#fuck mint why is there mint growing in my backyard

[sylvanian-affirmations]

The Beths - Passing Rain 🐻💖

[armory-rasa]

Bazubands part 1: A LESSON IN HUMILITY 🤣

So one of my projects for the winter break was to make a set of bazubands made for myself -- a middle eastern armor piece that provides all-in-one wrist/forearm/elbow protection, and the easiest way to get the coverage required for SCA fighting. (My garb is viking, but such are the exigencies of modern safety standards, that fighters usually wind up with a mix of armor types.)

Anyway, I packed up the necessary tools and materials and took them with me when I went to visit my parents, which is why the backdrop for these pictures isn't my usual workshop.

Found a pattern on google, cut it out of 10-12 oz veg tan, traced/carved/tooled it:

(You can see why this is the easiest way to get elbow protection, it's WAY less fiddly than trying to do articulated plates around the joint.)

Soaked the elbow cop again (because it was starting to dry out by the time I was done tooling), rounded it out and stitched it up:

Dyed it black, in my parents' backyard:

(And if you use Angelus dyes, that's how you keep from spilling it -- the box has little perforations so that it can hold the bottle safely upright.)

WAX THAT MOTHERFUCKER:

It doesn't show in that picture, but I have a metal bowl of wax (jeweler's casting wax) melting on the stovetop. I alternate between brushing it onto the leather, which looks like the picture above, and then putting the leather in the oven at ~200F, at 10-20 minute intervals, until the wax soaks in. Repeat until the leather is fully saturated and does not absorb more wax. (This often takes hours, so find something else to multitask with.)

But when you're done -- ta da!

Your project will be thoroughly waterproof, very strong and hard, with a low lustre. It's functionally ABS plastic at this point.

The next step was padding, so I got some sheepskin and and fitted it to the inside:

(idk why it's so fucking orange, but the alternative was kind of a mint-mucus green. I think the orange is growing on me though.)

Time to pattern the other, simpler piece of the bazuband, because they're hinged to enclose your full arm:

(I couldn't do this earlier, and therefore do both pieces concurrently, because I had no idea how much bulk the padding was going to add to my arm. I suppose you could wrap your arm in padding when you're measuring at the start.)

Slapped a quick design on it:

(And carved & tooled it too, though I neglected to get pictures of that.)

And then--

DISASTER, MY FRIENDS.

I put it in the oven, and it lost its gd mind.

WHAT.

Seriously, just -- words do not do this abomination justice. o_O

LOOK AT IT.

Coming so close on the heels of the Khorasan pouch, which had turned out absolutely perfect and has been more widely shared and lauded than anything else I've posted, this was a humbling experience. 🤣 Like, yes you're good, Gabriel, but you're not immune to fucking up.

So what happened here? Why did the same leather as the bazubands, undergoing the exact same steps and processes, turn out like THIS?

I'd have to repeat the experiment to 100% confirm my theory, but I'm pretty sure the critical difference is that I was speed-running this one, and I didn't wait for the dye to fully dry before I started waxing it. It wound up with, essentially, wet leather hermetically encased in wax, and since the water didn't have anywhere to go, it did weird things to the structure of the leather fibers when it started heating up. And because I don't often work with wax, I had somehow never run into this situation before, and thus already learned that lesson.

Ah well.

It wasn't a huge amount of leather, and it was only like two hours of work, so I'm not that fussed about it. (More embarrassed than anything else, at what feels like a very rookie mistake -- and conscious that it could have been SO MUCH WORSE if that had happened to the larger bazuband pieces, which had a lot more time and materials sunk into them.)

Anyway, I'm going to tweak the pattern a bit, make it narrower at the wrist and a bit longer, and change the design to something that matches the dragon better -- and let it fully dry this time. 😂

[hearteyes-candyskies]

mint

yandere enji x reader

summary; every gardner knows that if you leave mint unchecked it'll take over the whole garden. enji hasn't checked up on you in a while

a/n; a continuation of houseplant and commish for @neroesecuzioni

tw; pregnancy, implied abortion, threat of physical abuse, a baby walks into enji’s fiery body and disappears in like the first couple paragraphs

word count; 4.1k

🌱

It’s the same dream again. You hold your son in your arms, his hazel eyes round and wide, gazing at you with a look so pure and curious and knowing that you can’t fathom any other option except to love him. His small hands grab at your face as you rock him in your arms, humming a simple melody as his eyelids slowly close. 

The sight of his perfectly content face as he sleeps brings a flood of joy through your heart like you’ve never known before, and you set him down gently in his crib before turning to do something else. It’s always something different every time; you go to warm up a bottle, you leave to get his stuffed animal from the wash, or maybe you go to get a cool washcloth for his slightly too-warm face. The result is always the same.

You return, object in hand, to find an empty crib. You turn around, frantically searching for your son, only to look out the window and see Enji’s burning form in the backyard. As you rush down the stairs and out the back door you finally see him- your son, the joy and love of your life, crawling towards your husband who looks at him with little more than cool indifference on his face. 

On good nights, you wake up then, sweat coating your body and chest heaving as you calm your racing pulse and convince yourself that it’s just a dream. Most of the time, though, you watch, rooted to the spot and horrified as your perfect, sweet, helpless little baby crawls straight into your husband’s fire. It doesn’t help that he vanishes almost as soon as the flames hit him. If anything, the uncertainty of his fate hurts worse. 

On these nights, the sight of Enji’s callous blue eyes are the last thing you see before you wake, cold enough to burn. You always wake with tears on your cheeks, sheets tangled from your thrashing. Enji used to wake with you, trying to soothe you in the best attempt that he could manage, but after one too many panicked blows to the face he’s given up, merely moving to the downstairs couch whenever it happens. 

You can’t tell if you’re disappointed by that or not. In the past month your dreams have been getting more and more frequent, almost always ending with the image of Enji’s cold blue eyes seared into your brain, and you can’t tell what that means. 

You don’t want to know what that means. 

🌱

Lately, the garden has become a place of refuge for you. What started as a meager little plastic pot holding a pathetically wilted tomato plant has now become two full garden beds and a hearty-looking peach sapling. The mint plant has its own cute little terracotta pot, lest it terrorize and take over the rest of your carefully-tended plants. 

As the frequency of your dreams increase, so does your time spent gardening. The raised beds are bursting with plants and produce, and you’re starting to eye the yard surrounding your little garden as free real estate. 

You’ve been saving newspapers for a while now, with Enji buying you one every time he leaves the house, and now all you need is a bag or two of mulch and some straw. And maybe also some wooden stakes and chicken wire. And more wood for more garden beds. And seeds for the new beds. 

Okay. Maybe you need a little more than you thought. At this point it would just be easier for you to go and pick it up yourself; you know exactly what you need and if you think of something else you want you don’t have to frantically text Enji and pray that he reads it in time.

You haven’t been outside for such a long time. Well, you’re outside right now, but like, outside in society? When was the last time you stepped foot in a supermarket? As a matter of fact, when was the last time you set foot off the property? Your inability to answer those questions leaves you restless and desperate to prove your independence. 

Maybe…no... Enji’s made it clear on numerous occasions that you’re not leaving the house. Except, he can’t really be thinking about keeping you here forever, right? He’ll reintroduce you to society, he has to, even if it’s not for another month or so. You assume that it’s been about six months since you were first brought here. 

The hunger for a taste of the outside world plagues you for the rest of the morning, and you find yourself unable to concentrate on anything. It’s after lunch that you grow bold and restless enough to finally broach the topic with Enji, satiated by a light meal that just happened to use some of the vegetables from your garden. The fact that you’re drinking lemonade made with mint from the garden is also a coincidence. 

“So, I was thinking about expanding the garden this morning. I’ve got enough newspaper to cover the amount of land that I want to turn into beds and I just need a couple things from the store?” Enji grunts in acknowledgement, looking up briefly from his reports.

“Write them down and I’ll get them from the store tomorrow.” Your fingers twist nervously and you take a deep breath.

“I was actually thinking that I could go with you?” It comes out sounding more like a question than a statement, and you curse yourself for it. Not that it matters, apparently, because Enji doesn’t even look up again. You wait a second before repeating yourself. Maybe he just didn’t hear you correctly?

“I was thinking that I could go with you to pick the supplies up. It’s a lot to get and that way if I forget to write something down on the list I’m already there and don’t have to text you to make a double trip.” At your calm, firm tone Enji finally raises his head, putting the tablet down. 

“That’s nice, y/n.” You lean forward expectantly, waiting to hear his approval. He reaches for the tablet again, and you feel a spike of irritation lance through you.

“Can I go?” It takes a lot of effort for you to ask civilly, though it’s rewarded by Enji’s mildly surprised reaction.

“You were serious?” You stare in shock? Were you serious? Were you serious? Is he fucking serious?

“Yes, Enji, I’m serious! It’s been-” You stand, pausing to scroll through the calendar on your phone, looking for the little marker you placed on the day that you first woke up here. You scroll for a very long time.

“It’s been a little less than a yea-” You choke. “It’s been a little less than a year since I’ve first got here.” He says nothing, face dangerously neutral, and you slowly step forward, holding one of his massive hands in both of yours. 

“Please. I want to be able to go outside again.” There’s a subtle tick in his jaw.

“You can go outside. We have a yard. You have your garden.” You give his hand a little shake. 

“Enji, please. You know what I mean. I want to be able to get in a car and drive myself to get groceries or seeds or whatever else I need.” Again, that tightening of his jaw.

“I already get you what you need.” You feel tears of frustration sting the back of your eyes, and force yourself to take a deep breath.

“You know I won’t try to run. Please, I would never leave you like that. Haven’t I done everything that you wanted since I came here? Enji, I just want to have some control over my life back. I was a pro, I used to disappear for missions for weeks at a time but I always came back. Why can’t you trust me to come back to you after a trip to the grocery store?” Tears are beginning to blur your vision, but you can still make out the softening of Enji’s face as he listens to you. You feel hope start to soar in your chest and-

“You’re so cute when you’re passionate. We can talk about this later.” The hope thuds down to your stomach, quickly dissolved in a pool of irritation and anger. You resist the urge to squeeze his hand as hard as you can and instead stroke your thumb across it as soothingly as you can.

“Enji, you’re eventually going to let me go about a semi-normal life, right? We can start now, with you watching me.” Your voice is light and encouraging, and Enji raises an eyebrow, somewhat placated.

“When did I say that?” Involuntarily your grip on his hand tightens. 

“What?” He looks you straight in the eyes, gaze mildly patronizing.

“When did I say that?” You sputter.

“I just- You- You can’t be planning on keeping me locked away forever! I’ve been so good for you and I’ve done everything you wanted and eventually you’ll let me out of the house, right?” Enji just stares at you, unmoved.

“I’ve already let you out of the house. Where do you think the garden is?” Something deep seated and ugly within you snaps, and you throw his hand down and away, flinging your own out.

“ENJI! I’ve stayed here and done everything you’ve asked of me, I’ve fucking gotten down on my knees to clean up and suck your dick, I’ve fucked you without complaint and you won’t let me go to the store? I had a perfect mission completion rate before you took me, you know.” You sneer.

“Except you wouldn’t because you didn’t bother to learn anything about me before you took me. Do you know how many men I could’ve killed in the dead of night, how many men’s throats I could’ve slit as they lay beside me? Consider yourself lucky that I haven’t decided to do the same to you.” 

The shock on his face quickly gives way to anger, and you scoff at the way flames dance along his hands. 

“Go ahead. Burn me. Mark me like your property, cripple me like you crippled your fucking wife and like how your wife marked your son. Maybe after you brand me I’ll start to love you more.” Flames burst out along his whole body and face, until you’re no longer looking at Enji, only Endeavor.

“You ungrateful little bitch!” He swings his arm down, hellfire in his grasp, and it takes everything in you not to flinch. If he wants to hurt you he can hurt you. You both know there’s nothing you can do to stop him.

His hand stops millimeters away from burning off your face, flames vanishing abruptly in what you know is a massive show of power. His fist trembles before falling, and when you look him in the eyes again his face is confused and awe-struck. 

“You would have let me hit you.” The words come out whispered and reverent. Your tears fall in a silent stream down your cheeks.

“When have I ever been able to stop you?” There’s nothing Enji can say to that, and nothing more that you have to say to him, and slowly, laboriously, you climb the stairs and make your way back to your old bedroom. 

🌱

When you open the door you’re met with the same sight you saw after first waking here, and the memory alone is almost enough to break you. Apparently Enji’s love for you alone isn’t enough to grant you even a sliver of control. Apparently, Enji’s never truly loved you.

The world outside is dark by the time you decide to stop sulking. Enji barricaded himself in your, no, his room shortly after you slammed the door on your own and left once to fix himself dinner. You’re pretty sure that he’s been done for a while, but just to make sure you peek your head out the door, listening intently for any sounds of movement.

Upon hearing none, you creep your way down the stairs, finding the kitchen lights on but the room empty, to your relief. Your stomach growls, and you hurry to make a simple dinner of rice and miso soup with pan-fried fish cakes on the side. Your eyes go soft as you remember how your mother used to make this for you on nights that she didn’t feel like cooking. 

The meal comes together in minutes, and your mouth waters as you sit down at the dinner table to take your first bites. You don’t even taste what you're shoveling in your mouth for the first few bites until you do, and suddenly you’re making a mad dash for the bathroom. 

Nothing comes up, thankfully, but you spend a good minute or two gagging and producing spit. Okay, maybe you ate too fast. It’s when you catch sight of the pregnancy test in the trash that you pause. Enji doesn’t give you birth control and he sure as hell doesn’t wear a condom, so to soothe your anxieties you ordered a bulk box or pregnancy tests online and take a test every week. You’ve been lucky so far, but…

The hastiness with which you open the box makes you fumble it, and you take a minute to calm yourself. As you set the test aside after peeing on it, you think about how you would go about telling Enji that you’re pregnant. Would you tell him? There have to be home-brew remedies to an unwanted pregnancy. 

Before long, the ten minutes are up. With shaking hands, you pick the box back up. For a second, you hesitate. Is this really something you want to know? What do you even want to see? You can’t answer either of those questions, so instead you just open the box, eyes closed as you grab at the little stick of plastic. 

You feel the front, orienting the test so that you’ll be able to read it, and open your eyes. The world drops out around you and you feel all the air on your body leave in a single, shaky breath. God. Maybe you should tell Enji.

🌱

You get up early the next morning, needing the extra time to prepare a traditional breakfast before Enji wakes. You hope that the familiar food will make him more amiable to what you’re about to say to him.

You’re just about done pan-frying the fish when the telltale sound of Enji’s footsteps hurrying down the stairs reaches your ears. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen, and you turn to see him looking at the already set table with a look of mild shock on his face. 

He just stands in the doorway, watching as you turn off the stove and carry the pan over to the table to serve up the fish. You place the now-empty pan back on the stove before untying your apron and getting a mug from the cabinets.

“Coffee?” His shoulders tense at the sound of your voice, and something close to guilt and apprehension crosses his face.

“Yes please.” You hum in acknowledgement, filling the mug almost all the way before pouring in a little bit of whole milk, just the way Enji likes it. You set it down on the table before going to get yourself a glass. 

Enji gingerly slides into his seat, like a child who’s not quite sure whether it’s okay for them to sneak into their parent’s bed at night. You smile at the comparison, and the relief that breaks on his face is obvious. 

You fill the glass with water, emptying the coffee grounds in the trash before taking a seat at the table. Enji stares expectantly at your glass of water, and then to the coffee pot. You raise an eyebrow.

“Yes?” He blinks.

“Are you going to pour yourself a cup of coffee?” Enji’s voice is mild and hesitant, like he’s afraid that the smallest change in tone will set you off. You slide into your seat at the breakfast table, setting your glass of water down.

