jasper with her leg, hoping he would start talking soon.

“Yea. My dad loves sandwiches and of course taught me how to make him his favorite. He likes a lot of fattening foods on it, so I try to make it as healthy as possible for him. So far he hasn’t noticed.” Scarlett felt more comfortable talking about her father, the obvious love she had for him was prevalent in her smile and the soft tone of her voice. Jasper admired her love for her father, it was rare these days to find anyone who spoke so loving of anything. He hoped one day she would speak of him with affection.

“You’re still missing something from your lunch.” Rosalie spoke with a scrutinizing look. While Jasper was grateful with what Scarlett was eating, Rosalie was suspicious. She found Scarlett’s eating habits too clean, and witnessing her anxiety attack earlier that morning made Rosalie all that more suspicious of anything abnormal. “You need chocolate.” Rosalie continued and moved over her mandated cafeteria lunch dessert, a chocolate muffin, to join Scarlett’s collection of food.

Scarlett at first was speechless; if she were back in New Jersey with her mother she would assume this was a test and quickly object it but....she wasn’t with her mother anymore. This wasn’t a test that she would be punished for later if she failed, this was just a friend giving her some food. When was the last time she had chocolate? Sometime in the early summer when she was here visiting with her father.

“I-Thank you.” Scarlett stopped herself from protesting and instead accepted the muffin. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Scarlett asked as she continued eating her sandwich.

“I’m sure.” Rosalie answered with a small smile. She was just grateful she didn’t have to pretend to eat it again. Carbs always tasted the worse to her, maybe because it didn’t have any blood in it.

The lunch continued, Scarlett finished her food and ate her muffin slowly, savoring the taste of chocolate. Jasper was still staring at his mate, words simply evaded his mind as he distractedly searched for something to say. His time was dwindling down, there was only a few more minutes until lunch was over. Oh wait, that's it.

“What classes do you have now?” Jasper spoke suddenly causing Scarlett to jump at the sound. Her stomach churned uneasily as his attention settled on herself.

“Uh-“ Scarlett stuttered as she collected her thoughts and tried to remember her schedule from memory. Jasper watched with a fond smile as she furrowed her eyebrows and looked up to the left in thought. “After lunch I have calculus,” Jasper perked up at that, they shared a class together. He can at least walk her there...and maybe sit next to her if she didn’t mind. “Then gym,” Emmett and Alice did a weird simultaneous squeal that left Scarlett giggling, “Then my last class is AP Chemistry.” Jasper grinned, he was blessed with two classes with her?

“We have calculus and chemistry together.” Jasper shared with an excited grin. A small blush graced Scarlett’s features as she felt her mind go blank just from his smile.

“And we have gym together!” Alice and Emmett sang together. Rosalie rolled her eyes at the two but couldn’t help the small affectionate smile that graced her lips.

“It seems like the only person you don’t have class with is Edward.” Rosalie spoke as she broke off some more pieces of her burger in an attempt to look like she was eating. Scarlett, distracted by the statement, luckily didn’t notice the lack of eating.

“No, we had music together in 2nd period. You play the piano.” Edward addressed Scarlett who seemed to just recognize Edward as the boy who was moodily brooding in the corner of music class, taking the only other piano in the classroom. He was practicing with his headphones plugged in so she couldn't hear what he was playing but by the complicated and speedy hand movements she saw she could tell he was levels ahead of her.

“Not like you, I’m still a beginner.” Scarlett admitted with the smile, humbly pointing out Edward��s proficiency over her own.

“You’re getting there.” Edward dismissed her compliment with a wave of his hand.

“So what do you have for 3rd period then?” Jasper asked, filling her schedule in his mind except for that class. Scarlett didn’t seem affected by the fact that he wanted to know her schedule, or that he seemed to know the classes that she shared with Rosalie, and instead answered him.

“I take art.” Scarlett knew she should have taken a history but considering at her old school she had taken all her history credits, she decided to relax this year a bit and take an art class. Jasper smiled at the realization of her lack of history.

“No history class?” He asked her curiously and watched as her nose wrinkled with disgust.

“No, I finished my history requirements at my old school, I don’t like history so I got it out of the way as quickly as possible.” Jasper’s amusement was obvious, his mate didn’t like history. Before he could further the conversation and find out what his mate really did like, the bell rang. Scarlett quickly scooped up her garbage and went to throw it out. Jasper stood faithfully at the table, waiting for her to return for her knapsack. His siblings left quickly, giving him some time alone with his mate.

Scarlett was surprised by how quickly everyone left the table, all but Jasper who was waiting for her. She tried not to think too much of it; of course he would wait for her, they did have the same class. She gave him a shy smile as she slung her knapsack over her shoulder.

“Shall we?” He asked and lead her through the cafeteria doors, his hand ghosting over the small of her back. In another time he would have offered her his arm but for this time he would have to wait until she felt more comfortable to offer his touch.

“Do you like calculus?” He asked in an attempt to breach the awkward silence that settled between them. He could feel her nervousness and tried to calm her. His powers hardly worked, only diminishing her nervousness marginally.

“Actually I do.” Scarlett answered with an embarrassed look. She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and accidentally made eye contact with her friend’s handsome brother. The way his eyes seemed to pierce through her halted her breath and she quickly found herself breaking the eye contact and hoping he didn’t see her embarrassment. Jasper, however; found her reactions endearing and wanted nothing more then to pull her closer to him so he could get more of her delicious scent.

“Math is fun to me.” She continued with a smile. “It's like a puzzle, you only get some of the parts and need to figure out the rest.” A blush settled on her face when she realized how nerdy she sounded and was relieved to see, with a quick glance, that he didn’t seem fazed by what she said. A fond smile was still on his face and he seemed to never take his eyes off of her.

“That’s a way to look at it. Is math your favorite then?” Jasper asked as they approached their classroom, Scarlett slowing as they made their way to the teacher’s desk. She thought about his question, she never hated going to math or got a bad grade, or even wanted to skip it before.

“Yea.” She said with a grin. “Math is my favorite academic subject, otherwise I would have to say art is.” Jasper was aware of the other students coming into class now, their whispers and stares were anything but subtle and he was disappointed to see Scarlett’s attention divert to the nosey student body. Her smile started to disappear and he felt as her happy emotions she started to feel, go away.

“Oh, so that’s way history got kicked to the side.” Jasper teased with a grin in hopes of keeping her attention, and her good mood. The lightness of his tone brought her attention back to him and he was relieved to see her grinning back.

“Ah so I guess history is your favorite subject, sorry to offend you.” Scarlett teased back, despite the growing ball of nerves she was happy to see Jasper lingering at the teacher’s desk with her. Even though it seemed the student body had nothing better to do then to spy on them.

“Alright class, in your seats. The late bell is about to ring.” An african man in his thirties entered the classroom in a rush, sliding his briefcase underneath the desk and digging in his pocket for chalk as he spoke. Jasper hesitated for a moment longer before he followed the teacher’s orders and sat at his desk in the back, a single empty seat besides him.

The teacher didn't seem to notice Scarlett at first, he made to go to the board but stopped and turned quickly to her. She smiled and shifted her bag.

“You must be the new girl, what's your name again?” He spoke quickly and without waiting for a reply grabbed his attendance sheet and spotted her name.”Scarlett Quinn, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir.” Scarlett managed to say her greeting before he was quickly speaking again and lead her towards her seat.

“Good, always good to have new students. We are in chapter 3, you’ll be sitting next to Jasper here- a book should be inside the desk. There is- good! Please don’t be shy if you don’t understand let me know. Now class-“ Scarlett tuned out here as she turned her book to the correct chapter and started to copy down the notes he was writing on the board. She enjoyed this teacher so far, he left no room for her to think and with everyone stealing glances at her, and with Jasper sitting so close she could smell him, she needed something to focus on.

[vicicicici-blog1]

Good Afternoon.

