#first juice meets someone at fucking subway who is reading it for the first time & we become best friends

[fefairys]

i am beyond excited i can’t believe it is the fucking year of homestuck this is crazy

[trifoliumrex]

Fresh Blood Chapter 1

Your money troubles drive you to make a someone what desperate move. For a quick buck you decide to take advantage of the newly revealed vampires and sell your blood at a more reputable clinic. What could go wrong? Especially when you catch the eye of a beautiful Stanger.

Word count : 4532

updates Fridays, tags will update each chapter.

Unfortunately RM, V, and JK are not in this fic though they may be alluded to

Thanks to @slaughter-mama for all her incredible work as beta

A03 link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31734712

Next

https://trifoliumrex.tumblr.com/post/653732705819869184/fresh-blood-chapter-2

The clinic is clean and mind numbingly quiet, the smell of cleaner making the air stuffy with its sterile scent. You look down at your hands and are tempted to bite your nails, a habit you thought had long been a part of your past. Your teeth chew on the soft flesh of your cheek, doing nothing to dissuade the nervous itch, the idea more tempting than ever given your current situation. Shoving them under the crooks of your knees, you sit on them not wanting to damage the nail beds like you had in your careless youth. You weren't going to let your nerves take away from your hard-won victory, even as cool sweat ran down your back in anticipation.

Donating blood was something you were quite nervous about. Well, being a live donor, anyway. The old fashioned way of needles, tubes and the works were no problem for you, in the rare occasions you had blood work done. This way of donating blood though, you hadn't ever done, not once in your adult life. The thought of letting someone, a stranger, from a different species at that, bite you, and more concerning, taste you? You weren't scared of vampires like most of your peers but it just seemed so intimate and so personal.

It wasn’t dangerous, you assured yourself again, you knew the rules, just about everyone did now, and this clinic was as reputable as they came. You had heard about back alley clinics where girls went in and agreed to all sorts of “special requests”. Clinics that were shut down the next day with donors found in the back allies with marks from differing sets of teeth. You had doubted that such places were even real and if they were this wasn’t one of those places, so it didn't matter. You give your head a little shake to dispel the notion. This one would have someone come check before, during and after the procedure. They vetted donors and recipients. They had organic orange juice and a cookie waiting for you! Besides all that, the fact was you needed the money.

Your manager, Craig, the source of all your problems, had been cutting back on your hours lately. Not only did he play favorites, he was the self-appointed office creep, everyone knew it and no one seemed to care. You had complained to the HR department about various incidences; when his hand on your shoulder started to linger just a bit too long, when he would come too far into your cubicle essentially trapping you, looking down like you were prey. Unsurprisingly, no help came, no investigations, no other witnesses. As a customer service rep, you were the lowest rung on the ladder and no one higher up gave a shit. It was hard to be afraid of the idea of vampires who for the most part didn't seem to get up to much when the mundane creeps were already so prevalent.

So now here you are, struggling financially. You had burned through what modest savings you had managed to gather before your manager had taken a little too much notice of you. Blood clinics like this offered good, quick pay and you were getting desperate.

You didn't live an extravagant lifestyle, far from it, but working at Park Industries you did have to meet a specific dress code and needed a place close to work in the downtown area since you didn't have a car and needed quick access to the subway. Your apartment was shit and still almost out of your budget. It was a scam in your option but you craved the independence that working in the city afforded you. You haven't lived there long but you would do what you needed to avoid moving back to your home town. Your manager sucked but the work, though difficult at times, didn't worry you.

You look up with a start realizing the nurse was calling your name. You flush and smile at her apologetically hoping she only called the once and stand up on, you are happy to note, legs that are only slightly shaky. She seems annoyed but she is trying to hide it for you, or at least trying to appear like she's hiding it from you.

She leads you back to what could be a doctor's office save for the couch on one end and the lack of the exam table. But the sinks there and even the little jar of cotton balls. It's almost comforting how mundane the room is. The couch is leather and you wonder if that makes it easy to clean. You let out a nervous giggle preferring to stand in the corner across from the couch, watching as the nurse ignores your anxious body language.

“The client will be by, in a moment,” she says putting a clip style monitoring device on your finger. She flashes what seems like a practiced smile, with teeth that are too white, but you offer her a smile anyway. You were here kind of late after your shift and maybe you were the last client of the day keeping her from going home. Or maybe she was just unpleasant, hard to say. “They will knock first and once you give permission they will enter. If at any point you would like to stop just take the monitor off your finger, alright? We’ll have someone come right in.” You hadn't noticed anyone else when you came to the clinic but maybe you just hadn’t been looking in the right place.

You swallow and nod. She puts a hand on your shoulder. You can tell it’s meant to be comforting, but it comes across a bit condescending. She seemed to be able to tell how nervous you were though so you try and at least appear calmer. You don’t think you are successful. “Anything happens and this will let us know right away.” She taps the monitor and flashes you another phony smile “Just remember that the act itself makes your blood more attractive to other potential clients.” Vampires, you think derisively, she should just say the word. “It also forms a temporary bond that can become permanent from repeated donation. We highly recommend that you return to this clinic if you wish to donate again to avoid accidental repeat donation to the same client and to make sure you get any open wounds sealed before leaving.” Her speech was well rehearsed, easy and almost natural. “You’ll do fine” she winks in a distinctly unfriendly way as she walks out the door gently shutting it behind her.

You shudder slightly. She didn’t tell you anything the forms you had just signed didn’t tell you or the multiple brochures you had read in the lobby didn’t spell out in a variety of clip art presentations. You knew about the blood bond side effects but weren’t particularly worried. Whoever you donated too would be able to hear your heartbeat after one feeding, but only if they were relatively close. The other part though, other vampires being more attracted to you? Even with where everything was now with rouge attacks almost unheard of, it was still a bit frightening even if you knew that most vampires as a whole were pretty much like normal people. It was almost negligible anyway as they needed to be right on you to smell the other vamps on you unless you were actively bleeding.

There was a knock at the door. Two raps in quick succession. Confident and sure unlike your repose. “Uhm, you can come in?”

An hour before his appointment slot at the clinic, Jimin loosened his tie slightly, glaring into his reflection in the window, glancing down at his watch. It was getting late, and the clinic (for fucking vampires no less) wasn’t open for 24 hours, not even dusk to dawn hours. He didn’t want to miss his appointment after the day he had had. He had put off his feeding for too long and was becoming a bit testy. He let out an angry huff making his way to his private elevator and to his car. His driver had it pulled around, so at least that was going well tonight. Truly, Jin was almost always dependable but with a day like today it was a nice surprise.

He was in the business of business, as he liked to say. His portfolios were diversified and Park Industries had its fingers in many pies but he had started as a shipping company way back when the world still needed candles to see at night. He had a knack for it and at the time he needed something to eat up the long hours spent alone. He started as a captain and eventually one ship turned into a fleet, then into a fully fledged company. Much had changed but it was still something to distract him. He had been a vampire capable of adapting unlike so many of his day and it often gave him a competitive edge. It also made him a target, especially from those who did not take so kindly to the shifting centuries. He worked long hours and enjoyed his life to its fullest not sparing any expense on himself. Jimin was hard working, but today had been trying to say the least.

Today he had been reminded of a blunder he had made years ago by some annoying rival company. He needed access to one of their shipping ports but The Twins, the owners and the namesake of their shared company were not having any of it. They owned most of the ports that were closed to Park Industries and he had expected them to approve the request to use the ports as it would be mutually beneficial, but apparently long ago he hadn't brought them a blood sacrifice or some dumb shit like that. Who even cared anymore? The Twins had refused to modernize and resented those of their kind who had. Preferring to be kings if not gods among men rather than live amongst them, collecting power and money in a modern way.

He was tired of the hassle. Of working around ancient idiots but also of the new regulations imposed on his kind. When vampires had become public, feeding had become such an ordeal. He had considered contracting a donor privately which was legal but had the disadvantage of forming a strong blood bond. He didn’t want to know his foods’ feelings. He missed the dark, the days he could just take as he pleased but those days were long gone. The government was strict on his kind.

He supposed he could always get a rotation of donors. This was technically illegal unless you had admins to ensure they were properly taken care of. He could hire the staff but the thought made him scowl. It was no real secret what he was. The rumors were rampant and every now and then he would do something particularly aggressive to make certain they circulated, but he was careful that his undead status was on as few official documents as possible. His eyes rolled back in his head as he thought of an acquaintance of his whose easily searchable government I.D. declared him a literal monster to anyone with a smartphone. An idiot move and one he did not intend to emulate.

Jimin was a dangerous man through and through. His CEO status and ruthless business sense alone was enough to make him formidable in every sense, though the fangs and supernatural advantages certainly didn’t hurt. He rarely needs to use them these days as legal means could destroy a competitor just as brutally, though he had readily used less than legal means when he deemed it necessary, or when the threat was less than human like the aforementioned Twins and their now, shell of a company.

So now here he was, at the clinic. He got out of the car and re-buttoned his suit jacked in a one handed practiced movement. He vaguely gestures to Jin to wait for him. If it had been anyone else, they wouldn't have understood but Jin was always good at reading a situation and even better at reading people or in this case what used to be people. He nodded at Jimin and pulled off to wait. The garish neon light illuminated Jimin's face and made his scowl more intimidating as he went in. Except for another vampire, it was basically deserted. Good, he thought to himself, checking in.

As they were expecting him it was a quick process. His money and reputation got him fast service and the best donors. Clean, quiet and usually pretty. The clinic wanted to impress him. A blandly pretty nurse led him to a door. Maybe he had seen her before as she seemed to know him but he didn’t care enough to bother trying to remember. She smelled off, putting too many creams and perfumes to try and entice vampires to look her way. He was repulsed by her. He didn't even bother keeping it off his face, in a place where he didn't need to play at being human. He paid good money here to stay off the official books

“I think you’ll like this one sir, pretty and young and if you don’t mind me saying, just the right amount of nervous. Her first time.” She snickered. He frowned, not liking the nurse's tone or obvious insinuations. Despite his reputation he didn’t think of his donors as victims and didn't want them to be scared of him. He knew plenty of vamps who liked to cause donors pain but that had never been his style at least not in private. Even before the world had changed when he took blood from the unwilling, he had preferred to cause as little suffering as possible.

The nurse stopped at the door and he stared at her with disdain, clearly dismissing her. Once she scuttled away, he felt like he could breathe cleanly again, picking up on other warm bodies in the building. A scent pulled him back to the present, just on the other side of the door. It was faint but quite pleasing. He knocked. Twice. No hesitation.

“Uhm you can come in?” A nervous voice rang out from behind the door. He waited a second composing himself trying to make sure he wouldn’t scare the girl any more than she already was. Probably scared of monsters, the poor thing. Unlike the nurse, you smelled good. He could smell a tasteful amount of perfume, a soft floral smell and sweat that didn't mask the sweet smell of your blood.

You haven’t been expecting Nosferatu or anything. You had met a few beings in your life, that you were fairly confident were vampires, not that you had asked, but there were instances. This man before you certainly wasn’t what you were expecting either. He was, quite simply, beautiful. Striking features, bright eyes, a color you couldn't quite place, that looked like they were a light source on their own and intense red hair that was clearly a fashion choice. A good choice, you think to yourself. To your dismay, the person in front of you was very well dressed. Clearly this suit was not off the rack; it fit him so well and looked so good. Oh god, you could feel the blush rise in your cheeks and hoped the monitor on your finger wouldn’t register the spike in your heart beat. You suddenly wish you were in something other than your business casual work clothes. You didn't have anything that would rival his look but you couldn't help the desire to make a good impression.

He walked over and sat on the sofa, undoing the bottom button of his Jacket. He was careful to leave a lot of space between you at all times. You thought they only did that in the movies, the button thing. It was so fluid and quick. Good with his hands, you thought before you could catch yourself. Great, if you weren’t blushing then you certainly were now.

God you're pretty, he thinks. And that smell that's coming from you...You smell like a fine wine and he wants a taste the second he’s in the room. That flush of blood so close to the surface of your face is so appealing, you look positively edible. Did you know the spell you were casting over him? Your nerves but distinct lack of fear made you give a vulnerable air and he leans in just a bit, unable to help the minute shift in his posture. He chuckles and carefully gestures to you to sit with him, letting the space speak for itself. Your heartbeat spikes and he grins at the sound in his ears, revealing a hint of white fang. The sight brings you back to the reality of the situation and with a touch of hesitation, you sit next to him. You realize you are now more nervous to sit with this beautiful man than about the whole blood donor thing. Maybe, you mull over, you hadn't met a vampire before, not if they were all this hot.

He can tell how nervous you are and he is surprised by how much he doesn’t like it. You smell intoxicating and you look so helpless, nervous and trembling ever so slightly. You probably didn't even realize you were doing it, he wasn't sure a human would be able to tell. He wants you to feel safe. Safe with him. The only thing that makes sense to him would be that you are afraid of what he is, not really considering that it might be his appearance, his supernatural beauty making you behave like this.

“You seem nervous. You don’t have to do this. If you want to leave, you have that choice. I’ll walk you to the door even if you like.” He’s surprised he said it the second it slips out. He means it though, he realizes; he’d walk you right to your door if you would let him. He wants to take you right here right now, wants to feel your heart pump for him, that was true, but he also feels protective. He wants to... well he's not entirely sure what he wants from you, only that he wants you.