“Oh, honey, too much caffeine isn’t good for the baby.” The effect of your words is instantaneous. There’s a look of guarded wistfulness in his eyes, mouth slack with surprise and his formerly clenched hand soft as he reaches for yours. You let him take it.

“The baby?” He glances down at your stomach, as if it’ll confirm what he’s hearing. “You’re...pregnant?” You give him a sweet, affirming smile.

“Judging by when my last period was I’m two weeks in.” Enji rises from his seat, walking around the table to kneel between your legs, a large hand splayed reverently across your abdomen. 

“I’m going to be a father again.” This is both the happiest and weakest you’ve ever seen Enji in your life. This is probably the happiest and weakest he’s ever been in his life. Then, like a bucket of ice-water being dumped on him, his mood switches.

“You don’t want a baby.” There it is. The realization you were waiting for. You smile with far too many teeth, eyes cruel and sharp.

“But you do.” The words hit him like a slap across the face, and sadistically, you revel in the pain his inner conflict causes him.

“You don’t want a baby.” Enji repeats his words dumbly, as if saying them again will make them make sense. Your smile grows wider.

“But you do.” You take his hands in yours, squeezing gently. “Everything that I do is for you, isn't it? My life revolves around you.” He yanks his hands back as if he’s been burned. 

“Stop. Stop this.” You lean forward, until your noses are almost touching.

“Stop what, Enji? Stop trying to please you? Stop trying to mold myself into the perfect image of your wife? Stop fulfilling every foolish wish you made in bringing me here? Stop what?” He swallows hard, blue eyes wary.

“Y/n, stop this.” There’s a slight growl to his voice. You press on.

“You could stop this. Force me to swallow plan B. Take me to a clinic. Push me down a flight of stairs. Take a coat hanger and-”

“STOP!” His voice rings out, desperate and pained, and finally, you acquiesce, face grave and serious.

“I always wanted kids, you know. If you had just dated and married me properly I would have given them to you, happily.” Your eyes go fuzzy around the edges, gaze faraway and wistful. 

“I wanted a girl, first. A sweet daughter to spoil and coddle. And then another, so that they would always have a friend. I always switched back and forth on whether I wanted a third child. I think that if I were to have one, I would want a son.” Your eyes refocus, spearing Enji with a look far too knowing and cognizant. 

“You know, the youngest child always learns faster. They have their siblings to model after. How does that sound, Enji? A strong, talented, prodigy of a son. Finally a child worth neglecting the others for.” 

His face is tight with pain, and you tread carefully. Not because you’re afraid of what will happen should he shatter, but because you haven’t decided whether he would be more useful broken. You lay a delicate hand on your stomach, rubbing gently as if you can feel the baby kicking.

“Do you think that the daughters would come back and visit a father who was never there for them? Do you think that they would still see the man who cast them aside for their younger brother as a father? Would they call you daddy as they reach for your credit card? Or maybe they would call you father, in the same way you call a teacher sir. Maybe even Enji, if they’re feeling bold enough. Bastard when they’re talking about you to their friends.” 

Enji’s hands clench spasmodically, opening and closing like the fluttering wings of a dying bird. 

“Or maybe they don’t talk about you at all. Why spare any thought for a man who obviously never thought of them?” You lean back, satisfied at the complete and utter destruction written across his face. Enji may have taken you from your life to his own, but in doing so he gave you the keys to his emotional annihilation. You don’t think that he even knew that, not until this very moment.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want?” His words are broken and strangled, his head bowed. You regard him with a cool sort of disdain. 

“Where was this concern for my desires when you decided that I was going to be your wife?” He hands his head, unable to look you in the eyes. 

“Is this what this is? You’re getting back at me for bringing you home?” Though his words are muffled, there’s a slight edge to them. You bristle. 

“I may have some sort of feeling close to love for you, Enji, but know that it’s not by my own choice. It’s my brain literally trying to keep me alive.” He lifts his head, blue eyes blazing.

“I know you love me. You’ve said so yourself.” You scoff incredulously, almost choking on your own spit.

“You think saying something makes it true? Oh my god, I pity you, Enji Todoroki.” His fists clench once more, anger and humiliation boiling just under the calm facade that he forces onto his face. He says nothing, not that there’s anything to say. 

You let him stew in his own fury and shame for a minute or two before sighing and shifting in your chair, watching as his ire is slowly replaced with a look of deep, intense apathetic sadness. 

“I’m not actually pregnant.” The emotions that play across his face at that are instantaneous; first relief, then grief, then yearning, then resignation. 

“That’s probably for the best.” Enji sounds so, so tired. You’re sure you look just as much so. The food on your plate no longer looks appealing, and you push it away, going to pour yourself a cup of coffee. 

For a couple minutes there’s nothing but the sound of you sipping at your coffee and Enji finishing off his breakfast. It’s when he sets his chopsticks down that you finally break the silence. 

“Do you really think you love me? Like, when you say ‘I love you’ do you actually mean it?” Enji looks at a loss for words, and you tilt your head slightly to the side. “Do you even know what it means?” In what might be the most humbling act of his life, Enji slowly shakes his head. You sigh. 

The look of shock and mistrust on his face as you cross the table to straddle his lap and place your hands on his shoulders is almost amusing, but you force yourself to stay focused. 

“Enji, with the way our relationship is now, I can never love you. I may feel sexually attracted to and affection for you but love requires some level of respect and I don’t respect you because of what you’ve done to me and how you’ve handled it.” He opens his mouth, probably to protest, and you squeeze his shoulder to get him to shut it.

“Maybe you don’t need me to love you, and I get that. Companionship and sex aren’t poor substitutes for that. But when you have your kids and they ask why mommy never leaves the house and why you and mommy fight every night when you think they’re asleep, well, I expect that companionship and sex won’t fix that.” You slide off his lap, going to get yourself a mug of coffee.

“I’ll love my kids. But will they love you once they know what you’ve done? Because half of them will be from me and I know that I will never love you if you refuse to change this relationship you have with me.” 

Cream, a little bit of sugar, you stir your coffee before taking a sip and watching his face. The breakfast table isn’t really the ideal place to be having moral crises at, you know, but you don’t think that Enji’ll complain about it. You sit back down, not touching a bit of your food as you watch what could be spiteful silence or genuine consideration play across his face. 

It’s after the five minute mark that you consider speaking up, reminding him that though you’ve had plenty of chances to run recently you haven’t. Knowing Enji though, you think it’ll do more harm than good. It’s when your tense silence hits the ten minute mark that Enji looks up, jaw set mutinously. 

“We can go to the hardware store today.” He spits the words out like poison, but you smile anyways, a bright cheery thing that has Enji’s rock-like expression melting slightly. You swoop in for a short kiss before picking up your plate to put away for later, smile growing wider as you hear Enji huff and begin eating again. 

You know this isn’t a guaranteed road to freedom yet, but you like to think that you’re pretty similar to the innocuous looking mint plant in your garden. Enji’s just buried you in open ground. 

🌱

commission a fic here

[vintagedolan]

mint chocolate

you’ve been in love with ethan since the early days of your childhood friendship, but what happens when it’s too late to tell him?

word count: 5k

warnings/tags: fluffy fluff lets go ladies

also shoutout to @gloriousgrant​ for this request, ily bby!!

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

An elephant’s memory. That’s what your mom had always said - you had an elephant’s memory. Never forgot a detail, a friend, a face. Which is why you could still remember the first halloween party you ever got invited to, all the way back in preschool, as clearly as you could remember what you had for breakfast yesterday.

You didn’t remember the party though, but that was because you didn’t go. It had been a simple decision once you’d found out from eavesdropping on the mom gossip that only 33 of the 35 kids from your class had gotten the cute personalized invitations in the mail. 

Your four year old self said it best - “If etee and gray aren’t going, I’s not going.”

You didn’t realize until you were older that you words had made Lisa cry, overwhelmed and grateful that her boys had a friend at school when everyone seemed to be against them. So, she’d decided to make it the best halloween that she possibly could for her kids, and for you. 

And thus, over way too much sugary candy, smores, trick or treating and the watchful eyes of your mom and Lisa, the trio was born on Halloween night, 2004.

The three of you held strong through elementary school - sat next to each other until the teacher separated you for talking too much, shared your lunches every day. Lisa would even send an extra piece of candy on Friday’s for you in Ethan’s lunch - little pieces of mint chocolate that they kept at the salon for clients. Recess was always your favorite time, because the boys were wild, always finding something more fun than the playground equipment, like trees to climb or hills to roll down. You were fine with that - there were too many kids on the playground anyways. And when little scrawny David tried to kiss you at the top of the slide Ethan shoved him down, getting himself time out for the next three days.

You sat with him in the mulch every day until he was allowed to play again. 

Middle school was where the bumps in the road came along. Grayson went, in his mother’s words, ‘girl crazy’, and in his brother’s words, he ‘became a player’. Turns out, middle school girls don’t trust their boyfriends to have girl best friends, and Grayson fell into the trap, desperate to people please and get a date to the dance. Every time he broke up with them he’d come back, apologize, want to be your friend again, and you let him, because you loved him, even if he was a dick sometimes. 

Ethan was another story. Sure, he had a few 6th grade girlfriends who constituted an after school hug as a date, but the first negative thing they said about you had him bounding down the hallway to your locker to reassure you that he was, once again, a ‘single pringle’.

With Grayson off having Lisa drive him and the girl of the month to the fro-yo shop twice a week, it left space for you and Ethan to get even closer than you already were. You took stupid pictures on his families computer, edited them to high heaven with the strongest contrast and put stupidly fonted “<3″ and “bffz foreva” all around your faces, set them as your blackberry backgrounds. You watched movie reruns and renamed the characters and talked about how Ethan wanted to be an actor someday. You played hide and seek in the Dolan’s backyard, always giving away your hiding spot when one of you got too spooked and ran to the other one. You were allowed to spend the night if you stayed in the living room, which meant you took the couch, Ethan took the floor, and usually Grayson ended up curled up in the recliner, wanting to be a part of the fun once he got home and realized he was missing out. 

Things got worse in 8th grade. The bullying was incessant with the boys growing popularity on vine, and since the three of you were always seen as a unit of sorts, you got pulled into it. There were so many jeers in the hallways that you couldn’t keep track of them. The trio reunited, Grayson clinging to you as one of the few friends he could trust. It became texts of ‘lets eat lunch by the band room, no one will bother us over there’ and ‘hey, I heard Jillian earlier, u ok?” snuck under science room tables. You got suspended for punching a guy who wouldn’t shut his mouth about Ethan in September - your parents were pissed but you didn’t care - no one was going to fuck with your friends. 

Your reprieves were after school when you could hang out like you always had... well, after they got done with football or lacrosse or wrestling practice. They’d come home sweaty, smelling like gym mats, texting you to come over. If your mom couldn’t take you over Lisa would come pick you up - even Cameron got you a few times, acting like it was a chore but secretly glad that her brothers had someone, anyone, to rely on. You went to every single one of their games and matches, wrote 47 and 8 on your cheeks in face paint and yelled as loud as you could, ate celebratory ice cream with them when they won. 

Things got, somehow, even worse freshman year of high school. The bullying was even more intense, with threats posed against both of them, and against you. Ethan got secretive for the first time in his entire friendship with you. One minute he was even more clingy than usual, and the next day he was quiet and distant. It took you calling him out on it one night for him to finally fess up.

And it was those four painful words that made you realize that you were in love with Ethan Dolan.

“We’re moving to LA.”

You cried. Ethan cried. Grayson cried. Lisa cried. 

But you dried your tears, put on a brave face, told him how proud you were of him, of both of them. They were chasing their dreams, making it happen for themselves in a way that you could only admire. What type of friend would you be if you tried to hold them back?

You made the most of the last month that they were still in New Jersey, hanging out every minute that you could, helping them look at apartments in LA online, watching them film videos for their channel, supporting them every step of the way. 

You lost track of how many times you had to reassure Ethan that you’d be fine in high school without him, even if it wasn’t true. He’d told you over and over to just pretend like you weren’t friends with them anymore - anything to get the bullying to stop. You told him no way in hell. 

You stayed the night at the Dolan’s house in October, the night before they got on the plane to move out. It was fun, an early halloween celebration of sorts, mixed with a going away party that had you laughing as much as it had you crying. 

The real kicker came around midnight, after Grayson had fallen asleep in the chair that he was much too big for now, and you and Ethan were left in the silence. 

“I’m gonna miss you. So much. I don’t know what life looks like without you,” you admitted with teary eyes, toying with his fingers.

“I’m gonna miss you more. But I’ll always be here to visit, and it’ll be just like old times.”

You doubted that, but you weren’t going to say it. The thought of not seeing him everyday, having him so far away, surrounded by new people, new girls - it put a lump in your throat that you couldn’t quite get the words “I’m in love with you” around. You’d realized that it was more than just friendship for you as soon as he told you he was leaving - but you couldn’t bring yourself to put that on him when he already felt guilty enough for leaving you behind.

So you just nodded at his promises of flying you out to LA when they got enough money, showing you all around California, tried to believe him when he said you were always going to be his number one, and fell asleep against his chest. 

You rode with them to the airport, held their hands the whole way in the backseat and kept your head held high as you hugged them and sent them through security.

You sobbed the whole way home. Even after you managed to pull yourself together a little bit, when you got that made it, miss you already text that signaled they had landed that night, a whole new wave of tears made their appearance. 

You knew it would be hard, but you didn’t realize just how lonely you were going to be without both of them, but especially Ethan at your side. 

But there was a silver lining.

It was in those next few months that you realized that Ethan always kept his promises. He facetimed you whenever he could, showed you around their apartment, asked you to explain how to make mac and cheese cause he was ‘gonna starve’. He sent you pictures of everywhere cool he visited in LA, even sent you postcards sometimes just for fun. And when he came to visit a month later he stopped at your house first, knocking incessantly until you opened the door and threw your arms around him. Once the tears had stopped - the ones you let flow and the ones he blinked back, he reached into his bag and pulled something out.

“Look what I found in the airport in LA. Your favorite.” He placed the mint chocolate bar in your hands with a grin, proud of himself for putting such a big smile on your face. 

And so, the tradition began. 

Every time he came back to New Jersey he was on your doorstep, and every time he brought you one of those little chocolate bars. It didn’t matter that he was home to see his family, because any time you brought it up he’d wave you off, reassure you that ‘you are family bub’, making you fall more and more in love with him every time. 

When he had the money, he flew you out to California, showed you all his favorite places. He took you to the beach, on hikes, made sure you got the full cali experience with him at your side.

There were times over the years where he visited less, or visited more. But It didn’t matter if it’d been a week or 3 months since you’d seen him - the butterflies were all the same when you saw him again. 

You were sure to catch up each time you reunited, going down the list of everything you might of missed, even if you still talked every day. It went like so:

One: how’s the channel going? To which he would ask “how’s school?”

Two: any new friends? He’d ask the same.

And then came question number three, your least favorite:

Got a girlfriend?

You’d wait with bated breath every time, sighing out in secret relief when he’d say “nah, don’t have time” or “no, LA girls are weird”. And then you’d go on with whatever you had planned that day, whether it was just hanging around your old Jersey stomping grounds or sit in your room, and eventually your apartment when you moved out, heart a bit lighter.

Maybe that’s why it hurt so bad on his last visit when he’d hesitated on that question, looked down at his hands.

The most painful four words you’d been told changed that afternoon, when he finally answered.

“Yeah, I do actually.” 

You’d always known it was going to happen eventually - you’d been preparing for it in the back of your mind for a while now. You saw the comments on every post he made, the replies to his tweets, thousands and thousands of adoring girls, and it only grew every single day. Maybe it had been dumb to think that he’d ever realize just how in love with him you were, dumb to think that maybe, maybe, he saw you that way too. 

So, you put on your brave face, forced that smile to spread over your face and ran through the motions.

“Really?! What, since when?!” had never sounded faker than when they came out of your mouth, laced with false enthusiasm. 

