#had to take them home in a plastic baggy one of my teachers gave me lmao

[cordeliawhohung]

pup anon yap of the day (week? idk) first of all, singing you a kiss on the tip of your nose, I just now read the comments to some of my asks and I have been kicking my feet for the last hour lmao, second of all and the yap, I had to get glasses, I hate them on me, I look so bad, a friend of my brother helped me with giving me the exam and some glasses while he got me some proper ones, the ones he got me to wear for now are squares, like literal squares. I’ve been rolling around in despair from it all day, this guy (we really need to give him a nickname) comes to my apartment, looks at me up and down, bites down a laugh and says that I look ‘like the fuckin’ yellow thing’ THE FUCKING 🤓👆 istg I almost slammed the door on his face, spent the rest of the day teasing me about it while I looked at him like this :| and tried (failed) to kick him out

nose kisses are so underrated oh i love them.

also LMFAO. i was thinking like, you'd open the door and he'd think you were super sexy with the glasses or something but BAHAHA. if it makes you feel any better, i unironically wear the super big, square framed glasses like mine are HUGE (but anything's better than BCG's lmfao) hopefully you're able to get some legit glasses soon! the struggle is real.

you also reminded me my eye doctor called me like 2 weeks ago and i gotta go back in because my vision def got *worse*

i think you should make him wear them (or tell them you won't wear them anymore so he has to lead you everywhere by hand now...)

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 19 - Stuck In My Brain Again

A/N: This is kind of an artsy chapter, it shifts between Cat, Steve and Billy's POVs. Every new paragraph is a POV shift

Black fabric between cool fingers, sliding over pale skin. Zip it. It's a bit baggy now.

Beautiful.

Glittering sequins shining in the light.

Magical.

A smear of dark shadow, outline the eyes darker. Hide the shadows.

Fix the hair, let soft waves fall.

Take a moment in the mirror to admire the girl who looked back. Tiny and glowing. A shimmering goddess.

Perfect.

Another quiet house. Steve fixed his hair in the mirror. The bruises on his face had started to yellow around the edges. It didn't hurt to move as much anymore.

Small victories.

He had thought about covering them, maybe if she was here he would have let her conceal them.

Now he hoped they'd win him some sympathy. Maybe someone would feel bad and come home with him, make him forget for a moment.

Make him feel something good for a change.

He pulled back to straighten his suit. Everything in it's proper place, no wrinkles, just like he was taught.

A plastic container on his dresser caught his eye. Soft pink flowers nestled carefully on creamy tissue.

He was stupid to order them. She was never his to take to the dance. Never his to care for.

He was stupid to care so much.

The plastic crunched under his fingers, split and scratched when he squeezed.

He tossed them in the garbage on his way out.

Quiet was a luxury that was desperately wished for but that hardly ever graced the Hargrove house.

Max buried her head in her pillow, her muted scream joining the noise. A beer bottle smashed on a scuffed wall, shattering and flying over the kitchen tile. Susan's hands flew to her mouth with a shriek before she composed herself. Tried to call off the monster.

"Neil," she whispered.

Too meak. His roar is too loud, he doesn't hear her. Billy hears her. He wishes that she'd roar too.

Maybe she could be loud enough to cut through the noise. Maybe, if she tried.

Cause Neil had a crap day at work and then he heard his brakes squeal when he parked in the driveway. Neil had walked in and barked at his son to get them changed tonight. And Billy had offered tomorrow instead.

But if anyone heard Neil Hargrove's car squeaking.

Embarrassing.

Just like his fag of a son.

The one who primped and polished like a damn girl. The one who cowered underneath him, golden hair glittering with broken glass.

Too pretty.

Too much like her.

Embarrassing.

"You're fucking staying here and changing the brakes!"

Final. That's an order.

So Billy brushes glass from his hair and changes out of his dress shirt. Balls it and throws it in the corner as hard as he can.

"Billy," Susan whispers from his door, "I'll try...let me talk to your father...if you hurry, you could still make the dance.."

She makes an effort to sympathize. Tries to be the glue to keep her family together.

Billy knows he isn't going to the dance. Susan never musters up the courage to face the beast.

It's cold outside. Snow coming down cold and heavy. Covering everything in a plush, white blanket. Flakes clung to Cat's skin, trying to leave a chill.

The empty vodka bottle on the floor of her car didn't let her feel the cold.

Didn't let her feel anything.

She stared at the school from the parking lot. Listened to the muffled music and thought about going in.

She'd walk through the front doors and into the lights. Strings of white lights and silver stars along the doorways. Glittering snowflakes on the walls. Everything reflecting light in all directions.

Magical.

Steve would meet her at the entrance, extend an elbow to guide her under an arch. Smile together for a yearbook picture before entering the crowded gym.

A picture that would show a dead eyed Cat, alone in her too big dress.

Billy would be inside, shining gold like an angel. She'd float over to him, arms lifting to wrap around his neck. Warm hands gripped her hips to keep her close.

He'd lean close and whisper, "come with me."

She'd follow him to sneak away from the crowd into a dark locker room.

"I love you."

Repeated again and again like a prayer.

Whispered into heated skin and sighed against parted lips.

"I love you."

Callused hands slid under the hem of her dress to grab her. She wouldn’t flinch at his touch, she'd whine into him instead.

"I love you."

"What are you doing in here?"

Cat whirled to see a teacher standing in the locker room door, staring at her. She looked back for Billy but saw only an empty room. Stared into the darkness for a moment, wondering where he'd gone.

"You're not supposed to be in here," the teacher chided, leading her back to the dance.

Sequins flashed in the edge of Steve's vision. He thought he caught a glimpse of her disappearing into the crowd of people.

Thought maybe she'd come after all.

He pushed off the wall to go after her but was stopped by a pretty blonde. Someone wanting to fawn over King Steve.

He took a quick glance and didn't see her anymore. Decided not to go looking for disappointment. Not when there was a girl right here, running soft fingers over his arm and crowding him close to the wall.

She didn't need him anyway. She made that very clear.

He wouldn't chase after her, not tonight.

Billy was soaked and shivering by the time he finished changing the brakes. His fingers hurt from the cold, stung when he washed his hands. He stripped out of his wet clothes and buried himself in his bed, waiting to warm up.

Susan came in a few minutes later to leave a mug of hot chocolate beside his bed. Left without saying anything, the gesture said more than her words could.

It said I'm sorry.

The engine screeched louder with climbing speed. Screeched louder than her music. But not louder than the voice in her head.

She had to get away. Away from the lights and the noise. Away from Billy and Steve.

They'd be better off.

Steve would move on. Maybe with the pretty girl that had been hanging on to his every word. He could take her to the fancy boutique in the city and dress her up and show her off. She could help him take care of himself, take some of the weight from his shoulders.

He could be happy again.

Billy could shine bright. A golden king. Leaving a trail of notched bed posts to remember him by. He'd go back to California, forget everything about Hawkins. Forget everyone. Find a pretty girl to lounge on the beach and party with.

He'd run away and never look back.

They didn't need her.

Steve crowded into the back of his car with the blonde. Shared mouthfuls of vodka until the cold outside didn't bother them.

Wet, open mouth kisses over soft skin.

Hot breath fogged the windows, hiding them from reality.

Snow came down so fast she couldn't see. Couldn't see the path or the ice that covered it. Tires slid, locked so she couldn't turn. She closed her eyes. Willed it to be fast.

His fingers twisted in her hair, pulling hard. Too hard but he didn't care. Couldn't care.

She gasped and a smile pulled. Shivered when he reached between them to rub his thumb over her.

He wondered if Cat and Billy had made it to the dance. She would have looked beautiful.

He wondered if Billy had gotten her flowers.

The girl's nails dug hard into Steve’s shoulder. Gave him something to focus on when his stomach clenched.

Wait.

He rubbed faster, thrust up harder. Yanked her head back and left bite marks on her chest. Waited until her thighs quivered before burying himself deep.

They shared a brief moment, panting against each other before Steve pushed her aside. He smoked a cigarette and sipped at the bottle of vodka while she got dressed.

"Didn't realize you liked it rough," she murmured, looking in a pocket mirror to straighten her hair and makeup.

Steve shrugged before getting out of the car. Finished his cigarette as the snow came down around him while waiting for the girl to leave.

She came to a fast halt when she crashed head first into a tree. Blacked out with her head against the steering wheel, music still playing into the night.

@charmed-asylum

[agentunwin]

MACARONI & GLUE [Teacher!Shawn x Teacher!Reader]

In which Mr.Mendes’ kindergartners come up with a master plan to set him and Ms.Y/L/N up. 

[Gif by @mendes-shawn!]

— A/N: this is barely edited sorry but i got this idea from a general teacher x teacher prompt post i saw a few days ago, i thought it was cute so i wrote it. also if you know who made the gif let me know so i can credit!