Ive recently been approached by Warren Industries' very own CEO Felicity Warren as a decryptor for some bizarre files

Its a large number of files, about fifty or so and she tells me she has more to send at a later date. She also requested I put these files up somewhere online though she also wants me to block out any names that are on this little list I've got here... yeah okay

Im not entirely sure why she wanted me specifically to decrypt this shit. Like... maybe ive got in hot water with the CSIS like a few times for some random bullshit, but I'm also pretty sure that theres plenty of dudes out there more skilled than I am who could decode these things in half the time for less pay. Maybe it's because I'm a chick. After all, I know about that freaky little club of hers. I know she's not the quirky millenial CEO that the media likes to paint her as

I mean its not like your average shmuck hacker could do this. seems the girl who made these documents has/had? a government background, and im taking a wild guess here at saying she had access to some pretty nifty tech, tech that she damn well knew how to use. i'm also pretty sure shes dead so good help that did her

At first I thought the joke was on her. It took me less than three hours to crack her stupid code on the oldest files in the bunch, which is what I've got below my dumb introductions

Then I found out every few files uses a completely different code

shit

At least I'm getting a big fat check for this

Enjoy, because I am not doing these all at once ___________________________________________ 20xx/06/04

These files are for my brother, plus anyone else he's working with, to use in case I ever get caught.

I've finally found out about Felicity Warren's secret club. Alex, your search is finally over! Well, at least once you get back from Spain in a few months.

If my brother isn't with you at the time for this reading: Hello, my name is Emma Spearhouse. My older brother, and once legal guardian, is Alex Spearhouse. As of this writing, he is an investigator for [NAME REDACTED],  a rather low-key organization built to keep an eye on strange happenings that are considered a risk to Canadian citizens. Apparently, it is considered to be a branch of the CSIS, but from what I could sneak a look from my brother's laptop, it seems to be self run.

That's why I've been looking for Felicity Warren's club, which I now know the name of - The Cheap Thrills Club. It sounds coy, but that makes some sense... there's always been a couple rumours, here and there, about a freaky girls-only club, that abducts men all over the country and kills them in cold blood. I always just assumed those were just some dopey anti-feminist conspiracy theories that get popular as creepy stories online, but I found out from my brother's reports - it's real. Maybe... apparently, every single lead that Alex and some of his colleagues have taken have resulted in dead ends, but the fact that it's a concern with [NAME REDACTED] is proof enough that it isn't just some self-adulating tall tale.

It's been bugging me nonstop since I read his report back around Christmas time. Alex was pretty pissed at me for reading his laptop (again), and told me not to get involved... even so, when I went back south for classes, I scoured all over the city for any leads to this strange club. I couldn't find anything at all, and then the school year ended, so I was forced to come back, and for the past month, I've been focusing on my summer job. Its funny like that - I stopped looking for clues, and then, the clue came to me.

It turns out that my friend from high school, [NAME REDACTED], is a member.

She just happened to be visiting the office that day, to pick up a new card for her dad. I took a break to chat with her after not seeing her for so long, and the topic just happened to come up! It was so weird... she was always kind of reserved, and always fainted at the sight of blood, but she got so excited when I claimed I was interested in joining.

The next meeting is in four days, and she's offered to take me, in order to get me to join the group. This is an opportunity I can't possibly pass up. From here on out, I'm going to record my actions in these files, both as evidence of this club's existence, and, as I said above, as a precaution, just in case something happens to me. You know, freaky cult stuff.

To Alex: I'm sorry that I'm digging through your old equipment, I need the hidden mic. ________________________________________________________ 20xx/06/08

I'm back from the meeting and it was

I can't do this right now I need to recompose my thoughts ________________________________________________________ 20xx/06/09

I spent hours trying to think of an intro to this entry... perhaps it would be best to state it outright. The Cheap Thrills Club is exactly like the rumours say. It's a murder cult. A boy died in front of my eyes.

When I first got to where [NAME REDACTED] told me to meet her, she was dressed in a casual clothes, and wearing a backpack. It kind of put me at ease, at first. Like, maybe if this was a real thing, it was actually just some sort of Girl Guide sister-hood thing, and the whole murder thing was just some sort of fabrication by crazy suspicious people.

She took me out to the highway, where there was a car, waiting to pick us up. It was a few other women, of varying ages, who I didn't really recognize. Well, maybe I did know them... they were wearing these weird cute animal masks, so I couldn't get a good look at them anyways, and they didn't speak. [NAME REDACTED] pulled out a mask, too. This green raccoon mask, one you could probably pick up at the dollar store. She noticed my staring at her mask, but instead of getting suspicious, she just smiled at me and told me;

"Don't worry, you're about to get yours."

Part of me wonders if I should have just jumped out of the car, right then and there. The doors were probably locked anyways. 

It was maybe a twenty minute drive, definitely out of town. The road got weirdly bumpy, too, like they'd driven off the road and into the forest. The windows were tinted over on both sides, and they eventually closed the opening between the front and back seat, so I was going in blind. For a moment, the car had stopped, like we'd reached a toll both, before the card drove for another minute and parked.

When I was let out of the car, I was surprised to find we'd parked inside of a small, shuttered up hangar, with a few other cars parked around, but completely void of life. Following their silent orders, I was brought to an elevator. [NAME REDACTED] seemed like she was getting excited, as she started jumping up an down like a kid at an amusement park.

The elevator went down, and it went down deep. Was this an old military base or something? Why the heck would something like this be in an industry town?

When we got out, I really wasn't expecting what I saw.

The entire area was aglow with lights, machines, and happy laughter. It reminded me of when some of my university friends took me to the casino for my 20th birthday, like an alternate, magical world, filled with fun and joy... but also the soul-sucking lightheaded-ness that overtook me, as if begging me to give up to this world. The fact that everyone there, about two dozen women, were wearing cute animal masks really didn't help matters either. One of them, wearing a purple bird mask and dressed like a fancy waitress, took my hand.

"You must be the new girl. Come this way, please."

I followed along, partially to get a closer look at things, and partially to get away from all this bluster and chaos. As we turned left, I noticed a small, arena-like pit, right in the middle of the room.

The next room, thankfully, wasn't as mind-numbing, but was almost just as eerie - though lit well, it was completely empty, with black walls, and a red tile floor, and two red doors to my left. I was asked, very dully, to stand in the middle of the room, where a small ring of writing was located.

Again, I did what I was told. Like some cheap parlour trick the ring lit up, blinking in different colours and arrows, before finally settling on one spot, a pinkish-red. The waitress told me to wait just a moment, and left, before coming back with a mask.

"Your mask has been ordained as the Red Weasel. Please put it on for our leader's greetings."

I almost panicked there. The mask choice felt way too on the nose, like it was chosen specifically because they knew I was here as a mole. It made me wonder, if I put it on, was I going to get full on attacked by a bunch of crazy women in animal masks?

The waitress would not take her eyes off of me until I put it on, so put it on I did. Thankfully, it wasn't too uncomfortable, and the eye holes didn't block any of my vision. I did feel silly. I wish I still did.

The waitress then carted out a large screen. On it, was the very woman who supposedly ran this club: Felicity Warren, wearing her famous white rabbit mascot head, and a stylish business suit, sitting on a golden chair with her legs crossed.

"Ahh, this is our new member!"

She sounded happy, but the mask made it hard to really tell.

"Welcome to the Cheap Thrills Club! You are now officially part of the Sisterhood!"

Those words are still ringing pretty vividly in my head. I guess it makes sense, she's definitely got a nice voice, and an endless pool of charisma to match. It's probably the reason why people can take her seriously in that bunny head.

I'm not sure if that was a recording or not, but immediately after that, the screen was rolled back to where it once came. When the waitress came back, she calmly led me out the door.

"I'll provide you with the Level 1 member benefits once you're ready to leave."

Everyone had gathered by the door when I came out, and started clapping and cheering. [NAME REDACTED] even came over and gave me congratulations. Before I could even say anything back, however, a voice came over the speaker.