And you listened to him tell you all about her, Allison, a girl he’d met at an LA party that he didn’t want to go to. You nodded at the right times, smiled and asked questions you didn’t care to know the answers to. 

You secretly wished hearts made a noise when they broke - maybe it would have stopped the conversation, saved you from having to see his face light up when he said her name, the blush that spread across his cheeks when he told you about his first date with her. 

Three months passed - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t run at least part of that conversation through your head every day since you had it. It was nice that Ethan wasn’t the type to put his relationship out to the public - a front row seat would only make it worse, you were sure. 

You decided it was time to try, to really try to find someone that wasn’t Ethan. Sure, you’d talked to people in the past, but you’d never gone all in when trying to find someone to be with, because, well, there was really only one on your mind anyways. 

Which was why it was weird to answer one of Ethan’s usual what’re you up to this week texts with not much, work, hanging out with my parents, got a date tomorrow night. You all still working on the candle launch stuff?

At his kitchen counter in LA, Ethan frowned as he read it. Date.

“What?” Grayson asked, reading his twin’s face as he washed the pans from dinner.

“Y/N’s going on a date.” 

“Huh. Well, good for her,” he shrugged, looking down at the water running over his hands, eyes flickering up to Ethan’s face, trying to figure out if he should say what he’s thinking. Fuck it, if he gets pissed he gets pissed. “How do you feel about that?”

That got Ethan’s attention off his phone screen.

“How do I feel about that? What’s that supposed to mean?” The defensiveness in his tone had Gray tensing up a bit.

“It’s just a question bro.” 

“I have a girlfriend Grayson.” 

Grayson stopped scrubbing, annoyed at his brother’s tone. He’d tried to be supportive, loving - but he was getting tired of Ethan complaining about his relationship woes and not doing anything about it. 

“Yeah, who you said you wanted to break up with twice last week, for the record. And you’re the one that brought up Y/N, not me,” he pointed out, knowing that if he was already gonna piss his brother off, he might as well say everything he wanted to say. 

“You never liked Allison,” Ethan snapped.

“Fuckin facts, cause she’s manipulative and fake.”

“No she isn’t.” He threw Grayson a glare, pressing his hands together until his knuckles popped.

“If you actually believed that you would have hit back with an actual argument just now. I mean jesus Ethan, she told you you couldn’t go back to see Y/N for god’s sake. That used to be your fuckin’ dealbreaker back in the day, why would you put up with that shit now?” 

“I didn’t put up with it, I told her it wasn’t negotiable and I went to Jersey anyways!” He was yelling now, hands gripping the edge of the counter.

“Yeah, and then she gave you the silent treatment for a week when you got back like a fuckin’ six year old. That’s some middle school shit and you know it E. You don’t have to put up with that, you can find somebody who treats you better.” 

“Will you fucking stop Grayson?” He threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got enough shit going on right now, I don’t need you in my head too.” 

“Fine. But friends don’t get jealous when their friends go on dates, especially not when that friend is across the fucking country. Just so you know.” He watched his brother put his face in his hands and felt that familiar pang in heart that made him add a “I’ll be in my room if you wanna talk about it” before he walked out.

Grayson had mastered the art of keeping tabs on Ethan without him knowing. So even from his room he heard him leave, and based on how long he sat in the driveway with the car running, he knew exactly where he was going.

So, he wasn’t fully surprised when Ethan came into his room three hours later without knocking and laid down on his bed next to him without a word, staring up at the ceiling.

“So...”

“So.” Ethan repeated. 

“Did you uh...”

“Break up with her?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I did.” 

“Cool. How’d she take it.”

“About exactly how you'd expect.”

“Ugly sobbing?”

“So much ugly sobbing.” 

“Sounds on brand.”

The conversation faded into silence, only the hum of the fan spinning in the corner filling the room. Grayson let it go on for a few minutes before he spoke up again.

“So.”

“So.”

“You goin’ back to Jersey?”

Ethan perked up at that one, sitting up slightly and turning so he could look at his brother. He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the explanation. 

“C’mon bro. You can’t act like Y/N doesn’t have anything to do with this. I mean, you should have dropped Allison a while ago, but it’s not a coincidence that the idea of Y/N going on a date was what made you do it now. You should just tell her how you feel. Put it all on the table.”

He pondered that for a minute, staring up at the white ceiling.

“I hate sharing a brain with you, you fuck,” were the words he eventually chose, rolling over and pulling out his phone. Grayson smirked when he saw what he searched - American Airlines.

“Not my fault we split into two goops.”

Ethan typed in the flight plan he’d done more than any other - LAX -> EWR. 4 hours and 56 minute, like usual. There was one leaving in just over an hour and a half, and the knot that formed in his stomach was all too familiar. It came around every time he waited on the doorstep of her apartment in New Jersey, waited for her to show up at the door with that bright smile that had never changed, never wavered. He’d do anything to have her smiling like that all the time.

“Maybe I shouldn’t do this.” 

Grayson’s brows furrowed, knitting together above his eyes. “What?”

“What if she gets mad that I ruined her date. I don’t wanna fuck that up for her. She could be happy with the guy.” The words tasted like metal on his tongue. 

“Oh c’mon Ethan. She’s only dating somebody because you’re dating somebody. Well, were, I guess.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know how she feels about me.”

“You’re forgetting that I’ve been her friend for just as long as you have. You just gotta trust me on this bro. It’s not a coincidence that she starts going on dates when you tell her you’ve got a girl.”

“So many coincidences,” Ethan huffed.

“So many not coincidences,” Grayson corrected, raising his eyebrows and waiting for him to give in. 

“Am I just supposed to show up at her house? I’m not gonna get to Jersey until-” he did the time change math that was second nature by now “- shit, like 2am? That’s kinda sus.”

“Right, because showing up at her house isn’t the first thing you do every time we go home anyways.” Grayson rolled his eyes. “What time’s the flight?” 

“In like an hour and a half.”

“We can make it, just pack a bag real quick, I’ll start the car up.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ethan nodded, standing up and waiting for a minute before he fully decided that holy shit, he was finally gonna do this, and then he was running down the hall towards his room.

“And don’t wear shorts! Put on some fuckin’ pants and look decent at least!” Grayson called after him with a grin.

“I can dress myself bro, fuck off!” 

It turns out, Ludacris mode on a tesla comes in handy when you’re trying not to miss a flight. They sped all the way to LAX, barely time for a hug and a “text me when you get there” before Ethan was running through TSA precheck and barely making the last boarding call of Flight 8333. He took the numbers as a sign that he was doing the right thing, that everything was going to work out.

The nerves really hit when he got settled in his seat on the plane, tattooed thigh bouncing on the floor, covered by his Louis pants. His shoes didn’t match the outfit very well, but there was nothing he could do about it now. He hadn’t had much time to do anything but run through the terminals - he hoped he didn’t stink, didn’t forget anything.

Fuck. The chocolate. 

He twitched in his seat, ready to run back out and head to that little convenience store where the manager knew his name, knew he was only there to get a diet root beer for the flight and a mint chocolate bar. But it was no use - the place was probably closed, and it wasn’t like he could get off the plane anyways.

So he put his headphones in, turned on his playlist and closed his eyes as they started to taxi down the runway, praying that maybe he could sleep. Behind his eyelids, memories of you played like a mixture between a slideshow and a movie - little snippets and still images of times he had committed to memory, swore he would never forget.  

You, with your toes in the California sand for the first time, so excited to see the beach and the ocean waves crashing, face lighting up as you ran towards the water. Your fourth grade halloween costume - the first year the three of you had coordinated, all of you going as little skeletons. Sitting in the middle school hallway with lunch balanced carefully on your legs, swapping sandwiches and laughs. You hugging him goodbye when he left for LA, how he never wanted to let go, wished he could take you with him more than anything else. Every visit, every time he counted down the days before he could make it back to see you.

He couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t in love with you, wasn’t trying to convince himself that it would be wrong to ask you to try long distance, wrong to ‘hold you back’ or ask you to support someone, to love someone, so far away. It almost felt childish now, the thought that the two of you were going to end up with anybody else. His nerves prickled at the daunting task that he knew was awaiting him when the plane wheels touched down again, so he focused on your face instead, trying to breathe.

It was both the longest and quickest flight of his life somehow. 

He got a rental car - it was no smooth cat, but it would do - text Grayson that he was safe, and headed out in the familiar direction of your apartment before he could stop himself. He hadn’t made it four minutes down the interstate when the rain started falling, slow at first until it grew into a downpour that was roaring against the car. 

His wipers worked double time, keeping his windshield just clear enough for him to find his way to your parking lot. 

Heart in his throat, he threw his door open, stepping out into the rain before he could talk himself into turning around, jogging to your door and knocking.

In your bed, your eyes shot open. You waited for another knock, heart beating fast when you heard it, and then the constant rhythm of them afterwards. You rolled over, checked your phone.

2:16am.

“Who in the fuck,” you grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at your eyes as you headed out the door of your room in your pajamas, confused and concerned. If it was your drunk neighbor again, you were going to kill him. 

Popping up on your tiptoes, you peeked through the peep hole, breath catching in your throat. 

There was no way.

You blinked hard, looked again.

You knew that face, and you threw the door open, relief and panic playing tug of war on your heartbeat.

“Ethan? What- what the hell are you doing here? Are you okay? Is something wrong?” It wasn’t unlike him to show up and surprise you, but it had never been in the middle of the night. Still, he looked perfect as always, even with his drenched hair plastered to his head and soggy clothes. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay... well come inside, come outta the rain,” you reached out to grab his shirt, pull him inside, but he caught your hand, holding on tightly.

“I gotta say something first, and then you can decide if you wanna let me in.” He was too formal, more serious than you were used to and it had your stomach in knots. 

“You’re scaring me a little E.” 

“Don’t be scared. It’s just me.” His eyes shone, even in the dark, with a familiarity that settled you a bit and you nodded, waiting for him to say whatever it was. 

“I don���t know why I never thought it was okay for us to love each other. No, that’s not right, that’s not what I meant to say. I... hang on.” 

He took a deep breath, rainwater spraying a bit off his lips when he pushed it out and tried again.

“A long time ago, when we were kids, I convinced myself that we couldn’t love each other, because I couldn’t handle losing you. You’ve been my rock, my only constant outside my family for my entire life, and I don’t think I would have made it without you. So I just decided that we couldn’t love each other like that. And that was selfish. Because I’ve always been in love with you I think. Back then I don’t think I realized what it was. But now, when I look back, I think that’s what it was.”

You’ve always been the person I wanna see every day, especially when I can’t. The first person I think of when I wake up, the one I’m thinking about when I go to sleep. You’re my favorite human on the whole planet, and if soulmates are real I think that’s us. I don’t know why I ever tried to be with anybody else when you were here the whole time.”

And I know it’s not fair for me to put all this on you right now, especially when you tried to be supportive of me with other girls. But that text, you telling me you were going on a date. It slapped me in the face, made me realize just what I was about to give up, what was about to slip through my fingers if I didn’t get my shit together and just tell you everything. So... here I am. I’m here, and I love you... I’m in love with you. And I just needed you to know that. I’m in love with you Y/N. Always have been. And I kinda think that you could be in love with me too. Or at least, I hope maybe you are.” 

He had been looking at you the whole time, but you saw the nerves take over as he realized everything he had just said out loud, as he watched you, waited for your reaction. 

“I...” Your brain was spinning, unable to understand how everything you’d been waiting your whole life to hear had just come out of his mouth, all at once. 

It wasn’t a conscious decision - more of an instinct. Two steps forward out into the rain and then you were throwing your arms around his neck, up on your tip toes to finally, finally, press your lips to his like you’d dreamed about doing so many times. 

Your fantasies hadn’t done it justice. He was so warm, so familiar, so Ethan. His hands went to your waist, fingers curling and pulling you against him as he leaned in so hard that you leaned back with him, smiling as your hands came around to hold his face, hold him to you, unwilling for the moment to ever end. 

You didn’t even notice the rain.

“Am I dreaming?” You hadn’t meant to say it out loud but it slipped past your lips anyways, making Ethan’s chest swell and his smile get even brighter as he pulled back enough to look at you.

“No baby. This is real. This is us, right here, right now.” 

"No fuckin’ way,” you breathed, running your thumbs over his cheeks before he kissed you again, walking you backwards into the house and out of the downpour and over to the couch. 

“I love you. So much. Sorry I forgot your chocolate by the way,” he grinned after he sat down and pulled you onto his lap, gazing up at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“You’re so much better than mint chocolate. I love you too.” You kissed him again just because you could, relishing in the feeling of him there with you, not a worry or a care in the world.

[redhoodfucker69]

It’s actually really painful to have your teeth whitened. It hurts a lot, and they look like chalk until they heal. Sometimes, whitening doesn’t even lift all of the stains, and fake enamel has to be put over teeth, and it doesn’t always match.

My two front teeth are a different color from the rest of them. My family never really had soda in the house as a kid. My mother used to leave out mint tea, which she’d steep in the sun, lightly sweetened, served chilled. It was my favorite drink. She’d leave it on the back patio, and I have never been able to make that same tea or recreate the taste of my childhood. We had a next door neighbor at that house who had wild mint growing in her garden she let us harvest, because she viewed it as a weed, but we sure loved that mint tea. She had a miniature pony, I think his name was Philip, that ran around in the backyard, and I loved that horse. He was so unique as opposed to the big dogs and little chihuahuas all over our town. Another neighbor down the way, Miss Rosie, that lived in a house hidden from the road just after the asphalt turned to dirt, let me and my brother and our foreign exchange sister, Fah, pick pomegranates from her overgrown tree.

Miss Rosie died of cancer just a little after we moved out of that house.

Nowadays, my dad tells my younger siblings to stop leaving water bottles half finished all over the house, and threatens them with teeth like mine if they keep wasting water, because he’ll stop buying water bottles if they won’t use them.

Of course, the memory of thousand dollar dental bills right before senior pictures stays his hand, and he’ll never get rid of the water bottles.

I grew up in a small Arizona town called Globe. It’s a few miles away from the San Carlos Apache Reservation, and if I bring up my fucked up teeth to anyone from town, they’ll laugh and say one of two things.

“That’s mining water for ya.”

“Man, that Agent Orange knows how to stick around.”

In 1969, the US Forest Service sprayed multiple Arizona families with Silvex, also known as Agent Orange, on repeated occasions, as part of a test of the new chemical agent. Civilians were specifically targeted by the toxic fumes. Within days, they started experiencing symptoms. Loss of mobility, up to 36 seizures a day, lifelong problems that soon developed into cancer. They sued, and settled out of court for an undisclosed sum. It was only years later that stories started surfacing again of Hodgkin’s Disease and cancer, with reports detailing in the hundreds.

About a decade before, a less harsh concoction similar to that same chemical was sprayed over San Carlos Reservation, one of the poorest Native American reservations in the country, in an effort to wipe out the vegetation along the Gila River to provide more water to the Phoenix metropolitan area. Effects did not start within days, as was the case when it was sprayed on the residents of Globe, Arizona and bombed the water for years to come. For over a decade, the area along Gila River was doused in this herbicide, killing the ecosystem and poisoning the residents of the reservation in an effort to sustain the growth of the Phoenix metropolitan area. In 1969, once again, following the disaster of the bombing of Globe, the flights came to an end.

Growing up in Globe in the late 90′s and early 2000′s was strange. I knew about the Agent Orange. We joked about, laughed about, even as our elders continued to die from cancer, and the reservation struggled under a destroyed ecological system and the resulting food system. My fucked up teeth were commonly blamed on the mining and the Agent Orange in equal measure, because we didn’t truly know how long it could possibly be until the water was safe, but you couldn’t tell a kid in the early 2000′s to not drink from the hose.

The US government did not discontinue the use of Agent Orange until the late 70′s, and it was only decided to discontinue the use after birth defects continued to emerge in lab animals.