— WORDS: 1.8k

— WARNINGS: n/a

-

Shawn shuffled behind the wall as he eyed the woman just down the hall. Her legs looked great in her beige skirt as she bent down to give each of her first graders high fives as they walked into the classroom. Her smile was bright and her love for her students radiated throughout the entire school, brightening everyone’s day. Brightening his day.

When all of her students reentered the classroom she stood to dust off her outfit and was about to follow behind them, but something caught her eye. A mysterious S-shaped curl peeked out from the wall just a few feet away. She chuckled to herself and shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Good morning, Mr.Mendes.” Y/N called out, knocking him off his balance a little. He presumed he was being sneaky but that obviously wasn’t the case, and now embarrassed wasn’t nearly a good enough word to describe how he felt in this moment.

He pocketed his hands and stepped out from behind the wall, a bashful smile on his lips to match hers. The blush on his cheeks was impossible to miss and he swayed back and forth on his toes as he replied, “Good morning to you too, Ms.Y/L/N.”

She considered teasing him a bit more but decided against it when one of Shawn’s own students came up to tug on the side of his tucked-in button up shirt. Shawn looked down at the brunette boy who was staring right back at him with expectant eyes considering he hadn’t come back to the classroom in all but a minute.

Shawn pointed towards his door and began to back away, insisting, “I should probably get back to my own class now, eh?”

Y/N shut her eyes and grinned, “Yeah, I think that’d be a good idea.”

By the time she’d finished her sentence the little boy had pulled him completely behind the wall but she didn’t fail to hear his “See you at lunch!” before his door was slammed shut. She rolled her eyes and laughed before ducking into her own classroom.

Shawn tortured himself over that moment for the rest of that morning. His kindergartners were clever enough to realize something was wrong with him when they noticed him staring down at his demo macaroni art project, his face stoic. While the classroom buzzed with life around him, he remained sitting at the too-tiny table with a few of his other students, cheeks still blazing.

And the brunette boy from earlier, Liam, knew exactly why.

“I think teacher has a crush on miss Y/L/N.” He said to his friend nonchalantly, hands messy as he attempted to expertly place a piece of macaroni onto his masterpiece. 

His friend Jamia perked up at his claim, her eyes going wide and ginger curls bouncing. “How do you know?”

Liam shrugged, tipping his Elmer’s glue bottle and letting out a lot more than intended. “He acts weird around her!”

Jamia smiled and swooned, holding her hands to her heart. “Are they together?”

Liam only shook his head, peacefully continuing to add onto his art. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Shawn stood that he came up with an idea. The little boy ordered Jamia to get him some construction paper and stickers, the girl excitedly coming back with the “secret supplies” a minute later. 

He explained the plan to his friend and they both got to work, Liam leading the plan. His tongue stuck out from his lips as he tried to keep his hands steady, writing out a few words to the best of his ability. He tried to sound out the words which helped him a little, and when they were done, the two folded the letter and placed a Thomas the Tank Engine sticker over it. Jamia added the final touch by gluing a random piece of macaroni to make it look more presentable.

Just in the nick of time, as well. Shawn walked around the class to check that everyone was doing their work correctly and when he got to the two’s table, excitement was written all over their faces. He should’ve known then and there that something was suspicious, his eyes flickering down to the sealed letter. However, he thought nothing of it, walking back to his desk.

Y/N wiped her hands, sighing to herself as she looked over her empty classroom. Everyone had been dismissed to recess and it was rare that she experienced silence like this, so every time she did, she made sure to take advantage of it. 

Leaning back in her seat, she rubbed over her eyes. She loved her students to death but jeez, did they wear her out. Her silence was broken when she heard some kind of rustling, making her begrudgingly open her eyes. She did so just in time to notice a tiny finger pushing a pink folded piece of cardboard underneath the crack of her door.

This brought a small smile to her lips and she stood from her squeaky seat, short heels clicking against the marble flooring. She bent down to grab the paper with the Thomas the Tank Engine sticker, her manicured fingers carefully opening it. 

DeEr Miss Y/L/N

Yu are s o beeOtEfull and s mart. I lov yu.

Frum, mister MendeZ

An uncontainable laugh ripped past her lips as she read over the letter that was so obviously written by one of Mr.Mendes’ kindergartners. The spelling gave that away immediately. 

She couldn’t deny how sweet it was, though. 

A knock on her door caused her head to whip back up, meeting the eyes of none other than Mr.Mendes himself through the window of the door. He wore his signature good-guy smile that only got wider once he noticed that he’d startled Y/N the slightest bit, the woman holding a hand to her heart. 

She quickly folded the letter back up and went to swing the door open, allowing Shawn to walk into her classroom. He took the liberty of shutting it behind himself and admired the view as she walked back to her desk, plopping down in her chair again. 

“Long day, huh?” Shawn asked, walking over and pulling a chair up to the other side of her desk. He then set down his plastic baggie and began unpacking his glass lunch containers. 

“You have no idea.” Y/N sighed, biting her lip and watching his perfect hands unpack his lunch. Her stomach growling was what jolted her from her trance and made her remember one of her frustrations. “I forgot my lunch at home and the tiny bag of Cheetos I had isn’t really helping me either.”

Shawn jumped into action at her words and he pushed one of his dishes her way, insisting that she take it. “It’s only two tacos, but it’s better than a bag of Cheetos.”

Y/N frowned and looked down at the food, “Are you sure? I could totally just get more chips.”

“I’m sure.” Shawn reinforced, his heart racing at her reluctant, kind attitude. He brought his leftover restaurant chips and salsa out and set them down on her desk, the two beginning to eat in silence.

He would sometimes catch a glimpse of her when she wasn’t looking, admiring how she tried to eat politely in front of him while still unknowingly having a piece of beef on the corner of her lip. This made him chuckle and her gaze shifted back to him, confusion written over her face.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing.” Shawn quickly shook his head, sporting a playful grin which she reciprocated.

The two’s relationship was very strange. It was a constant push and pull, an almost there but never really. He’d made it very clear from the first week of school that he thought she was amazing and she reciprocated those feelings, but no matter how the conversation went, it always ended with a “We’re co-workers, we can’t”.

Obviously, that never stopped Shawn from trying.

“What’s this?” Shawn cocked his head, recognizing the Thomas the Tank Engine stickered letter from his own classroom. 

Y/N licked her fingers and laughed, nodding towards the paper. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Shawn pursed his lips at her semi-scary words but reached to grab the paper anyways, opening it and quickly reading over the broken English. Y/N watched with a smirk once he set the letter down, trying to stifle his grin as he rubbed his temples.

“Anything you’d like to say for yourself?” She teased, leaning a little bit closer to him.

Shawn chuckled and shook his head. “Kids and their wild imaginations, right? But maybe it’s not wild. I heard kids are good at sensing things, ya’know? Like ghosts and stuff.”

Y/N gave him a puzzled look and Shawn realized what he’d just rambled about was strange so in an attempt to redeem himself, he clarified.

“B-But maybe instead of ghosts, it’s love. They can sense love. Maybe.”

Y/N laughed at his desperate attempt to regain his composure and explain himself but it was fruitless and Shawn realized this too, laughing along with her. This fit went on for about 30 seconds before she was wiping her eyes and leaning back in her seat, tapping on her desk with her nails.

Her rhythmic pace made him nervous as he leaned back as well, awaiting her next words. It was obvious that she wanted to say something but something was holding her back, and Shawn knew exactly what it was.

“Y/N.” Shawn whispered, not willing breaking their eye contact for a mere second. “Say it.”

She bit her lip and took a deep breath, scared to let the words leave her mouth. They’d been beating around the bush for so long and this isn’t the only time he’s offered her his lunch at all (She was a forgetful person) but today felt different and they both felt it. Everyone around them knew it- Even five year old kids, it seemed. It was time to stop the games.

“Maybe it is love.” Y/N nodded, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly. “I guess we’ll have to find out over dinner and a huge glass of wine, huh?”

Shawn’s eyes widened as she finally allowed him in- gave him a chance at the one thing he’d been yearning after for so long. “A-Are you serious?” He stuttered out, his smile that of an excited child’s.

“Yes, I’m serious.” She confirmed happily, beginning to help him pack up his lunch. “I think I’m finally ready to put myself out there again.. And to be frank, I really like you.”

“Well duh. Who doesn’t like me? I’m tall, handsome, and incredibly smart.” Shawn rolled his eyes just as the bell rung, signifying the second half of their school day. When she scoffed he continued, “So, uh, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

Y/N smiled widely and nodded, shooing the man out of her class just as kids began to pour back in.

“Sounds amazing. Now get to class, Mendes.”