"Ladies, we're glad to welcome our fifteen new members! One of you fifteen is incredibly lucky, too... Branch 07AB is presenting tonight's entertainment!!"

Everyone in the room started cheering loudly. Most obviously, 07AB is the branch I joined.

Now, please give it up for... [NAME REDACTED]

Everyone started cheering again and gathering towards the pit, as I could hear something being wheeled out. There was barely enough room for all of us, but as a approached, a few of them got out of the way. I'm guessing it was because I was a new member.

Looking down, I saw a large, muscular woman, maybe even over six feet tall, and confidently grinning, cracking her neck and knuckles. the wheeling noise, however, came from something else.

Two more of those bird-masked women had rolled in with another person, chained down to a table. When I got a better look at them, it was evident that it was a young boy, one who couldn't have been more than thirteen or so. He'd been gagged with a cloth that covered most of his face, but it was evident based on the look in his eyes, and the way he desperately tried to squirm out of his bindings, that he was not there by choice.

The large woman looked up to me, and yelled;

"Hey, new girl? Got any requests?"

I froze at that moment. I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by 'request.' I didn't want to know, really. I knew, if the rumours were true, then she was asking me to request a method of death.

I spent a few minutes, still as can be, all eyes on me, when [NAME REDACTED] put a hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright, I didn't have any preferences when I first started."

I didn't know what to say. I certainly didn't have any interest in seeing someone die, let alone in a specific way. But, saying no would break my cover, and make them all realize I wasn't there out of any interest. So, I told [NAME REDACTED] that she could choose, instead. She called me the best friend ever. Then, she turned to the lady, and in a voice that sounded so disconnected from her own:

"Make sure he dies by suffocation."

The lady just gave a thumbs up, and it began.

First, the bird masks backed out, and the room below was sealed. Only then, were his bindings released, as he immediately jumped forward, pulling off the gag and taking a moment's breath. Now out of the bindings, he was tinier than expected, having a frail build, small green eyes, and shaggy black hair. He didn't have much time to relax, as the lady towered over him, her shadow imposing.

"Well, sorry kid, no hard feelings."

She grabbed him by the ankle, lifted him up in the air, and slammed him down to the ground.

I feel nauseous trying to recount the full account, at least not in graphic detail. I will, at least, give a basic summary of what she did, and how the people around me were reacting to this poor boy's mutilation.

The second he hit the floor, the entire group went wild, as if watching a sports game, and even yelling directions to her on what to do next. I tried not to look suspicious about my lack of enjoyment, but... no one actually seemed to notice how I was reacting. I stood completely still watching as this horrible act took place.

He'd had the wind knocked out of him, but it would appear that this wasn't enough to cause any major damage. Once he tried to get up, however, she brought a large fist down on his stomach, knocking the wind out of him so hard that he barely let out a squeak. She repeated this a few times, until the last punch, when he coughed up some blood. Once that happened, she picked him up by his arm, holding him up as his body shook. After a few seconds of cheering, she grabbed him by the shoulder with her free hand, and brought the full arm down on her knee, snapping it like a twig. Only now was he able to let out something resembling a scream.

This continued on for the next twenty minutes. She tossed him around like a rag doll, and broke his other limbs in the same manner as had been done with his first arm, and would constantly hold him down, forcing him to squirm and bend in unnatural ways. The final time she held his body up, somehow managing to live through all of that, his body was pulsing and twitching, and he was still gasping at the air.

"Ah yeah, girlie wanted you to suffocate."

She said this like she'd forgotten to grab milk from the store.

For the next bit, she held the boy by the neck, squeezing him tightly as his broken body began to spasm more and more out of control, his already bruised face going even bluer. After an arduous amount of time, much longer than I thought it would take, his body finally went limp. Everyone was cheering.

There’s a lot that I'm leaving out of this explanation. After that, I asked to leave, and they gladly did so, handing me my benefits package and driving me back to where I started.

When I got home, I immediately checked the hidden mic. I'm not sure if I set it up incorrectly, or if something else happened, but all that it got was three minutes of static. Even so, I'm including the recording in the file with this message, just in case I might've missed something.

This is too much. I've tried calling the police multiple times, but I've felt too stressed and tired every time... I've slept through most of the day. I'm going to try again tomorrow. __________________________________________ See what I mean about that stupid little club of hers

Whatever. I already knew most of this stuff. Im just glad this Emma chick didnt get all fetishy about it like a lot of her goons do

got not much of a stomach for that i can tell you that much

not like i can out these creepy fucks for who they are. Ive got a contract to keep after all plus im pretty sure id get killed if i did so its really not worth it

as for that sound file ill make a new post for that one. its actually less than three minutes long but meh close enugh it gives me a headache in less than one minute anyways. i think i heard something weird at the end though

[hiphopscriptures]

Fresh Artist Fridays: Alex Harris Interview - DRAFT

Like most of us, Alex Harris’s life underwent some severe changes during the COVID-19 pandemic. He had to reevaluate his process for making music and hone in on the message he wanted to share through his work. His latest EP titled Frequency is his gift to humanity, an attempt at bringing positive vibrations and good feelings to a dark world. Read Hip Hop Scriptures’ interview with this week’s Fresh Artist Friday Alex Harris below.

conducted by Willow Rose, transcribed by Priscilla Guadarrama

My name is Willow Rose and I’m an intern at Hip Hop Scriptures. I’m focusing on PR and social media management. I know our audience may or may not be familiar with your work so I was wondering if you could tell me a little bit about your background. When did you become interested in music and realize you wanted to perform and create new music?

Willow thank you so much for having me on the show. Yeah so basically I started music when I was 7 years old. In my family, we are a big family - five boys three girls eight of us, and I'm in the middle. I've been singing and doing my thing with entertainment since I've known pretty much I could communicate with people. But I started in my parents' church. My father is a pastor of a small congregation in rural Georgia, in the city of Manchester. Over the years my brothers and I, and my sisters initially (the sisters were a part of the group, the family group), and then it evolved to just only being the brothers. And we were known as A7, we called ourselves Inspiration Urban. We travelled all over and then as time progressed, each brother got called to do something very specific, whether it was in the law or authoring books. {two of his brothers continued in the music industry as well}. My roots run deep into music, all the way back to Manchester. 

That’s brilliant. You started to touch on my next question. I read that you graduated from Boston University with a masters in Theology and Social Work. I wondered how your background in Theology influenced your music?

What I do - I call it new age soul music. And I think my background, both in social work and I have a minor in psychology undergraduate and a theology degree, which was focused on ethics - that eclectic exposure in learning beyond the roots of Georgia and Manchester, all that experience pours into how I interpreted the power of music. How I use its power and how I allow it to also speak to me and through me to the world. That is the reason why I call what I do new age soul because it is embedded into more of a spiritual element of music itself. I think that we are all spiritual beings, every human experience, and so I think that music is one of the three powerful elements of the universe. Fire and water being two, music being the other because that is how our life begins - with the beat of the heart. 

I love that philosophy on the three powerful elements. Listening to your EP, Frequency that just came out, I really felt there was universality in your lyrics and a lot of passion. It is so clear in how you are forming your lyrics and the beat. Would you say that your religious influence and growing up in Georgia - is what drew you to the soul genre? 