“No I... I want to. I mean I need to.” You are just as surprised as him by your own admission. “I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous, I've never done this before.” You blush again or maybe it just deepened, you’re unsure if the blush had ever really left your face. You do feel very warm. The whole conversation sounded like innuendo in your ears and it wasn’t helping.

“I can tell.'' He smiles and it transforms his face from beautiful to truly stunning. He looks soft almost and any threat you felt seems to have disappeared. He can hear your heart slow into a regular rhythm and the blush creep higher into your checks. Did you know what it was doing to him? He felt almost drunk being next to you. “What brings a girl like you to a place like this?” He knows he shouldn’t bother and he won’t see you again but he doesn’t want this to end. He wants more than your blood; he wants to know you, wants you to be his.

“I-uhm,” you frown suddenly. He doesn’t like it. You should be smiling, mirthful, joyful, sparkling. “Work is complicated. My manager, “at manager, your nose wrinkled in disgust. “Has taken it upon himself to cut my hours.'' Jimin frowns as well, leaning in.

“And why is that? Are you a bad worker? You seem responsible.”

“Do I?” You laugh, disbelieving. It's a wonderful sound. He idly mulls over the idea of asking you to laugh again so he can record and listen to it all the time. That was probably creepy to say so he tucks the thought away.

“It’s your shoes. Very sensible.”Your eyes flick from his face to your shoes. You had swapped to plain flats before you had walked into the clinic, heels in your bag hanging from the hook on the door a few feet away. The flats weren’t bad but you did wish you hadn't swapped now.

“No, I'm not a bad worker, I just don't think my work is what my manager wants from me. It's all I'm willing to give him though.” His frown deepens, not pleased to know this at all. Should he offer you a job? It might be strange, given the circumstances. He doesn't want to scare you away. "I don't mind the job, it keeps me here in the city. The lifestyle of the glamorous and all that. Just like I don’t mind being here.”

“If you are sure,” he can’t wait anymore now that you're relaxed, he has to have you to taste. But he decides then and there he’s going to leave you a tip. He doesn’t want you to ever come near this place again. He doesn’t want anyone else to touch you. Or to taste you. Hell, even to behold you. Hopefully it will take some of the stress off of your shoulders.

You carefully move your hair for him, leaning your head to the side, offering your neck. As pretty as he is you have to close your eyes. The actual bite is still a little much to face with your eyes open. The thought of teeth actually biting into your flesh is scary you have to admit, and you're worried it will hurt. This show of trust, intimacy, almost overwhelms you and he bites down before you have a chance to think about it too much. He’s careful to make sure he doesn’t harm you more than what is absolutely necessary. You let out a small gasp. He’s drinking faster than you thought and your vision starts to tunnel after the rush passes and you realize you are going to pass out, the feeling of the blood being pulled from you proving to be too much. You hand clutches at his jacket but you're not quick enough to pull the monitor off your finger to signal something's off.

Mine. It's all he can think as he closes his eyes for a moment, lost in the ecstasy of your blood. Your smell and taste surrounding him completely. He should slow down, savor every drop of your blood but he can't. You tasted even better then you smelled, he holds you closer to him, careful not to hurt you despite his overwhelmingly distracted state.

He opens his eyes wanting to see your face for a moment and realizes you have passed out. Panic sets in slowly. Fuck, not good. This could happen, especially to first time donors. Especially when he had been pulling out your blood so aggressively. Guilt and hunger mix in his throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He forces himself to pull back from you, easily moving to the other side of the room with a single movement. Your body hits the couch, your neck still oozing blood. It’s all he can do to make himself leave the room, breathing shallowly, when he wants nothing more than to go back in and drain you dry.

He storms out with your blood still on his lips and angrily stops at the front desk. They were supposed to stop him if the donor passed out, the shared negligence almost cost you your life. They had staff on hand that could at least have broken the trance your blood had put him under! He didn't even know how long he had been drinking or how long you were unconscious, he had been so lost in your blood. Fuck, he had almost killed you. He strains his ears to hear you breathe just to make sure you were still alive.

The rude nurse who fancied herself your pimp and his dealer looked up, startled. He made a startling if not terrifying sight, blood at his mouth and eyes alight with rage. He was angry with himself, with the clinic, with whoever had fucked around with your schedule resulting in you being here in the first place. He storms to the front desk and can't help but enjoy it when she recoils back from him.

“She gets home safe and with double pay or this place burns to the ground with you inside. If I find out she goes to another one of your clinics or to any clinic you all fucking die.” Jimin’s voice is level but reveals nothing but wrathful promise. The rude nurse gulps, terror in her eyes as she manages a nod. “Bill my fucking account.” he spits out, turning on a heel to leave, resisting the urge to shatter the doors on his way out. Jin pulls the car around in seconds. That's what he liked about Jin; he paid attention, he was never playing on his phone or something nonsensical, he was always there right on time

Jin doesn’t miss the fury rolling off of his employer as he slides in to the comfortable leather seat. He cocks his head in the mirror, waiting for an explanation but Jimin doesn't even notice. Jimin is already making plans, he’s going to send someone tomorrow to make sure everything was taken care of. As much as he wants to go back in and make sure you're okay now, he doesn’t trust himself to not kill you in the process. He wipes the blood that fell from his lips and brings it back up to his tongue, tasting you again for an agonizing moment. Fuck, you tasted amazing.

“You okay, boss?”

“Yes, just...tonight was interesting.” He makes a note to have them find your number when he sends whoever he thinks to send. Probably his head of security if he wanted this done right.

You awake some time later, the nurse cleaning your neck. She looks pale and when she finishes signing you out, she presses an envelope into your hand. She tells you that you did fine but that due to your reaction you wouldn’t be invited to donate again and that clinics would be warned in the future not to expect you. Reasonably, you are confused. Why did she seem so scared? You gently touch your neck thinking about your beautiful vampire client. Glad for the wound because at least it was proof that tonight was real. You may have passed out, sure, but you could be convinced to do it again, especially for him.

When you finally count the money, the amount surprises and confuses you but the clinic insists it’s correct when you call. They tell you your client had offered you a tip. You didn't know that kind of thing happened but maybe it was just the standard thing? You frown though when the clinic insists you don't call again. You hang up your phone, still unsure but deposit the money the next day, very thankful to your mysterious beautiful patron.

[notthecanadianaverage]

All 65 ho! 😤

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

I mean I guess kind of sometimes? As someone with ADHD, object permanence is a big thing so if I don't see you, you aren't real xD

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

Um, it varies, actually. Generally speaking, I'm not afraid. But sometimes I have lots of nightmares and the darkness is awful and I will deadass sleep with the light on. Also while I'm not afraid, if I hear sounds, I am terrified xD

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Jason Mamoa. He seems like a fine person but something about his appearance triggers my fight or flight.

4. What is your favorite word?

Hippopomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

I think maybe either a birch or a weeping willow?

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

That's not yellow

7. What shirt are you wearing?

I'm wearing a green Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time shirt that my sister got for me a few years ago at Fan Expo.

8. What do you label yourself as?

Panromantic asexual. Gender identity wise, demigirl. I recently learned what omnisexual is and I'm curious, but I don't want to come out again so panromantic it is xD

9. Bright room or dark room?

Bright! Lots of sunlight for plants and reading!

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

I was being trained at work

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

I think 18, just because mentally I'm still there.

12. Who told you they loved you last?

My boyfriend :3 I miss him.

13. Your worst enemy?

Dickface. He called me his step daughter once and I almost fucking lost it in that Tim Hortons. I had to fight so hard not to say anything. I was also fighting some pretty rough food poisoning that week so I was not in the mood to argue xD

14. What is your current desktop picture?

On my computer? I think it's a rat xD it's either me with Cortana on my shoulder or Willow peeking through some bars, I can't remember.

15. Do you like someone?

I like my boyfriend. A lot. I mean I hope I do since we have been dating for 6 years xD but I also have a celebrity squish. Patrick Dempsey. Motherfucker. Yes. That smile. Those EYES.

16. The last song you listened to?

https://youtu.be/0Eh4b0Ge-sM

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

That power hungry cheeto. But only if I wouldn't get caught.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Dickface. He is a child abuser and just a shitty person all around. I called him a stupid idiot on my birthday and lost my fucking mind because I didn't actually mean to and he looked PISSED.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

I don't know who, but I would make them cuddle because I am touched starved and need a fucking hug xD

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

I'm doing this all in my phones notes so I can't add a picture, but I love my tattoos and piercings! I have both nostrils pierced, my septum and snakebites. Tattoo wise, I have the Triforce of Courage on my left hand, a small blue hard on my right thumb, a beautiful memorial rat tattoo on my left leg, Midna's Fused Shadow on my left arm and Expecto Patronum on my right wrist. I. Need. More.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

Not gonna lie, I'd probably jerk off xD

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

If I shared it, it wouldn't be a secret.

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

I... don't know

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

I would stick with my normal Subway order: lettuce, tomato, red onions, LOTS OF PICKLES, cheese, black forest ham, mayo and salt and pepper.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Not gonna lie, I would probably get some Subway and maybe some candle making supplies.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

California. I miss my boyfriend. Let's go.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

Joke's on you, I don't really drink alcohol! I would instead request all the apple juice :')

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

Pet rats for everyone!!!!

29. What is your favorite expletive?

I enjoy cunt :3

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

My little stuffed lion. I would also grab my teddy bear seeing as they are always together.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? (Tw rape for this question)

I mean... all of these experiences have made me who I am. But if i can erase one experience without changing who I am, it would be nice to not have been raped.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

I would say Indonesia because volcanoes! But I am also very gay and I don't believe that is a gay friendly country... so... maybe Japan? All of this assuming that the boyfriend is with me. If not, then California.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

My grandpa. I really miss him... I want him to see how far I've come and I want to spend more time with him.

34. What was your last dream about?

I have been having a weird amount of sex dreams lately...

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

Rat mom? I like to think so! Shameless plug, but I have a blog here called @ratpotatoez where you can see my beautiful chonks. I'm also on Facebook and YouTube.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

I mean yes? But not for like an overnight stay.

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Yes

38. What is the color of your socks?

Fuck socks

39. What type of music do you like?

Depends on my mood. I love heavier, alternative rock but my heart will forever belong to Simple Plan.

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

I think they're both really lovely!

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

Vanilla

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

I don't like football. The only sport I watch is hockey.

43. Do you have any scars?

I am covered in self harm scars (I'm working on covering them up with tattoos). I don't really have any scars with cool stories. I had one that went down my arm but somehow it healed??? Someone in gym class accidentally took a chunk out of my arm with their finger nail and I had a hole in my arm for the longest time!!! I also have a scar on my knee from when I was really young, maybe 3 or 4. I was balancing on some bricks in someone's garden and I lost my balance, fell, and hit my knee on the brick. I remember there being blood running all down my leg as I screamed and cried. So that was fun.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

I don't know. I do know, though, that I want to go to culinary school. I also want to go to school for creative writing.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

My weight. I gained 100+lbs when I went off my anti-depressants and I swelled up like a balloon. I've felt like shit about myself ever since.

46. Are you reliable?

I sure as shit hope so!

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Was it worth it...?

48. Do you hold grudges?

I try not to, but I think I do ._.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

PIGEON RAT

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

"I just really want to punch this horse in the face, okay?"

51. Are you a good liar?

I think so, yes. Trauma does that to you.

52. How long could you go without talking?

When I get super super drained, I go mute. I can stop talking for days at a time.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

I once left the hair dressers with essentially what was a fucking bowl cut. Yea, I wasn't thrilled. I refused to remove my hat.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Yes. At 3AM. Because fuck a healthy sleep schedule.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

I can do an okay British accent and an okay Indian accent.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Butter. Just butter.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

Um... I don't remember the last time I drew. Actually, that's a lie. I tried drawing a "small town doctor" while playing Drawful. I drew a very tiny doctor with a city skyline behind him.

58. What would be you dream car?

Literally anything with the popup headlights.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I talk to myself in the shower. Granted, I do that everywhere xD it's the only way I can work through my thoughts. I also cry in the shower a lot.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Yes. We can't be the only ones here.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

I don't really have a favourite. But I do like D. Mostly because it's the first letter of my boyfriends name, but also it reminds me of a woman I helped while working in tech support. She needed help figuring out her gif keyboard so I helped and she was so excited when I told her how to search for gifs. She then started giggling like a little girl saying she wondered what might happen if she searched for DICK. She made my day xD I think about her a lot. I hope she's doing well.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Don't do this to me...

Dragons are obviously amazing but haVE YOU EVER SEEN A DINOSAUR?!?!? LIKE THOSE THINGS ARE REAL. THEY WERE ALIVE. THEY FUCKING RULED THE EARTH. HAVE YOU SEEN A STEGOSAURUS?!?!?!?!?

64. What do you think about babies?

I like babies a lot. Like so much. I have super colourful hair, too, so they seem fascinated with me :') but their little chubby cheeks omg

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

Fun fact: I actually really like the smell of wet dog. It's kind of a really comforting smell.