[maelaola]

Away and Under the Weather: Part 3

This is it. My final and, in my opinion, WORST illness-related experience abroad. It actually involves a few different illnesses and was spread out over at least a month. It was painful, exhausting, and just bizarre. Enjoy! #1 It started with the flu... It started with the flu. Nothing special, just the flu. When you live in another country AND work with children, you're going to get sick now and then. It was around this time of year (April) in 2007. I don't even remember how bad a flu it was. I probably had a fever, some body aches and a runny nose. That's usually what I get. I taught lessons through it (as usual) and it was over. I didn't need to go to the doctor until later. The flu ended but the crap in my lungs never really went away. After a week or two of wheezing and coughing, I went to get checked out. At the hospital, I was shown around by my own English-speaking nurse to see two specialists and got an x-ray of my lungs. It cost less than US$50. (I miss Korea.) I had acute bronchitis. The flu had slightly inflamed my bronchial tubes and there was a little infection. They gave me antibiotics, pain pills, something for the mucus, and anti-inflammatory medicine. Getting treated in Korea by western medicine is different than at home. Korean hospitals also treated people using eastern medicine and I took advantage of that more after this experience. Eastern medicine is about treating the delicate balance that exists in your body and allowing your body to function at its peak potential. Western medicine works more like a band aid. You're hurt here; fix here. Western medicine in Korea takes this metaphor even further. Sick? In pain? Appendages double in size? Okay! What can we do to patch you up and get you back to work? On top of that, we really do blindly trust doctors a lot. Which is fine for the complicated stuff. But in Korea, you barely even know what medicine you're taking. They give me the list but there's a lot on there and it's hard to tell the pills apart. They prepare all the pills for you and separate them by dose in these long strips of vacuum sealed plastic baggies. Swallow the cocktail and get back to work. No need to wait for the effects to kick in. I can tell you that I took my first baggie on a Wednesday night or Thursday morning. I remember that because by Friday I was calling the nurse and taking the only sick leave I ever took in 3 years in Korea. I felt a little off on Thursday. Not sick, just off. So it took me (and my head teacher/neighbor who was walking home with me) completely by surprise when I randomly puked on the street Thursday night. I barely made it to the storm drain let alone even thinking about trying to find a toilet. Living abroad, I've had my share of food poisonings so the idea that my body was rejecting something was not foreign to me. But there was no food. It was like a hangover without the bliss of being an idiot the night before. Since it wasn't food, I assumed pills and called the nurse. I stopped taking all of them since I didn't know which was which in my poison cocktail. I didn't feel any better the next day as I started to have stomach problems come out the other end. Great. And remember how I couldn't have sick days? That was especially true my first year when our numbers were already small and there were teachers fleeing the country in the middle of the night every other week. Fortunately, though, through some luck--and a lot of pity from my head teacher and principal who watched me try to teach my 4pm-7pm elementary class from a chair when I wasn't running to the bathroom--my head teacher had her second three-hour slot free and taught my 7pm-10pm middle school class. So I went home and proceeded to have my worst weekend ever. I was supposed to be at a wedding. Instead, every three hours (like clockwork!) I crawled the three feet from my bed to the bathroom and then tried crawl back, dragging what was left of my tattered stomach on the floor. Eventually that was too much and I brought a pillow and blanket into the bathroom to sleep on the floor in between sessions. I didn't leave the house until Sunday afternoon. I limped across the street to get some saltines and electrolytes with some hope that I would be better before Monday. And, surprisingly, I was. My stomach was convinced everything was out that it didn't like and it stopped trying to kill me. On Monday, I was exhausted, soar, and really cranky but I was mobile enough to go down the hill to my work. I settled in my chair to be a white-faced, native speaker in front of 15 Korean kids for 6 hours. The kids were extra nice and the next few days went fine. Although, it still amazes me that the kids never viewed this behavior as strange. I could not stand most of the time and could barely speak but I was still there. Even now in Hong Kong, I often teach while wearing a doctor's mask when I have a cough or runny nose, and I have some kids come to EVERY class in a mask. Sick? Wrap it, cover it up, take a pill. But do it at work. In this case though, the pills were the problem. I talked to my mom on Skype later and she told me that it was probably the anti-inflammatory medicine. She used to work for a doctor and patients often called and complained of stomach problems when the doctor prescribed anti-inflammatory medicine. So that was it. The weekend was more than enough to learn my lesson. The body is connected, beware of pills, listen to your mother, work somewhere with sick days, bla, bla, bla... Teacher, finishee?? Anio. I got better and started to regale my friends with gross stories of the worst weekend ever. Around midweek, I decided that I was better enough to not cancel my rafting trip for the coming weekend. It was rafting in Korea, after all, which is only slightly more intense than floating down a lazy-river. It was mostly an excuse to drink somewhere else and also to watch a traditional Korean mask performance. Rafting was scheduled for Sunday so we watched the mask dance on Saturday. It was in a very cool theatre-in-the-round, and--despite not understanding a word they were saying--it was really funny! There was an ajumma character which is always a riot and at one point a guy pretended to cut off the fake bull's penis. It was an outdoor theater, and it was really hot, so most people sat in the shaded section. About 30 of us came on the trip and showed up late so a few of us sat in the sun so we could watch from the front row. It was really bright when I first stared down at my feet so I just thought I was seeing things. They felt a little strange and warm, but so did the rest of me. And I was wearing larger flip-flops so I wasn't uncomfortable. I felt a little stupid but I turned to my friend and said it anyway, "Do my feet look bigger to you?" I'm not sure if she could see or if she was just a little worried about the question I just asked but we needed a closer look. We walked around the edge of the seating and went outside to where it was shaded and we could see better. And there they were: cankles. I grew cankles in an afternoon! There was a weird fluster next as three of my friends and I tried to figure out what to do for a case of instant-fat-feet. I lay down on the ground and elevated them, someone put a cold water bottle on them, but mostly we just poked them a lot as if we were suddenly going to able to diagnose the problem. I freaked out for a while as they seemed to get bigger in the heat. Fortunately, they grew to certain size and stopped. They didn't hurt and I could walk. I didn't go to a doctor because I was where I usually was when stuff like this happens: in a village in a foreign country. The play ended and after some shopping we all got on the buses to go back to the place we were staying. A few more people got to see my exciting new development. Most of the theories tossed around that day had to do with the bus going up and down the hills and something with altitude. I kept them elevated and took some allergy pills or something. I even went rafting the next day. (Seriously, easy rafting.) I just kept showing people my fat feet hoping someone could tell me what was happening to me. Monday I went to work, fat feet and all. I got a kick out of freaking out the kids with my cankles. (It actually freaked out the other teachers and staff more.) They were still there a week later when my parents arrived in Korea. I'm sure it was a great sight for my mother, who hadn't seen me in nine months. Because that's what you want to see when your oldest child is all alone for the first time and on the other side of the world. That she's becoming deformed. My dad made me sleep in his special airplane socks that are supposed to give you even circulation and they started to really go down. Mom cleaned my apartment which was not in an acceptable state (is it ever?). I took my first real vacation since I arrived in Korea and relaxed in Jeju-do. It took some time but they went back to normal and I was all better. Finally, we sat down together with the Internet and tried to figure out why my feet blew up. (Mom is an experienced hiker and didn't buy the 'altitude' theory.) And there, at the bottom of the list, on some medical website under possible causes for swollen feet it said, "...may be caused by anti-inflammatory medicine." So that was it. I got the flu which gave me bronchitis that led to the worst weekend of my life followed by one of the weirdest. The lesson for all this is very simple and not at all original: Stuff happens. I did what I was supposed to. I was sick so I went to the doctor. Usually that's the end. Take the pills, drink some liquids, all better. Only this time the pills poisoned me, my stomach tried to kill me, and my feet doubled in size. The good experience that came out of this was that the next time I was sick, I was really willing to try acupuncture and Korean traditional medicine. Also, I try not to suck down pills like candy. My feet are big enough already. Unfortunately, I know this is not the end. Despite Hong Kong being more western than Korea and having more resources than Buenos Aires, I know it will happen again. You get sick, you fall down; drink your fluids, pick yourself up. It's just different when you don't speak the language.

**********

Again, this is old content I wrote about nearly 10 years ago for another blog (http://laurabusan.blogspot.com/). It’s time I start writing again and bringing everything together.

[nocornersuns]

Ever-so-helpful Art on a Cart tips and tricks!

This year, like many art teachers across the land, I've been displaced due to Covid restrictions.  Once again I am forced to manage a days worth of art making onto four wheels.

Oh man, teaching art on a cart sucks.  I've written about that before, but I never really explored the actual tangibility and organization that goes into actually teaching on a cart here on the blog.  Here are my helpful tips and tricks from unfortunately many years of experience.

Things on my cart at all the time during Covid restrictions:

Pencils (if they need one I let them keep it)

Sharpies with two containers. They return them to the “used” container when they are done.  I usually wipe them with a wipe when I need them again.