I think so. I think that was my initial introduction to soul because soul music as a genre, as we have known it, was developed as a combination of gospel, R&B, and some rock and roll too because it comes out of the African American experience as well. But as I grew, because all we listened to was gospel and quartet and gospel choirs and then later people like Al Green and his gospel music and Pastor Shirley Caesar and Caravans and all the groups that our parents loved. But as I became a teenager I started to explore other genres of music: jazz and country music. Georgia has a lot of country stations. And once being introduced to Ray Charles’ story, his country album - music has no boundaries. Regardless of your faith, you don’t have to have a particular sound to do a style. You could bring yourself and your own experience to that particular genre and allow it to evolve to whatever it evolves to. And so it really started to open my thought around how can I bring my whole self, my personal experience - African American, growing up in Georgia, in the rural South, from a big family, from a Gospel background, singing with my brothers, academic experience - what is it that I can bring beyond just saying, “Oh I can sing, oh you can sing” and sing a song or write a song because I’ve been entrusted with a gift to do so? But how can I utilize this gift for the better good of the human experience? So that's where I really come from. And what you hear on the Frequency EP is with intentions to raise our frequency - and not just my own in creating it with the great producers I worked with and writers - but also to those who listen and to be invited to this experience together. So it is not just me sending out waves through the frequency or the vibration of the music itself but also it’s an invitation to the hearer to participate in this rising of positive vibrations that are exhumed from us. That’s what the record is all about. 

That’s brilliant. I love the idea of raising vibrations. I feel like this is a tumultuous time for a lot of reasons and having positivity out into the world is something that we need right now. I was reading about the background of the EP, that it was born out of personal experiences. Would you say there was a particular experience that kind of started the creation of the EP as a whole?

I had been writing with several writers (LA, NY, Nashville) over the last couple of years, with them developing a body of work. However, the personal experience, as we all have experienced, but each had a different take on it, was the national lockdown/pandemic. This is when I really start to hunker down. I started to hunker down, the team did. But at the same time, before hunkering down and really honing in on what was created and the opportunity I had to create, there was this enormous wave of, ‘Ahhh!’, of fear come over me, and I was sitting in my living room and all kinds of thoughts - what’s gonna happen, afraid to leave the house - I mean we didn’t know what was going on, no one knew. We only knew what was being fed through the frequencies of popular media and social media. It started to control my environment, my own climate, and I had to settle down and say ‘be still my soul, be still everything my mind and everything about me’ and really say ok - what is it that I can do? Where can I draw from? How can I draw from what I have to create something positive? I reset my own thought process and start to re-engage my team and start to write new music. And really look at the different experiences I had personally participated in or personally observed. It’s really about finding love, being in love, social justice. The song “Humanity” was written and released on Juneteenth and re released on the Frequency, as it relates to the murder of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor and the many senseless -isms: racism, sexism, ageism - that exist and how I felt that at some point in time I had to play by the rules in order to be accepted, especially growing up in Georgia, in the rural South, and I start to say this is what I have to do and start reflect on other people’s stories, friends and of my family as well. It kind of drove the narrative for that piece, “Feel Some Kind Of Way”, the senseless killings in schools and it’s just so much that we’ve seen all the time and we’re saying that there is peace. Peace can be with us. Peace can be in our environment. Unless we start to allow that exude from us and reverberate in some way or another then I don’t think we will ever experience it in a person. But we can’t wait on some external force to do it. We have to bring it to the environment, the universe, to ourselves. 

Listening to the EP, my favorite track was “Humanity”. I love that you were going in depth on you reasons for writing it. How has the pandemic shaped the creation and production of your new music? I think the universal condition of all of us being in this situation together is a unique opportunity.

It’s a very unique experience for us to really reflect and to value the humanness of humanity. Just look at all the losses. It was an awakening to say, you can be this way, feel this way, or be in this place and then in the next moment, the next day, the next 24 hour period, everything is taken away, or everything is paused. And it was really an awakening moment. “Falling For You” comes from that space where we can be vulnerable and fall in love again and again and everyday allow and discover something because all we have is this moment. Allow time to stand still and it really helps to encourage to love who you love and love hard. Don’t be afraid to do it because we never know what the next moment will bring. This was very awakening. It’s a very emotional record around everything that was going on and everything that is going on.

Do you have a favorite track on your EP?

That's very hard because I think it just depends on a lot of things — because I think when we chose the body of work it was like out of all the writing I’ve done over the last couple of years, I was trying to develop something to create this body and not really creating it until the lockdown. Ordering equipment and having it sit on the porch for a while and the patio and then come back and get it cause we weren’t sure if we were supposed to touch it or let it sit out there. So all those things but also, each represent me in so many different ways, and my thought process around the human experience. It’s a very hard question but if I absolutely had to I think it probably would be “Humanity”. I think because of where we are. Second to that would be “Falling For You”. I love love. 

I can relate. I think with “Humanity”, obviously it is presently relevant but I feel like it’s timeless in the sense that we all need to have strength within us to then stand up and speak out for things that are important to us. What has been your most impactful moment in your music career thus far? Have you had any moments where you were starstruck of just surprised at everything going on?

I don’t think I’ve been starstruck but I have met some stars- cause we grew up in the industry around since we were younger so it became a part of our way of life, my brothers and I and sisters. However, I think certain opportunities are amazing, I’m so grateful. I’m always grateful but sometimes the gratitude is in a different category. When I think about that I came from a small town, I was born in a trailer that my dad bought when he first started teaching, and then he got married, and then that trailer burned, and we moved in with our great aunt for a short while until he was finally able to build a house. So just the struggles and challenges of the path that we’ve taken. And then to ride with our parents really promoting education and faith and music in our family. It led to all of us graduating from high school, all of us going to college, two or three times. I think among the family there are over 20 college degrees. I know that it is not the path for everyone. It doesn’t have to be but it is special to me because it’s a testament to my parents who were the first to be educated, to receive post-secondary education in my family. It really is important to me that I share that and I value that experience and it speaks to where I am today.

I can definitely relate to the idea of just getting an education. I’m in school at the moment and I’ve read recently that just for undergraduate degrees only about 30% of Americans even finish their bachelors, let alone going into higher education. I think that’s really amazing that so many people in your family have been able to get an education.

My family and I have been very blessed and with lots of gratitude and humility. We are a testament because I share often how my parents, my father and mother, were the first to go to college, receive a post-secondary education. For them, education, faith, and of course the arts (music), were the elements of our development. I know the impact of the arts and music first hand on not just my life but on my siblings. I’ve seen it also on my foundation which I think my background certainly is the foundation of my thought process, so I try to share that experience not just through my recordings but also with the foundation that I have in helping a lot of underprivileged, underserved young people and teenagers in our community.

How long has the foundation been around?

The foundation has been around for more than two years. I started that in the interim of the brothers to figure out my own rhythm and sound and the direction I felt very passionate about. 

Do you have any final message to tell our audience regarding your work or a cause that you’re passionate about?

I thank you first, again. Let me just say thank you again in my last words to you for having me on. I want one of those who are listening to of course check out the record Frequency. It’s a 6 song EP and I’m really super excited about it. It’s got a vibe and the vibe has all to do with raising the vibrations and love, romantic life. Also a raise in vibrations around social justice, raising vibrations around just loving family, whoever and however you view family and close friends, biological connection. It comes from those three angles. The intention is that we all find another place or space to love ourselves and those around us. A space and place for healing and a space or place of hope. This kind of soul revival or renewal of the human spirit is what the Frequency EP is about. So far, it’s getting great reviews. I’m really super excited about it. We were just number 1 on one of the largest stations. Also we are doing well in Europe. We went number 2 last week on the largest soul/R&B station out of Italy. So we are super excited about the response we are getting and we just want to keep raising the frequencies and the vibrations through the music. Please follow me on social media. You can go to my website and find all my social media handles there at alexharrisofficial.com. I’d love to connect and be a part of a global community making things happen through positive work.

ABOUT ALEX HARRIS:

Alex Harris is a modern soul singer with Gospel roots and is revered as one of the leading creative architects and performers of ‘New Age Soul’ music. ‘New Age Soul’ music offers a spiritual revival to uplift humanity ensconced in healing, hope, renewal, freedom, and love. “I believe that music is one of the three most powerful elements of the universe because it has the power to raise the frequency of humans through rhythm, melody, and sound.”