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 7

“Wait, you're flying to New York and then straight back the next day..for a painting? Really? Come on Jay, even for a quick lay, which is probably the real reason you're going back, that's just ridiculous! No wait, it's not, I'd do the same if it was Sean, we had the most amazing night..” Shayla got lost in her daydream “Anyway,..Is she nice? Come on, you can tell me!” she plopped down next to him on the bed, patting his leg. “Oh no no, no details of you and Sean, thank you very much! And she's not a quick lay..” Jared got up but Shayla cut him off, “Ha! 'she' so it is a girl!” and clapped her hands, “oh shut the fuck up! So what if the artist is a woman? Were you born in the dark ages?” he snapped as he zipped up his bag “besides I've never seen her or spoken to her, we're only corresponding by e-mail”. Shayla cocked her head “e-mail? Really? How old is she? 70? talk about the dark ages” she huffed, rolling her eyes, “for the last time, Shayla, get your mind out of the gutter for once, this is business, now let's go see if we have a LED- wall or not, and make sure my bag gets to the airport tonight” this bubblehead really had no idea, 70? whatever! A breath of fresh air with immense talent that's what Coco was, could this day be over and done with so he could get on that plane? He had a blind date...no no no..not a blind date, just a date with someone he had never seen before, how oldskool was that? Oldskool and so refreshing in this day and age of selfies, social media and instant gratification! “Will you just focus? Fuck's sake” Harper yelled at herself, and let her brush fall in frustration, the fuck was going on? She hadn't been able to concentrate on anything all day, just step away from the painting before you fuck it up completely, call him, get it the fuck out of your system and just CALL him! Yeah, that was exactly what she was gonna do! A loud crack as she jumped off the scaffolding, maybe next time if she was lucky she would break her neck! No, nope, no wallowing, ok now what? She shuffled around the table, like she was doing some sort of rain dance, eyeing the phone with a disgust on her face, will you just do it? What are you? A woman or a mouse? Before she could think about what she was doing, the phone was against her ear, but before it rang she pulled it away again and disconnected the call..would he know? That she called? pouring herself a cup of coffee, she sat down at her table, staring at the phone that she twirled around with one hand while she sipped her coffee slowly.

From: HCDeRobanio

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Life is no pony camp

Joe,

Are you happy, Joe? I don't mean the average 'yeah I'm ok' kind of happy, but the genuine, deeply rooted in your gut kind of happy that washes over you at least once a week when you stop and see or do something that makes you think: “I am utterly and deeply happy and content with what or who I have in my life or who I am” kind of happy? Does that feeling actually exist? Or is it just a chemical reaction in your brain, kinda like all these endorphines and what not that create a runner's high? Are you where you want to be in life, Joe? Bouddhists say that life's a journey, but I think I've missed a turn somewhere along the way, to me life is a free fall from birth till death and there are no safety nets, all you can do is hope that you stumble across people who'll break your fall, do you have people like that in your life? Who break your fall once in a while? I hope you do..

I'm sorry for all this ranting, but my trust in humankind is at an all time low (I just tried to call my Dad but I chickened out, we don't have what you could call a healthy relationship, he just cut me out of his will, well not his will, although I'm sure I'm out of that too, I've got a letter saying he's cutting me off financially while I never got any support from him, not financially and definitely not emotionally, long story, bla bla, the black sheep of the family, rebelled against everything my family stood for while my older sister is the apple of my father's eye with her 500 kids and being the perfect housewife..bleggghh not interesting at all) so I can't begin to tell you how much I look forward to meeting you..I just feel I can trust you!

Maybe I've been inhaling too many paintfumes and that's probably why I'm in this funk I'm in, so I'm gonna get something to eat and then it's off to bed and then tomorrow I'll see you! Yay!

Have a safe flight!

P.S. I'll have your painting all wrapped by tomorrow, ok?

Regards

Furious Coco

“Got everything? Your bag is on the plane, hotel is booked..so, I'll see you in a day or three, ok? Or probably sooner if she turns out to be really ugly and 70 after all” Shayla handed him his carry-on and tickets with a giggle, “whatever Shayla, just make absolutely sure I get my daily updates , alright? And keep Shannon in the loop will ya? You've got the details of the promoter too, right?” Jared tried to connect all the dots, happy thoughts on, control freak off. “Will you just go, I've got everything under control here” she sighed as Jared followed her stare and turned to see Sean standing there, grinning at her beside the car parked on the tarmac. “Just don't get too distracted, ok? I don't want to be looking for a new PA when I get back” he mumbled at her and then turned on his heels and hopped on up the steps of the private jet. 'Beep' and his heart skipped a beat, he hadn't been able to send her an answer to her last e-mail all day, but he had 8 hours to read, re-read and answer her e-mails, if anyone ever prayed for wifi on a plane then it was him right now.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Re: Life is no pony camp

Coco,

I'm high above the clouds right now..I'm on my way to see you..in 8 to 10 hours or so..excited much? I sure am!

Ah, Daddy issues (not meant in a kinky way), I don't know if I'm the one to talk about stuff like that, I mean, I grew up without my actual father (I did have and still have a wonderful father figure though) so I don't really know or have experience with these kind of issues. I just thought of something, correct me if I'm wrong, but is that older man in your painting your Dad? I think I understand the ripped out heart and the sown up lips now..

I'll say this one thing though: your Dad is a real wanker if he cuts off his own flesh and blood, why don't you discuss this with me in detail tomorrow?

Ha no, I'm not the CEO of M&M's, I am the CEO of a couple of companies that are completely built around my dreams, and it's exactly those dreams that take me around the world. So yeah, I guess the answer to your question is that I'm a happy man, even though my job takes its' toll on my personal life..even though I'm surrounded by people almost every second of every day, I too can feel so alone in a crowd, not many people get me..except for you! I'm already dreading the day I have to fly back to Europe even if I haven't met you yet..

Listen to me, you're not a sheep, you're not a pony, you're totally unique! And on that thought I'm going to sleep away the couple of hours that seperate us so I'm not jetlagged out of my head in the city that never sleeps, which I hope you're doing too right now and sweet dreams are chasing those angry cobwebs in your head away.

Regards

Joe

Jared 1 – Shayla 0! 70? where did that silly assistant of his get those ideas from? Coco was young enough to still have a father, and old enough to have her own career and be his peer, but what had struck him was that rebellious streak he loved so much, a 'go-against-the-grain' kinda girl/woman, just the way he liked them! E-mail sent, goodnight Europe! Hello New York in a couple of hours, but first sleep, so he was on top of his game for when they were finally eye to eye.

This? Or maybe that top on those oversized pants with the camouflage print? Wait, what about a dress? Really? When you haven't worn one in years? Why conform to something as ridiculous as society's opinion on what women were supposed to wear? She put the dress back on the rack, today was all about being herself, feeling comfortable in what she wore was of the essence on this day where things were more than likely going to be awkward. What time was it? 1PM, time for a shower, get dressed and get on her way. The wheels of the plane finally connected with the tarmac, New York was dreary and windy, great, hoodie weather was his favorite season anyway, everybody dressed better as soon as the temperature dropped, there simply was more mistery, more to guess instead of more too see. What time was it? The screen of his phone remained dark, what?..no, no way, no more juice, fuck!. “The Bowery Hotel, please” he mumbled at the driver as he hopped in the waiting car, 2 o'clock, alright, time enough to charge this frikking phone and take a shower. Battledress pants, her sturdy Dr. Martens on her feet, a band T-shirt, hoodie and her leather bikerjacket, she looked at her reflection in the window of the moving train, all the paint neatly scrubbed away, except for the eyeliner, bright red lipstick and her nails painted black, her signature colour. 'Times Square Station', right, she got up and stepped off the train right in the hussle and bussle of the subway station, up the stairs where New York was raging. Rain, nice, she quickly pulled her hoodie up as she checked the time, 3PM, alright, more than enough time for a coffee to calm her rattling nerves. Within an hour, it was all gonna happen, what was she gonna say when he arrived? 'Hi, I'm Coco', “Hi, I'm Harper Coco', no Coco was better, 'nice to meet you', 'so we finally meet', she caught herself rehearsing her introduction, and giggled at her own silliness as she walked inside Starbucks.

[brownjet-archive]

to all the wip's I should've completed

rules: post your favorite parts of 3-7 fics that have been sitting abandoned in your drafts for ages. (for extra shame, throw in when you last worked on each thing.) tag 5 other writers to reflect on their life choices. 

(this was based off of @startofamoment​‘s challenge so I figured I would do it so y'all would shame me into completing them......I'ma post all of them in intervals from longest ago to most recent and tagging anyone who wants to do it!!)

tagging: whomstever the fuck wants to be shamed like this

a peter parker fic that i honestly don’t remember where it was going (last edited in like july of 2017 right after homecoming came out)

You groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes at the enthusiastic, puppy-like Peter Parker. You heard him continue talking, at this point checking out of the conversation, knowing you could for a few minutes before having to tune back in. Peter was a sweet enough kid, but his optimism got on your nerves like no other.

He babbled on for a bit longer, you growing more and more frustrated, before rolling your eyes and yelling at him. “Are you here to train or work out?”

You instantly felt bad, his large brown eyes

a peter parker fic (title is gonna be something like subways & pajamas) about meeting peter on the metro (last edited august 16, 2017 idk how to finish it)

The loud blaring from your alarm clock woke you up. Groaning you opened your eyes slightly, to see the obnoxiously bright red letters read 6:00am, before groaning once more, turning over, your arm reaching behind you, blindly attempting to hit the snooze button on your clock. After a few minutes of struggling, you finally hit it, the incessant blaring finally stopping. You sighed happily in relief, your eyes shutting again, feeling the warmth embrace of sleep return to you. Mere seconds after your eyes had fluttered shut, your alarm rang again, only for you to scrunch up your face in anger and annoyance, before turning back to face the alarm, and unplugging the goddamn thing. You grumbled angrily, before reaching for your fully charged phone, opening it up, squinting at the brightness that it held. How you hated the winter months. Getting up before the sun was up to get to school was a motherfucking nightmare.

You opened your phone, keeping an eye on the little time at the top of the screen, before opening up the first notification, it being snapchat, and completing your streaks. Your phone was right above you, and as you took a picture of the ceiling, the keyboard popping up for you to write your messages, your grip loosened, causing your phone to fall right on your face. You muttered a small “ow” before picking up your phone and angrily typing in the word “streaks” before sending them to your list of friends. You shut your phone, before reopennig it, checking the weather, muttering angrily when you realized that it might snow. You had nothing against snow, but you were upset that they didn’t think to cancel school, because even though it probably wasn’t going to snow, when it did snow it was always a lot.

You glanced warily at the time on the screen, realizing that you definitely had to get out of bed or you were going to be late, not wanting to leave the warm confines of your covers. You resigned as almost 5 minutes passed with you telling yourself to get up, before you finally did, your bare feet freezing on the floor. You walked out of your room, into the bathroom, before brushing your teeth, glad to get rid of morning breath, and doing your morning routine. You trudged back to your room, grabbing your fuzzy socks, and putting them on immediately, before throwing on sweatpants and a long sleeve pajama shirt, not caring that it had a ridiculously large kitten on it that said “you’re purrrfect” and pulling on your favorite sweater, before putting on your beanie and hood. You grabbed your backpack, put on your sneakers, put in your earbuds, and grabbed a juicebox before walking out the door, exiting your apartment building, carelessly opening your juice, cursing under your breath as you got outside, realizing that you didn’t have gloves.

The taste of apple juice was obnoxious, seeing as how the minty flavor of your toothpaste hadn’t quite receded, but you didn’t complain. You quickly threw the emptied box into the nearest trash can, before sticking your hands into your pockets, trying to warm them up as best as you could. You walked through the crowded streets of New York City, people walking past you as speedily as you were walking, nobody looking at the bustle around the neighborhood. Entering the train station, you sighed happily, your hands coming out of your pocket and reaching for your metro card, stuffed in your phone case, entering the bustling train station, glad to not have missed your train.

As the train came whistling into the stations, the windows whizzing past you, the inside of the train filled with hoards of people, as the train slowed down, finally halting. You walked about two feet towards the nearest doors, waiting for the obnoxious amount of people to pour out of the train, before being able to slowly enter, and to your disappointment, but expectance, having to stand up, close to the door you had entered on.

You looked at your phone, mindlessly going through the same few apps, waiting for your stop, the number of people on the train slowly dwindling down. About two stops before your school, there was finally enough breathing room, and you moved slightly back, glad to have the extra space. You closed your phone and placed it in your pocket, bobbing your head slightly to the music blaring in your ears. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be transported, dancing around slightly, not caring if people were watching you. You were only stopped when someone walked behind you, shoving you forward, yourself being rammed into another person.

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, noticed the rather short boy you had bumped into, no older than yourself, somewhat scrawny looking, but from what you had felt, was in no means scrawny.

“Sorry.” You told him, an awkward smile finding its way on your face as your embarrassment took over.  

He offered you a warm smile, before pulling out one of his earbuds, yourself doing the same. “Hmm?” He asked, a little unaware and slightly confused.

“Sorry.” You repeated. You cleared your throat slightly, feeling the awkwardness inside of you take over. “For bumping into you.” You clarified, though it sounded more like an afterthought.

“Oh, it’s really no problem.” He replied, stuttering slightly, looking around the train car, feeling the awkwardness in himself come out as well. “Besides, it probably wasn’t even your fault.” He cleared his throat, a slight rosiness appearing on his cheeks. “One person gets shoved and everyone else does too.”

“Yep, the domino effect.” You blurted out, mentally cursing yourself at your choice of wording, even if it was accurate.

The boy laughed slightly. “It really is. I wish I didn’t have to take public transportation ever.”