Tape

White Glue (This is mostly for my demonstrations since I hate glue sticks)

Glue sticks ( I have a million. I keep a box on the cart and if a kid doesn’t have glue I just let them keep it)

Scissors  (I have adult scissors and an assortment of random kid scissors.  Again, I have a million, so depending on the kid, I just let them keep them.  So many times this year students will tell me they do not have glue and scissors.  This is rarely the case.  Usually their desks, backpacks, coats, and crates strapped to their desks are so full and such a mess that they don't want to look for them.  My response lately is, "I guess you just have to sit there then" and miraculously they find them.

wipes/paper towels/Kleenex

Magnets

A few crayon boxes. (These are my plastic boxes of random crayons.  This time of year they are missing a lot of colors.  I will just give them the crayon to keep if they need it.)

Sorted Oil Pastels with two containers - like if we are using white, I pass them out then have them return them to a “used” bin to quarantine for a few days

A box of “Free Draw” paper. My kids have sketchbooks but since they have been with them all year in the classroom, they are mostly all filled up. I keep the shoebox of paper for early finishers.

Regular 80lb paper and some construction paper for projects. (I try to bring what I need, but in case of emergency’s I have extra on the cart.

Your computer, class rosters, water bottle.  These need a place on your cart, even though they probably go with you.  I got a water bottle with a pop up straw so I can just tuck it under my mask to drink!

I set up two carts at the school I'll be teaching at in April.  One for upstairs, one for downstairs.  Both of these carts are pretty small and not ideal, but we are hoping the situation is temporary!

Things in my apron

Over the summer I sewed an apron.  I edited the template a little and made big giant pockets.  It's been great, and now I realized I need another one for my other school beginning there art cart life... but I don't want to give up an entire day sewing another one.  So, I got this one off Amazon.  

Pencil

Notepad (for writing notes to teachers about stinkers, or more commonly writing words on if a kid needs to spell something 😂)

Bandaids

Sharpie

Hand sanitizer/hand lotion

White board marker ( I usually erase with a paper towel)

Magnets

Big rubber eraser. 

Usually a pair of kid scissors too for easy access

Keys or ID.

My phone - my schedule is crazy.  I literally set recurring alarms for every class for when it is clean-up time.  Which, isn’t fun on a Monday when we don’t have school… But, it helps a lot. The kids know that means it is clean-up time and hopefully that gets me able to move to my next class in a timely fashion.  Although, it’s impossible to end one class at 11am, when the next one starts at 11am.  Especially when teachers are super slow coming back to the room.

Not to be a downer, because who knows how long this situation will last, but lots of people will try to convince you that art on a cart is fine.  It's not.  Delicately complain that your students are not getting a quality art program as often as you can.

Yes, kids can do amazing things while you are teaching off of a cart.  No, you shouldn't just sacrifice your skills and decide the projects are going to be crap all year.  However; you are going to make yourself crazy trying to do the same things you once did in your classroom off of a cart.  You will be disappointed and frustrated.  

Then you will get used to it.  Don't forget though, this is not how it should be.

More tips:

I still have access to my art room - which is great!  I do all my planning in there, eat my lunch, and use it as my home base throughout the day.  I have taught on a cart where I didn't have a "home base". I would shove my coat and purse in a storage closet or weird filing cabinet in the hallway.  That is definitely not ideal.

I use a plastic 10 x 13" sorting tray for each class to keep all of their project stuff in.  I have a little alcove of supplies where I park my cart.  If I’m not seeing that particular class, I will leave their bin in the alcove area.  I also put some milk crate things there that hold the other supplies we’ve needed more routinely like sorted cups of (like warm and cool colors), boxes of colored pencils (I have enough so they do not have to share). I also have a bin with watercolor stuff that I can pick up and take to a room.  It has my wc brushes, paint sets, a roll of paper towels, water cups, and a pitcher since we don’t have sinks in our rooms.  This is also a problem when a whole class has dirty hands from pastels.  I’ve been using the wipes and have them clean their hands then table with the wipes.  If I’m out of baby wipes or Wet Ones - I have given them the Clorox wipes and said they were for “Fingertips” and tables since they aren’t supposed to be used to wash up skin.  

If you do decide to water color paint - my best solution so far has been to pass everything out then walk around with the water pitcher to fill cups - like a waitress filling up drinks.  When they are done I have them “carry their painting like a pizza” and put it on the dry rack I have in the hall.  It is a small stand alone rack and I have it centrally located in the hallway outside the younger kids’ rooms.  I let the big kids just walk to it when they are done. Then I can clean up their stuff.  I dump all the dirty water back into the pitcher and stack the cups etc.  None of my classrooms have a sink.

Passing out other supplies, or letting kids choose things has become pretty much nonexistent.  I have spread papers out and try to call them up individually to pick a piece- but they touch everything. They can’t make up their mind, then they want to change it, etc…. With the little kids, if it’s random colors or something- I just past them out randomly.  I don’t even let it be known that they have a choice.  With the older kids I’ve walked around and made them tell me what they wanted and I gave it to them and tell them they can’t exchange it.  For a few construction paper projects I’ve actually divided papers and things into baggies or clipped them, and passed them out like that.  Then I know they all have the right sizes/colors.

Another not so flexible thing is if kids have been absent.  I have more unfinished projects than usual because I may not have the supplies with me they need and there isn’t extra time for them to finish.  My older kids who have had to quarantine have been good about doing their work at home since it’s on their google classroom anyway.

When I taught on a cart before, each classroom teacher had a box in their classroom for all of the projects we had been working on.  Like a large flat portfolio box.  This was nice because I could also keep resources and things in it and had a little more control with what was going on.  I didn’t want to be touching or passing stuff out this year at all so I got the kids these 11 x 17” folders to keep next to their desks.  They all have crates strapped to their desks to hold stuff since we are not using lockers.  The folder fits good between the crate and desk.  At the end of the year they will just take them home with all their stuff inside.

Because the desks are spread out you will probably not be able to wheel the cart into the room and you will probably not have any counter space, and everyone’s technology will be set up differently in every room.  

And one last thing...If you haven’t been with the kids too much when they are wearing masks, you might find that you do not know who is talking to you- like ever. I still hear a question and look directly at the wrong kid to answer it. 🤷‍♀️

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[deepdickdaniel]

Kang Daniel | Rival!AU

prompt: anon request - “hi! can you write an au where Daniel and the reader are always competing with each other for some reason and end up liking each other? lol thanks!!”

note: my first request! thank you so much for sending it in and remember that my ask is always open! also, i’m using american high school years (freshman - senior year) for this au!

you honestly weren’t sure when exactly your friendly rivalry with daniel started

was it when you tried b-boying in middle school and he couldn’t stop his laugh when he saw you fail to lift yourself off the ground?

or was it when you shot the basketball into the hoop on your first try during gym class when he had been trying for the past fifteen minutes?

the world may never know - it only knew that a rivalry existed

even as you guys entered high school, you just felt a raging desire to beat daniel at every thing that he wanted to beat you in

in freshman year, you guys didn’t even know what to compete in

you guys ended up competing to see who could get the most average grades

you read right: the most average grades

you literally made your teachers add up all the grades for exams and find out the averages

whoever had the closest score to that grade won

you guys kept this up for at least three months until a kind senior that daniel knew, jisung, finally knocked some sense into y’all

“stop intentionally getting lower grades just to be closer to the average! that just shows how dumb you guys are!”

and in sophomore year, you guys competed to see who could volunteer the most time at the local animal shelter

the two of you literally bolted to the shelter right after classes let out, which turned into another semi-competition by racing

he always won but his mom made him go home earlier than you so your times always ended up evening out

and on halloween of that year, you guys wanted to see who could dress up in the most ridiculous costume

he dressed up in a ballerina costume

you dressed up as him lmao

you had on a baggy t shirt and a snapback turned around over your head

the best part? you were wearing bold white glasses to pay homage to his middle school self

he wanted to die when he saw those and admitted defeat just to get you to take them off

in junior year, you guys took part in a “who can feed jaehwan the most disgusting food?” competition

whoever was able to make jaehwan throw up won

spoiler alert: daniel won because he didn’t even bother trying to think up of ways to make food digusting - he just literally put a whole bunch of things in a blender and made jaehwan drink it

also in junior year, you guys had a class trip to an amusement park and battled it out by seeing who could go to the most attractions

you won because he refused to go into the haunted house without seongwu

“you need to hold his hand, huh???”