I need to stress this.

Animals.

A decade after they had melted real human being’s hair off.

It’s still not fully known why the tribal government agreed to the use of herbicides on the soil, and I still have not found evidence of them uncovering what was in the chemical concoction that was sprayed, and only a small fraction of the residents of Globe have received reparations. The San Carlos residents have received none.

I used to get called a conspiracy theorist for bringing this up. People didn’t believe this happened. The US government engaging chemical warfare on its own citizens, not for civil disobedience, or unionizing, or telling corporations no, but just because we were poor, and we were there, and they could, is not something people want to address. But it happened, and you should know about it.

[withoneheadlight]

NSFW Anon here and I’ve come back w the most NSFW thing ever right, so like imagine this,,,, Steve and Billy being happy and content,,,, wow

Hey nsfw! anon💗💗💗. here I finally am!

First of all: this is the most amazing, most beautiful of asks🌟. Thinking about then happy and content, thinking about them having a FUTURE together is, the most non-safe thing ever, definitely not safe for the heart, in that way love is always a risk, a leap of faith, it's not safe at all. But I honestly think these two can fall on their feet at the end of the jump. I don’t think is gonna be easy, ofc. It’s not easy people we’re talking about. The jump is gonna last long. Sometimes is gonna feel like a freefall. That rage Billy has inside is going to be hard to deal with. For Steve, for himself. Things like that leave a mark, and being raised like that, learn that you have to bite to survive, that becomes an instinct, so it’s going to hurt, learn to live with that inside. And Steve-- having so ingrained that love is something you have to buy, a rent you have to pay without fail so people stay by your side, well, that ain’t easy either. And there are so, so many other things they’ll have to deal with. To learn. To understand (about themselves. about the other. about all the other people in their lives) so they can keep moving forward. 

But if I’m not gonna be a romantic in here where else could I be? xD So I believe love wins, haha, at the end. Lame as it might sound. I believe that because the more I think about these two the more alike I found them. The more I think they’re like two sides of the same coin, spinning, spinning, and sometimes, unexpectedly, the coin stops on its rim, it doesn’t fall: they realize the other gets them. They realize they’re looking in the eyes of that somebody that is gonna know. when they need it. Its gonna look at their eyes and just know. And that’s not gonna make it easier but-- its the thing that changes it all. 

It’s the thing that rescues them both.

And that’s the idea that fuels all my stories because my stories are, like, always the same? xD, something draws them apart. Something draws them back. And the thing is, I had always imagined them, like, moving together to a tiny, shitty apartment after that, after everything happens, after they’re finally together, and for good, that last time. But then, after the two month+ quarantine I spent at my own tiny apartment, I was lucky enough to move to my parent’s house in the country,  and I had spent almost all that time writing them in a  frenzy, so the moment I got there, with all that green and the trees and the fresh air I thought okok, the apartment is good but they’re gonna buy a house, at some point, they have to buy a house. So I started to write this messy hc that is like, mmm, an epilogue, for a lot of those stories, like a mash-up? future fic-ish-y thing, mixing parts of them all. Like: no matter what happens. Or how it happens. All roads lead to this future. To them coming back to the other like gravity. To them buying an old house with a backyard, and an ugly couch, and a strange-shaped kitchen, with them finding their place inside themselves and together and in the world. And if not their place at least some kind of peace (because, well, it's never that easy either, as we are as ever-changing as life itself is)

But, you know, a good future. Together.

So, here is a small piece of that, a bit messy and a bit tooth-rotting but, I’m writing this is basically to make myself happy so, no regrets xD. Also i hope it makes you a bit happy too, anon, as you have made me with this lovely lovely ask.

…...

The kitchen is Steve's favorite part of the house.

It has this odd shape. Trapezoid. “Fuck, Stevie, so goddamn weird”. Doesn’t make sense in a, on the other hand, perfectly rectangular house (or, well, it does, but they’ll only find out about that later). The cabinets are ceiling-high. The tiles of the wall white and cracked under the repeating pattern of light mint-green-stemmed, yellow-petaled lilies. The whole backdoor is painted on that same shade Billy calls Ripe banana dreams, both so terribly old fashioned and fiercely cute none of them say a word about repainting it. There’s a wooden piece, built into the farthest end of the counter. It looks disgustingly juicy and mercilessly stabbed when they move in, but Billy insists on keeping it, and sanding, and treating, and varnishing it. Manages to get it back up on shape because “Better than anyone, darling you should know what a little touch of class can make”. And for more than two weeks straight the only goal of his life is to learn to cut vegetables at high speed because "I have to live up to this level of professionalism. Impress our most un-impressionable guests"

(And, to Steve’s surprise –and probably hers– when she finally dings to pay them a visit his mom is, in fact, pretty much impressed)

He learns how to make good casserole. Tries his luck with Mexican and Italian. Fails miserably with Japanese. Will never-ever admit it, but he loves it when flour ends up staining every single surface, making the biggest mess around himself when he bakes. Steve knows why it is. It's a shared feeling. Floats up till it reaches the ceiling and bounces back down to them, heavy with the warm smell of cooking pie and cinnamon. Tastes docile and tamed like “Maybe not so much vanilla next time. Whaddaya think, babe?.” Tastes savage and daring, like the overwhelming tang of freshly squeezed lemon lingering on Billy’s tongue when he crowds Steve against the fridge and kisses him, bites a shuddering laugh out of him “How the fuck are you able to even think about putting your mouth near that thing, Hargrove?. That was––ugh. That was disgusting” “Well you know me, whatever it takes to make you squirm” leaving Steve with absolutely no option but lick the sugary dough stain over his cheek to “Cover up that foul flavor” and maybe because he likes to make Billy shudder too. It’s an ever-present feeling. Like the vivid smells of green tomatoes and parsley and mustard sauce. Like the sensation of Billy’s lips against his. The way he loses his breath when Steve kisses the sugary flavour into his mouth.

This place smells like home, tastes like home. Like finally, finally. Home.

It’s Billy’s favorite place, too. But Steve doesn’t think it's just because of that. But also because maybe,

maybe.

He has also noticed that--

There’s this particular, particular moment. It happens around seven on autumns, right when the day starts to fade. It happens between six and six past twenty-eight on winters, and holds the sleepy cheeks of the newborn tulips on Steve’s garden till they fall asleep on springs, sun already sinking behind the horizon by the time both hands of the clock meet over the spiraling infinity of the eight. And it grows bigger and bigger and bigger from there: the golden sunlight seeping through the wide, double-paned window facing the backyard at an oblique angle, making the yellow flowers of the tiles look like they’re re-blooming in gold. 

It's the moment the day turns into a fire. 

It’s their favorite moment in time. And in this particular, particular day of summer, it happens at ten past nine.

Billy is making Spaghetti carbonara. The kitchen is damp with the rich smells coming out of the boiling water. Mushrooms and oregano, black pepper and lime. A song is cooing at them from the radio, the beat of the drums a boneless memory of that one echoing around the quarry that last night at the end of July. Water rippling under the quiet sigh of the breeze. Trees cutting the liquid rays of light in asymmetric halves. 

Billy takes off the apron, lowers down the fire.

Reaches out to Steve, fingers wavering come, come, come.

To me. Come to me. “C’mon, Harrington. Are you afraid of me or what?"

He has this way of looking at Steve that makes the space between them narrow, narrow: the whole unknown world. And aseptic, non-lived-in flat in downtown Florida. This tiny, tiny town. A mysteriously-shaped kitchen–

“¿Can I have this dance?” 

Steve walks to him, takes his hand. 

––Their bodies, pressed flush. 

Inside his chest, Steve’s heart is running. 

“Can I at least have this dance, before we say goodbye?”

Mazzy Star was playing. The corner of Billy’s eye felt wet where his skin brushed against the corner of Steve’s mouth. They danced till the daylight faded, till there were teardrops falling from the night sky (“Billy, I don’t have to–-” “Don’t. Don’t, pretty boy. Don’t say it. I’ll make you stay if you do. And I can’t do that”), they made lovelovelove on the back of Billy’s car.

In this light they fell in love, they fell apart. Ran away. Ran back. 

Steve nudges at Billy’s chest, makes him move backwards till he’s far enough to tug, draw him in between their arms, hands intertwined. Steve curls himself around Billy’s back, nudges at the warm trapped between his curls. He smells like BillyandSteve, like this home, like past, like future. Like us.

Steve whispers in his ear. Three words. Billy’s neck curves towards him. An instinct. Tickled by their warmth. Steve kisses the curve of his ear. Tugs the collar of his shirt aside, bites where shoulder meets neck and up, up.

“Easy, Prom King” Billy teases, grins at him tender and wild. Knows when to use the one that gets Steve every time “Or you’re gonna make me think we’ll become picture perfect from this magical night onwards. A bunch of kids. White fences. You know, the whole shebang” 

Billy crashed the Camaro into a tree in the winter of two thousand and fourteen. Had left the house in a frenzy. Something had happened Max wouldn’t talk about. But she was scared, so she had called. When Steve found him, he was in the middle of the Brookville road, feet following the twin yellow lines, so weary, so impossibly small like this, head hanging, feet stumbling, surrounded by the tall shadows of the pines. Steve stopped the car at his side, engine oozing steam, shaking in the cold mid-May air “Billy” he said. Low. Careful. Careful. Billy’s eyes looked wet in the moon-silver night, pupils blown, deceivingly calm, “What are you doing? You know this is dangerous” And Billy had leaned in, forearms over the rim, had leveled with Steve. Looking wasted, looking tired, but still, he flashed a grin at him, teeth-shark white, not going down if he wasn’t going down swinging. And Steve hadn’t known at the moment, but the blood staining his cheek, the screaming-purple mark around his eye, those weren’t from the crush. “I was sleepwalking, Harrington" he said, voice dry, laugh harsh "Waiting for a stroke of luck"

“What does it make you think that’s not what I’m aiming for?”

When he took Billy to his house Max was already there, had sneaked out, white knuckles peaked with red around the handler of her bike “Neil will kill you if he finds out” Billy didn’t say it, but she read it on his eyes. And Max had called Steve. Called for help. So Steve took care of Billy’s face. Made him stay. Spend the night. Almost the whole next day, didn’t wake up till the hands meet over the spiraling infinity of the eight. Steve left him there. Retraced Billy’s steps down the Brookville road, following the yellow lines. The Camaro wasn’t done yet. Howled like a wounded beast under Steve's hands, but stayed together all the way to Donny’s garage. Steve paid for the repairs. Covered it all up. Two weeks later, Billy showed up at his door. Offered to teach him how to fight “I cannot give you back your money, but I know you don’t need that”

They spent almost the whole summer together. Some days. Most nights.

Wasting time. Fighting. Joking.  Driving. Fooling around.

No ‘what ifs’. No promises. Just,

“Leave the light on if you can’t sleep. If I manage to sneak out of the Old fuck, I’ll pick you up. I won’t stop kissing you until dawn”

Because Steve was gonna leave. Wasn’t going to throw a single glance behind his back. That was the plan.

And he did. He did. But––

He spins Billy out. Tugs him back. When their chests bump, his laugh explodes, bubbles up. Weightless. Happy. Because all that matters to him, to them, it’s between these four irregular walls now.

And God this, this, is Steve’s favorite part. 

–ended up coming back running, following the yellow lines. Hoping Billy was the one letting his light on this time.

Because the sun is gonna keep on shining. They can keep on dancing in here, in their weird, yellow, trapezoidal kitchen, for as long as they want. Hearts touching. Lips brushing. Bodies swaying, spinning, cutting through the golden light. 

[dreamdropxoxo]

Lock-down Story, Part III

Part I, Part II

"How about you start your own home workout stream?" When Laurent had asked this question the day before, Damen had really asked himself why he hadn't thought about it sooner. He had all the equipment, was a trained chiropractor and fitness instructor and had enough time to just do it.

He sat down and started drafting his first set of training with alternatively easier method for people who were not as sporty, muscled or simply motivated as he was. It occupied him for half a day and that was much better than to just stare at the windows and asking himself if he should clean them once again.

When he went outside to install the camera, he saw, to his surprise, his boyfriend kneeling in the dirt in their backyard.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing there?"

"Gardening, Damianos, don't ask stupid questions." Laurent didn't even look up while he was weeding their former flowerbed which was overgrown und messy.

"And why are you doing that?"

Laurent sighed, as if he didn't have the patience to explain every miniscule detail to Damen, but contrary to what one could think, Damen knew his boyfriend had all the patience in the world for him. "Because it looks horrible and I have nothing better to do. I can't stand for our backyard to look like a battlefield."

Damen nodded, it made perfect sense. Laurent was a perfectionist and his nature didn't allow him to let this state of disorder go on like that. "Am I disturbing you, if I start my workout recording now?"

"No, as long as I am not in your video I am perfectly fine." Laurent finally looked up and then his eyebrow climbed up his forehead. "Are you sure you want to wear that while you start with whatever you intend to do?"

"A live stream, Laurent. Don't talk as if you are 100 years old and slept through the last decades of technological progress. And what is wrong with it? I always wear that while training."

"You always wear that? Not only here?" The corner of Laurent's mouth twitched. Damen was honestly confused. "Yes?"

"No wonder they offered you a discount on your gym subscription. Well, then good luck. I will be over here, keeping myself away from your video camera." Laurent turned back around and continued with his task. Damen still couldn't understand what was wrong with his outfit. He wore long pants, for God's sake.

Although he was confused, he started with his training, while he trained he explained the easier execution of the routine and what advantages the different exercises had. He realized while drafting the training plan that he could include quite a bit of his chiropractor knowledge. It was fun and very satisfying.

After two hours of grueling training, he stopped the stream and posted the video on YouTube too. Nik promised to watch it and give feedback as soon as he finished with work. Then he went to shower and finally helped Laurent with his gardening. Which meant that he could help him move the bigger stones and pots full of dirt and weed.

Laurent was a mess, his face full of smutches, his hair messy with the occasional twig and leaf stuck in it, his clothes dirty, and yet, he looked very satisfied after all the work. Damen drew him closer and kissed him. He was sweaty again and decided to join Laurent for another shower.

This continued for some days more and suddenly Damen's account on YouTube exploded, his live stream had thousands of followers and Damen didn't know what had happened. He did what every responsible boyfriend would do in that situation; he ran to Laurent, a bit hysterical and demanded an explanation.

Laurent, calm as one can be took his laptop from him and made a quick google search. Then he said, dead-pan, "well, it looks as if I am dating the next internet sensation. Some important guy found your videos and shared them, people love you and now you have a lot of followers."

Damen gaped. "What?"

"Yes, congratulation, Damen. I bet half of the followers just stare at your arms while you do all those push-ups." Laurent laughed when he gave him his laptop back. Damen sat down, absolutely shocked and did a quick google search. It was true, the singer of a very famous band, Lazar Lafeu had mentioned in a telephone interview that he killed his new found free time with Damen's training video. He had said, "If we can't go on our tour I can at least look at all these nice Akielon muscles. And even better, the guy has a fully functional brain, very sexy."

Damen seriously didn't know what to do with his new found internet fame. He decided to ignore it and just continued with his videos like before. The only difference was, that after every video he took ten minutes to answer questions of his followers. What startled him the most was that people started to notice everything about him.

They complimented the color of his façade, which was a very very pale mint, picked by Laurent. They asked where he had purchased his yoga mat. They discussed the circumference of his bicep. He even understood why Laurent had been so amused by the choice his outfit. It was because his loose fitting tank top gaped open whenever he didn't stand and provided a deep look to his chest and stomach.

His follower called it the sweetest tease ever, they begged him to keep wearing them and Damen, who never had a problem with being ogled did exactly that. The question if he would do a training without a shirt however, was firmly answered in the negative.