You laughed at that. “I’m pretty sure the whole city wishes they never had to.”

“Oh god, can you imagine how much worse traffic would be if there was no metro?”

“It would be a complete nightmare. Honestly, like, if there was no metro I would have to wake up at freaking 4 in the morning to get to school on time.”

“Tell me about it. Walking to school everyday would be a nightmare.”

“Where do you go?” You asked the boy, trying to see if you might recognize him. But then again, you may not; there were over 1000 students at your school, about 400 in your grade alone.

“Midtown High. You?” He asked, motioning slightly with his head.

“Same, dude.” You say, the two of you exchanging a sly smile. “(Y/F/N).” You offered, with a smile.

“Um, Peter Parker.” He said back, his initial awkwardness seeming to return.

“Well, Parker. What grade are you in? I haven’t ever seen you around.”

“Sophmore.”

“Same.” You reply, nodding, your awkwardness slowly coming back. You’re eyes lit up in realization, before looking back at Peter. “You’re Penis Parker!” You blurted out, only to realize how awful that sounded. “I’m sorry, I just never met you, and I always here that douche, Flash, yell in the hallway, ‘Penis Parker,’ so I swear I didn’t know, oh my god, I’m a walking human disaster, howhaveInotdiedyet?” You said rapidly, trying your best to profusely apologize.

“Hey, it’s fine. I mean, at least I’m not the girl who walks around in pajama shirts all the time.” He said, throwing you a smug look, proud of the shade he had just thrown.

You open your mouth indignantly, mock gasping, acting offended. “Why I never.”

The two of you burst into laughter, before talking the rest of the way to school, deciding to try to find each other in the library during your free periods. And if you didn’t, at least you had each others snapchats. You walked into first period, confident that you had made a new friend.

peter parker fic that i think i remember where it was going (ned was gonna set y’all up) (last edited: late august, 2017)

Groaning, you lifted your head up and glanced at the clock realizing you only had 10 minutes left till the first weekend of the school year. You groaned again, slamming your head back onto the desk, not even caring enough to use your arms as a pillow. 10 minutes felt like an eternity. It seemed miraculous that you had managed to survive the first week of school, although it would be more of a miracle if you survived the last 10 minutes of the unholiness of school. Time seemed to slow down as the anticipation of the weekend came, each second seeming to tick slower than the one before it. As time seemed to slow, you seemed to accelerate, your fingers tapping idly on the desk, your knee starting to bounce Your mind started racing about your weekend plans, the most prominent one to go home and take a nice long soak in the tub, then binge watch Parks and Rec or High School Musical, whichever you were feeling, with your most comfortable sweats and a tub of ice cream.

You yawned slightly, rubbing your eyes, trying to fight the sleep that was threatening to overtake you, before glancing at the clock again, seeing that you still had another seven minutes. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to contain your frustration, doing the best not to yell out, boredom taking its hold over you. You didn’t even have your stuff to put away to distract you from the boredom, having put it away a few minutes ago.

You glanced at the clock again, not even a minute had passed and this time you could not suppress your groan of frustration. You shot a death glare at the only person who dared to look at you, only afterwards feeling bad for Ned. Slamming your head onto the table in frustration, you closed your eyes, feeling tempted to stab them. You felt a wad of paper hit your head from the side, and you turned to look at the perpetrator, sticking your tongue out at Michelle as she she you her drawing of you “in crisis”, too lazy to flip her off.  

You grabbed your backpack from its place on the ground next to your chair and you set it on your lap, looking around the classroom to see that nobody else was paying attention, and the lack of caring on the teachers face. It was, after all, only the first week back and everyone was craving summer.

You opened your backpack, pulling out whatever book was in there, most likely one that you had already read. To your surprise and delight, you saw that you had forgotten to take out a Harry Potter book, so you opened it up and started from your favorite spot, chuckling to yourself silently at the antics of the characters.

Not only tree minutes after reading, you felt a piece of paper hit you, and you turned to glare back at Michelle, only to realize that this paper had letters written on it. You unfurled it, revealing the messy handwriting of the resident web-slinger, Peter Parker.

“Wanna hang out with Ned and me!?!?”  

Smiling goofily, you grabbed your pen and scribbled, “Yes.”

a peter maximoff film that i tried writing about a dream i had (last edited: maybe february of 2018?? a little earlier)(warning it makes no fucking sense,,,,,,,cause i was trying to recreate a dream)

You honestly had no idea how you had gotten into this situation. Sure, skiing was fun, and yeah, you wanted to spend some time with your friends, but it wasn’t something on the top of your priorities. Honestly, looking back on it, it seemed like it was a dream, having no real recollection of why or how, or even when you guys had decided to go. All you knew was that you were more excited than you had originally anticipated. It was also great that you were actually really good at skiing, despite not having skied for a few years.

Once the few of you had gotten to the small ski slope, you tucked your phone into your jacket, zipping up the pocket, difficultly slipping into the ski boots, silently cursing already at how tight they were. You were ready a few minutes before your friends, silently proud of your achievement, pulling out your phone to check the time, seeing that it was still relatively early. You smiled, glad to have the extra time to get a few runs in, putting on your skis and getting in line for the lift with one of your friends, chatting happily about nothing in particular.

Honestly, there should’ve been something sketchy about the fact that there was a “pick up a snowball and throw it while skiing” challenge, but you really had no idea about why in the world you had decided that it would be a fun thing to do. And the fact that part of the challenge was based on not being tagged by too-gorgeous-to-be-human girls, made the challenge even weirder. Again, you had no idea how you had been roped into this. Maybe it was something that had to do with the fact that you seemed to have been standing in an active volcano range what felt like a few moments before? Probably.

Somehow, everyone else was failing, and honestly you had no idea how they possibly could’ve been. It was so simple, and honestly you were ready to beat their asses. When it came to your turn, you felt the a

a gertchase x reader fic about sitting on the couch and loving your bf and gf (last edited: january of 2018)

“Dating is so heteronormative.” Gert spoke, earning an amused eyeroll from you as you flipped the page of your book, not even bothering to look up knowing the playfully hurt look that would be on Chase’s face, a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Thanks babe.” You had replied sarcastically, looking up only when you heard a gasp of over-exaggerated offense, reminding you of a shady grandma, snorting slightly as your mind produced the image of Chase wearing an apron and mary-jane shoes, a smirk making its way onto your face as you looked at him.

“I happen to be heterosexual, and seem to be doing perfectly find. Punching would-be rapists, anyway.” He listed off, his tone of voice being rather proud, but his face darkened at the mention of his old friends, his jaw tightening and his hands beginning to form fists.

You sighed slightly, bookmarking your page, moving your legs off the couch, scooching to the other side of it, draping an arm loosely around Chase’s frame, your feet dangling slightly off the couch.

“You happen to be the exception.” Gert spoke, slightly understanding that the tone of the conversation had changed, trying to keep it light, in her own way.

“You’re not.” You had spoke, going back to reading, your fingers comfortably intertwined with Chase’s, Chase patting the place on the floor next to him, encouraging Gert to sit down next to him.

the climax to the part of a jack thompson series where i haven’t even started the second chapter (last edited: february of 2018) (warnings: graphic violence)

It started slowly. A gradual numbing sensation slowly crawling up your body, before it started ti burn, the flickering sensation of pain engaging your every nerve. The pain flickered, seeming to engulf your entire body, seeming almost suffocating as you tried to scream out in pain and desperation though your muscles would not allow you to move. Your entire body seemed to tighten, biting down harshly on your tongue to keep from crying out as your arm slowly raised, the higher your arm moved, the more your body seemed to burn, and you could almost feel your flesh begin to burn, a smell of singed flesh overwhelming you as your arm continued to move higher and higher, the weight in your hand feeling unnatural despite the constant weight of the item which you normally grasped so easily. Bile seemed to form in your mouth, feeling sweat form, your skin pricking at the feeling of uneasiness which settled in your stomach, time seeming to stand even more still as you did your best to avoid the blue eyes which stared back at you, the fear apparent seeming to pierce through you as you closed your eyes tightly, breathing shakily, before opening them, pulling the trigger instantly, the sound of a muffled gunshot, the body hitting the floor. You shut your eyes once more, feeling the uneasiness return as you stared at him, blood pouring from his body, spilling onto the floor. 

a flashback scene that i was initially gonna use in my prologue for long live the king (last edited: i think literally a year ago, today; february 23, 2018)

“This is pointless!” He yelled angrily at his uncle, removing the mask from his face, panting heavily, the club in his hand as his cousin slightly nodded next to him, though far more subtle about his dislike for the intense sparring regiment. 

“It is not!” Was the angry reply from T’Chaka, articulating his statement with an slam of his spear, staring down his rather testy teenage nephew.

“Why the hell isn’t it?” Was the angry reply from Erik, as he stepped closer to his uncle who, glaring at him angrily.

“You are to be T’Challa’s right hand man when I am gone, meaning you must be able to protect yourself!” He said, getting louder as he spoke, standing up to glare at his defiant nephew.

“Why the hell do I have to defend myself? Everyone in this country has it made, and y’all never wage war on anyone, so why the hell do I have to know to fight?” He yelled angrily, feeling his hand form fists, feeling ready to hit the stubborn old man, but knowing that he actually wouldn’t.

“Uh, guys….” T’Challa whispered softly, trying to avoid another scene between his father and his cousin, stepping closer to them at the ready, not knowing how either of their pride would blow up.

“You must know!”

“Why, so I can kill my family?”

The air seemed to still, the words seeming to halt anymore that would come out of T’Chaka’s mouth, anger coursing through both their bodies.

“How dare you!”

“How dare I? I don’t go around killing my brother!”

“You think I wanted to kill him? I loved my brother! I loved him!”

“That don’t change the fact that you fucking murdered my father!”

“My loyalty is to my people! More than my loyalty to my own blood.”

“Yeah, really stellar parenting right there. Maybe that’s why Shuri and T’Challa are so close, cause Auntie is the one that actually takes care of them rather than parading around the whole world!”

T’Challa rolled his eyes, tuning out slightly while they argued some more, studying their body language, both of them relaxed enough that nothing would go too far.

“Why the hell don’t you care about your own people? Our people are out there dying because you’re so stuck in the past!”

“You sound like your father.”

“Better him than a murderer!”

“Enough!” T’Challa yelled, piercing through the heavy silence which fell over them.

[parkersharthook]

YouTuber Au

(Lucas Friar x Maya Hart)

Warnings: cheesy fluff

3.7k+ words

Maya is a famous youtuber, and this is her boyfriend tag video. Told from the perspective of the viewer.

“Hey guys it’s Maya and welcome back to my channel! Before I introduce someone special and start this video I just want to say that we reached 15 million! Yayyy go us and I love every single one of my hartists out there. I’m going to have a special video up on Friday celebrating 15 mil with some special merchandise drop and some other surprises!” Maya waved her hands excitedly. “But along with that Friday video I will have the regular Sunday one so this is a not-gonna-happen-a-lot­-two-video-a-week thing. So stay tuned. Also, last week’s video where me and my friend Riley do the duct tape and the best friend tag in one just beat our record of 20 million views with 25 million views! I love you guys so much and remember keep being creative and keep being you.”

“Should I come in now?” Lucas’s voice said off camera.

Maya laughed and held up a finger, “Okay and now onto this video! I have gotten a lot of requests and comments saying I should do this so here I am… it’s the boyfriend tag! You have probably seen my boyfriend in the back of some of my videos but now here he is.” Maya waved her hand motioning for Lucas to come into frame and he fell onto the couch next to her. He was relaxed on the couch with his arm lazily over the back while Maya sat forward. She placed a hand on Lucas’s knee, “This is my boyfriend Lucas.”

He lifted a hand in greeting. Maya scoffed and pulled him into a sitting position by his jacket collar, “You aren’t in the light and please act somewhat excited.”

He adjusted his hoodie and lightly swatted her hand away, “I’m excited.”

Maya narrowed her eyes slightly but just nodded and look back towards the camera. “Okay but this isn’t just a normal boyfriend tag this is the extreme boyfriend tag! We have 30 questions and for every five questions he gets wrong, Lucas has to take a shot of something gross.”

He groaned in the background, “I didn’t know that! I wouldn’t have done it if I did.”

She patted his knee in fake sympathy, “that’s why I didn’t tell you. Okay so for the first five he’ll have to take a shot of lemon juice and then ketchup and then soy sauce and then fish sauce and then buttermilk and then if he gets all of them wrong he’ll have to drink all of it combined. How exciting!”

“I’m really not looking forward to this anymore.” Lucas groaned as he dropped his face into his hands. Maya ran a hand through his hair and quickly kissed the side of his head before pulling out her phone.

“So I asked all of my hartists out there to send in questions and I’ve chosen my favorite 30 so let’s get down to business. Okay first off an easy one, when and where did we meet?”

“We met when I was a transfer student in seventh grade. I had just moved from Texas and this short little blonde comes up to me in the subway and is hitting on me and then dating me and then breaking up with me in a span of five seconds.”

Maya held up her finger and pursed her lips slightly, “That’s not exactly how it goes. I was trying to prove a point to Riley that you can’t just wait for some guy to talk to you, you can make the first move. And that goes out to all my ladies out there because you don’t need to wait for a man, if you want it you can take it.”

“But I got it right?” Lucas said with an eyebrow raised.

Maya grumbled, “yes you got it right okay moving on. How long have we been dating?”