“shUT UP NO I DON’T”

you were in senior year when you started running out of things to compete in

then you guys remembered that there was such thing as a senior prank

so you already know you guys tried that

you blew up balloons and put them into every single underclassman’s locker

while daniel filled the halls with plastic cups filled with water

you won because he got in trouble for that LOL

you were passing by the principal’s office when you saw him getting scolded

tbh, he was scared of his punishment at first but then he saw you watching him so he decided to act really cool

“daniel, what you did was very dangerous”

“teeeeechnically, it wasn’t because they just had to avoid the cups?”

and with his charming smile and beloved reputation among the teachers, he got off with just a warning

but you both decided you couldn’t be competing in things that could get you in trouble - you wanted safe fun!

so when you saw a freshman by the name of park jihoon flashing around aegyo, you both stared at each other with mischievous smiles

you guys literally had a competition about who could ruin jihoon’s jeojang the most

you did some disgustingly cute/sexy combo of a jeojang

while daniel was extra and called the class to watch him 

he took out a cutesy headband and started doing the jeojang several times, making various weird faces

you didn’t even know he had a double chin until that day

he won that competition because the whole class was cheering and to be honest, you couldn’t help but cheer as well

this is when you started to realize your feelings for him: when you couldn’t help but giggle and blush a bit at the embarrassed and flustered cringing daniel did after his little performance

you found him to be so cute but also such a good sport for doing it and in front of the class nevertheless

so you went home that day and just started reminiscing about all the time you’ve spent with him

due to how much you guys have competed with each other, you saw each other a lot

and throughout that time, it was inevitable that you would have fallen for him

just because you guys competed in practically everything, that didn’t mean you guys didn’t get along

you guys were actually good friends and learned a lot about each other, especially during the time you volunteered together at the animal shelter

the first time he held a kitten and a puppy to try to get them to play with each other, you remembered feeling a weird warmth

and when he wore that ballerina costume, you saw how manly his body had become through the thin material of the leotard

when jaehwan actually got nauseous, daniel got so guilty and took really good care of him and you were able to see how sweet he was

and at the amusement park, he was so cute when he was pouty at the idea of going into the haunted house alone

you also saw him picking up all the plastic cups, one by one, even though he wasn’t punished to do so during his senior prank

the jeojang was the last straw for you

“oh my goodness, i’m in love with daniel”

coincidentally, the next day, daniel came up to you with a new proposition: whoever gets the person they want to go to prom with them first wins

this was your chance!!!

you never backed out of a challenge and even if he rejected you, it was senior year - you didn’t have much to lose

except your beautiful friendship but whatever right?

so you bravely went up to his locker after school ended and waited for him to arrive

when he saw you, he looked confused and then smirked

“ah, ready to admit defeat?”

“go to prom with me”

he wasn’t going to admit it but he was shook!!!

he looked at you strangely, but you could tell he was trying to hold in a smile

“um, excuse me?”

“i’ve been in love with you since basically freshman year and i want you to go to prom with me”

you honestly didn’t know where you were getting this courage but it was worth seeing his shocked face

that face slowly turning into a teasing smile

“nope!”

you gaped at him, lowkey hurt at his rejection - he noticed this and corrected himself really quickly

“just because you would win this competition if i said yes!”

and he skipped away happily while you glared at the back of his head

the next day however, you arrived to your locker and opened it to find a whole bunch of balloons floating out of it

at first, you thought it was a revenge prank by some underclassmen

but then you started seeing writing attached to all of the balloons

there were variations of compliments on one side and had “will you go to prom with me?” on the other

you turned around after reading one of the balloons to see daniel holding one of them by the ribbon

“go to prom with me?”

it was your turn to be surprised as you took the balloon from his hand

“this is why you rejected me?!”

he just shrugged,

“i can’t lose another competition to you”

jaehwan appeared next to you guys, holding all of the escaped balloons in his hands and giving you a pleading face

“please just say yes, you guys have been doing competitions for years and i was the victim of one of them...for the sake of the student body, just love each other already”

daniel laughed and looked at you after jaehwan said that

“well, you already love me and i already love you...sooooo, why don’t we end the war and make peace?”

you pretended to think about it and giggled internally when you saw that daniel was starting to get nervous

you gave the poor boy a break and nodded

“only because i’m in the lead - okay, we can have a draw, i’ll go to prom with you!”

and when he hugged you, you let the balloon go, and with it went the competitions you took part in for all those years

you could hear your entire school sigh in relief at no longer having to see the “sexual tension” between the two of you

instead, they gagged on a daily basis at how cutesy you guys would be due to your insistence that you loved daniel more

“no way, i have more love in my body since i’m taller. you’re just a shorty so you can’t love me more”

“my heart is bigger and it’s full of love just for you!”

your school couldn’t wait until you guys graduated

[idonthinkyoureadyforinformant]

2

Reggie's eyebrows rose. "Wow, no offense, but that's a rough neighborhood. A lotta crack heads and gangbangers out that way. You like it there?"

The server arrived just in time with Mia's second drink. She slugged it down with a grimace. "No, not really."

"So, what brings you here tonight, Mia?"

Mia began relaxing from the four shots of whisky she had consumed within 10 minutes. She decided to go for broke with her reply. "I'm trying to score some coke tonight."

Reggie managed to keep a straight face despite almost laughing at her. She was a poor informant, perhaps the worse he had ever encountered. Was she that naive to believe a big-time drug dealer like himself would carry coke around with him and deal directly with some bimbo he just met in a club, as if she was in a 1980s episode of 'Miami Vice'? She was trying to hook him like a fish, not realizing that he was doing the same to her. He was going to have a lot of fun playing this gullible white girl. "Don't have any coke, baby, but I might be able to get some Molly tonight. You in?"

Mia wore a puzzled look. "Molly? Who's that?"

Reggie raised his eyebrows at Mia's ignorance and clarified, "It's really pure Ecstasy, the best stuff out there." He turned his head from side to side. "Mmm, mmm, I might be able to get some from my suppliers. You in?"

Mia had heard something about Ecstasy a long time ago, but had never tried it and didn't remember much about it, other than it was illegal and a growing problem. She could not believe her good fortune — how easy it was proving to get information about this dirty drug dealer and his suppliers for Detective Sanchez so suddenly. Soon this low-life and his associates would be in jail where they belonged, and she and Josh would be free to live their lives together again.

She nodded affirmatively.

Reggie smiled at how easily this little whitefish swallowed his bait. "Come on, then. Let's get outta this place."

**************

A limousine took them to Reggie's high-rise. During the ride Reggie sat across from Mia. She looked out the window unaware of how he studied her gorgeous legs, her small waist, flat stomach and even the indention of her naval — all perceptible, as well as her firm c-cup breasts — through the sexy miniskirt that clung to her beautifully curved body.

The miniskirt, a sleeveless type with only thin straps over her toned shoulders holding it on, was made of grey material interspersed with silvery threads. Beneath it, a sexy thong and bra waited, Mia wrapped as an unknowing gift for Reggie from Detective Sanchez.

Reggie's cock had been hard all night, since he first saw Mia. Yet unfortunately, she had never looked directly its way. And in the shadows of night his dark baggy slacks and sports jacket helped obscure the horrific bulge that would have deterred Mia from going anywhere with this dangerous criminal had she noticed it.

Giving his hardness to Mia and putting it inside the soft, yet tight wetness of her pussy became all he thought about.

While she looked away buzzed from alcohol and completely ignorant of his growing desire for her, he quickly adjusted himself to alleviate some of the discomfort his abnormally large penis gave him during erections. He needed to relieve his hard-on with her soon, he thought.

"Is this your place?" Mia asked as they pulled up to a 50-story high-rise in a very expensive part of town. A doorman wearing a navy-blue suit stood at attention. Double glass doors immediately to his left, and a revolving door next to them, trimmed in polished brass, led to the lobby where a crystal chandelier hung above the concierge desk. It looked like the extravagant hotel in New York City Mia had briefly visited during her honeymoon with Josh.

The man in the navy-blue suit opened their limo door and Reggie giggled a reply. "No, not the entire building. Just the top floor."

"Good evening, Mr. Johnson," the clean-shaven, middle-aged doorman said as he closed the limo door behind them and proceeded to open the big glass door to the lobby.

"Thank you, James," Reggie answered.

An awkward silence filled the elevator as they travelled to the top of Reggie's high-rise, Mia's ears popping as they passed the 38th floor. Finally, the doors opened. Two big, burly black guys greeted them as they exited the elevator.

"Hey, boss, you want me to check this one out," one of them asked Reggie.

"Yeah, you better just to be safe." Reggie turned to Mia and said, "Sorry, beautiful, but they gonna check you out for a bug. I'm in a business where I need to be careful about that kinda thing."

"Sure," Mia replied, holding her arms out while the big black guy waved some wand up and down the front and back of her body.

"She okay boss."

Reggie opened the door to his penthouse for Mia and smiled, reeling his whitefish in, he thought. "This way."