Alex runs A.C.T. (Arts Conservatory for Teens) and lectures worldwide. He has shared the stage as a performer with Al Green, Aretha Franklin, John Legend, H.E.R., Brandy, and Lionel Richie. Label Cross The Line Music, Ltd is a joint venture between 2 producers -Richard Gottehrer (Blondie, The Go Go’s, Raveonettes) and GRAMMY Award winning producer and songwriter Swagg R’Celious (H.E.R.). His “Frequency” EP is available now on all streaming platforms, and is a unique sonic blend of southern soul, alternative grooves, and Gospel grit.

STAY CONNECTED WITH ALEX HARRIS ON SOCIAL MEDIA:

Instagram - Facebook - Twitter - SoundCloud- Spotify - YouTube - Amazon

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[kaibutsushidousha]

DanganRonpa Re:Birth Summary - Chapter 1, part 1

Original script

Chapter starts with Fujimori in his room reading the school rules. His doorbell rings and it’s Maiko. She’s been going to all of the girls’ rooms to tell them everyone is meeting at dining hall after the morning announcement to discuss the situation. This was Yodogawa’s idea and he was going to tell everyone, but Maiko doesn’t want “that lech” near the girls, so she took that half of the jobs while he is telling the boys. Maiko warns him not to fall Yodogawa’s flirts. Fujimori is like “Thanks, Kagura-san”, but Maiko reminds him of she said in her introduction, that she likes “Maiko-chan” better. From this point on, Fujimori starts calling Maiko “Maiko-chan” when talking to her and still keeps Kagura-san in the inner monologue at first, but is gradually start to use Maiko-chan there as well. Maiko notices how empty Fujimori’s room is and comments that the other girls’ room are more tailor-suited to their talents. Maiko has some training equipment and what on hers.

Soon after, the nighttime announcement happens and we get a Monodora Theater thanking you for your first day of class in Kaihou and talking about how the school’s motto “faith, emancipation and justice” (shingi, kaihou and seigi) reminds him of doubt, ruin and sacrifice respectively (gishin, houkai and gisei).

The next morning, Fujimori goes to the cafeteria and everyone else is already there. Surprinsingly, even Itsuki came. Tsuchiya is dropped on the floor complaining about how sunlight hurts and he is only there because Aisaka had to practically drag him out of his room. The subject of the conversation was obviously a way to escape. Everybody went around wherever they wanted in the prologue, but it turns out none of them had actually explored the gym. Yodogawa volunteers to search there with Fujimori while everyone else rechecks the rest of the school, but Maiko is not letting the two of them be alone together. We already knew Yodogawa wouldn’t be able to murder Fujimori but I would have never guessed that the reason why was because Maiko would be tagging along with them the entire time. 

Everyone eats before leaving and the food is excellent. Fujimori asks who did it and it was Oosone. Fujimori is surprised she can cook.

Narumi Oosone: Huh-? What, rude!? You thought gourmands were people just said “Amazing, delicious” with beams of light coming out of their mouths!?

Ayumu Fujimori: N-no. Not at all.

Ayumu Fujimori (thinking): I did actually.

Narumi Oosone: I’m always striving for the ultimate most delicious foods, you know! I trust my cooking skills to be on the necessary level.

Aisaka says that cooking for everyone is too much work for her alone and she was taught a lot by her parents, so she can help her in the kitchen. Mizuta says she will help too. They invite Izumo too but she is not interested in food made for the living.

After everyone is done eating, Fujimori, Yogogawa and Maiko go to the gym. The only point of interest there is the locker room in the back. Maiko fails to see the doorplates and tries to use her e-Handbook on the boys’ room card reader, causing an alarm to ring. Monodora appears, explains the obvious and adds a new rule saying students are not allowed to enter the wrong locker room. The trio complains a bit about how he can just make new rules whenever he feels like it.

Yodogawa leaves first to explore the boys’ locker room, leaving the girls’ room to Maiko and Fujimori. Maiko tries to pull Fujimori inside, but he forcefully lets go of her. She asks what’s wrong and he tells his secret we already know, with some more details, like his long hair being a wig and that he is wearing a padded bra. He also explains his sister forces him to do that because she always wanted a sister for herself, but instead she only got 3 male brothers, so she decided to make the youngest of them into a sister. From this point on, Maiko starts calling Fujimori “Ayumu-kun” when they are alone together, but she still keeps as “Ayumu-chan” in public because she promised to keep his secret. Fujimori is surprised she is taking it so well, because he felt like she didn’t trust men that much. Maiko corrects him, explaining that it’s not like she doesn’t trust men, she just doesn’t trust Yodogawa specifically. She thinks he is not the upstanding man he presents himself as (great instincts there, Maiko). 

Maiko asks why he did introduce himself to everyone as a boy and he answers it was just his bad luck. As you remember from the prologue (or maybe you don’t, it’s been 5 months), Fujimori woke up already dressed as girl and in the same room as Yodogawa, so he couldn’t just get himself change just there. Then Yodogawa took him to introduce themselves to everyone, so he had to do it as girl. Maiko comments about he doesn’t know how to say “no” and they discuss about how he can’t go to the locker room in front of anyone. Maiko supports him saying the if this is ever necessary, Ayumu can just say he needs to go the infirmary and she will back him up with that. 

Anyways, Fujimori can’t explore the girls’ room, so Maiko has to go there alone and they need an excuse to make Yodogawa not suspect anything. Fujimori says he got interested in the podium where Monodora came from in his first appearance, so he is going to check that. He finds nothing there, not even an entrance for Monodora, which really makes no sense. He tries to think about, but Maiko is already done with her investigation and goes talk to him. The locker room only had some training equipped and a cleaning pushcar with a dusty mop. She is worried a dumbbell from there might become a murder weapon. 

Yodogawa appears after that and talks about the boys’ room. It didn’t have anything special but he was quite impressed on how wide it was. 15 beds wide in his rather unusual description. He is worried a dumbbell from there might become a murder weapon. The middle locker, the one directly in from of the door, can’t open because the door doesn’t quite fit its frame, but all other lockers are usable. As the 3 are all done with their investigations, Maiko suggests going back to the cafeteria, as she is hungry already. They just had breakfast, but Maiko’s metabolism is fast, so she gets hungry easy.

Back at the cafeteria, the trio joins Rokudou, Aisaka, Sakuma and Tsuchiya, who are also done with their respective investigations.

Ayumu Fujimori: Rokudou-san, where have you went?

Saiji Rokudou: Where have went?… No, you’re mistaken. My soul still resides in the world of the living.

Fujimori rewords the question to make it more clear and Rokudou apologizes, saying that’s a question he recieves a lot from his family due to their profession, so he answered it like that out of habit. Anyways, Rokudou investigated the library. It was quite varied, with a collection of manga, novels, encyclopedias, dictionaries,etc. But Rokudou didn’t search much of that because he found an altar photoalbum and was completely sidetracked by it.

Aisaka investigate the casino room because, by her logic, the impure place is where you find the impure stuff. That said, she found nothing. But she’s worried the darts there can become a murder weapon. Or a billiard ball if thrown with enough strenght.

Tsuchiya was a lazy ass and searched nothing.

Sakuma went to the indoors sports court. During his investigation, he found the best accustic spot there and he now thinks that the perfect place to play his music to everyone.

Then everyone except Itsuki arrives and, guess what, they were all unproductive. Fujimori wonder is she investigating, but Izumo says she doesn’t care, as Itsuki has been completely uncooperative from the start. Izumo considers Itsuki the most likely to kill someone. Fujimori strongly disagrees and thinks she is trying to stop the killing game her own way. Maiko suggests they should talk more about themselves to improve the group’s unity.

Ayumu Fujimori: But, shouldn’t we wait to do this when Itsuki-san is…

Mikoto Itsuki: …I’m right here.

Ayumu Fujimori: Waaah-!? I-Itsuki-san!? Since when were you here!?

Mikoto Itsuki: Since when that girl said I’m the most likely to kill someone.