“We started dating around Halloween of senior year so like two and half years?”

Maya nodded, “yeah I would say that’s a good estimate.” She scrolled through her phone slightly, “Where was our first date?”

“We went to see a horror movie and then to pizza.” Lucas said with a smile.

“That was still my favorite horror movie I’ve seen. Though It was pretty good. Where and when was our first kiss?”

“It was in December a few months after we started dating and I had just found out my grandfather had died and I showed up at your window at liked 2 am and of course you were up painting and so you opened the window and pulled me inside. And then you kissed me.”

“That I did. See girls? You don’t have to wait for them to make the first move.”

Lucas nodded and kissed her, “Thanks for not waiting. What’s next?”

“When is my birthday?”

“Easy. January 15th.”

“What color are my eyes?” Maya instantly dropped her phone onto her lap and covered her eyes with her hands.

“Blue.” Lucas answered without missing a beat, “There a light almost icy blue and they’re gorgeous.”

“Aww thanks babe. Yours are okay.” Lucas dropped his head in a chuckle but picked it up when Maya chuckled darkly, looking at the next question.

“Where was I born?”

“Crap. Okay so I know you grew up in the Bronx so… the Bronx?”

Maya bit her lip slightly and shook her head, “Nope. I was born in Brooklyn in the back seat of a taxi.”

“You were?” Lucas said with a slight horrified expression. Maya just nodded with a cheeky smile and flashed a big thumbs up.

“Which food do I hate? Wait… that’s too easy. Name five.”

Lucas held up a finger, “Mayo.” Maya nodded and he picked up another, “Cauliflower.” Another nod, “Squash?”

Maya shook her head as she gasped, “No! I love squash.

“What food do you not like? You eat everything!”

“Sour cream, cottage cheese, and radishes. Those foods deserve to die in hell. Ok, when and where did you meet my parents?” Maya propped her head on her hand and looked at him.

“I met your mom when she came in for career day. I met Kermit when he came to New York for the forgiveness project and I met Shawn on your birthday.”

“What about when we were officially dating?”

“Well I saw your mom a lot because she worked at Topanga’s but they formally invited me to dinner with them one night and I think Shawn wanted to kill me.”

Maya laughed and nodded, “yeah I think so too.” She glanced back down to her phone, “Ooh a hard one! What’s my shoe size?”

“What?! How am I supposed to know that? I don’t even know woman’s shoe sizes. Um… an 8?” Maya huffed and threw her phone to the side.

“You got it.” She said dejectedly.

Lucas smiled brightly, “Really?” Maya just nodded causing him to laugh.

“Moving on, moving on. What am I good at?”

“Kissing.” Maya slapped him on the chest lightly, “Okay. Obviously art. I mean y’all have seen it.” He gestured to the camera, “She’s fucking fantastic!” Quickly he covered his mouth and looked to Maya, “Can I curse?” Maya snorted in laughter and nodded her head, “She’s fucking fantastic!”

“Thanks huckleberry. Now the opposite. What am I really bad at?”

Lucas thought for a moment before lighting up, “cooking. You are terrible at cooking. One time when she was just trying to make pasta and she almost lit our apartment on fire.” Maya cringed and nodded as she scratched her face.

“Yeah… that’s not my specialty. Luckily I’m dating someone who can cook. Okay, which sport is my favorite?”

Lucas smirked and obnoxiously popped his collar, “Baseball because that’s what I play.”

“Lol nope!” Maya laugh drawling out the nope, “basketball because it’s not boring as fuck!” Lucas pouted and Maya just patted his cheek. “What film always makes me cry?”

Lucas narrowed his eyes at her, “That’s a trick question. Movies don’t make you cry.”

Maya shrugged and nodded at the camera, “It’s true. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I do not cry at the movies. Where would I love to travel?”

“You want to visit everywhere, you dream of travelling the world.”

“More specific.” Maya teased.

“Iceland.” Maya nodded and scrolled through her phone once more.

“If I could live anywhere, where would I live?”

“I feel like you wouldn’t move. You love New York.”

Maya hummed and shook her head in thought, “I do love New York but if I could I would probably live in Italy. I mean their food ohhh and their art! What weird talent do I have?”

Lucas took a minute to think about it, “I mean I don’t know if this is necessarily weird but it sure is impressive. You can bullshit a five page essay in like an hour and still get a perfect score. I just don’t see how it’s possible.” Maya held her hands beneath her face and tilted her head.

“I love putting myself in those shitty situations and then doing the bare minimum.” Maya said sarcastically. Her thumb swiped across the screen and momentarily paused before her eyes widened and she kept scrolling.

“Hey I saw that! Why did you skip it? What was the question?” Maya rolled her eyes and furthered herself from him.

“Nothing ranger rick… just a stupid question.” Lucas looked at her before lunging for her phone. She quickly straightened her arm, holding her phone away from him but due to his much longer arms he quickly snatched the phone from her hand and fell to the other side as he read the question. Maya threw herself over him trying to grab her phone back but failed.

“It says here ‘what is my nickname?’” He smugly looked towards her, “Why don’t you tell me Maya what is your nickname?”

She pushed off him and pointed a threatening finger towards him, “Quit it huckleberry!”

He sat up and smiled largely as he looked between Maya and the camera, “Well I call her Shortstack for obvious reasons and I also call her pancakes. Care to say why I call you that Maya?” Maya made eye contact and stared deeply at Lucas.

She huffed and slouched forward, “because I’m a shortstack of pancakes.”

Lucas laughed but leaned towards her, one hand cupping his ear. “What did you say?”

Maya stifled a laugh and shook her head at him, “Because I’m a shortstack of pancakes.” Her tone was a little louder but was filled with nothing but teasing love.

“Ah but there’s one more nickname I call you.” Lucas said in a sing song voice. “I also call you Penelope. And Hart sometimes.”

Maya groaned and flopped back on the couch, “Happy now?”

Lucas smiled giddily, “Yeah… get going this is getting fun.”

“Ok, but that might not even make it in the video because I’m the editor so don’t get too cocky… what kind of films do I like?”

“You love horror and comedy movies.”

“Bonus questions! What type of movie do I hate?”

“You really don’t like romance movies.”

“Except….” Maya continued on.

“Except for when you watch them with Riley and Zay.”

“Ok, here’s another easy one. Who’s my best friend?”

Lucas nodded and took her hand, “Well I would love to say Lucas but I know it’s Riley.”

Maya nodded and turned to the camera, “Yes and I do this every time she comes up because she’s my best friend but go follow her because she’s a beauty and photography blogger on YouTube. You can follow her @smileyriley.”

“Stop promoting her and keep going.” Lucas said while playing with her fingers.

“Where did we go on our first trip together?”

“Well we went on multiple field trips together during our high school days and of course there as the ski lodge but our first couple trip was when we went to Florida with Riley, Farkle, Zay, and Isadora.”

Maya nodded with a smile, “We went to Disney World. That was a good trip. Okay, how do I drink my coffee?”

“You have two moods. When you need to get shit done you order a straight black and when you just want coffee because you like it you get an iced coffee.”

Maya shook her head in disbelief, “You know me too well.” Lucas pulled her towards him and pressed a smiley kiss against her lips. She pulled away, “What’s my favorite video game?”

“You like the assassin’s creed series.” Lucas answered as he leaned back into the couch.

“Yeah I did.” Maya said, throwing her legs over his lap, “But my favorite is Call of Duty Black Ops or World War II. Probably because me and Zay played it all the time. Next question, what’s my favorite clothing item and what’s your favorite clothing item of mine?”

“You love your leather jackets especially the one Shawn gave you a while ago. And what’s my favorite clothing item of yours? I really like that red dress you have.”

“That red dress I have?” Maya asked with a laugh, “Lucas honey… I have a lot of red dresses. You might need to be more specific.”

Lucas sputtered slightly, “I don’t know. It goes all the way up to your neck and you typically wear those black boots that go all the way to your knee.”

“Oh.” Maya looked through her phone for a minute before showing him a picture, “this one?” Lucas nodded, “Good choice because I like that one too. This is the one he’s talking about.” She pointed the left corner of her screen and a picture of her wearing a bodycon velvet dress with over the knee black boots popped up. Her hair was pulled back and a leather jacket was held between her fingers. She looked stunning. “Okay moving on, am I a morning or an evening person?”

Lucas laughed as he threw his head back and clapped a few times, “How is that even a question? I wouldn’t dare and nor do I advise anyone to mess with you any time before 11 am. No, you are definitely a night person.” He answered as he rubbed her thighs.

“Okay I don’t know how many we’ve done but imma keep going. What was my first job?”

Lucas’s eyes widened, “Crap. I don’t know this.”

“I’ll give you two guesses.”

“Was it some fast food place?” Maya shook her head, “I don’t know. A dog walker?”

Maya laughed and shook her head, “No I taught guitar and art at a community center.”

“Wouldn’t that be volunteering?” Lucas asked.

“Not when they pay you.” Lucas laughed at her response, “What was my least and favorite subject in school?”

“History and art were definitely your favorites and you didn’t like math.”

“You got the favorites correct but while I didn’t like math I hated science even more. So you were wrong. What is one thing I love doing but most people don’t?”

Lucas laughed slightly and shook his head, “Ok so you love like breaking your makeup and then mixing it together.”

Maya laughed and nodded before holding up her hand, “Let me explain. I have a weird shade where I’m pale but I’m not typically as pale as the makeup is so I have to blend together a color that’s too pale and a color that’s too dark to make the perfect mix for my complexion. I know a lot of girls frown upon that but I really enjoy doing it.”

“Well you look great.” Lucas said earning a smile from Maya, “it would be a shame if someone ruined it.” Before Maya could do anything Lucas cupped her neck and pulled her face towards him as he licked her cheek. Maya groaned and aggressively rubbed her cheek.

“Ew, that’s nasty. Ugh you’re the worst which is why I’m asking you this. What’s our song?”

Lucas frowned and turned to the camera to explain, “This causes a lot of controversy in our relationship because I think it’s Your Man by Josh Turner because I sang it to her one time.”

Maya leaned more towards the camera to state her case, “I thinks it’s Humble by Kendrick Lamar because not only was I listening to it when you came to my window the night of our first kiss but it was also playing in Topanga’s when you asked me out.”

Lucas just stuck his tongue playfully out at her before smiling largely, “Why don’t we ask your followers. Please comment below if you think Your Man or Humble should be our song?”

“Wow, those are two really different songs.” Maya laughed at herself, “Okay last question. What TV show do I love that you hate?”

“So Maya watches this show called Big Brother that I’m positive a large portion of you guys watch to but I just don’t see the appeal of it. It’s too much drama.”

“The drama is the best part!” Maya yelled, “Also he doesn’t appreciate Avatar: The Last Airbender like he should.”

“Okay that one comes with reason. It’s about a bald kid that can bend the four elements? That’s so stupid.”

Maya shot up, “It is a quality TV show that deserves the love and support of all. I watched that show throughout my entire childhood and it was the best thing.” Lucas just reached up and pulled her down onto her lap.

“What happens now? You said that was our last question.”

Maya perked up as she smiled at the camera, “Wellll, you got seven questions wrong which means you have to take a shot of ketchup.” Lucas cringed as Maya got off his lap. Due to editing it quickly switched to Lucas sitting at the edge of the couch with Maya beside him and the shot of ketchup on the table in front of them. “Drink up.”

Lucas didn’t hesitate as he grabbed the glass and knocked it back. It slowly crept out of the glass and into his throat, causing him to gag. Maya covered her mouth with her hands as she laughed. Lucas groaned and quickly grabbed the glass of water and drank from it.

“Well I drank it all.” Lucas said with a frown.

“Good job, I’m proud of you.” Maya said before turning to the camera with a clap. Okay guys that’s it for this video but stay tuned from some hilarious bloopers from this goofball to my right and myself.” The screen cut to static and then and image of Maya sitting on the couch showed up. “You ready to go?”

“Yep.” Lucas said from off camera.

“Ok and this is my boyfriend Lucas!”

Lucas suddenly slid in behind the couch on his socks before losing balance and falling directly on his butt. Maya lost it as she peered behind the couch and laughed. It switch to the next video of Maya standing up to get a blanket but tripping over the rug. Lucas reached out to try to grab her but ended up just rolling off the couch and joining her on the ground. The last clip was of when Maya got up to get the ketchup and Lucas just grabbed her hand to pull her back. But unfortunately Maya fell backwards as her arms flew about and she smacked Lucas in the face. They laughed uncontrollably.

Another static noise and image filled the screen for a few seconds before it switched back to Lucas and Maya sitting on the couch.

“Okay everyone that’s the end of my video. I hope all of you enjoyed it and I hope,” she turned to her boyfriend, “I didn’t torment you too much. Leave a comment below if you want to see another video with Lucas in it or if you don’t. Don’t forget to like and subscribe to join the family. I’m so thankful and happy that we got to 15 mil and I love every one of you, from those who were hartists from the beginning to those who joined because of this video. I have some new merchandise out and a few art kits that I just dropped on my website mayapenelope.com/merchandise. If you’re not already following me you can hit me up at any of my social medias @mayapenelope on all platform. I’m also putting the link to Lucas’s social media down in the description. Don’t forget to be creative and be you. Don’t let anyone tell you how to act or who to be. Remember to spread love not hate and to not discriminate against anyone no matter their religion, race, sexuality, or heritage. Let’s make this world a better place together guys. Alright I’ll see you on Friday with my special video for celebrating 15 million! Love you guys!” Maya kissed her palm and pressed it against the camera’s lens cueing the end of the video.