Mia entered and sauntered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that comprised the eastern wall of his living room. She gazed out over the million-dollar view of the illuminated city, the numerous lights like countless stars through the lens of a telescope aimed at some distant constellation. "Wow, this is a really beautiful place you have."

He went to his wet bar. "Want another drink?"

She was already intoxicated, but handled her booze well. "Just water."

He fixed himself another Crown and fetched her a bottle of chilled water. "A good choice for Molly."

"I beg your pardon?" Mia asked.

He swallowed a mouthful of whisky. His tumbler clanged as he set it down on the black granite countertop. Mia saw the tiny blue pill he held between his two black fingers as he approached with her bottle of chilled water.

"For Molly," he repeated. "It tends to make users dehydrated. Now open your beautiful mouth for me."

A user? That's what this loathsome black drug dealer thought she was? Mia's eyes grew wide. Aside from smoking a tiny bit of marijuana on very rare occasions, she had never used any type of drug. "N-n, no," she nervously laughed, her lips drawing tight, revealing lovely white teeth and a hint of a gorgeous smile. "I wasn't planning on taking it tonight."

Reggie looked at her inquisitively. "You want me to get some of this from my suppliers without trying a sample of it yourself first? You an informant or something?"

The inquisitive look on his strong brown face began to show a mixture of distrust and anger.

Mia realized her plan was in danger and that she needed to alter course. The thought of Josh's career as a teacher ruined by a felony record for drugs, twelve years separated from each other as they each served prison terms flashed through her mind. She could not risk losing Reggie's trust — not now after getting so close. "It's just that it's getting late. My neighborhood, as you noted, is rough. I don't want to be out on the streets that late."

She played this game very poorly, Reggie thought. "Don't worry, I'll have my limo driver take you home a little later. If you like this stuff, I'll give my supplier a quick call tonight for more. You can meet him."

Mia tried to stall. "How much are we talking? I don't have a lot of money right now. Maybe we should do this tomorrow or the next day? You can talk to your supplier tonight and I'll get money for a deal tomorrow."

"That's okay. You can pay me when you get the money. Now open up for me."

Again, he outmaneuvered her. She nervously looked into his eyes, like a trapped prey, as the bottom of her jaw slowly opened.

He placed the small blue pill on her tongue and her mouth closed.

"Good girl," he said, the plastic cap of the water bottle snapping as he unscrewed it for her.

She took the clear plastic bottle of water from him — cold condensation running down its sides wetting her hand —and pretended to take a sip while slipping the pill he had put in her mouth under her tongue.

"I need to use the bathroom."

He knew what she was up to, but he wasn't going to let her get away that easily. He had reeled in this whitefish, practically had her in his net. "Let's kiss first." His huge muscular arm suddenly wrapped around her tiny waist and drew her to him.

"Whoa, not so fast," she said, trying to squirm from his embrace and pushing against huge muscles in his chest. She felt something else through their clothing as he pressed against her — something hard and incredibly large in his pants, but she became distracted by the awful, bitter-sour taste of the pill rapidly dissolving in her mouth.

"Kiss me now," he repeated, attempting to attach his lips to hers.

She turned away to avoid the kiss. "No, wait a minute. I'm sorry. I need another drink first. There's a funny taste in my mouth." She raised the water bottle to her lips again to swallow the remnants of the dissolved pill she had wanted to spit out in his bathroom.

Reggie smirked as he watched her really drink the water this time, and swallow a very large and powerful dosage of the drug — pure stuff, not the cut down crap sold by street dealers. He was eager to get her fucked up on it. This pretty whitefish was now in his net and it was time to haul her on board his boat to spear.

She finished the water, determined to somehow fight getting high.

"Let's kiss some now." His mouth locked to hers and his tongue forced its way past her lips. He pulled her with him onto the sofa.

"Mmm, no, mmm, wait, please, Reggie. I can't." She hated kissing him, and wiped his nasty saliva off her face with the back of her hand.

"Why not?" He secretly searched her eyes for tell-tale signs of the drug entering her bloodstream, but it was still too soon.

She was happily married to Josh. She would never cheat on him. Reggie was a nasty black man and a slime-ball drug dealer. But as a confidential police informant, she could not tell Reggie any of that. "You're going too fast."

Pretty whitefish was trying to escape from his net, but it was too late. He was going to bring her on board and spear her regardless of how much she tried to flop away. "We just kissing, baby. But you asking me to take a big risk and get this stuff for you without letting me get to know you first. Maybe we should just forget the whole thing. I don't know anything about you. Maybe you be five-o. I'll take you home now."

Betraying her husband by kissing this disgusting black man and drug dealer repulsed her, but Reggie threatened to cancel everything when she almost had what she needed. She remembered Sanchez' warning. She was running out of time. She had to make Reggie trust her.

She gently touched his muscular arm. "You can trust me, Reggie. I'm not a narc and I don't want you to take me home yet. Just kissing, though, right? Nothing more tonight, okay? I've just met you and I'm not that type of girl."

Mia was playing right into his hands. She obviously never tried Molly before and held no idea of its strength. Even inferior formulations and lower dosages altered emotions, mood, and perception. Something as benign as kissing easily became much more lascivious under its influence.

Reggie smiled and nodded his head. He was on his way inside this sweet little white girl's panties and she didn't even realize it. "Okay, we just gonna kiss for a little while until you see if you like the Molly. If you like it, I'll call Luther. Now lay back for me."

Luther — was that the name of Reggie's supplier? Mia wondered as she reclined on the sofa beneath Reggie's big hard body. She had to remember that name, she thought. But her mind quickly strayed to how different Reggie was from Josh — stronger, firmer, and larger. She felt his huge penis through their clothing press against her again, but the meaning of its terrible size now failed to fully register in her brain because a warm, wonderfully peaceful feeling began to creep up on her.

"Wait, Reggie. How long does this stuff take to work? I think maybe I'm feeling something."

Reggie noticed her pupils already displacing much of the blue in her eyes.

"It gonna take at least an hour to even start affecting you," he misleadingly told her. In an hour, she would be heavily 'rolling' as they said. Too fucked up to fully realize what he was doing to her.

"It's going to be late then."

"Don't you worry none, baby. I'm gonna take good care of you."

His promise to 'take good care of her' should have been a warning to Mia, but instead she believed him, the concentration of MDMA in her bloodstream rapidly increasing. They began French-kissing again.

"Mmm, oh, Reggie, mmm, oh."

His tongue probed deeper and deeper inside her mouth and then occupied it like a victorious foreign invader. Fleeting thoughts of Josh went through her brain, but she was doing this for him.

"Oh, I'm getting so warm," she murmured after nearly 30 minutes of French-kissing Reggie without interruption, the drug raising her body temperature, altering her perception of time. The miniskirt she wore became saturated with her sweat and stuck to her body. "Can you make the air conditioning colder for me? It's really hot in here."

"Sure, baby." Reggie quickly got off Mia and turned the temperature higher instead. It would make convincing her to undress easier, he reasoned.

They resumed kissing when he returned to her, and Mia found herself running her hands underneath his shirt and up his back. His smooth black skin and hard muscles felt so good, she thought. "Oh, I think that stuff you gave me is doing something already. Let's stop now and get some more from your supplier."

"Latter. You getting hot. Let's get this dress off you before you overheat."

"Huh?" Mia asked, not quite comprehending what he said to her. Her eyes looked dreamy. He pulled the straps of her miniskirt down her shoulders.

"No, what are you doing? Stop it — just kissing."

"I know, baby, but you gonna over-heat with this on. It's dangerous if you get too hot. Look at how much you sweating. We have to cool you down."

"No, mmm, oh," Mia moaned, as he resumed French-kissing her while inching her miniskirt lower — down her arms until it puddled around her waist.

"Oh, it's so hot in here," she gasped when he finally removed his mouth from her lips again, beads of sweat forming on her face and body.

"I know, baby. You don't need to worry. I won't do nothing. Now lift up for me"

Euphoria from the Molly greatly clouded her judgement and she trusted him. She raised her butt and he pulled the miniskirt past her hips and off her legs.

"That's a good girl. We gotta get you to cool down."

Mia now wore only a bright red bra and matching thong made of silk. His strong hands ran up her flat stomach, feeling the contours of her defined abdominal muscles, and slid underneath her bra, cupping her soft, full breasts and tweaking her nipples.

"No, Reggie, don't touch them like that. You promised."

"Yeah, you rolling good now. Let me get this off you. You still way too hot."

"What? Don't take my bra off!"

His cock throbbed painfully for her pussy, and this hijacked all his thoughts. He had to have her. He ignored her and unclasped her bra. Her young tits required no support and perkily stood out from her slender body. Her small areolae further confirmed her glorious youth in their pale pink color.