Everyone makes their extended introductions of screen and we only get to see the last one: Itsuki. She just says the stuff we already know from her profile and that she has no brothers, no younger sisters and only 1 older sister. Kagura asks about she talents and she answers it’s none of their business and she doesn’t need to say it. She then changes the subject to Aisaka’s spiritualism, asking if she can’t use it to check what’s going on outside. Aisaka says she is right and her spiritualism is not only about lending her body to the spirit of the dead, she can also lend it to spirit of the living, so if she can get someone outside to possess her, the group can talk to them and after the possession is over, they can move things outside to free them. It’s worth giving it a try.

Aisaka sits in seiza on the middle of the room and everyone makes the silence she needs but it still doesn’t work. 

After some silly discussion about whether or not spiritualism signals can be jammed, the overall mood of the room gets really bad. Or rainy in Mizuta’s words. Mizuta does this kind of puns with “rainy mood” “you’re looking sunny” etc quite a lot. Anyways, Maiko decides to dance a bit to cheer everyone up and Sakuma, as he doesn’t have his equipment here, provides the rhythm only with beatboxing. It was apparently a quite impressive performance and it shows that Maiko practices a lot.

Ayumu Fujimori: Effort is also a talent on it’s own way… as they say. I really don’t think Sakuma-kun was able to beatbox like this on his first try. And didn’t Oosone-san explicitly that she could only improve her cooking skill because of much she strived for the best food?

Keigo Sakuma: Yup. No matter how talented, you’re not going anywhere with don’t work to improve it.

Ayumu Fujimori: My talent is not an improvable one, so… I’m a little bit jealous.

Maiko Kagura: …Geez! I don’t like this side of you, Ayumu-chan! I have what you lack so I can’t fill in for you where need it, and the same goes for me. I’m sure you have lots of things I lack! And if you want something both lack, you have my full support and we’ll work for it together!

Great speech there, reminds me of Saihara talking about Momota. I’m really liking Maiko a lot. 

Anyways the meaningful character moment is interrupted by Maiko’s stomach growling. Oosone, Aisaka and Mizuta go make the meal as promised and Maiko thanks, saying she loves girls who can cook. Maiko can’t because she dedicated all of her free time to dancing and her meals were almost always in hotels due to her performance travels. Oosone is like “What, did you just say if you don’t know something you can just work to learn it? Come learn to cook with us.” and she accepts. The cooking team leaves and Fujimori gets to talk a bit with the other kids who stayed there. The main talk out of those is with Rokudou.

Rokudou talks about how he has no friends because all the kids his age were creeped out by him. Due to his job, he is really desensitized to death. Death scenes in movies get no reaction from him. Even when his own grandfather died, he didn’t react. Hearing that, Fujimori proposes to become his friend, as Rokudou is relatively normal and easy to talk to. From this point on, he calls him Saiji-kun instead of Rokudou-san. Yodogawa butts in in the conversation saying he wants to as he also easy to talk to, but Fujimori jokingly answers he is not really. Maiko’s influence is starting to get visible. I’m guessing Yodogawa will kill Maiko in maybe chapter 5 or somewhere else late game.

Team Cooking comes back, everyone eats and Monodora shows up when they’re done saying he as present to everyone, but he will only deliver it at nighttime because still needs to finish editing it. After that, everyone disperses and it’s Free Time time. The Free Time Events are not included in the scripts, so we got no canon versions. I remember @morally-ambiguous-llama​ wrote 2 of them for Yodogawa, but I’m not sure if he is continuing this series. Speaking of Yodogawa, I really don’t like the way he talks. He has this thing he does a lot where he makes a full sentence, then adds a negative to it afterwards, like for example:

Maiko Kagura: Did you find anything in the boys’ room? The girls’ room got nothing really out of the ordinary.

Seishi Yodogawa: Well, guns, knives, wooden swords��  were nowhere to be found there.

Seishi Yodogawa: See, in games, all the events usually fall into place so that everything makes sense in the end. Which is completely be what will happens in out case.

Seishi Yodogawa: Sounds like a good idea. Except not all.

Anyways, back to the story. After Free Time we get the nighttime announcement and Monodora’s present. As you may have guessed by the word “editing”, it’s our good old Motive Videos. All Motive Videos are about the people who enrolled them in the Talent Removal Project. It’s relatively harmless to the people who enrolled themselves on their own volition. Yodogawa and Itsuki instead got videos of that reminded them of their duties. Fujimori’s video was various scenes of him being bullied by his sister.

After Fujimori watches it with almost indiference, Monodora shows up and says the present was not only the video and Fujimori now got a knife, a hammer, a rope and and a little bottle of poison. He locks everything on his closet and goes to sleep. The Monodora Theater is all about questioning why is study necessary for the future and about how people are constantly sacrificing the present for the sake of the future. Quite insightful if you know Tsuchiya is the mastermind. In glad they are doing all the Monodora Theaters vaguely about him just like almost all Monokuma Theaters in DR1 were vaguely about Junko.

Fujimori wakes up before the morning announcement and goes to the breakfast meeting early. Only him, Yodogawa and Mizuta are there and they talk about their videos. Yodogawa says his  was “him talking to a politician about his job” (technically not lying) and Mizuta’s was an office meeting informing her of the next day’s weather. The morning announced is played and Aisaka is there soon after. 

When everyone is there, Todoroki asks what was up with those medical diagnosis video and the other people say theirs had nothing to with medics. Fujimori suggests everyone watched everyone’s videos, but Itsuki is the first to refuse, followed by Tsuchiya. Everyone confirms they also got the second part of the present, but no one specifies what weapons they got, so I’m suspect everyone got different sets.

After everyone eats, Maiko invites Fujimori to exercise with her. He refuses due to his bad luck’s history of causing disasters when he moves around, but Maiko talks about how the indoors sports court is so wide and empty, so aside from the ceiling dropping, there’s no risks for them. 

When the two reach the court, Rokudou is there, as Tsuchiya ordered him to bring a towel for him. Maiko complains about how he (and Fujimori) can’t say “no” and Fujimori adds he feels like Tsuchiya is aware and takes advantage of it. The two invite Rokudou to join their work out.

Maiko is impressed by Rokudou’s strenght and his that it’s because of his job (he has to lift and drop coffins I think?). Rokudou talks more about his job and says he doesn’t have many skills he can use in the current situation, but in the “off-chance” someone dies, he can performed the advanced autopsy like Kirigiri, Tsumiki and Harukawa did in the real games. Maiko is surprised Fujimori also calls Rokudou "Saiji-kun” and she tells about their promise to become friends the previous day, inspired by Maiko’s own friendliness. Maiko doesn’t want to stay behind on the friendship competition, so she keeps playing badminton with Rokudou. Fujimori sits out of the game now because he is exhausted already. He also can’t exercise too much like this because he is always worried his wigs and fake boobs might fall off. 

After the match is over they get to talk again, complimenting Maiko’s reflexes and Rokudou’s trick shots. Maiko says again that she likes being called “Maiko-chan” better, but Rokudou just can’t do that and the reach a middle ground with “Maiko-san” (and Ayumu-san for Fujimori). Rokudou doesn’t really know what friends do. Maiko ponders for a bit and says friends help each other with their troubles and tells him to say if there’s anything he wants to do and they’ll do it together. Rokudou says see he’ll spend the night thinking and Maiko is like “Nooo, you have to sleep properly every night”. Rokudou answer tells her not to worry, he is used to sleepless nights because of his job. Maiko claims that’s the problem. She was talking to normal boy Saiji Rokudou, not the undertaker, so he should let other people worry about him like normal people do. Rokudou agrees to take his time. The trio leaves and Rokudou goes bring Tsuchiya his towel, as he kept him waiting this entire time. Not that any of them cares much, no one there really likes Tsuchiya.

Immediately after the trio disperses, we have more Free Time and Fujimori goes to sleep think about his new friendships with Maiko and Rokudou.  The Monodora Theater is about the true meaning of freedom. Watch Evangelion episode 25 to get the gist of the monologue. 