~.~

Maya sat at her desk, her laptop open in front of her and her glasses rested on her nose. She scrolled through her feed, her mouth slightly ajar.

“Hey Maya, did you get to the store?” Lucas asked as he walked into her room. She didn’t respond, let alone move her eyes from the screen. “Maya?”

“Lucas come look at this.” She waved him over excitedly and he came and stood behind her, looking at her computer over her shoulder. She pointed to all the comments that flooded her newly uploaded video. “They loved you!”

“Of course they did.” Lucas joked.

“I’m getting a ton saying ‘he’s super-hot’ and that ‘she’s super lucky’. A lot of ‘relationship goals’ and ‘they’re so cute together’.” She smiled widely, “It was uploaded less than 6 hours ago and it already has 2 million view and half a million likes. Plus over a million comments. This is fantastic!”

He rubbed her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her head, “I’m proud of you Maya.” She tilted her head up to face him.

“I’m going to need you to be in a lot more videos, they love you.” He leaned down and kissed her.

“I would love to be on the famous Maya Hart’s YouTube channel.” He kissed her again.

“Also they think Humble is our song.” Lucas groaned causing Maya to snicker as he walked out of the door and left Maya to continue to marvel at how well the video was doing.

[lezliefaithwade]

Hitchhikers and Horror Movies

I was living in New York when one Sunday afternoon in late August a boyfriend suggested we go and see the newly remastered, Texas Chainsaw Massacre at a movie theatre on 42nd Street. It had recently been heralded as one of the most influential horror movies of all time, and as he was in the process of writing his own horror screenplay, it seemed only right to see what all the fuss was about.

It was a very hot day as we slipped into the darkened theatre. It smelled like wet pavement, stale popcorn and forgotten dreams. The floor was sticky from neglect. The whole interior reeked of resignation as though any minute the wrecking ball would tear through the ceiling and replace a bygone era with a GAP or a McDonalds.  There were probably no more than 20 of us oddballs sitting in the damp, musky building. I wondered what kind of person spends a Sunday afternoon watching slasher films? My boyfriend was a nice Jewish USC graduate currently studying playwrighting at Juilliard. He was the kind of guy who laughed easily and rarely lost his temper. I felt safe and at ease with him. A quick glance at the other patrons painted a somewhat different picture. It was obvious that I was the only female in an audience of men sitting alone waiting ominously for a slasher film to begin. I shifted uneasily in my seat.

“Did I mention I don’t really like horror movies?” I whispered to Bernie. “I scare easily.”

“No worries,” he said, “Just close your eyes over the gory bits.”

For anyone who has not seen The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, suffice it to say that the entire film is gory. It’s pretty implicit by the title words “chainsaw massacre”.

It’s been noted that the experience of watching a horror movie with someone from the opposite sex can become a catalyst for romantic bonding. Was that what Bernie had in mind that afternoon?

The lights dimmed, the movie began and within minutes I was on the floor with my head in the seat of the chair, mindless of whatever gross concoction I was kneeling upon. All I can tell you about plot is that some kids pick up a hitchhiker who cuts his hand with a switchblade. That was all I saw.

“I have to leave,” I said to Bernie. And being the great guy that he was, he escorted me out of the theatre and back into the real world. I breathed a sigh of relief, and spent the better part of the next week doing everything I could to forget what I had seen.

Horror movies and slasher films have always appealed to a broad audience. Consumers expect to be scared, disturbed, creeped out, disgusted, terrified. This is just the undesirable price one has to pay in anticipation of some other reward, such as the ultimate triumph over evil or the smug satisfaction of feeling safe while being afraid. Slasher films make strong commentaries on societal expectations. In other words, young women in particular are usually targeted by male antagonists with puritanical opinions on sexuality. That is, when any kind of motivation can even be found. The set-up goes something like this:

1. Some past event sets (the killer) upon a homicidal trajectory.

2. The killer targets a group of hedonistic youth.

3. Youths interact recreationally in an insular quotidian location.

4. The killer tracks the youths.

5. The antagonist kills some of the youths.

6. The remaining character(s) challenge(s) the killer.

7. The immediate threat posed by the killer is eliminated.

Bernie’s movie as I recall was titled Summer Stalk, or Hammer Slammer (something like that) and he had a passing relationship with the director Abel Ferrara who I recall meeting briefly and being unimpressed by at a party in New York. Bernie was a good writer, and it seemed entirely possible that he might actually sell this screenplay, so when school was finished we moved to Los Angeles.  Hollywood was a place so foreign to me and so at odds with my sensibilities that you may as well have dropped me onto the moon without a spacesuit and ordered me to survive. Even to this day my memories of L.A. are a compilation of avocado sandwiches, shark steaks, workout rooms, convertibles and endless conversations around film. I went from being a productive, enterprising intellectual young woman, to what can only be described as a “bimbo”. Glasses were replaced with contact lenses, hair was coiffed, clothes were fitted and shoes had a heel. Gone was the architecture, the history, the parks, the subway, convenient neighbourhoods with great second-hand book stores. Instead it had all been replaced by freeways, concrete, Stepford wives, alfalfa sprouts and sales pitches. I thought of going home, but I loved my boyfriend and wanted to be supportive. So, I sat on the sidelines in tightfitting Lycra and cheered him on.

On weekends, Bernie and I would drive to his father’s house in La Costa, Ca.  where I could swim, bike, catch a movie, or just go for a walk. The house was a welcome refuge from the hustle and bustle of tinsel town. It was large, (large by my standards) with great, comfortable furnishings and a spectacular view of the valley. Bernie’s family were wealthy. My family was not. This disparity in our lifestyles was, to my knowledge, the only thing we ever fought about. Things were easier for him than they were for me, and while I was certainly benefiting from orbiting in his world, I could never quite forget where I had come from and how difficult it was for me to obtain even the smallest of opportunities. As a brief example: at school in New York, before I met Bernie, I would resort to heating up tomato juice for dinner. Bernie’s family were the sort of people who own the tomato juice company.

So, it was on one dark and stormy night enroute to La Costa that a particular argument erupted over privilege.

“You have no idea what the real world lives like,” I shouted, nearly in tears. “I’m always one step from poverty and the only thing that separates me from the homeless man on the street is you.”

“So,” he shouted back, “Get a job!”

He knew this was impossible as I was an illegal alien.

By now the storm had become positively Spielberg like. Low hanging dark clouds, lightning, thunder and us in a small car wending our way to our destination. Windshield wipers on high we stewed for several minutes both of us in our own worlds thinking up clever rebuttals for the next wave of attack when I saw a hitchhiker on the side of the road. It’s important to note at this point in my story that I had NEVER picked up a hitchhiker in my life, nor did I advocate such a thing. But the weather, and the bedraggled look of the man somehow destroyed all my reason. Bernie saw him too.

“Should we give him a ride?” he asked, probably to show that he was still a generous and compassionate person in spite of his wealth.

“It’s pouring out,” I said, “I think we should.”

Bernie pulled over and the man ran to the car. Even before he climbed into the back seat we realized our lack of good sense, but once we were stopped it just seemed like bad manners to drive away.  

“Where you going?” Bernie asked turning to get a good look at our passenger.

“Where you heading?” he responded with a slight drawl.

“La Costa.” Bernie replied

“You can drop me off anywhere near the cut off.” The stranger said as he settled back in his seat.

From the mirror over my visor I had a really good look at the man who identified himself as Hank. He was lean and dirty with a long unkempt beard and equally unkempt hair.  His features were sharp and angular. Hank carried a large knapsack and frankly smelled a little. Had this been a Disney animation, he would have been drawn to represent an anthropomorphic rat.

“Where are you from?” I asked trying to be polite.

“Texas,” he replied.

It wasn’t my imagination. I could see Bernie’s knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel. Neither of us needed to say a thing. We were now the protagonists in a horror movie. It was that simple.  An unmarried couple headed for a week end of debauchery in a car with a stranger while a storm raged outside. We ticked off several of the essential criteria in the Horror movie genre and without saying a thing, we both immediately regretted our act of charity. Every moment in that car was leaden. As we sped our way through the dark I was counting the minutes and the miles thinking to myself, “We’re still alive. We’re still alive. We’re still alive.” I wondered what would happen if I insisted we make an exit to use a restroom? I imagined running for help while Bernie fought off an attack or perhaps I’d be able to fight off our assailant with a crowbar in the trunk. Hank was silent. Then, out of the blue he began to tell us about the corpse recently discovered at LAX. “They found it in pieces,” he volunteered, “The head, the arms, the torso in different places around the airport.”

Hank didn’t look like a guy who read the newspapers or listened to the news. He looked like someone who knew things first hand. “The hands were in a sink at the washroom.”

How does one respond to information like this? “Oh, how interesting,” seems inappropriate when what you really want to do is slam on the brakes and say, “Get the fuck out of this car.”

While writing his screenplay, Bernie had once mentioned to me that monsters like their victims to be afraid.  So, I muttered a half-hearted “Really?” hoping my nonplussed attitude would dampen his interest in killing us.  At this point Bernie was fixed, zombie like on getting us as quickly to the drop off point as possible. I glanced at the speedometer. We were over the speed limit on wet roads. Nothing about this adventure felt like it was going to end well. I could feel Hank staring at the back of my head. I slid down in my seat and wondered if a knife could penetrate the upholstery. The closer we got to the cut-off point, the more nervous I became. I reasoned that an assailant wouldn’t attack us while driving and risk being killed in a car accident. No. An assailant would kill us the moment we pulled over to let him out. He’d slash our throats, dump the bodies and take the car.

“What do you do for a living?” Hank asked

“I’m a writer,” Bernie said

“Oh yeah? What do you write?

“Horror movies.”

Hank seemed interested, “You don’t say?”

To be fair, it’s possible Hank wasn’t the least bit interested. He may have been as bored as toast and just eager to get out of the car. He may have interpreted our tension as residual anger from a lover’s spat, or thought we were good Samaritans with dull lives and little to say.

All I know is that when we saw the sign for the turn off, I blurted out, “I have to pee.” At least if Hank was going to kill us, it would be under bright neon lights and in clear view of a gas station attendant and several patrons.

Bernie pulled into the Mobil station and exclaimed a little too eagerly, “Here you go. End of the road.”

Hank opened his door, grabbed his belongings and piled out of the car. From the overhead lights I could see for the first time that he looked old. Here was a man for whom things did not come easily and I suddenly afforded myself a bit of pity.

“Thanks for the lift.” He said shaking Bernie’s hand.

“No problem.” He replied as we climbed back inside and locked the doors.  I realized that I hadn’t used the bathroom and was a little ashamed of myself.

As the car sped out of the station and back onto dark roads we exhaled a collective sigh of relief and laughed. “What were we thinking?” I asked “Oh my God. What was all that about a body at LAX?”

By the time we reached the house, I had convinced myself that I had over-reacted.

“Isn’t that how all horror movies work?” Bernie said “The protagonists are always being attacked the moment they let down their guard.” I admit, he had a point. How many times had I commented on how stupid the victims in horror movies behaved? I mean, what kind of idiot would pick up a hitchhiker on a dark and stormy night knowing full well the kind of risk they were taking?

We unlocked the front door of the house, and before locking it again, were sure to search the dark for bogeymen. There was no way Hank could have followed us, but still…

“Let’s get on dry clothes and watch a movie,” Bernie suggested, turning on as many lights as we could find.

“Sounds like a great idea,” I said, “Something funny, please.”

As we settled down with hot chocolate, safe and sound to watch Mel Brooks, I briefly thought about Hank out there in the dark making his way towards Mexico. I wondered what was in his knapsack and then let the thought slip from my mind as the storm continued to rage on outside.

[stereksummerexchange]

Don't be late

@your-lovely-bird - Happy summer :) hope you’ll like this little ficlet!

by @letsplaysomethingdifferent

Teen - canon character death

Being strung out, Derek goes to visit his best friend Erica in Beacon Hills. Little did he know that he would meet someone who would change his life.

Part 1

Derek had always been one to invent stories. When he was little, he would spend hours and hours modeling little men in playdough and making them do whatever scenario he had in mind.

Growing up, he always had had multiple notebooks, always keeping one close to hand so he could write what his overflowing imagination dictated him.

High School years had been the best for Derek. He had joined the writing club, wrote short stories for the school’s journal and was excellent in every literary subject.

Oh, how dearly he had wished to become a writer. It had tormented him for months before he had been able to talk about it with his parents. But, as he had imagined, Talia and Robert had been against it, saying he would earn nothing and be unhappy for the rest of his life, that it was only a hobby and not something he could live with.

Nevertheless, Derek had still been able to study English literature and, at the end of his studies, his father had found him an internship in one of his editing company in New York City. The job was fucking hard and tiring but Derek had played along for a few years so his father would be proud, as if everything was perfectly fine. 

Sometimes it seemed to be so. Derek had made a few very good friends among his colleagues. They would go on holidays together, eat dinner at least once or twice a week. They were keeping each other away from a burn out.

But most of the time, Derek would go home after a long day of work and burst into tears. To him, his life was nothing but a big failure.