Laurent had finished weeding their whole backyard and even started planning new flowers. Their local gardener had started to deliver the plants directly to one's doorstep and Laurent took full advantage.

Damen had been overjoyed to realize that Laurent truly enjoyed his new hobby. He could kneel in the dirt for hours and didn't care even one bit how messy the work could be sometimes. Right now he planted rose bushes while Damen was in the last two minutes of his live stream.

"Fuck! Damn it." Laurent's voice was muffled but still very clearly audible. Damen's head shot up, "Sweetheart?"

"I'm alright. Just ignore me." Laurent smiled pained and hurried inside. Damen didn't even look at the stream when he shut it down and ran behind his boyfriend. Laurent had his hand under the water in their kitchen. The stream tinted red. Damen felt the nausea grow, not because of the blood in general, but because it was LAURENT's blood.

"What happened?"

Laurent sighed. "My hand slipped."

"Show me." Damen took his hand carefully in his own. There was a very long gash in the palm of Laurent's left hand. It looked horrible and would need stiches. He was once again glad that as chiropractor he had studied together with the physicians for four years. He could do the stiches at home.

"Stay here. I will go get my medical kit."

The next day, Laurent lounged on his bench in the shade because he had decided to take a break from gardening for a day when Damen started his stream. He apologized for the abrupt ending of the stream but his followers were so over the moon that Damen had a boyfriend that they didn't care at all.

It was no surprise that the whole ten minutes after the training were filled with questions about his relationship and Laurent in general. He informed them that the mysterious boyfriend preferred to stay mysterious but that he was fine and only needed four stiches.

The fans were somewhat disappointed that they didn't get to know Laurent but accepted the decision with grace. However, they didn't give up completely. Over the course of the next day Damen was asked random questions concerning Laurent. They varied from, "Is he younger, older or the same age as you", over "Is he beautiful?", to "What is his job?". Damen answered them with permission from Laurent with, "younger", "yes", "He's a lawyer".

Then a day came when Damen didn't install the camera the same way as always because he did a later training and the sun would otherwise be too bright. He had told Laurent about it the day before and even on the same morning but Laurent was not very attentive to details that didn't concern him directly. Thus it came that he walked right through Damen's stream. It was not so bad because only his lower half was recorded, but it caused an uproar.

Damen could understand it, because Laurent's ass looked damn hot, even in the video and everybody was curious before. His fans asked about Laurent even more often and the blond man finally seemed to give in, at least in typical Laurent fashion. He answered some of the questions about himself from the off.

It was hilarious, because Laurent had a wicked kind of humor. When one guy asked if he could see him just once, Laurent answered, "Sorry, I think I am too much to handle for you, so no. There were people who actually crashed their car because of my face."

The fans asked Damen if it was true and he had to confirm it. He told them that he almost fell down a staircase when he saw Laurent for the first time. And in his humble opinion Laurent only grew more beautiful with the years.

[elvendara]

Saeran Choi Week 2019 Day 7

And we come to the end. Sadly, I did not have time to draw anything for the last two days and today this fic is not complete, but it’s all that I have. Moving is a pain and very time consuming! Thank you @saeranchoiweek for hosting this magnificent week and thanks to everyone who participated!

Mention of self harm

4 August 2019

Day 7: Weddings/Happiness

Yoosung rubbed his neck, rotating it and Saeran couldn’t stop staring at him. The delicate curve of his wrist as it tensed and relaxed was mesmerizing. He knew Yoosung hated that he thought of his wrists as delicate, but there really was no other word. He focused on it and happiness blossomed inside him. He pressed his chest against Yoosung’s back and snaked his arms around his waist, clasping his hands just over Yoosung’s belly button. The cute little divot he enjoyed flicking with his tongue when they made love.

“What’s this now?” Yoosung chuckled. His brown hair tickled Saeran’s nose as he buried his face in it. He had let his natural color grow out about a year ago and Saeran couldn’t get enough of it. It was so soft and straight. Long gone were the waves Yoosung used to spend so much time sculpting.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he murmured into Yoosung’s hair.

“Enough to buy a house together I hope.” He sighed.

“More. So much more.” Saeran didn’t have words for how much more he loved this man. “I think we’ve earned a break, a nice long break. We’ve been unpacking for hours, so, why don’t you break open that wine, the glasses are in the cabinet already and I’ll go draw a bath for us. We could both use it, I know my muscles are tense, yours must be too.”

“Sounds perfect! Uh, what about the corkscrew?” Yoosung’s eyebrows furrowed questioningly as he turned in Saeran’s embrace and ran his hands over his arms and around his neck.

“Right next to the bottle, you can’t miss it.” He leaned into him and captured his full luscious lips. Even after years of being together, the electricity that passed between them had not diminished. He had been afraid getting married would dull their hunger for each other, but it only made it that much more satisfying, knowing he was making love to his husband, knowing he was fucking his husband. That piece of paper had amplified his happiness. No one else in the world was ever going to have Yoosung. His body, his mind, his soul, his love. It all belonged to Saeran, and while it was just a piece of paper that held no physical bounds, it somehow mattered.

“Ok, you go get the bath ready, use the lavender oil. Oh, did we unpack that?” Yoosung asked worriedly.

Saeran laughed and pecked his husband’s cheek. “Not to worry, I bought some just for this occasion. I know it’s your favorite.”

Yoosung relaxed his shoulders then winced in pain. “Just in time too. I’m seriously sore.”

Saeran leaned in and pulled the collar of his t-shirt aside and kissed the area he thought was bothering him.

“Mmm…more of that please.” Yoosung grinned.

Saeran nibbled playfully on his earlobe and pushed the brunette to arm’s length. “In the bath! Trust me.”

Yoosung rolled his eyes but acquiesced readily. They separated, Yoosung making his way to the kitchen and Saeran to the master bath. The house was a two story with the master downstairs. The bath had a huge bay window that looked out onto the vast backyard. Saeran couldn’t wait to get out there and start his garden, for now, the lush green grass and the wall of trees was still beautiful to gaze at.

He began to run the water making sure the temperature was right before stoppering the tub. He pulled the lavender oil Yoosung loved from the grocery bag he’d brought in that morning and poured it generously into the water. It didn’t make any bubbles, but bubbles rarely lasted anyway. Using his hand, he stirred the oil gently. He couldn’t wait to have Yoosung in his arms, to run his fingers up and down his skin, watching the rainbow effect the oil would leave behind. Times like these he wondered at the turn his life had taken. Living at Mint Eye he had assumed he was happy because he was told it was paradise and nothing else would make him as happy. How that woman had lied. She had snatched happiness away from him and driven him to hell.

Saeran closed his eyes and shook his head, that life didn’t matter anymore. This was his life now. There was happiness all around him, even in his darkest moments. His fingers found the scars at his wrist, remnants of his old way of thinking, when things were so bad, it would have been better to be dead. How could he have been so stupid? The thought that he almost threw away this future because of what that woman had done to him infuriated him.

“Ready yet?” Yoosung walked in and closed the door behind him. He set the wine bottle on the tub and handed Saeran an empty wine glass.

“Not quite, but you can start undressing if you want.” Saeran leered at his husband and drank him in from head to toe. He wore a tattered washed out blue t-shirt and faded jeans. His socks had cartoon whales printed on them, a gift from Saeran himself almost two years before, they were still Yoosung’s favorite pair.

[dreamboytranscripts-blog]

Dreamboy Episode 2: The Boy & The Buck

DISCLAIMER: During the show, there are sounds and background noise playing as if to seem like you are actually there. This is what goes inside his brain, almost like he is talking to himself. The parts in “” are what he or other people say out loud. Also, I apologize for the spelling of names.

DANE: [Snoring]

RADIO: [Starts and plays opera] [High pitched note]

DANE: “Uh! Okay. Okay Okay. I’m up, I’m up... 12. 12. It’s 12. 12 am…”

RADIO:[Clapping and women saying ‘thank you. Thank you’]

DANE: “Fuck.” I’m half hanging off my bed, sheets twisted in my legs, pillows on the floor. Hand on my face.

MAN ON RADIO: “That was ‘The Mint Apple’ music by Francois Gearde. Preformed there by Allison Balvinbalm at the Cleveland Moriarity last Sunday evening. Ms. Bavinbalm’s offered a stunning program consisting mostly of Gearde’s songs and arias. And if you would like to hear more opera tonight, tune in later for ‘Opera Tonight’ with Brian Kettering. The news is coming up, but first a small pivan for solo piano, from French composer John Luplane.”

[Piano music starts playing]

DANE: I do not believe I did the A.M. /P.M. alarm mix-up thing. The radio alarm, which is usually news in the morning, is currently deep in its late-night classical program. Jesus, who stays up all night listening to this shit. I have to pee anyway. So I get up and I float to the bathroom in the dark. Arms out in front of me like a Macy’s Day balloon of a huge naked man, grumbling.

I pee, I flush, I shuffle back to bed. But, just before I lay down I hear something. Outside. In the front yard. Through the open window. Like a small voice. I walk over to the window. And then I jump and hide as soon as I see them. It’s the little girls from the grocery store. Standing under the street light in front of my house. Staring right up at me.

“What the fuck.”

I give it a few seconds. And then I look again. But now they are gone. I know I just saw them, they were just here. Then they reappear under another streetlight down the block, walking fast. They turn the corner and they’re gone. I go back to bed. But I feel off, something feels off. I’ve been seeing these little girls everywhere since the grocery store last weekend. They’re always ducking down allies and looking away when I look like they’re following me. I try to calm down. I try doing these breathing exercises that this boy in New York taught me.

[Inhaling] “One two three. Dollars in the bank.”[Exhaling]

[Inhaling] “One two three. Dollars in the bank.”[Exhaling]

It doesn’t seem to be working. I pull the covers up to my chin like I haven’t done since I was a kid.

MAN ON THE RADIO: “We just heard a lovely, if a bit meandering, pivan by John Luplane. Now it’s time for the news.”

[News music]

“Authorities have their first lead in the search for a plane that went missing over Lake Erie last weekend. Species of scavenger fish have been reported in the north-central part of the lake and could indicate the possible presence of large carcasses in the water, according to officials. In other news, Judge Elizabeth Gardner is set to rule on the controversial case of Zoe the Zebra sometime in the following week. The zebra is being quarantined and faces mandatory euthanization after an incident resulting in the death of 12-year-old Ian Harris last summer. Eli Critch, director of the zoo, declined to comment on the Zoe controversy, but instead flashing his infamous smile at reporters and said ‘Love is timeless. We’ll see you next spring for the new exhibit, The Forgotten Sea.’”

DANE: “How do you forget a whole sea?”

MAN ON RADIO: “And later this week we are turning to the garden center outside of the Lawsers-[fades into background]”

DANE: I’m starting to calm down. And I’m hot so I pull the covers down to a normal adult place. And close my eyes.

MAN ON RADIO: “-and call the station and give us your best impersonation of an orchid. What does an orchid sound like? Hm? Boohoo Bree pp [continues making noises in the background]”

DANE: And this guy’s voice is actually relaxing.

MAN ON RADIO: “Buhhhhhh. You know, I don’t know. Who knows. Anyway, the weather. Feels like there is definitely something blowing in off the lake. Currently 66 degrees and blustery. Chance of rain in the early morning hours. It’s just after midnight and this is 897 Classical Cleveland. Which must mean, I’m Dan Rudelstein. Welcome.

Next up we have a real piece of musical esertaria for you. Now most of you are probably familiar with ‘Hale to the Chief’, the official fanfare that plays whenever the United States president enters a room or formal function. But there are other less known and seldom heard pieces of music associated with the U.S. presidency. Take for example, the Inaugural Waltz. Now, the first Inaugural Waltz was composed in 1809 for the inauguration of James Madison and was danced by James and his wife, Dolly, at the ball. And it was such a hit, everybody loved so much they said we need to have one for every inauguration. So a new waltz was commissioned, composed, and dance at every inauguration all the way up until 1933, when F.D.R. did away with the tradition of dancing the waltz. Calling it a quote ‘thick ritual for thin times.’ Now, the waltz did not go quietly into the night, no [laughs]. Instead it went underground and remained a vital part of the ceremonial fabric of the inauguration. A new waltz still being commissioned and composed for every president all the way up through present day. However, most of this music has never been heard, until now. In a fabulous new recording entitled ‘Undanced’. Some of this music finally gets it debut. So, without further ado, here is the United States Marine band, augmented by the United States Marine Chamber Orchestra under the baton of Lieutenant Colonel James K. Montoc with ‘Dance of the Honey Wasp.’ The official inaugural waltz of President Ronald and first lady Nancy Reagan.” [Music starts playing]

DANE: I know he just it didn’t happen but I can’t help but picture it. A dark ballroom. A circle pf stoned faced dignitaries standing around. Ronald on one side, Nancy on the other. Slowly they approach a spotlight in the middle of a big dancefloor. They grab onto each other and lean in and say something in their nasty secret little language. Then they smile. Take a breath. And start waltzing.

RADIO: [Waltz starts]

DANE: Ugh. As they spin, his joules come out like wings like gross flesh wings. Ugh. I’m getting sick just thinking about it. Them spinning around and around and around. And around.

RADIO: [Music continues to play then turns ominous at around 9:24]

DANE: I’m back in the dream. Totally submerged in that dark water. Hanging. Swaying. And then the cold on my legs again. And again I try to get away. Swimming harder and harder until I’m thrashing and I open my mouth to scream. And nothing. Everything is dark and still for what seems like a really long time. And then, a light. Soft but growing coming from everywhere. Like dawn. And the water goes from black to cloudy green all around me. Except for some of the water stays black. The water below me. A shadow. And then it moves like a wall. It slides away into the green murk in front of me and I watch the spot where it disappeared. I keep watching. Waiting. And then I see its face come out of the green. It’s so big it’s-it’s the size of a front of a school bus. It stops. Like 20 feet from me. Like it’s looking at me. But its eyes look dead. Black with bony circles around them. And its jaws are, lust huge jagged bone blades that don’t quite fit together all the way. They are hanging half open. All of a sudden they start to move. They start opening. And I feel the water around me start to flow towards the mouth. No. No. NO. And the mouth is opening wider and wider and I try to get away. [Gasp and music returns to background]

I turn off the radio. I sit up in bed. I throw off the covers. I’m in the guest bedroom at Emily’s house. I look down. My dick is so hard it’s throbbing. My belly is wet with pre-cum. A breeze from the open window makes it feel instantly cold. The open window. I remember the girl scouts and get creeped out all over again. My eyes fall on a rectangle of warm light on the bedroom wall. The house next to Emily’s is empty, it’s been on the market for months now, ever since I got here and the realtor comes everyday almost to show it and I see him come and go. But when he leaves he leaves lights on inside the house. I guess to deter break-ins at night. Anyway, since there are no curtains on the windows these lights cast rectangles of warm light all over, all around the house. On the lawn, on the side of Emily’s house, and one in my bedroom. I’m looking at it right now, trying not to think of those girl scouts, when all of a sudden it vanishes. Like it had never been there at all. Leaving perfectly blue wall. Blue as a whale dream. And then it starts. The thrum thrum thrum of blood in my neck and the physical arrival of a question. I can feel it in my gut. Why did the light go out? Now there are plenty of perfectly reasonable explanations of why the light went out but for some reason my brain is only interested in the terrifying ones, the unreasonable ones. I have to look. I get out of bed, I start walking to my window but a chilling thought occurs me just before I get there, what if there is someone or something in the empty house? It could see me If I’m next to my window. So I jump on my bed and army roll across it and I land on the floor on the other side in the dark. And I walk until the window of the empty house comes into view through my window. I try to squint into it. Try to see into the blackness beyond the reflection of the streetlight but I can’t. And then, another light, from the side. It’s the motion light from behind the house. And then another question, what’s moving in the backyard? So I put on shorts and I go downstairs. I can hear the old house moving all around me, groaning like I woke it up. And I get into the kitchen and that motion light is blaring through all of the windows and it’s coming through the crack and the backdoor, it’s like ‘Close Encounters’ of the third kind down there and I walk up to the backdoor and I look out the window and I try to peek over the privacy fence into the yard of the empty house next door but I can’t see over the privacy fence. I mean it’s a privacy fence. I’m gonna have to go outside. So I take a breath and I open the door and I step out onto the porch. It’s cold. I can see my breath. I walk to the edge of the porch and I look over the privacy fence into the backyard of the empty house. Nothing. Just the driveway of the empty house. A long satin grey loaf that runs all the way down to the street. And the new sod of the backyard, green. Half of the backyard is in shadow. And just then the motion light clicks off. And it’s like everything relaxes. And slowly my yes just starts to adjust and the nighttime starts to give me things back and that faint blue outline stuff, there’s like a hose spool in the backyard. And the electric meter on the side of the house and then a pair of large eyes. I find them already watching me. And then antlers come into view above the eyes. And something about our eyes connecting must have engendered and ultimatum in the buck because it straightens up and looks at me for just a second before it takes off and dashes down the drive way. And the motion light comes on and splashes its warm hide in my eyes for just a second before it’s gone. I watch it disappear Run into the street. And everything is quiet except for the hum of the motion light. And then the flick of a lighter. I instinctively hunch down. A small orange ember appears on the back porch of the empty house. It floats towards the edge, until a young man comes into view. He is young but his skin is covered in what look like tattoos. He takes a hit of his cigarette and leans out into the light and looks down the driveway to where the buck disappeared. And then he turns and his eyes meet mine.