Fujimori wakes up the next morning with his doorbell ringing and knocking on his door. He yells “Wait a second!” a few times and starts hurriedly getting himself dressed, doing a Tsumiki-style super trip in the process (no CG for that). Fujimori gets the door and it’s Yodogawa. He asks Fujimori why is his knee bleeding and Fujimori was surprised Yodogawa didn’t hear him trip. Yodogawa apologizes for hurrying him, saying he was just worried because Fujimori was not responding. Fujimori finds it weird because he was responding a lot. The two do a little test and confirm the bedrooms are soundproofed.

Yodagawa explains that he was there because Fujimori, Maiko and Rokudou slept over the morning announced and everyone is worried they didn’t show up for breakfast. The two go meet everyone in the dining hall. Fujimori just overslept, but Maiko and Rokudou apparently were not in their rooms. Izumo is the first one to suspect they are dead. The group splits up to search. Samejima and Aisaka manage to quickly find Maiko in the infirmary. She got hurt practicing in her room and has been there ever since. 

Fujimori and Maiko go to the gym, where Yodogawa, Samejima and Aisaka found Rokudou in the boys’ locker room.

I found this scene really weird because Yodogawa, Samejima and Aisaka are three people, so the Body Discovery Announcement was supposed have played already before Fujimori and Maiko got there. And even now the two saw it, the announcement still didn’t play. Maybe it played when everyone was sleeping, but I’m not sure how that would make sense. Anyways, I’ll wait until I read the investigation and the trial before I judge this. That’s all for this part.

[jellodealer]

Veronica’s choice

Veronica froze on stage  in front of the people who tormented her for the last four years of her high school career. When Mr. Puffin asked her to speak as the valen victorian, she practically begged her teacher to changed his mind, but he insisted since it was a graduation tradition. She had prepared a speech beforehand; a last fuck you to her fellow students before she could escape to university and forget about them. But she underestimated her anxiety which has been the true villain of her of her life. She left a familiar wet sensation under her eyes as the tears began to run down her face. Her eyes closed and her gut tighten as she waited for the eventual laughter of her classmates. She waited and waited. She waited what felt like an eternity, but the laughter never came. When she opened her eyes,the teachers,  her classmates and their families sat still in their chair. She examined the crowd with immense confusion. If her anxiety wasn’t already so bad, she might have started crying again.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be you in the next few minutes. I was so looking forward to your speech. I’m a little disappointed you chickened out. I know for a fact, some of these shits are little devils. I made them myself. I’m especially proud of Martha the Queen Bitch of high school.” Veronica heard the unfamiliar voice come from where she thought Mr. Puffins had been standing. Her head darted in the direction of the voice where she saw a tall slender red demonic figure standing next to her. The figure had horns and a tail like a snake. Actually, it could’ve been a snake, but her fear made it difficult for her to make out the details. Although, its claws were clear as day, but the most frightening  part about it’s appearance was a flaming trident held in its left hand.

“I know you care about  appearances, but was the flaming trident necessary. I know the humans made it your signature cause one caught you pretending to be Ursula. What did I do to get a child like this? Honestly, the humans were my last try and they’re the most fucked. Still, Veronica, it’s nice to finally meet you. I know this is a little sudden, but we’re in the middle of a debate and want your opinion.” Veronica head slowly turned toward the husker voice to her right, expecting another demonic figure to appear. Instead she found a woman with long black curly hair and a muscular physique standing completely naked beside her. Vel face turned red after seeing the naked bod of the gorgeous women before her. The women seemed to share traits from every race. The slit of her eyes were wide and narrow, but her eyes were blue. Her skin was brown and her legs and arms were covered in hair.

Veronica remained silent as the two stared at her with anticipation. “You’re,” Veronica started, returning her attention to the demonic figure. “Are you the Devil?” The Devil gave a smug smile and nodded. “And I would be who your people call God. We present ourselves to you in the form you believe us to be. Now that introductions are out the way, Martha Dunn is  to die tonight, but Devil and I wanted to know if what you think we should do with her soul.” Veronica stared at God in disbelief.  

‘I must be hallucinating. I must  have passed out due to embarrassment from crying in front of over a thousand people. Oh god, I’m going asking. It’s bad enough I passed-.’ Before Veronica could finish her thoughts, God held up their hand.

“We are as real as night and day. I know it's much, but you are not hallucinating,” God reassured her.

“Can’t you stop her death?” Veronica asked with her a shaken voice, accepting this as reality. She couldn’t wrap her head around the idea of God and the Devil coming to her for advice about a teenaged girl’s soul. She was a teenaged girl! It seemed like a bit much to ask.

“She made her choices or will make I should say,” Devil said  with a little laugh. “I will be collecting her soul tonight. Free will and shit. The options we have for you tonight are simple. After Martha dies, her soul will do time. All souls sin, all souls do time. Some get a chance of reincarnation. Some get destroyed. We create some but not often. So we have option for you! I see Martha as a snake sliming her way through life. Sure, she has a glenty side, but she rarely shows it to people. I was thinking we reincarnate her as one. A beautiful snake. It's not a bad life. It's not interesting one either. Plus the kid who want her might take of her, but might. Hell, some people would think a life being taking care of and having minimal responsibility is the way to go. Maybe it will be the most merciful thing to do.”

“A simpler life doesn’t always mean a better one,” God rebuttal. Devil snorted, but showed no desire to interrupt farther. “I want to reincarnate her as a human because that is her being. I will give her a life as someone less pilferage and hope she has the strength to become a person who isn’t afraid to show she cares. A person who can use her influence to take the world into a brighter future. I believe in all my children, and I’m sure she would do well in her second life. However, I do not know what choice she will make, only what choices she will have to make. She might make the world worse. She could even lead it to ruin, but it’s for her to choice.”

“But why me? There are over a thousand people here. I can’t do this! I can’t decide someone’s life!” Veronica screamed at the two of them, her anxiety worse than before. She curl herself into a ball and began crying. She didn’t want to be there anymore. She didn’t feel safe. She tried controlling her breathing to calm down as her therapist taught her.

“Simple,” Devil said as he kneeled to her level. “You don’t know who you want to be. Pushed around. Feeling like you have no control. You came here today to show them, you aren’t anyone’s toy. You aren’t going stand for it anymore. You came here to become someone who is respected and in control by any means necessary. People will notice you. You will be the one people fear. You dreamed of bossing people. No wonder you love watching your younger sister trying to please you. Or Karen trying to win your heart, despite you knowing it’ll never happen.”

“Or you could become someone  who has an open heart full of love. Maybe nobody notices when you pick up the trash at the park and throw in the garbage.Or how you make food for Larry every week so he could eat other tasty food instead of garbage. There isn’t a wrong choice, but it is a choice only you can make. Who are you?”

Veronica sat in silence, finally understanding that she has been in limbo for this last year. Recently, she had stopped visiting the homeless man and starting daydreaming about being the queen of school. Before she became a senior,  she just wanted to be left alone and belong to a group of people. Of course she had a friend, but it wasn’t the same. Her friend couldn’t invite her to a party full of people she didn't know where she could do things that would give her parents a heart attack. Still, she missed seeing Larry smiling face when she bought him food. She remember when she met him. He was trying get someone’s attention so maybe he could get a dime or even a penny. Anything helped. She was on her way home from school and had some of her lunch saved. She had offered it to him,  and he started crying, explaining how it's been almost a week since he’s eaten. From their relationship grew as he told her about his life. He thought this life was his punishment for stealing money from his patients. ‘Maybe he was right,’ Veronica always thought. He would always express his gratitude, calling her a blessing from god. Once she caught him, healing a dog back to health. The dog's eyes were

Veronica stood with a newfound determination. “I think she should become human again. I have no idea what will happen but I have faith in her. If there is good in her, I think we should give her chance. We’re only human which means we’ll make mistakes, but that's how we grow.”

“Thanks,” both godly beings said together before vanishes. The crowd laughs loudly, but Veronica found confidence that day and the strength in believing in the good of people. No longer unsure of who she will become , she stood on the pedestal with a new speech, ready to believe they will change.