It had lasted for many years. Subway, work, sleep. Sometimes friends, sex and alcohol. Always the same. Until that 24th of December, when finally going home for Christmas, Derek had found his family house in flames.

Later, the police had stated that the cause of the fire was criminal. A crazy woman burning everything she could find. She had been locked away and Derek had found himself with nothing left but an economic empire.

Derek could have stopped working. It was quite the opposite and he intensified his work, spending more than fourteen hours a day at the office, taking no pause to eat or breath a little. It felt like living on his father’s legacy would be a big fraud. And he couldn’t disappoint him like that. 

It had lasted for a year, until that day in January, when everything had fell apart. Derek had come back to his flat and collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. How could he have reached this point?

Trying to calm himself down, he took his phone and dialed her number.

« What’s up D? How are you still awake at that hour? »

« I need you Erica » he whispered.

Part 2

It had been a week since Derek had went to the town of Beacon Hills, California, where Erica was living. He had sent a quick email to Boyd,  his other best friend and superior (even if technically, he was his own boss) to tell him he was taking some holidays and had left every manuscripts at work.

Boyd had replied when Derek was on his way to the airport

Boyd: That’s probably the best decision you took in months. Take all the time you need, you deserve it!

And so Derek was there, lying on the couch in Erica’s flat, slowly waking up from a night full of bad dreams when she suddenly bursted into the room and shook him.

« It’s time to wake up D! Come on, let’s go eat breakfast! »

« Huuuuuuuuu… Why? »

« Not working doesn’t mean you have to stay in bed all day! COME ON » she added, pulling on his arm « pancakes are out of the pan, and I need to eat before I go. »

Derek sighed, finally letting himself being dragged to the kitchen. He fell onto a chair as Erica, already wearing her work clothes, put some pancakes in two plates, along with a glass of orange juice. They ate in silence. Derek liked that about her. She had been very comprehensive and never urged him to talk when he didn’t want to. But this morning…

« Have you ever worked on that story? » She suddenly asked.

« Which one? »

She took a sip of juice.

« You know… The one you told me just after the funerals. » 

At those words, Derek tensed. But she didn’t stop.  

«About that lonely man, trapped in a wolf body because he feels guilty for his family’s death? And then he goes around the world to search for redemption. »

« Why would I have done that? » Derek replied, his throat dry.

« I don’t know. Maybe because you coming here, in Beacon Hills, is only the beginning. Maybe you’ll find it here. »

She stood up and took her jacket of her chair. She planted a small kiss on Derek’s forehead and she was about to leave when she said:

« Oh, and there’s an internet problem. If you need to use it, you’ll have to go to the coffee shop down the street. See you tonight! »

Derek sighed again. It was the really last thing he wanted to think about and he did everything in order not to. But something felt wrong. In fact, it was what Erica had said. Everything had come from a dream, maybe more a nightmare, he had had the night of the fire. And he was here, many months later, still trapped into it, with nothing more than remorses and regrets devouring his sanity. Maybe… maybe Erica was right. Maybe it would ease the burden a bit.

Derek ate some leftovers for lunch, took a quick shower and put a big grey sweater and a leather jacket on. He packed his MacBook, a notebook and his pencil case before leaving the flat. He quickly walked into the cold air air of January until he reached a coffee shop and entered it.

It was crowded but really cute, full of house plants, wooden furniture and arts on the wall. The atmosphere was warm, full of laughter, and for the first time in forever, Derek felt really great.

He made his way up to the counter and ordered a large cappuccino. His drink in hand, he turned to find somewhere to sit. But no. Every seats were taken. Apart one at a table for two near a window, opposing a young man. The guy had electric blue hair, an undercut with the top hair falling on the sides of his head. He was wearing a black knitted turtle neck pullover and was working on a paper pad.

Derek walked toward the table and cleared his throat. The guy raised his tired eyes at him, a magnificent mix of warm liquid amber and hazel color behind thick black framed glasses.

« I’m sorry to disturb you… » Derek began « but the shop is full and I was wondering if it was possible for me to sit with you? »

The man stayed silent for a moment before nodding.

« Thanks » Derek answered, smiling.

He sat down, opened his bag to take his notebook. He then began to write down every details he could remember about his dream. But, from time to time, Derek couldn’t help looking at the stranger in front of him, wishing he could see what the man was furiously drawing, feeling a bit weird every time they were catching each other’s eyes.

It went on for an hour or two, during which Derek tried to work as much as he could. But the further he went through his memories, the sicker he got. 

A sigh escaped his lips as he stretched his arms and back. It was impossible for him to work without another cup of coffee. He stood up and, as he was going to the counter, he caught a glance of the other man’s empty cup.

Derek ordered a second cappuccino as well as what the guy had drank. Careful not to drop what he had in hand, he walked back toward his table.

« Here» he said, setting the guy’s cup in front of him before sitting with his own drink.

The guy looked at the cup then at him, surprised.

« You… didn’t have too. » he said, in a very beautiful voice that gave Derek goosebumps.

« I know. But it seemed like you needed it. » Derek answered smiling. « Anyway, I’m Derek Hale. »

« Stiles Stilinski. »

Derek nodded and started to work again, trying not to look at the other man, Stiles. What he didn’t feel was Stiles’s stare lingering on him, more and more as the minutes passed.

It was 5:30pm when Derek’s phone buzzed.

Erica: On my way from the preserve. Gotta get a bunch of chicken wings for tonight but then, what do you think about a movie marathon? I seriously need to see all the harry potter again.

Derek grinned, typed an answer and began to pack his bag. He was going to walk away when he saw Stiles looking at him, with something on his face that looked a little bit like disappointment.

« Maybe I’ll see you around » he said, smiling, before going out of the coffee shop.

Part 3

Unknown:  Hey so, umm… You may have left your notebook here

Me: who is it?

Unknown: yeah sorry. It’s Stiles, from the coffee shop

Me: Oh yes! Hi :)

Stiles: Hi :)

Me: How did you get my number?

Stiles:Dad’s the sheriff. Let’s say I have access to some data base

Me: You broke in, didn’t you?

Stiles: We started speaking a minute or so ago and you already know me so well

Me: ;)

Stiles: Anyway, got your notebook!

Me: Please tell me you didn’t read it…

Stiles: …

Me: Oh no…

Stiles: Ok. I may or may not have cast a glance into it

Me: Oh god

Stiles: Dude, what I read was amazing!

Me: I seriously don’t think so

Stiles: The story line is fucking great!

Me: You read everything

Stiles: Maybe…

Stiles: Anyway, if you’re up for a drink, we could meet so I can give it back to you

Me: You seemed really tired today… You’re sure about it?

Stiles: Let’s say I had troubles coming up with ideas for work… Plus you’re were pretty distracting so…

Me: what

Stiles: I mean, I had an hour of sleep, and some coffee so yeah. Drink? I owe you one for this afternoon. Maybe two since I read your notes.

Me: Why not? 

Stiles: amazing! Martin’s lounge, in 30 minutes? It’s a bit out of town but it’s the best bar I’ve ever been to.

Me: Sounds perfect! See you there :)

Stiles: :)

Part 4

Derek had told Erica he had forgotten his notebook somewhere, tried to hide he had to meet a super handsome guy to get it back but, as he was facing her wrath for dumping her in the middle of a movie, he eventually told her everything. Needless to say that she was more than thrilled for him to go out on a « date », as she put it and made sure he was all fresh and neat.

Derek took her car, looked for the address and, 30 minutes later, he pulled over on a parking spot near the Martin’s Lounge. There was no denying he was nervous. But it had absolutely nothing to do with fact that Erica had called it a date. But then, he entered the bar. 

Derek would have noticed it all. The cosy atmosphere, the vintage leather sofas, low wooden tables and the jazz music played in the background. If it hadn’t been for him.

Stiles was sitting in an armchair, a bit further away from the entrance. This time, his blue hair was up on his head, a bit messy, and he didn’t have any glasses. He was wearing black leather pant and a simple short-sleeved white t-shirt that was revealing arms entirely covered with tattoos. Derek took a deep breath and walked to him.

« Hi »

Stiles looked up and a big grin suddenly appeared on his face.

« Hi » he said, his voice sounding lighter than before. Then, moving his hand to another armchair on the other side of the table, he added « please, sit down. I’m feeling a bit inferior right now. »

Derek executed himself and as soon as he was sitting, a petite red hair girl in a red dress came to them.

« Hi Lyds, how are you? » Stiles asked, still smiling.

« I will be better as soon as you will have spend a few dollars. »

« And when I thought you were my friend… As usual please. »

« A Singapore sling. And for you? » she asked, turning toward Derek.

« A martini please. »

She nodded and moved to another table. Stiles looked quite embarrassed. He took Derek’s notebook out of his bag and handed it to him.

« I’m sorry. For reading it. »

« Oh… »

« I have no excuse. And I don’t ask you to forgive me. I was just a bit… away. Work, as I told you. »

Derek looked at him. He would usually mind a lot if someone touched his stuffs, especially this kind of very personal things. But, and he didn’t really know why, he was not bothered when it was Stiles.

« Don’t worry. »

« No but really! »

« No but really, yeah! Don’t worry! It’s not really important. Please, can we not talk about it anymore? I’d rather learn a bit more about you! »

« And what do you want to know? Why always a singapore sling? Why do I have blue hair? »

« I was more thinking about your work. »

« Oh, ok! »

Just at this moment, the girl (Derek would later learn her name was Lydia) brought their drinks. Stiles took a sip. He put his glass on the table before showing his arms to Derek.

« What? »

« My job, I’m a tattooist. I have always loved drawing. And… Today, I was trying to design a pretty big one I’ve been ordered. I had absolutely no idea and it was rather depressing.»

« And yours, you did all of them? »

« Oh no » Stiles laughed « A lot were made by my friend Kira. But this one » he showed him a log with its roots going around his left wrist. « It’s the first one I made. I was 16. »

« 16? » Derek exclaimed. « Your parents didn’t say anything? You told me your dad was a sheriff, didn’t you? »

« Yeah but… My mom had died a few years before, I was still dealing with it. And dad didn’t know how to react. We’re really good now, everything settled down. At that time, it was difficult. My roots were there you know? But what had gave me life had disappeared. »

Stiles looked Derek in the eyes, a sad smile on his face.

« Let’s not talk about this anymore ok? So, what do you do in your life? I’ve never seen you around before. »

« I live in New York. I work there as an editor and it has been really difficult lately so I just took a flight here, to see my best friend Erica and spend some time with her. »

« Erica Reyes? » Derek nodded. « Yeah I know her, she works with Scott, my own best friend. We should do something together sometime. » he grinned, silently promising Derek they would see each other again. «  Anyway, tell me about your family! I want to learn everything about you. » 

« I… don’t have any… »

« Ok so no brother or sister. And your parents? »

« No… What I mean… I… I lost them all a year ago… »

Stiles’s face dropped. For a moment, his beautiful eyes studied Derek.

« That’s all about them, isn’t it? » he suddenly asked. « Your story. »

« I realize now that it is… » Derek said, after a minute of silence. « And I don’t know how to free myself from it. »

« Maybe telling someone about it. It helped me. »

Derek watched him. He could tell he was being more than honest and, for the first time since that evening in December, he decided to trust someone and told him everything. From his teenager’s doubts about what he was going to do with his life to him wanting to please his dad and him losing his mind to do so. He told him about that night, when everything had burned into flames, leaving him alone with himself, with only his guilt to slowly consume him.

« Most of the time, I wish I had died with them. So I wouldn’t be alone. Not anymore. »

Derek laughed nervously, whipping the tears on his cheeks.

« I’m sorry » he said to Stiles after a second. « I’m being pathetic. »

« You’re not. I know what you’re going through. And no one’s asking you to be strong. You have every rights not to be. » Stiles took his hands in his own and held them firmly, his eyes locked with Derek’s.  « There’s something I know helps. At least it helped me. The log on my arm, I did it to exorcise the pain of my mom’s death and in a way, it worked. I don’t want you to answer right away, but… I would love to do it for you. Just think about it. And for now, let’s drink. To you. Because you’re amazing. »

Derek smiled, squeezing Stiles’s hands. 

He was falling so hard.

Part 5

One could have thought that it would have been a long process to think about getting a tattoo. Especially when the one who had offered to do it was almost a total stranger and someone you had a massive crush on.

But not for Derek.

He had texted Stiles the second he had been back home and the answer had arrived a couple minutes later.

Stiles : If you’re sure, that’s perfect for me :) I wouldn’t complain about seeing you again so soon. But on a more serious matter, you can come by on Monday, around 7pm. Stilinski & Lahey’s tattoo shop, near the Police Station. Just tell me if that’s ok!

Me:  Amazing! See you on Monday :)

And that night, for the first time in forever, Derek fell asleep with the biggest smile possible on his lips.

****

The rest of the weekend went quietly. Derek had decided to spend most of it away in the coffee shop, mostly to avoid Erica’s constant questions about Stiles.

But also because (even if he didn’t quite understand it) he felt inspired again.  As if the fact of being at that place marked the beginning of his redemption.

Stiles and him didn’t speak again that weekend but Derek didn’t mind. He was allowing himself to dream, to spend long moments thinking about the man and how he was, how he seemed to be genuinely interested in Derek. In a « more than friend » way, Derek hopped, but even if that was not the case, he would be happy to have that spark of light in his life.