Mia recognized that something was terribly wrong, but the realization was brief, veiled by the effects of the drug and the resumption of their French-kissing. She somehow forgot that he was a black drug dealer who had her almost completely undressed — and most importantly, that he was not her husband.

Rolling and at peace with the universe, she only felt love for everything and everyone, including this black man, and allowed his hands to caress her breasts, explore her young body. One of his strong hands finally released her erect nipple, descended to her flat tummy, and slid into her thong like a stealthy invader, his finger expertly locating her clit.

She remembered Josh. "No, don't touch me there — please!" She grabbed Reggie's wrist and tried to pull his hand away from her vagina. "Stop touching it, no don't, Reggie."

"Shhh, it's just touching and just for a little while, baby. Nothing else. If you want me to trust you, you gotta trust me a little. Otherwise, our deal is off."

Mia sort of trusted him, a consequence of the Molly, and she remembered that she needed him to trust her. She had to find out about his suppliers. But he was touching her clitoris. It was so inappropriate and dangerously intimate. She sighed deeply and released his wrist. "Okay, but only touching and just for a little while."

"That's a good girl. Just touching and just for a little while," he repeated back to her. He knew how suggestions and reassurances combined with the relaxing effects of the drug and clouded judgement. "It won't hurt anything to let me touch it a little bit. I'm not gonna do anything else. You so beautiful."

He knew Molly heightened sense of touch as he tenderly caressed her most touch sensitive organ — a calculated, strategic place to target in seducing her. His little while continued and his little bit turned into expert masturbation. He awakened the countless nerves in her clitoris and they began bombarding her brain with their pleasurable signals.

His finger got wetter in her pussy, and he felt her clitoris become fuller and firmer as he touched it more. "Yeah, that starting to feel real good now, huh?"

"Oh, oh, ah, ahh, no, please, ooh," she moaned.

While masturbating her, his other hand grabbed the delicate fabric of her thong and began tugging it down. She noticed him pulling it off her too late, when it already hung from one of her ankles. She panicked. "No, don't take my thong off!"

She was not going to stop him now, he thought. Little whitefish was on board his boat almost ready to spear. He forced her legs apart and brought his face within inches of her fragrant pussy, which radiated an irresistibly inviting warmth.

She was smoothly shaved with only a neatly trimmed, pencil thin landing strip. His fingers stretched her soft lips in opposite directions — wide open — exposing the lovely pink of raw womanhood with her clitoris susceptibly waiting for him to make it the center of her universe.

His nostrils inhaled more of her sweet female scent — a pleasant, almost flower-like aroma consisting of perfume and her natural pheromones that called to him. His mouth attacked her pussy and he began sucking on her clit.

"No, don't do that," she cried, sitting up and shoving his head away from her.

Reggie scowled at her. "Trust is a two-way street. If you want me to get more drugs from my supplier tonight, you gotta trust me now, let me get to know you better and go down on you some. Only a close girlfriend can know about my business. Do you wanna quit crying, be my girlfriend and let me do this or do you wanna go home?"

Tears ran from the corners of her eyes down the sides of her face. Mia was confused and couldn't think clearly anymore. She realized she was high on a potent drug. She didn't want to be his 'girlfriend', but she had to pretend otherwise and convince him to trust her. She wished she could stop Reggie and still get out of this mess Josh had put them in. Instead she had to let this strange black man, a low-life drug dealer, perform oral sex on her.

"Answer me — do you wanna be my girlfriend and let me eat your pussy or do you want me to take you home?"

Mia cried, "I want to be your girlfriend."

Reggie smiled. How fortunate. This naive white bitch was completely clueless and he was going to exploit her. His mouth returned to her sex. He resumed his attack on her married white pussy with renewed determination for total victory. He was going to make her cum, and more than just once.

Ch. 3

[klyntar-pit]

Chapter 1:

He had no idea how long he had been underwater, but he looked at his gauge. There was barely any oxygen left in the tank. Looking down at the sea floor below him Jermaine saw the two women he loved the most, facedown and suspended in the sea. He propelled himself through the water, not stopping until he came to the first girl.

Annie,

Wrapping his arms around her small frame, he stuffed the rebreather into his sister’s mouth and began to thread his feet through the water until he broke the surface. Air had never tasted so good until right then.

“Here! Over here! Help!”

He swung his hands over his head until he heard the nearby boat start its engine. After seeing the boat start to move, he let the water envelop him once again. Layla was down there. His heart beat as fast as his legs. With every bubble leaving his mouth, the time he had to stay awake went with it. Soon, Jermaine came face to face with the beautiful olive skin that he had fallen in love with. Her hair, so dark red it looked brown, danced in sun rays cutting through the water. Working as fast as he could against the resistance of the water, Jermaine unbuckled the straps of his vest and reset them on Layla.

Baby,

Grabbing the hose on his BCD, he slammed the inflation button. The last of the pure oxygen in the tank filled the air pockets of Jermaine’s SCUBA gear. His white knuckles only began to regain their color once the air stopped hissing from the tank to the vest. Layla began to ascend from the deep, her guaranteed safety tugging the corners of Jermaine’s mouth into a content smile.

Blackness began to lick around the corners of his vision. Jermaine could feel his lungs shrivel and ache for another breath that would never come. He watched the love of his life rise to the surface as he sunk to the seafloor. He had no more bubbles to expel, and his heart began to burn. Jermaine’s sight was being engulfed in darkness, and his chest seemed to convulse at the emptiness inside it.

Goodbye, you two…

He closed his eyes, letting his body sink into the freezing ocean’s sandy floor. His heart was on fire now, and his lungs had gone from begging to screaming for oxygen. But Jermaine continued to smile and let his body drift into the darkness.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes and lurched forward, his bedsheets sliding off his chest. He winced and grabbed his chest. It was dry again, and his eyes began to adjust in the darkness.

“Holy crap,” he whispered. “Jeez! Wh- ow!”

He looked around his bedroom, calibrating himself to reality. Jermaine rubbed his chest and, as always, laughed the pain off. He leaned over his bed and checked his phone.

“Why is my body so damn weird,” he muttered. “Six thirty is too early for my body to be messing with me.” He slumped back onto his pillow and let his body relax under the cloud-like covers of his bed.

•••

“Mister Wheelan, are you still with us?”

Jermaine whipped his head back to the front of the class. “Yea, sorry Mr. Sanders.”

Jermaine’s teacher shot his disapproval from above his thinly rimmed glasses. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he turned back to the chalkboard and continued his lecture.

“Getting back to the problem on the board, to solve for cosine you must take your calculator and plug in…”

Jermaine couldn’t help but roll his eyes and plant his head back on his palm. He ran his other hand through his caramel colored hair to tuck his bangs back in between his left ear and his club master glasses. He really couldn’t help the fact that trigonometry was the blandest class of his senior year. It also didn’t help that lunch was right after, and all Jermaine could think about was the gooey cheese and turkey sandwich on rye sitting in his backpack. As if to confirm his hunger pangs, a growl came from Jermaine’s belly that he was sure could be heard from down the hall.

Minutes became hours until the passing bell rang. Jermaine shoved his worksheets into his binder and dumped it all into his blue book bag. He slid between two larger students, neither of which had masked their body odor properly, and began to walk briskly through the wood and brick hallways of his school. Like the filling from a squeezed twinkie, streams of varying degrees of white-skinned students left their classrooms in a hurry as well. Jermaine was no different. His natural beige complexion could blend in with the crowd like a honey nut Cheerio in the box.

Regardless, Jermaine knew he was special for one particular reason. He had a voice in his head. He couldn’t remember exactly when he got it, but he really enjoyed having it around. Even more so because no one else in his school had this voice either. Jermaine was proud of his voice. His voice of reason. He chuckled to himself as he hopped down the stairs.

He was still smirking as he threw open the doors to the bustling hive of teenagers in the cafeteria. The smell of oil and spice mingled with the various perfumes and colognes settled heavily over the whole room. The room was shaped as a rectangle, slightly curving to the right with floor to ceiling windows on the longer side. On the shorter side, two serving stations served a considerable variety of food to the students. To enforce school spirit, the walls were painted shamrock green and white, while the rows of columns in the eating area were painted Egyptian blue. The section of drywall above the serving stations had Oak Grove High, Home Of The Bruisin’ Warthogs! in classic college block lettering with a cartoonish illustration of a growling four-tusked boar with green and blue face paint.

Jermaine turned left and walked past several tables of stoners, jocks, and preps before he reached his own group sitting at a round table right by the windows.

“Jermaine! Okay, come here lemme ask you something!” hollered Dylan.

Jermaine rolled his eyes and smiled as he sat down. Just diving right into it I guess. He thought to himself. Dylan’s blonde hair was dyed red from a previous lost bet and shined bright in the sunlight, and his freckled moved along his pudgy cheeks as he talked.

“Is ‘Dimitri’ a sexy name?”