[heartwarminghockey]

Meet Jay Elder

That’s right, it’s the second installment of my “Meet the Characters of My Upcoming Garbage Party Writing Project” series. Camp Nanowrimo is literally right around around the corner, and I am so unprepared, y’all. Guess I’m a pantser this year, armed only with 15,000 headcanons and a very loose outline. No worries, right?

Anyway, today I am introducing the secondary main of garbage party 2.0, using the same format as last time. See you once again under the courtesy cut!

So I don’t have a fancy picture for Jay, unfortunately, but just imagine that there is a beautiful portrait here of a hesitant dark-haired well-built man. He’s looking at you like he wants to say something, but you’re pretty sure he won’t.

Jay’s the Love Interest, as you probably assumed. He’s the old flame that never really went out. No spoilers, but they’re still in love. He was a big part of Miles’s life, and when they reconnect after Miles’s Big Breakdown, he’s a big part of Miles’s recovery.

So! Onto the questionnaire.

AN INTERVIEW WITH THE LOVE INTEREST:

1. Full Name: James Ronald Elder III

2. Age: 30 at the start of the novel

3. Gender and Sexuality: Demisexual gay cismale

4. Pronouns: He/him/his

5. Ethnicity: Straight-up white, Welsh ancestry

6. Birthplace and Birthday: Jay was born April 24 (Taurus) in Selma, LA - one week after Miles, and shared birthday parties were just another facet of their early years.

7. Family Ties: James Ronald II “JR” (father), Lynn (mother - deceased), Samantha “Sam” (stepmother), Martha Jean (sister - 12 years older), Curtis Jones “Jonesy” (brother-in-law), Linford “Lin” (nephew), Veronica “Ronnie” (niece)

8. Career/Job: Owner and General Manager of Elder Paint & Supply, a hardware/home improvement store in Selma, which has been in the family since the first James Ronald Elder

9. Guilty Pleasures: A lot, actually. Sometimes Jay takes bubble baths to relax. He puts on his favorite jazz albums and just soaks in the warm water. He has a lot of old injuries from his time in the US Army, and this is the only time he gets to tend to them. He also loves chocolate and sets aside his Saturday nights for TV and chocolate pie, because he keeps a pretty strict regimen most of the time. Jay loves anything cozy, so there are so many knitted blankets in his house. He’s trying to learn to knit because he’s heard it helps with nerves, but his fingers are so big that he’s having trouble.

10. What They Would Be Famous For: Sensational gardening. Nothing would make him happier. Or workout videos, but that’s less fun.

11. What They Would Get Arrested For: In his teen years, this could have been anything - “criminal mischief” - because he was a bit of a troublemaker then, when his mother was dying slowly and his father was turning to alcohol and the pretty bartender to cope. But now? He would be more likely to be “arrested” during a safety/crime demonstration at the local elementary school.

12. OC You Ship Them With: The love of my life and his, Miles Ignacio Larue

13. OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Lin, out of sheer frustration when Jay refuses to make a move, or Miles, because Miles has a temper and Jay lives to test it

14. Contents of Their Pockets: Wallet full of cash because he doesn’t like keeping up with debit card transactions, multitool, keys, phone (yes, Lin keeps track of all his upgrades), actual hard candy/mints like an old man

15. Typical Dress: Dark colors and neutrals only, his favorite being navy blue. Tends to stick to buttonfront shirts and dark slacks for work. Sweaters in the winter. Catch him at home in old t-shirts, cutoff shorts, sweatpants. Jay doesn’t follow fashion. It makes him nervous. He has no idea what looks good on him.

16. Talents: Carpentry, automotive work. He has a notoriously lovely singing voice but he’s very shy about it. He’ll only sing if he thinks he’s alone, but he’ll hum if he’s very comfortable with you.

17. Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s very reliable, you can always count on him to be where he says he’ll be, on time, and follow through on all of his promises. You can literally wake him up in the middle of the night because you’re stuck on the side of the road, and he’ll be there in fifteen with his toolbox. He has a deep, soothing voice and a calming presence. He’ll never judge you for indulging yourself. Also, he’s had a little bit of therapy in his time, so he’s good to talk to, very good at helping you sort out your problems, and will NEVER betray your trust. Also, he’ll always do what you want to do - like, he keeps gaming consoles just for when Lin comes over and loves to play with him, but would never do it by himself.

18. Why Someone Might Hate Them: He’s stubborn as hell, slow to make decisions, hard to read, won’t speak up for himself, a little prideful, and I mean - not necessarily the most spontaneous or riveting company. Keep in mind that most of these things could be followed up with “unless he’s with Miles.”

19. How They Change: Jay’s journey is just as much about acceptance as Miles’s. At the start of the novel, he has more or less given up on love, and that’s okay with him. He initially resists the way Miles makes him feel, until he accepts that he actually can have everything he’s ever wanted - because he had kind of got to thinking that after everything he’d done, and all the way he felt broken and damaged, it was never going to happen for him.

20. Why You Love Them: I love Jay because he’s quite tender and broken, and he’s simple in his wants and desires, he’s anxious and nervous and awkward. He’s gone through some pretty major life events with the death of his mother and a pretty brutal break-up shortly after, and everything that happened overseas...He doesn’t realize it, but he’s very strong, a survivor, and he just has a lot of love to give...He thinks of himself as this dark soul, but all he needs is someone who takes the time to understand and lift him up.

OKAY! THAT’S OVER! HERE’S SOME OTHER STUFF!

Loves jazz trio, anything with piano, especially if it’s in French. It relaxes him. This is how he bonds with Maurice, Miles’s dad, after he gets back from the Army. He used to love nineties rock bands, but he can’t really take it anymore. It’s just one of the things that changed. His Army buddies call him “Pops” now.

Loves gardening. One of his favorite weekend activities - you can find him puttering about with a spade and a watering can and some pruning shears.

Has a little black cat - Maxine. She’s been with him about three years now. Cat person all the way.

Keeps a daily journal at the recommendation of his old therapist. It helps ground him, keep him organized. He’s self-conscious about his handwriting, but no one sees it except him.

Hates pictures of himself and genuinely belives he’s never taken a good one. He’s very self-conscious about his body as well.

Keeps up with all his old Army training - jogs in the morning, up the hill to Martha Jean’s mailbox, three miles roundtrip, and does his sit-ups and push-ups. It’s a good time to think about things, plus it keeps him healthy. He can account for his bad knees.

Wiggles his ears when he’s thinking, or when he’s curious or pleased.

Has a speech impediment - a stutter that developed after his return from overseas. It acts up more when he’s nervous. Miles was so patient with him that summer after his service was over, and over the next eight years, he’s learned to control it by speaking more slowly, but he uses a lot of filler words - uh, um - especially when he’s getting started trying to say something. Jay takes patience that a lot of people don’t have. It’s another thing he’s self-conscious about.

Goes through eggs and milk like nobody’s business. Loves chicken and fish. Loves food in general.

Quite cold-natured. His feet are always freezing.

ONE LAST SECTION, I PROMISE

Some Jay quotes:

Jay “chronicologically” Elder

Jay “Smiles Larue” Elder (Miles loves hates that)

Jay “act like you got some raising” Elder

And a few songs from Jay:

“Make You Feel My Love” by literally anyone, although he’s partial to the Adele version

“L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole (he loves this song - the brass - he loves to watch Miles dance to it)

“All of Me” by John Legend (truly a masterpiece)

“Luckiest” by Ben Folds (it has piano, and it makes him think of Miles)

And that concludes Jay’s introduction post! I can’t believe Camp starts in like three days, holy cow. I’ll probably do one more post for all the other characters (Lin! Dean, Miles’s ex! Parents and step-parents! Martha Jean! Zuzu, Miles and Dean’s roommate in CA!) but I’m not sure when. Stick around if you want to see how much all this changes when I actually start writing, lol.