“Fuck.”

He lets the hit go until the smoke obscures his face and when the smoke clears his eyes have moved on. I don’t think he saw me. He’s looking over his shoulder, scanning the dark yards. And then he takes his cigarette and he puts it in his lips and holds it there in that way that smokers do where they sorta purse their lips. And his hands goes down to his pants. He undoes his button, his zipper, puts one thumb in the elastic of his underwear and pulls down until his dick flops over and hangs there. My eyes swallow it. It’s big and floppy and it has one long view that zig zags through it like a river. And the foreskin ruffed and folds around the head, it looks like the collar of ancient royalty. It’s lit dramatically by the motion light on the garage, it’s like a diva getting ready for her aria. I see his checks suck in as he pulls in on his cigarette. The ember brightens. My eyes widen. Her music starts. And then the motion light clicks off. And the slat sound of piss hitting new sod. Then after a few second the cigarette is a shooting star, explodes on the driveway. And then I hear the screen door on the empty house shut and I’m left alone, in the dark. Piss steam and cigarette smoke drifting towards me and I feel like a young boy after his first magic show.

I go back inside and I go back upstairs. Call it a hunch but I get my phone out and I re-download Grindr. I sign in with my email and my password, it takes like 10 seconds and I’m back on the grid. And sure enough, right next to me is a blank profile, 20 feet away. I click on it. It expands. No age, 5’8”, 130lbs, right now. And then the sounds. Brrip.

NO NAME: “Hey.”

DANE: “Hey.”

NO NAME: “Big buck, huh?”

DANE: “Yeah it was.”

NO NAME: “Are there a lot around here?”

DANE: “Yeah they like the lake.”

NO NAME: “What lake?”

DANE: “Um, Lake Erie. It’s one of the Great Lakes.”

NO NAME: “LOL, you’re funny. More pics?”

DANE: The headlights of a car swing through my window and I hear the unmistakable sound of tires on driveway grid. I get up and look. An SUV is parked in the driveway of the empty house next door. A man gets out. It’s the realtor.

Brrip

NO NAME: “I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon. I’m Luke by the way.”

DANE: Luke. Luke? This is Luke from the cake box? The realtor goes into the house. The lights that were on inside the house turn off one by one. I see two shadows move on each other, their legs tangling. They spill into another dark room and I lose them for a minute. I get closer to my window and I wait. And when they reappear, their forms are defined by the dim glow of streetlight. Luke is naked and bent over. The realtor is behind him, still wearing his shirt and loosen tie and there is rhythm to their movement. Soft lion's flexing with each other. I feel myself getting hard in my shorts. The realtor quickens and Luke’s eyes close tight. His jaw falls open a little more with each thrust. I start touching myself. Luke steadies himself with an arm on the window ledge. The realtor reaches around and puts his fingers in Luke’s mouth.

“Fuck this is hot.”

I’m rubbing my dick through my shorts. The realtor runs his other hand up Luke’s back, threads it through his blonde hair, makes a fit and pulls Luke’s head back hard. His eyes swing up towards me in the window and I see him see me. My hand on my dick. And then he smiles wide. As much as a person can smile with fingers in their mouth. So I slide my shorts off and get closer to the window so he can see all of me. My dick is rock hard now and I start jerking off. Faster and faster. And realtor is drumming away on his own holy agenda and completely unaware of me. But Luke eyes are locked on my dick and the realtor’s rhythm reaches a climax and his drumming turns into this sort of twitching. [Breathing hard] And I feel myself build and build and let go and I hear it hit the window. And I double over. When I look up they are gone and my cum is running like slow milk down the pane. After a little bit I see them reappear in another window, in the kitchen of the empty house. The realtor dressed, tightening his tie. Luke is still naked. They are facing each other. And then a flash of movement. The realtor pulls his hand back and punches Luke hard in the face. Luke spins and falls back down out of view and the realtor turns quickly and leaves. I see his legs rushing through the dark house. I back away from my window. My heart starts pounding. I hear a car door and then an engine and then the lights swing back through my room the way they came.

“What do I do?”

I peak out again. I look down at the kitchen window. Nothing. He still hasn’t gotten up. So I put on jeans and a hoodie and shoes and I go downstairs. And I go out my front door and I cross the lawns and the driveway. And u on the porch of the other house. I try the handle. It’s open. I go inside.

“Hello?”

Nothing. I make my way to the back, to the kitchen. Just around the corner, I see him. Luke. Laying there naked on the kitchen floor. Bloody. His face is young, gorgeous. And his dick is rock hard. Bobbing. And what looked like tattoos before are actually bruises. All over his body. Like little storms. I lean down and I shake him. he comes to.

LUKE: [Inhales]

DANE: his eyes widen when he sees my face. He looks down at his bare chest and fingers the red pooling in his collarbone.

“Hey. Hey, don’t worry, it looks a lot worse than it is.”

LUKE: “Great. Take a picture.”

DANE: He hands me his phone and I reach out to take it but we both just hold onto it and stare at each other. And my stomach feels weird like it wants to crawl out of my mouth. But in a good way?

SONG:

That sound could be the sound of laughing

Not the cold October wind

Maybe this feeling is the beginning

And not the end

And this cold autumn day could be the first day of spring

Any moment the songbirds could start

And I could find someone beside me

In the dark

In the dark

[CREDITS]

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Tagging Game

Tagged by @scarrasco1325 (Thanks, girl!)

Nickname: Second, no IRL nicknames

Zodiac: Virgo

Height: 5′5″

Last movie watched: Whip It

Last thing googled: The correct application of the transitive verb “synonymize.”

Favorite Musician (band??): The Killers, The Kinks, M83, Sheryl Crow, Green Day, The Beach Boys

Song stuck in your head: Ethan Hawke’s cover of “Waterloo Sunset”

Other blog(s): N/A

Do I get ASKS: I used to receive boatloads of asks while writing for the Riverdale fandom. Since switching fandoms with my writing... I’ve received one ask? I think?

Following: 113

Dream Trip: Isle of Skye, Scotland to visit the ol’ ancestral seat.

Lucky number: I’ve never had one.

What I am wearing: PJ bottoms, a heavy fair isle sweater, a men’s blue waffle-knit shirt, and thick, warm socks.

Dream job: I mean, I’d love to captain a Starfleet vessel. Does my dream job have to been nonfictional?

Favorite food: To work from biggest to smallest, I’d say pizza, mint chocolate chip ice cream, green olives

Play any instruments?: The piano and the clarinet.

Language: English, italiano, français

Favorite Songs: “Love Train” (The O’Jays), “All These Things That I’ve Done” (The Killers), “I Can See for Miles” (The Who), “A Change Would Do You Good” (Sheryl Crow), “Stay Too Long” (Plan B), “Voices Carry” (’Til Tuesday), “Linger” (The Cranberries), “I’ll Try Anything Once” (The Strokes)

Random fact: My first best friend and I had (have) the same middle name.

Describe yourself using aesthetics: Hating the movie, but loving the poster. A satisfying click. Making the first move. Linguistic translation, musical transposition, cuffing your jeans. Motion sickness. An elegant neck; they’ve told you what you already knew. Tom Cruise movies. Comfort between white walls. “Oh, why can’t we start old and get younger?” Tartar sauce. Blushing obviously. Bubbles (of the soap, spit, and wand varieties). Freckles all year long. Thin-paged anthologies. A trio of earrings in your left lobe. “Fuck you, Mars.” Your best friend’s birthday party, two years before you grow apart. Philip Marlowe, Jo March, and Henry DeTamble. Stickers that peel off easy. Lists in your head that you always mean to write down. That competitive thrill. Slackly-groomed eyebrows. Orange. Adventures at midnight: abroad and domestically. Sleeping under the sun, in the backyard, at noon.

Tagging: Anybody who wants in on this. @tvfanatic97-2? @redpepprflakes? @thorongil82? @inasentimental-mood?

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #92

“i’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me?”