Monday came and and so did stress. Derek spent the entire day cleaning the flat to try and change his mind, speakers blurting music. It did help him for a bit, keeping his thoughts away from everything but when, at 5:30pm, his phone alarm rang, he totally freaked out. 

Derek took the longest shower ever, scrubbing every part of his body frantically,  washing and conditioning his hair (something he never did) before trimming his beard. 

He also spent an horrendous amount of time choosing his clothes and, when he finally opted for black jeans, a white t-shirt and some dark boots, it was already 6:30. 

Derek took his parka, a fluffy scarf and his wallet and hurried down the staircase. He then walked for about half an hour before arriving in front of a small shop.

It was very discreet and, Derek thought, did not look much. The façade was painted with a plain grey with the name of the shop in black letters  above the glass door. Derek looked at his watch. He was exactly on time and, taking a very deep breath, he pushed the door.

The inside was bigger than expected.The walls were made out of bricks, with tons of magnificent and divers drawing on it. A deep blue leather sofa and some vintage armchairs were disposed around a black coffee table. But the most extraordinary thing was a giant tree made out with meters of copper fairy lights, brightening the room and making it feel like everything was suddenly full of life, as if Derek was in a dream. Maybe, just maybe, he would see them, between the branches…

« Hey you! » a voice suddenly exclaimed « we’re closed! »

Derek jumped and turned around. A man, probably just a year or two younger than him, was starring at him from the other side of the room. The man had short light brown curly hair, blue piercing eyes and, Derek noticed, a few tattoos on his arms and also a bunch of piercings on his ears.

« Sorry I… I have an appointment I guess? With Stiles? »

The man looked at him for a second before moving to a desk and looking at a computer.

« Can you tell me your name? It will be faster. »

« Hum, yeah of course. It’s Derek. Hale. »

« Oh! » A smirked formed onto the man’s lips. « So, it’s you. »

« What… »

« Don’t worry. Stiles has been waiting for you the whole day. He’s in his studio. » He motioned over a closed black door.

Derek walked toward it, a bit taken aback by the other guy’s attitude. Without even thinking, he opened the door and came face to face with Stiles. They stared at each other for a second before Stiles bursted out of laughing, easing Derek’s mind immediately.

« I’m so sorry » Stiles said between two laughs.

« I should be sorry! I’m the one who showed up without knocking. I was a bit… distracted. »

Stiles’s face fell.

« You’re sure you’re still ready for tonight? »

« Of course! It’s just… the other guy was a bit weird… »

« Isaac? Don’t mind him. If he said something to you, just forget it. »

« Is he working here? »

« Yep. He’s a piercer. One of the best I’ve ever seen. Plus, he’s a true artist, making every jewel. They’re literal piece of art. But don’t tell him I said that please? He’s bragging enough already… »

It was Derek’s turn to laugh. 

« I promise I won’t. »

Stiles smiled.

« You can put your stuffs on the coat rack near the door. Then you’ll join me over here. » he said as he was moving to a high architect-styled desk. 

Derek complied before going to where Stiles was sitting. The young man was wearing a white shirt with its sleeves rolled up, revealing his numerous tattoos. His hair had changed colors. It was black where it was almost entirely shaved, and the longer hair, who was falling on the sides like that first day in the coffee shop, was of a soft pink. 

« So » Stiles began when Derek came to sit beside him « I’m gonna show you what I came up with, ok? »

« Well… » Derek paused. He had thought about it since the other night. « I want it to be a surprise. Like… I know you’re going to say that it’s weird » he added, seeing Stiles’s expression changing « but I trust you. And I know it’s going to be great. »

« If you say so »

« I’m sure of that. »

Stiles smiled.

« Well, let’s start it. »

****

Derek had lost all notion of time. He didn’t know if it had been a minute, an hour or several since they had started. All he could feel was the pain of the needle piercing his skin, mixed with the warmth of Stiles’s gloved hand, moving across his back.  Apart from the buzzing sound of the machine, the room was silent. And in a way, Derek was glad. He wouldn’t have been able to speak coherently.

Finally, it all stopped. Derek felt Stiles moving so his head could be next to his.

« How are you? » he whispered.

« A little dizzy, I must admit. »

Stiles smiled. 

« Ready to see it? »

Derek nodded. Stiles helped him getting on his feet and, together, they moved toward a big mirror. Stiles placed Derek so it would be facing his back and gave him another, smaller, one. Apprehensively, Derek took it. 

Three magnificent wolves were there, drawn as if they had been made with an ink brush. Those three wolves were seen from the side, each of their tails reunited in the middle of the tattoo, so all three of them could form a triskel, on Derek’s upper back.

Derek did not realize he was crying until he felt tears dropping on his shoulders.

« I’m so sorry… » said Stiles, hesitantly « I should have insisted on showing to you first, at least you wouldn’t have something you don’t like on… »

But he was cut as Derek wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in the crook of the neck of the younger man.

« It’s amazing » he whispered, voice twitching. « It’s everything I needed. »

****

They stood there, silent, for a long time, embracing each other. But ultimately, Stiles broke the contact so he could apply some antiseptic cream and a plaster on the tattoo. Derek put his t-shirt back on before following Stiles to the main room.

« So, how much do I owe you? » Derek asked, after taking his coat and scarf.

Stiles looked at him, thinking.

« Dinner. » he finally said.

« What? »

« You heard me. You’re offering me dinner. »

« Is this your way of asking me on a date? » Derek grinned.

« … Maybe? »

Derek bursted out of laughing.

« You’re kidding me Hale???!! »

« Sorry! But, you have to admit it’s a pretty lame excuse! »

« I’m taking it back! Don’t ever come and see me again! »

Derek’s laugh quieted down. He got closer to Stiles and, leaning toward him, kissed him on the lips.

« I would love to. » 

He kissed him again, lightly, before going to open the door of the shop.

« I’ll pick you up at 8 tomorrow evening. »

Stiles smiled.

« Don’t be late. »

[officialcolumbiauniversity]

Surviving, No, Thriving, in NSOP

Summer school’s ending this week, which means you! already! know! what’s coming up! I’m sure this is all you’ve ever thought about for the past two months at least. If you’re lucky and you got accepted ED like me, let’s increase that time to like 6 months. The first week of school is terrifying no matter the age, but for college students, the added stress of being on your own makes dealing with the bustle a bit more complicated than you’d expect. To assuage your doubts and concerns, I’m bringing you a comprehensive and general look at what the New Student Orientation Program, NSOP, will mean for you as someone trying hard to transition from pre-frosh to freshbait. The first week of school hardly even counts as real school because it’s all orientation, but tips for the journey won’t hurt. Let’s get started.

What You Should Know Before Getting Here

Of which there are a few things. If you’re at all interested in the things I’m about to mention, even just a lil bit, you should go to the events for them during NSOP. It’s easier to get your foot in the door now and then drop out if you don’t care than try to weasel your foot in a few months later. I learned this the hard way. These few things include:

pre-health (aka pre-med)

Greek life

placing higher in any track or out of certain tracks (like the language requirement)

buying a fridge, printer, microwave, or some class books

CCSC or ESC (student council aka SGA)

Actually, anything you are even slightly interested in you should attend. The information is invaluable as the year goes on, and it’s better to have it as early as possible. For pre-med and Greek life, you should go to the information sessions. For the placement tests, go to the sessions when they’re happening and try your best. For buying a fridge or the like, go to the EcoReps sale, all of them, and see what’s around. Yeah the line is long but if you really want to save money it’s worth it.

Another thing you should be thinking about before coming here is the matter of illegal identification. Yep, fakes. Fakes are crucial in New York life because all the fun happens at bars and in clubs (I might be saying this somewhat ironically). You also can’t buy alcohol here without having a fake, so your fun might be completely cancelled if you don’t have one. Of course, you could always get someone to buy you alcohol and pay them back, and you’ll be having to do that anyway while you wait for your fake to arrive. But this is something that you definitely want to be thinking about as you come here. Most people order fakes with 3-5 friends, because prices are cheapest that way. So find your people on campus, or put a post up on your Unofficial Facebook group over the summer. Fakes take about 2 months to come through.

You Made It, Baby! Now What?

Alright, so you drove up on 116th, maybe the only time during the whole school year you’re allowed to do that, and got a Blue Bin and finished moving in (mostly)! Left to your own devices, you probably have little idea what to do. So here’s what you’re gonna do.

For the most part, you’re going to know no one. Hopefully you know at least one person, and you’re going to tag along with them everywhere they go. If you don’t know literally anyone, check out my post on making friends during NSOP.

Go to all the frat parties, but definitely with friends. Especially if you’re a girl. Even at Ivies, guys have a tendency to get sleazier at night than they would in broad daylight. That being said, there’s really nothing like a frat party, so you should definitely party it up while you can, because no one goes to frat parties after freshman year.

Figure out what classes you’re taking. Sign up for the earliest possible appointment with your advisor, and talk it out. I was an undecided major when I came in, and my biggest regret was not taking chemistry because now, as a chem major, I’m doing a lot of catching up. My advisor helped me a ton in that she recommended I take calculus and a bunch of other classes that undecided majors usually end up finding beneficial for their major. You gotta sort this out as early as possible so that you know exactly what you’re looking for when registering for classes. Class registration is a fucking battlefield. Remember to use things like Vergil and CULPA to figure out your best schedule.

So many faces so few places. You’re going to meet a lot of people in a really short time period, so you need to get really comfortable with saying “oh yeah we met last night… sorry I was drunk, what’s your name again?” Don’t be afraid of using people as crutches to get to know other people, because there’s no such thing as knowing too many people.

Set a good impression with your RA. Y’all really need to be friends. Don’t drink or smoke in front of them, don’t throw outrageously loud parties the first week, don’t throw up in the bathroom bc you’re hungover but forget to lock the door (guilty). Become friends with your RA so that they feel awkward getting you in trouble and you can basically do what you want for the rest of the year.

Leave your door(s) open. The best way to meet people on your floor genuinely is to hop in their room and comment on their taste in music. So blast some Frank Ocean and rake in the friends.

Lastly...

Potholes and Rat Traps: What to Avoid

Columbia isn’t just a matter of what to do: there’s a whole lot of shit you’ve gotta watch out for, because no one tells you this right off the bat.

Don’t go to Welcome Week, whatever you hear about it. It’s really not worth commuting back, on the subway, at night, wasted, with minimal knowledge of New York at night. And the parties aren’t great anyway.

Don’t dress up for parties, regardless of whether you’re a guy or a girl. I don’t even have a rationalization for this one, Just...please. Don’t.

Don’t take notes during that first “Lit Hum class.” You know, the one in Roone Auditorium. No one read the stuff and you look like a tool.

Don’t spend all your time on campus. Be sure to go off campus with your friends, a new group each time, as much as possible, into the city, because you won’t have the time or energy to do so later.

Don’t spend all your time with friends. Find your favorite spots on campus all by yourself, so that you have a recluse whenever you need it. It’s good to get to know campus by yourself.

Do NOT go around hooking up with every cute girl you see. Or boy. Rape is a harder line to draw when it’s orientation week and everyone’s drunk and it’s easy to convince someone to do something that they would say no to in 3 weeks’ time. The rationalization for this is not dealing with the awkwardness the next day, but rather dealing with the fact that you might end up a rapist.

Don’t believe or become any of those “entrepreneurs” during NSOP, aka those kids who have a “startup” and want to advertise their thing or whatever. Believe me, they’re not going anywhere any time soon. It’s great to have ideas, and to have ambition, and to have motivation, but don’t get ahead of yourself and leave a buttload of embarrassing memories for the next few years. Save branding yourself for second semester.

Learning to pace yourself while drinking is an important step in moving from messy ‘man to sophisticated soph. Okay so I might have just made those phrases up. But for real, everyone can tell a freshman who has never drunk a lot before because they take seven shots of vodka in 10 minutes, and in another 15 they’re struggling to keep their dinner down. So yes, you will make an embarrassing alcohol mistake sometime during your freshman career. But it does not need to be that embarrassing.

More embarrassing than puking is letting your friend feel horrible the next day because you didn’t take care of them. You must call CAVA if a friend is puking, and if they black out, that’s also a sure sign. I know you’re going to freeze up when the time comes because it’s so hard to put a finger on it and say, yep, we’ve crossed the line, she doesn’t look fine, we need to call CAVA. No one wants to be the friend who called CAVA. At least not freshmen. But you have to do it. Freshmen are the most likely to get alcohol poisoning, and not calling CAVA because you “think” she’ll be alright seriously puts your friend’s health in danger.

Be careful with the jungle juice. Usually it’s fine, and at some frats like Lambda the jungle juice gets you the perfect amount of fucked up, but there are some frats that are known for putting drugs in their actual jungle juice, not just drugging individual drinks. Boys, I don’t know why you think you’re exempt because it happens to guys too. Both my friend and I got seriously messed up with jungle juice from a frat that I’m not going to name, and it’s almost as scary as I would imagine getting roofied is.

My last “don’t” is to not be so quick to make judgements about your situation. During NSOP literally every single person feels like they genuinely can’t handle it here, they won’t succeed at Columbia. I promise you that feeling goes away in the coming months. And if you don’t get it during NSOP, that feeling will come in a few months. And it’ll go away too. Don’t ever give up because you think it’s too much, because I guarantee you can handle it. NSOP just really sucks. It hurts like a bitch and you will definitely cry at least once, but you’ll settle into a routine no matter how long it takes and you will come out feeling incredible. We all do.~