five things you associate yourself with: youtubers, meerkats, video games, snakes, photography. what’s your sleeping playlist (give me five songs)? i don't actually listen to music to sleep, but if i did... "lay your world on me" by ozzy osbourne, "nothing else matters" by metallica, "perfectly flawed" by otep, "coma black" by marilyn manson, "nebel" by rammstein. what is something that you’ve always wanted to be/have/get but can never have? a pet meerkat. but one, it's not legal in the u.s., but also, i don't really support keeping them as pets. are you a bee or a butterfly person? a dog or a cat person? butterflies and dogs. what would you like to call your significant other?  i use "hunny" most frequently. what are the names of your pets?  teddy, cali, bentley, venus. do you like to dip your fries or do you like it as is?  depends on my mood. sometimes i like them with ketchup, sometimes not. any special talent that you have? catastrophizing lmao who was your first crush?  not sure of *first*, but the first i remember was dylan. who was your 5th grade teacher?  mrs. whitley. she was also my second grade teacher. who would you kill if you could get away with it? no one. what was your high school mascot? firebird. what was your first screen name? uhhh, flowerourqueen i think? how do you feel about same sex marriage? go for it, dude. what are your favorite pieces of poetry?  anything edgar allan poe. what’s your favorite season? winter. what’s your fatal flaw? i have zero confidence. what color are your pants? orange, black, and white. they're halloween-themed. when was the last time you read a good book?  when i was in the hospital. "rise of the lich king" was great. favorite clothing store?  rebel's market. how often do you go to parties? if you don’t, what do you do instead? i never go to parties. and... stuff? who is the smartest person you know? girt. craziest thing you’ve ever done? go on a ride i was absolutely horrified of at a totally sketchy festival. is there a guy who you can go to with no make-up on in sweatpants and bedhead and he couldn’t care less? yeah, girt. do you and your family pray before eating dinner? no. what’s your favorite video game? "silent hill 2" do you own any form of a gameboy? yes. what’s your favorite store in the mall?  hot topic have you ever gotten a matching piercing or tattoo with someone? yes. do you like corn?  yeah. ever made out in a pool? not that i remember. last vacation destination you went to? the beach. have you ever been to seawo​rld? yes.​​ why were you last hospitalized? suicide attempt. do you prefer analogue or digital clocks?  analogue, aesthetically. are you one to sneak food into movie theaters? hell yeah i am because you're crazy if you pay that much for /movie theater/ food. do you feel more comfortable with a male or female doctor/nurse? a female, because i'm a female. can you write well in cursive?  yes. my normal writing is a mix of cursive. have you ever kissed someone who has previously kissed someone you hated? yep. is your all-time favorite television show still on air? no. would you ever donate blood?  i have before, but i probably wouldn't again. i'm too scared of passing out. are you looking for a boyfriend/girlfriend?  not actively, no. have you ever painted a car?  no. are there any gnomes in your yard?  no. what’s your favorite type of seafood? i only like shrimp. have you ever been to florida?  yes; my grandma lives there. which is harder - walking in the snow or sand? sand. do you think it’s okay to flirt with someone that’s already taken, as long as it goes no further?  no. are you adopted? no. do you say “i love you” even when you don’t mean it? i have to to my mom when she says it to me even if i'm pissed at her and don't feel like i do because if i don't, she pitches a fucking fit. do you prefer wheat or white bread?  wheat. is your profile private? my facebook profile? yeah. do you break things when you are mad?  no. people who do that scare me. is it okay to kiss people if you’re single?  no. that can really result to leading people on. do you want to be single?  i don't *want* to be, but i don't *mind* being single. there's a difference. have a built-in pool in your backyard? no. a trampoline? no. do you go tanning?  no. ever been to a circus?  yes. do you keep magazines by your toilet? no. what are the best kind of girl scout cookies?  those ones that're peanut butter filled and covered with chocolate. do you like to have ice in your drinks? no. waters it down. name a topic you consider yourself knowledgeable with. meerkats. what’s the easiest way to make you smile/laugh? just whisper "top of the mornin' to ya laddies" into my ear ho. okay no seriously idk. do you own any band merch?  yeah. what is your favorite way to eat popcorn? (buttered, salted, plain..) buttered and salted. have you ever faked being sick to get out of something? yep. do you know how to read music? i used to. probably not anymore. what's the saddest video game you've ever experienced? "that dragon, cancer" do you know how to tap dance? i know how to clog. same thing, just different shoes. did you believe in santa clause when you were little? yes. my ex didn't tho and i felt so bad for him lol. what’s your favorite flavor of skittles? red how bad are your hangovers? never had one. have you ever broken a bone? if so, what was the cause of it? not broken, but fractured. i bent my wrist all the way backwards when i fell while skating. which of your five senses would you give up? smell. are there any animals you flat out refuse to touch? slugs, maggots/larvae... what brand of batteries do you usually get? duracell, i think? what super power would you refuse, if it was offered to you, and why? mind reading. what's your favorite discontinued product that you wish would come back? hmmm... who is someone you would never swear in front of? my grandma. have you ever caught a fish? yeah. is there a song that makes you cry every time you hear it?  no. a plant grows on your grave after you die, carrying a piece of your soul - what plant would it be? a weeping willow tree. pen or pencil? pencil. can you run a mile in under 7 minutes?  HA what’s your favorite shampoo/conditioner?  i use suave. are you a fan of the grand theft auto series? no. do you like the beach? not really. i hate the feeling of sand. have you ever sleep walked? no. how about sleep talked? yeah. gum or mints? gum who did you last attend a concert with? mom, nicole, jason. have you ever received nude pictures from someone? no. admit it: you had a neopets account. you're goddamn right i did lmao waffles or pancakes? pancakes. name a food that doesn’t sit well in your stomach.  fancier foods, really. my stomach gets upset fast. what’s your favorite eye color? blue. have you ever been accused of cheating? nope. do you like chinese food? only the fried rice and eggrolls. how big is your bed? queen favorite comedian?  john pinnette, rip<3 do you smoke?  no. does anyone like you?  *shrugs* do long distance relationships work?  sure, some do. pancakes or french toast?  french toast. best thing about winter? snow!! do you have feelings for someone? i always will. do you like sushi? never tried it, never will. i'm perfectly aware i'd hate it. do you like your hair? yeah. it's really healthy. have you ever been prescribed narcotics? yes, xanax. does it take a lot for someone to annoy you?  NOPE do you want your tongue or belly button pierced? i wanted snake eyes on my tongue for a long time, but i learned from a professional piercer that with me having a metal retainer behind my bottom teeth, it's really an awful idea. a belly button piercing would be cute, but i'd need to be much skinnier to look good with one. do you hate it when people smoke around you? very much. can you take a bra off with one hand? no. are you donating your organs? yes. i won't exactly need them, might as well help others. what kind of deodorant do you use? secret. do you sleep on your side, stomach or back?  side, always. ever met any online friends in person?  no, but i want to. do you know how to sew? no. did you ever have to share a room with one of your siblings?  i shared a room with my little sister nicole for years. have you ever been a fan of n*sync? of course i was. but i was and still am more of a bsb gal. do you think you’re fat sometimes? i don't just think i am, i'm fully aware i am. do you think you would be a good parent?  no. are you any good at math? i actually was until the alphabet came into it lmao have you ever been called a hick? no. have you ever rode around in the bed of a pick up truck? ha ha ha bad follow-up question. but yes. can you touch your nose with your tongue? no. were you a big jump roper back in the day? yes. i got very close to being able to double-dutch. can you play pool? i mean i'm not good, but there's nothing hard about hitting a ball with a stick. do you think that you are a good singer? no. what languages can you count to ten or higher in? english, german time for a random question about the person you love/like. what’s his/her favorite food? i'm not entirely sure, but i think pizza. what’s the age difference between your parents? which one is older? two years. mom's older. if someone read your mind right now, what would they hear? chanting of "BILL! BILL! BILL!", mark fischbach's laughter, dank memage, and. y'know. other stuff. do you like egg yolks? NO. have you ever played bejeweled? yes. my mom was totally into it for a while. who would you never give a kidney to?  my mom. at least i'd probably do it; i'd be really fucking scared. my mom only has one kidney to begin with, so if this kidney fails, she's done. have you ever been bitten by a rat?  no. my pet rats have nibbled on me before, but never bit me. do uncrustables look disgusting to you, or is that just me?  i think they're gross, honestly. does blueberry syrup sound good to you, right now? no, ew. is there someone that has really influenced your life? who? my therapists at holly hill and mark fischbach taught me soooo much about positivity. come on, everyone loves cartoons! what’s your favorite one? pokemon, duh. what is the most common misconception with you? i'm antisocial and don't care because i don't talk much. out of the seven deadly sins, which do you feel is the worst? wrath. have you been guilty of that sin a lot? no. i'm not a vicious person. congrats, you’re getting a new car! what color do you choose? i don't drive, but if i did, i want a burnt orange car. be honest: do you illegally download music? yeah. what’s the worst crime someone can commit? rape. do you ever rock out to those 90s songs?  hell yeah. shit i grew up with. what color is the hair of the last person you kissed? black. does the last person you kissed wear glasses? no. who knows the most about you - your friends or your parents?  my ex knows more about me than anything, but between the two, my mom. how many people would you say you’ve been ‘in love’ with? one. ever have detention at school? what for? yes, for too many tardies. if your parents were going to adopt one of your friends, who do you think they would choose? colleen. has anyone ever tried to ruin a relationship you were in? what happened? yes. and the bitch didn't get her wish. were you ever bullied in school? how did you deal with it?  no, thank god. what dog breed is the cutest ever? akita inu. do you or have you ever owned a pair of light up shoes? as a kid, yeah. ha ha i loved them. when was the last time you watched the sun set? hm. it's been too long. i think it was this one time chelsea, colleen, and i went walking around a soccer field. would you ever have an open relationship? HA. no. by society's standards, are you attractive? ha, no. would you let your kid smoke weed? hell no. who was your first friend?  brianna. we were like two. have you ever been to germany?  i wish. what is your middle name?  marie. catherine if you count my catholic middle name. do you have any nieces or nephews? including half-siblings, i have ten or eleven that i know of. i can't remember if katie has three or four, and idk if tiffany has kids. do you know anyone who's in a destructive/unhealthy relationship?  yes. if you had money right now, what's one thing you would buy?  tickets and gas to go see markiplier's show in june, if he plans a show within reasonable driving distance from nc. would you ever own an exotic animal?  depends on *how" "exotic." ex., i'd own a sugar glider or kinkajou. when you decide you’re ready to become a parent, what’s something you would never do that your parents have done in the process of you growing up?  you mean *if* i wanted to be a parent, which i don't? first of all, i'd never, ever, spank my kids. do fucking not teach your kids through fear. who is the funniest person you know?  that i know personally? girt. have you ever kissed underwater? i think so. would you rather have big or small dogs? i like medium-sized dogs. what is your opinion on beards? depends. what is the most fun part of halloween to you? dressing up! do you believe that the moon landing was real or do you think it was fake?  i actually do see why some people think it's fake because there are some VERY compelling pieces of evidence, but i do believe it was real. what is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done? oh, where to begin. what is the worst thing a relative ever did to you? like screamed at me and called me an ungrateful bitch. do you think that everyone is capable of love? no. if you could have a customized phone, what would you put on it? ha ha i really want that cute case that looks like a medicine bottle and is labeled "chill pills" when you were little, what was your favorite game? the original "spyro the dragon" trilogy would you rather sleep on the moon with a stardust dress or on a tiny flower with a sunflower dress? well there's a strange question. but the first. what is one thing that reminds you of childhood? catching fireflies. have you ever talked to someone when they were high? not knowingly. when was the last time you read a full book?  months ago. in february, i started reading "the maze runner," but i didn't finish it. how many brothers do you have? one half-brother. do you like mexican food? no. are you old enough to buy alcohol? oh wow... i just fully fathomed that i am. who’s your favorite disney character? mufasa. have you ever taken the eharmony personality quiz?  HAHAHA GUYS I DID ONCE OUT OF TOTAL CURIOSITY AND IT COULDN'T MATCH ME WITH ANYONE what’s the nickname of your home state?  tar heel state. have you ever thought about your wedding?  yeah. what’s the worse type of weather in your opinion?  scalding hot and humid. ugh. would you rather read or write?  write. would you rather see taylor swift or carrie underwood in concert?  i mean really neither, but i prefer carrie. growing up, did you see your cousins often?  no. none of my cousins live in nc. do you have any posters on your walls? lots. two silent hill ones, one of illidan from wow, one of metallica, one meerkat one, one music-oriented one, a quote by mother teresa, and one of jack skellington. what’s your favorite sad song? probably "fade to black" by metallica. do you personally know any authors? i met a poet while in the hospital once. he was quite talented. what condiments do you like on hamburgers? ketchup, mustard what did you get your dad for his last birthday? nothing. i don't get money and god knows mom would never buy me something for him. do you like foods with coconut in it? no. do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked?  i don't like carrots. what’s a chore you don’t mind doing? vacuuming have you ever been to costco? we don't have costco here. do/did you have to wear a uniform to your high school? no, thank god. how many video games do you own?  A LOT. we have a huge case. do you like the name cindy for a girl?  no. have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? no. what are your point of view of the world? ex. liberal/conservative, spiritual/atheist: mostly conservative, religious. is there an age where being a virgin, you think, would be awkward? ... no? do you find zac efron sexy? eh, not "sexy," but cute. do you think aliens are real? no, but who really cares. be concerned about our planet first. do you have any scars on your body? left shin, chin, and the top of my right wrist. what was your favorite childhood toy? i actually had a bunch i used to play with. two t-rexes, a tricerotops, two crocodiles, two deer, and a few pokemon figurines. i actually still distinctly remember the deer was named kim and the crocodile was named marlin and they were husband and wife lmao. don't argue with my childhood logic. what color is your favorite eye shadow? black. what’s your favorite hairstyle on a guy? i am a fucking 14-year-old bc i have a huge weakness for the emo swoop okay. who was the last person to call you beautiful? tyler. what is your least favorite sour patch kids color? orange. would you take your ex boyfriend/girlfriend back? tyler, no. jason, only if he SERIOUSLY proved himself to me again. are your parents religious? yeah. are you religious?  yes. do you actually read your friends' surveys, or do you just copy paste them and fill them out yourself? i do. it's a good way to learn about people. which is your favorite episode of “i love lucy”? i'm not gonna spell this right, BUT THE VITAMEATAVEGIMAN ONE. name two people who you are closest with?  mom and sara. which one of those two people would you eat first if you were starving?  neither. i'd rather die. there are some things where living would no longer be worth it. do you know what the heck the difference is between the statements “we’re just dating” and “we’re together”? yes. "we're together" is definitely more serious. what would you call your aesthetic? gore, glitchy art, pastels, jellyfish, lace, black, scene/goth/emo style bc LAME, space, vintage favorite songs at the moment? it's been "do i wanna know?" by the arctic monkeys for a long time. favorite movies? my #1 is "alice in wonderland," tim burton's version. i also love "the crazies," "blair witch project 2: book of shadows," "white chicks," etc. what’s the name of the last cat you pet? either lexi (our old cat), or one of anna's (sister's mother-in-law) many cats. have you ever eaten stringed green beans before? yes. when talking on the phone, do you place it against your left or right ear?  right. what’s your favorite flavor of muffin? chocolate chip. does your father have any facial hair? yes. does your sibling have a significant other? katie, bobby, and tiffany, idk. misty and ashley, yes. nicole, no. any idea what you want for your next birthday? another tattoo. have you ever ridden an elephant? no. what parts of your body are shaved? armpits and legs. imagine you are 34 weeks pregnant. you are healthy and you didn’t have any major problems in your pregnancy. would you consider flying from the uk to germany, which takes one hour, without a bad feeling that something could go wrong or the baby decides to come out earlier? no. i probably just wouldn't do it. has anyone ever mistaken you for a satanist? yes, because of my wardrobe, especially in high school. would you take a very casually dropped 'maybe i should just kill myself’ as a warning sign? yes. are you aware that although only about 14 percent of the american total population is black, that about 70 percent of the people in jail in america are black?  why does something tell me that the person who made this survey is racist?? do you agree with the people who say that everyone is bi-sexual even if they don’t want to admit it? absolutely not, that's ridiculous. if you knew that one of your friends was considering suicide, what would you say to them? cliche, but i'd tell them it's not the answer nor is it ever worth it. and i'd call 911 myself. which disney princess do you think is the most beautiful? why? hm. not sure. if you met the celebrity that you most admire, what would be the first thing you’d say to him/her? god bless if i ever met mark, i know i'd tell him first, "if there truly is a god, i want him to be like you." what genre of movie do you typically watch the most? i prefer horror. do you enjoy visiting zoos or wildlife parks? yes to both. if you could bring back any extinct animals, what would you pick? tasmanian tiger. would you ever eat a traditional "pet", like cat, dog or guinea pig? no. what kind of wild animals do you see where you live? squirrels, opposums, raccoons, whitetail deer... what do you think of animals like orcas/dolphins being kept in captivity for entertainment? i don't support it. which one of your friends have you known the longest? colleen. are you good at making new friends? no. can you describe what was going through your mind during your last kiss? it only lasted a second, but "i really don't know if i should be doing this." how many friends do you have, whose name begins with g? one: girt do you like the hunger games? i've read the first book and seen the first movie. it's fine. are you any good with kids? no. like i shit you not i once pet my niece's head lmao would you ever like to meet marilyn manson? no. he's one of my all-time favorite artists, but i don't want my already-poor image of him to be further defiled. love him as a musician, but he's honestly a pretty shit person. would you rather hold hands or link arms with your significant other?  hold hands. do you always blow-dry your hair after you wash it? never. i would be there for a looong time. my hair is super super thick and takes at least ten minutes to fully blow-dry. have you ever witnessed a birth? only cat births. i never want to experience a human birth. it's not magical, it's gross. do you buy eggnog around the holidays? eggnog's gross. have you ever been on a farm? yes. last three texts on your phone are from? mom, sara, ashley. did you ever have braces? i did for too long because we didn't have the money to take them off. thank god they're gone now. what was the hardest language you’ve ever tried to learn? latin. that shit was like impossible. who is the prettiest person you’ve ever met? my friend alon. what does your voice sound like? mumbly, deep. what event did you last dress up for? who went to that event? my sister's wedding. and lots of people. do you believe prayer really works? honestly don't know. i kinda think it's just a display of faith to talk to god. idk if it really influences him to "do" anything. Nope. does it bother you when dogs lick you? no. do you feed your pets human food?  they'll sometimes get a little piece. what’s the strangest or rarest creature you’ve seen at a zoo? i think i've been to a zoo that had a tiger once... do you think violence in video/computer games influences the nation? no. that claim is ludicrous. i’m sure you know of the gamer fad on youtube. who’s your favorite? markiplier, easily. but i also like pewdiepie and 8bitryan. deserts: dreary or beautiful? beautiful. ever seen a panda? no. ever actually seen a snake in the wild? yes. i've seen rattlesnakes, water moccasins, and others. have you ever had a PET snake? what kind? yes. i've now had/have three ball pythons. ever had an encounter with a snapping turtle? they’re scary! yes. my sister actually caught a huge one while fishing. dad sadly had to just cut the line. wherever you live, have you ever seen your national bird? once. ever had a reptile as a pet that you had to feed crickets? yes, a chinese water dragon. ever play hearthstone?  yeah. didn't really get into it. ever gone hunting? biggest thing you’ve ever shot? no. i don't really support hunting for sport. how about fishing? biggest thing you’ve ever caught? lots of times. pretty big river catfish. coolest place you’ve ever been fishing? ohhhhh! there's this place downriver of a dam that's deep in the woods. like, DEEP in the woods. it's sooo fucking beautiful. what’s in a camel’s back? fat. steve irwin: foolish for messing around with animals or brave for teaching us? he was fucking amazing. don’t you think it’s a bit deceptive to wear a push-up bra? *rolls eyes* do you truly believe we came from chimps?  nope. well, what do you think of extra bones and even organs in our bodies? why do we have them? do your research and you'll know that our "extra" organs actually have purpose; i can't remember which, i think the appendix though, is vital to an fetus's existence. as for bones, i honestly don't know, but i don't believe that automatically points to evolution. weirdest video game you’ve ever played? i mean i'd say the whole "silent hill" series is pretty damn weird. what’s your favorite kind of penguin?  emperor. don’t you think we’re spending too much money on exploring the mere theory of climate change? "theory." get outta here. everyone always wants to know your favorite animal. what’s your SECOND favorite? probably rhesus macaques. i just really like social animals. would you marry someone of a different religion? depends on the religion, honestly. religion plays a key role in determining your core beliefs. favorite song by the band the offspring?  "pretty fly for a white guy," probably. maybe "self esteem." have you had your wisdom teeth out? no, but i have one on my bottom right that technically needs out, but after hearing how painful that procedure is, i reeeaaally don't wanna do that. your appendix?  no. do you like the idea of promise rings in relationships?  sure. not quite ready to promise marriage, but promise to be ready some day. would you date someone 8 years older than you?  yeah. what is your secret weapon to lure the opposite sex? lmao what secret weapon? do you have a favorite name? what is it? alessandra. do you watch scary movies on your own?  yeah. scary movies just don't affect me. have you ever had to have stitches?  yes, in my chin. what was your favorite pokemon as a child?  charmander.

[fandomfriendly]

I want to be all diary like rn

so like I could just make a note of whatever I’m bout to say but I want it like live forever and i know literally no one on this damn site cares about what i have to say so here I am lol..

I’ve been in this weird pit of overwhelming emotions accompanied by the incapability of processing them for the past few years. It took me so much time to even realize I had such a problem with allowing myself to be a regular fuckin human and initially when I first started seeing the signs of how mentally unhealthily I was living I didn’t know what the fuck to do and abruptly cut off pretty much everything and everyone I loved. I became a fucking hermit. I kept telling myself I was doing it for the better, that I cut everything off and am gonna take my time to heal and grow as a person and when I feel better i will try to rekindle with everything and whatever doesn’t work, just wasn’t meant to be. Which is a mentally unhealthy thing to do in the first place and potentially not only harmed myself but those around me but life’s a fuckin cycle of realizing shit so,,,

Anyways I went through some hella hard times filled with anxiety and depression, literally every day was either full of tears and feeling every emotion at once or was empty and ghost like. But I pushed through it. I learned a lot about my self and how my mind works. I grew as a person and still am. I’m not sharpest in a lot of ways but i know I just want to be a kind and accepting person, not that I wasn’t all those years ago, it’s just that back then I couldn’t present myself as such as I didn’t even have the fucking motivation to live. I mean I like to think I was kind in others eyes but I also fucking hate thinking about what others might think me so again,,, lol. I just know now that I’m trying to be a better person, and I’m trying to learn more and do more this year than I have in the past four years.

I’m writing this now because I’m in a really good state of mind. This month alone I’ve had conversations I never thought I would with people that are so close to me yet knew so little about. That sounds so cryptic lmao. Basically i spoke with my closest family members about struggles mentally and the past and how emotionally traumatizing it was for them and in turn I allowed myself to open up about the exact same thing. A specific convo was with my mom, a woman who has been through hell and back. She told me about past abuse, most of which I was there to witness and we have talked about before, but this time it was different because we spoke as equals. I’m gonna be honest I didn’t open up as much as I could have but it felt like I finally walked over a hill I was dreading for so long. I used to just be a good fake and slap a smile on in difficult time probably not fooling anyone. It’s always been a problem opening up to my family and friends but send me a stranger and I’ll talk their ear off.. well sorta, so like in high school i saw a grief counselor who i guess was technically my therapist but she was a total stranger and the second she asked what I even need to see her for, I broke down. I swear she said like two sentences but I rashly explained all the shit i was dealing with in between fits of tears. At the second meeting I felt like she knew my whole life but somehow I still had more to say?? I literally don’t know how I was so comfortable sharing all that with a stranger so fast like I get it’s her profession and I would’ve opened up eventually and that it could’ve clicked in the back of my mind like ‘why waste time just tell her everything now!’ But idk I think if I were to talk with a stranger that is willing to listen, I would legit do the same thing.. idk.

Anyways, opening up in the slightest bit feels like a major accomplishment. And the fact that i could with my mom who, god bless her, did so much that was seemingly unhealthy and careless to others but meant the world to me, felt amazing. There’s that thing about high school being the time of your life and living it up- a pre show of college which I wasn’t really expecting to be true in the first place but what I didn’t expect was to be emotionally unstable dealing with anxiety, depression, self hatred and grief. So when all this shit hit me like a truck, I was left feeling numb not wanting to do anything with little to no interest in any previous hobbies and likings. I grew up feeling said things^ but didn’t realize until hs how worse it got over time. In the midst of all of that I didn’t know what to do and was having frequent anxiety attacks and even though I couldn’t explain it at all, my mom had a sort of understanding and allowed me to stay home like every damn day. Like I said wasn’t the greatest thing to do but it helped in its own way. In the first years of hs my relationship with my mom was rocky but towards the end she screwed her head on and became more mama bird then ever. We bonded and it felt much better, almost like we rekindled after a long time. Which is kinda true.

Another thing I realized in the past four years was how normalized death was to me growing up. Like by the time I was eight I went through at least six funerals which to my Catholic Mexican/Filipino family meant six mortuary family reunions, six forty day prayers full of greeting mama and papas, being one of the only children to not be playing in the backyard but rather doing the rosary with the adults and what my fam called the ‘Filipino golden girls’ singing walk with thee. Not to mention the other annual prayers with said golden girls where we had a Jesus of Nazareth statue that traveled from the Philippines for a whole week and just prayed for mercy and the souls of our dearly deceased. Like this was the norm for me.. but ALL of that did not prepare me for the deaths of two of the most important people to me. I mean I guess it did because after one of the passings, after a ton of tears and goodbyes in a hospital room, I got in the car and on the way home and immediately thought about where the nice tablecloth was and the saint statues and how to move the table we used as an alter at the previous prayers. So yeah I was prepared but not for the emotions.

Back to why I’m writing this now, i just feel happy??? Idk why this past week was a rollercoaster but overall I felt happy,,,, idk. Imma elaborate..(holy shit I said I could talk the ear off a stranger and look at me spilling hella shit about me rn to the three strangers who’ll see this and scroll right past lmao.) So hmmm, there was a party hosted at my house recently and I was hella excited, I felt like I looked great and was ready to party but as all other times when there’s a gathering of any sort at my house, this weird overwhlelming feeling pops up and fucks everything up. It’s basically a fucking anxiety attack but soooo much weirder than the ones I dealt with in school. I mean they’re both basically the same but these ones felt worse. Because not being able to leave my room for school full of kids I barely knew and not being able to leave my room for a patio full of family and friends that I’m mostly close too should not result in the same form of anxiety. Idk tho it’s all in my sick brain!! but yeah that shit sucked I stayed in my room the whole night, hungry and sober which were two of the things I was absolutely not supposed to be!! There were tacos, &(oops) my fave tequila, good music and fun things planned but that didn’t stop my sick brain from telling me nO. And another thing in this glorious month is —Father’s Day. liSTEN I’m hella damaged nd am not trying to get into ALL of this but to keep it short, my dad who wasn’t in my life until I was one and only very briefly until I was thirteen which also turned out to be very briefly until I was eighteen which you guessed, was also very briefly, just isn’t a good dad. i have a half sibling who I feel so bad for because her parents are literal idiots that just shouldn’t have had kids because they can barely take care of themselves. But the very brief moment when I was eighteen was because of said halfsibling that I was worried for but as of now that family is it’s own and I’m nowhere near it nor do I want to be. But really I wasn’t struggling with my own dad issues this time around but rather my grandpa. It’s just that i know Father’s Day is hard for him because he lost my grandma who gave him his babygirl, my momma. And I didn’t push any emotional induced conversation at all. But as we ate dinner the conversation was about how well he used to get paid as a server waaaay back when and that he’d have stacks in his pocket lmao we were like yeh okay as a waiter all right,, and he sorta slipped up and said, “No really! Ask Mama!” And I’m pretty sure only me and my brother in law heard because he moved on really quickly and there were side convos happening but like a wave of emotions came over me. I teared up the second I heard him say her name because it just reminded me more about how hard this day must be for him. And my throat is swelling up jus typing about it rn so I’m not gonna get eVEN more into it.

But yeah overall June has been okay. I have felt okay. And after months of not going on here I just thought “why not type about this?? This content feelin is all I crave and have been longing for and whenever I get it, in even the slightest, it should be appreciated and remembered.”

Whoop so like what’s some good things that happened in the last few months. Hmmm

Well I’m just finally acting, in the tiniest way ever, as an adult. I didn’t take grip of my life yet but like I took A STEP!!

I’ve got new things I like and am more open than ever to new things.

I’ve got hobbies!! I’m growing mint and wanna start and herb garden. I’m reading and learning a new language that I’ll probably never use but I’m learning it for fun and not for a grade or something and am taking my time with it. And a new language brings so much more!! More people, music, shows and writing!! I mean I’m at a hella basic level but all of those things are helping me.

I’ve thought about reigniting old flames lmao that sounds like getting intouch with old lovers but no. I mean creatively. In the past three years I barely even thought about drawing and in the past few months I found myself thinking about things I could draw up and cool ways to mix medias. I actually looked for my sketchbook and was gonna test it out but I saw some of my old work and got nostalgic and was almost putting myself in my shoes from that year and like that didn’t sit well so I haven’t tried. bUT at least I’m thinking about it again. I really think imma start again soon and just the thought of that makes me happy!!

I took up writing and the result is exactly what I thought,,, I suck at writing lmao but I tried and it was fun and it led me to find some writers online that made me cry over some fictional characters. some were fan fiction and??? A writer no less.. which really doesn’t need to be explained more especially on this site lol

I’m getting healthier. Not that I was suuuuper bad before but it was good either. I did have some horrible eating and sleep habits. I swear I was addicted to food like I ate to fill a void in me idk but l changed that shit real quick. And as for sleep,, well it’s still shit. Considering I started typing this at nearly six am nowhere near tired. Lately I’ve been falling asleep around 6:30am which indeed results in my waking up at noon or past it even but it’ll surely go back to the usual 2:30 to 10:30am schedule. Not too bad...

I’m dressing up again! I don’t go anywhere but catch me looking cute in a fit at home or 7-11. lol I used to be hella into getting dolled up for school and used to play around with hair cuts and colors and different makeup but then suddenly it was like mAYbe I’ll do my eyebrows today and rather than choosing good outfits I would wake up and change from my actual pjs to my outside pjs, loungewear, if you will.

Idk man i just am okay right now and that’s enough to keep me going. I haven’t had a really low point for a few months now and like I said I don’t get this content feeling very often so I’m just really soaking it all up. It’s good, I’m good.. 2018 is fucking flying and I didn’t think I’d get into new things this year but I did and I’m exited for more!!

[lettersfromtheruins-blog]

Dear Jenn

Do you remember planting the mint patch? My mother had decided to grow a vegetable garden in the back corner of the yard but soon became too caught up in living life to follow through, so I went out back one afternoon and planted in the dug-up earth the small potted mint that lived on our kitchen windowsill. I thought it was a very brave thing I was doing, something akin to releasing a caged bird. I patted myself on the back - and then immediately forgot all about it. But my mint plant didn't die, it took root and thrived, growing over the weeds, overwhelming the overwhelming. My mint plant - because of course I took - still take - credit for its gumption.

The space between our houses.  A grassy glen, a pastoral space, hushed, the breeze there always gentle. I'd come out from around the back of my house, stomping hard to alert and warn away snakes, and come across you, crouched in the middle of the green like a garden sprite, moistening or mulching the ground or picking out the biggest leaves.

(Even when I was old enough to know that we never got snakes in our backyard, I still did a stomp-dance on my way to the mint patch. For tradition's sake, as a salute to my childhood fears, as an acknowledgement that I was still scared, just in case.)

It was our meeting spot, and it always felt like a neutral ground where the troubles of the world only reached so far as they could be complained about, sighed over and then forgotten in the sharp tang of the breeze. Late at night, I still think of about how lulling it was.

I don’t remember many of our conversations with that much specificity - after all, we talked so much over the years. But one night stays in my head in particular. I remember one fall afternoon when I wandered there, ruminating on nothing, haunted by everything, suffering teenage aimlessness. It was an unusually cold day, and I spent the whole afternoon ambling around the neighborhood with my hands stuffed into my pockets, the Little Match Girl in Ugg boots. My feet by habit took me to the mint patch. I stomped over, and I saw you sitting, not spritely, not delicate nor fairy-like. You were hunched over, weary and heavy, sitting cross-legged on the dew-damp grass, tying grass stems to dandelions.

"You're supposed to tie the dandelions to the dandelions," I told you, sitting down across from you. You nodded but kept tying your slipshod knots. I started making a dandelion chain in the right, neat way. And we sat there for half an hour; I kept tying wispy flower to wispy flower, and you kept tearing at grass stems, and the silence was antsy on my end and distrait on yours. My hands held three feet of chain to her mass of tangled weeds before at last -

"Such awfulness occurred tonight." You didn't really say it to me, though it had to be addressed to me; I was the only person with you. But you said it more to the space around you, as if confessing, as if you needed to say it or implode. As if purging it from yourself. You talked casually, but each word had such a resounding ache to it.

"Just now," you continued. "A family-wide brawl. It was way too long and drawn out and excruciating and frustrating and terrible for me. But I pressed on. I don't know why I did that. I couldn't stop."

"You started it?" I asked.

"No, not really. My mother did, mostly by getting offended out of the blue. Very, very offended. Very, very out of the blue."

You waited for a minute, as if waiting to see if I would take sides against you, join forces with your mother and get offended or turned off by what you had said. You waited for me to ask why your mother often got offended out of the blue. We never discussed our families with each other and just assumed - or pretended, even though we knew otherwise - that the normal level of suburban dysfunction existed within both households. I didn’t say anything. I waited. 

"What was it about?" I asked.

"It was about nothing. Except my mother getting to yell. All the same bullshit. It’s always the same. The subjects are different, but the bullshit never really changes.”

"Seems pointless."

"Right. I tried to interfere at one point, but no, mom is spitting out wine and becoming angrier and it's just a huge fucking mess."

"So she just started a fight for nothing?"

"No, she was offended. I ganged up on her. Because I just thought she had been...pissier than usual."

"More so than usual?"

Your mother was such a funny figure to me. I imagine she fancied herself in so many guises - the lady who lunched, the Southern belle sipping mint juleps from her front porch, the artist who was squandering her potential in the suburbs and would immediately begin a career in whatever field she fancied, the soccer mom who was now ready to cheer, a soccer mom who now disdained her lot in life, the Mary Kay saleswoman with eyeliner caked in the corner of her blurry but bonny blue eyes, the former beauty queen turned grande-dame-who-could-have-been. Whatever the rôle du jour she believed she was playing, she always presented to the rest of us as the star of a drunken tragicomedy, without realizing that we all knew she was playing at a variety of cliches because she had no sense of what her reality was or ought to be. She was often pissy, but no one mentioned it. I didn't know what constituted pissier than usual for you. 

"So that’s why I'm out here feeling shitty,” you said. 

"Were you right? Has she been pissier than usual?"

"I can't have my opinion too loud about it." I remember this in particular, I think of this phrase often. As if I should have gleaned something from this offhand statement.

"Anyway,” you continued, “instead of having a rational discussion, it becomes an argument about, 'Jenn always has to be right.'”

"Well, is that totally untrue? You do like to be right."

You glowered at me. "Totally untrue. And whenever she brings it up, the argument becomes about me. And that’s not fair that I have to tolerate her like that.”

“She's your mother. You should do more than tolerate her."

"No, that's just bullshit. God." You ran your fingers through your mane in frustration, leaving pieces of grass in the waves. It was a little glint of color in a dark world. The sky was turning to night. The last colors of the sunset, silver and black, moon throwing everything into shadow but itself. Your eyes were blazing, and then you blinked.

"Okay," you said, and your voice trembled a bit. "Yeah, you're probably right. She thinks that I have some warped perception of our whole relationship. She was actually shouting tonight, 'We are FAMILY, JENN.'

"It's personal with family, though. They're not just people. You can't treat them like they're just people."

"But If it's personal with family, then we're more entitled to our dignity than anyone else and it's not fair when she denies it to me in passing for no reason because she’s been drinking and thinks I’m trying to fight with her when I’m not. It wastes my time and energy. God. God, she exhausts me. I just don't get her."

You sighed. The moon shone through a gap in the branches of the trees above. The light illuminated our nearness; you had moved closer to me in comfort-asking, and I had moved closer to you in comfort-giving, and our weeds and flowers were tangled in both our hands and our heads were bowed over them. We sat for a few minutes like this, not quite holding hands, but dawdling over our weeds and herbs.

Then the dusk cleared and the houselights came on, the haunting ended. The twilight gray gave way to night and light. We had gone too far into your secrets, and we couldn't stay there, not for long, never long enough. 

You sighed and yawned, stretching as if you had been asleep and were only now waking. "Whatever. I don't care that much. My parents and I don't have a whole lot to say to each other. I'm over this topic. I'm an official grown up and have zero philosophizing or perspective-forming to do about my family."

This is the image I carry with me from that night: You got up and started to walk away, squaring your thin shoulders. I hadn't noticed before that you weren’t wearing a jacket or even a long-sleeved shirt. You were only wearing a thin white t-shirt and gray sweatpants. You arms were spattered with goosebumps and your skin had a faint bluish tinge. It made you look even thinner than you actually were. You were more deathly in that moment than I had ever seen. You turned back to me for one last second, reaching your hand out with porcelain fragility. 

"This," you said, pointing at your house with the lights dimmed in every room, your home with its distorted shadow, your family with every member sitting in a dark of their own sort, "can't…." and your words trailed off and you turned around and strode off.