Jermaine blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Layla and Paulina think it isn’t but it definitely is!”

“I mean, I guess it could be. It’s really up to how the guy looks.”

“So is that a yes or a no?”

Jermaine sat down next to Layla and gave her a peck on the cheek. He looked at Dylan and shook his head no. He threw his hands up in defeat and went back to his iPad. Jermaine leaned over to his girlfriend and whispered,

“How did you guys even get to that conversation?” he cracked up quietly.

“Some pro bowling guy he’s been watching, I dunno.”

Jermaine smiled and opened his backpack to remove a brown paper bag. He turned it upside down and let plastic baggies full of pretzels, oranges and his sandwich fall out.

“Did Paulina and Bella and everyone else go up to get lunch?”

“Yup,” Layla nodded. “Did you tell Bella you’re going to her birthday tomorrow?”

Jermaine clicked his tongue. “Uh… no, not yet.”

She frowned. “Baby you have to! We need to know how many cars we’re gonna need to take people downtown!”

Jermaine couldn’t help but grin as he took a bite of his sandwich. Not once did he ever get sick of Layla’s bossiness, one of her many sides. He studied her as she went back to her salad, the midday glow shining off her elegant face. Her dark red hair, so dark that it converted to a mahogany brown when together, hung in loose curls just above her hips. She styled it, as always, around the soft edges of her head sloping down to her sharp jawline. Her warm, kind cocoa eyes held a somber tune only Jermaine could read and yet still made his heart skip a beat. Not only her eyes but her smile as well. Especially when the corners of her mouth tucked under her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, cutie. I’ll tell her when she gets back.” he said with a mouthful of sandwich.

Layla’s pout turned into her signature smile. “Good! Thank you.”

“Of course.” he smiled. His smile faded soon after and averted his eyes to his half-eaten sandwich. Layla looked to her right and noticed his turn of emotion.

“You ok?”.

“Yeah,” he answered hesitantly. Layla squeezed his forearm.

“Jay, what’s wrong?”

Jermaine scratched the back of his head and winced. The constant thrum of conversation in the lunchroom made it difficult for him to pick his words carefully.

“I just,” he sighed. “I’m not a big fan of Bella.”

“Why not? She’s adorable! And she’s so funny.” Layla replied.

“Yeah, no, I know. I just kinda think she’s a little annoying. Not in like a mean way, just in the sense of how she doesn’t really put much thought into her words and she’s only concerned with herself.”

Layla looked down at her salad thoughtfully and stirred its contents before nodding slowly. “Yea I see what you mean. But think of it like this: You’re just gonna go to the city with me and all your friends! No other reason involved.”

Jermaine turned and flashed a smile. “I’d do that! Can we go?”

They both laughed.

“Yes, babe. Yes, you can.”

[iamnotthedog]

OLYMPIA: AUGUST 10-11, 2001

Having fourteen hours in my Oldsmobile to toss the idea of Olympia around in my mind—to build it up as a mythical and magical place, a dark place, the home of my childhood idol Kurt Cobain’s muse—a place that would take me in and envelope me in its mist, its pines, its rain-glazed streets—a place that would convince me to stop running forever, to settle down and lose myself in its cold, wet splendor—I was rather disheartened to find it as just another lost and dreary American city. I mean, Olympia is a beautiful place, certainly. But after the places I had been—the things I had seen—pulling off of Interstate 5 and driving down Martin Way made me feel like I was right back in one of those suffocating American cities I had decided that I would try my best to never go back to. And if it hadn’t been for Joe being somewhere in that city at that very moment that I was pulling in, I would have just driven straight on through and kept going without thinking twice about it.

I drove past a gas station, a hotel, a pizza parlor, a paint store, a real estate office, a tire factory. A Starbucks with a few strollers parked outside. A series of small, non-descript, one-story businesses, many of them selling some kind of insurance, a few being locked up by sad men in loose-fitting two-piece suits. Some houses, some pine trees, a bridge, a strip mall. Eventually, everything got older—the buildings looking more drab, the sidewalks and parking lots cracked and lined with crooked strips of black tar, houses with small unfinished wooden porches set back off the road next to driveways, between businesses with front doors that sat right up on the sidewalks. Teenagers in black hooded sweatshirts and baggy jeans. Then more space—the space beyond the road widened to make room for car dealerships, gas stations, older businesses with “Capital City” in the name, places that sold things like stoves and stovepipes. A couple of right turns, and I was in a residential neighborhood. More trees, more bushes, some tall fences. A man in a grey sweat suit, walking his dog. Almost every house with one story, and maybe an attic or bedroom window up under the peak of the roof. Garbage cans next to one-car garages. Mailboxes on the curb. And then, without even having to look for him, Joe.

Joe was walking up a short driveway behind some pine trees towards a one-story grey house, car keys jingling in one hand, a twelve-pack of Olympia Beer in the other. He was whistling and looking exactly the same as the last time I had seen him—so much for those changes I was imagining—and as I honked my horn and pulled up to that curb in that little neighborhood behind that rusted out Geo Metro with the Illinois plates, I wondered if I had ever even left Morrison—if I had ever done anything in the past few years, or if it was all just a dream.

Despite my rather rude interruption of his early-evening, post-work ritual, Joe didn’t skip a beat. He gave me a big hug and ushered me inside, and in less than an hour we were eating steak and potatoes and drinking beer and I was exhausted, but well on my way to another roaring drunk. Then a bottle of Jim Beam appeared, and not two hours after dinner, I was sleeping face-down on a couch not ten feet from where Joe reclined in a Lay-Z-Boy, reeking of bourbon, breathing loudly through his nose, and scratching his nuts in his sleep.

I woke up in the morning to the sound of a door slamming and a car starting—Joe’s older brother Ben’s girlfriend Julie leaving for work. I rolled over and pulled a couch cushion over my face to block the light that stabbed at my eyes. Then I rolled over again and squinted out into the hazy daylight at Joe, still sprawled out on the fully reclined Lay-Z-Boy, his left arm draped over his eyes.

Joe had been thoroughly impressed with the fact that I had driven from Yosemite to Yellowstone and all the way up to Olympia just to find him. He had been impressed that I had done it all in the Olds—the same car that we used to drive out through the countryside back in high school, ditching class to smoke weed and listen to mix tapes. And Joe had been even more impressed with the fact that I had no idea where I was headed next, and that I did not intend to actually stay in Olympia—a decision I had made immediately upon seeing the place. After that one short night of drunken conversation, though, I could tell that he didn’t want to leave Olympia with me, either, and I didn’t even have to ask him.

So this—whatever this was going to be—was going to be it.

After a quick breakfast of bacon and eggs and some small talk with Ben, who I hadn’t seen since I was a young teenager and he used to get stoned and threaten me with his Swiss Army knife just for kicks—Joe went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed to go to work at some restaurant or something—a job he worked whenever he had a day off from working construction. I stood in the narrow carpeted hallway outside the bathroom, staring at an old Grateful Dead poster on the wall and sipping coffee while I talked to him through the door.

“I’m going to drive over to Olympic National Park. I’ve always wanted to see it.”

“As long as you come back.”

“I will. I just want to check it out. Maybe find a place for us to camp for a couple days. You got a day off coming up?”

“I’ve got two this weekend.”

“What day is it today?”

“Wednesday. I’m off Friday and Saturday.”

I leaned against the wall and slid down to sit on the carpet. A street cleaner drove by outside, his brushes swishing on the wet pavement. Joe turned on the shower.

“Did you ever read that book I gave you?”

“Dharma Bums? I tried. Didn’t understand it. Too many weird words. I don’t know anything about Buddhism.”

“You don’t need to know the words. They make sense after a while. Bodhisattvas and bhikkus are just students of life, like you and me. They’ve just committed themselves to letting go. It’s all about freeing yourself from your attachments.”

“I like my attachments.”

“That’s why you’re so loyal. You know that there is no duality. There are no attachments and there are no ‘no attachments.’ Everything just is.”

“Whatever. See? I don’t get that.”

“I’ll give you another book I read a while back. Awakening the Buddha Within. It’s an introduction to everything.”

“I’d like to say I’ll read it, but I pro’ly won’t.” Joe fumbled with some plastic bottles. Trying to distinguish the shampoo from the conditioner or something. “I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, though,” he continued. “You gave me that a long time ago. Remember that?”

“That’s a great book,” I said. I sipped from my coffee. “I think what drives Phaedrus nuts in that book is the same thing that’s going to drive us all nuts in the end.”

Joe laughed. “We’re all trying to define quality?”

“I think we all are. Yes.”

“Mrs. Frame always called you Phaedrus back in high school.”

“Phineas.”

“What?”

“She called me Phineas.”

“Who the fuck is Phineas?”1

 Mrs. Frame was our high school English teacher. She called me Phineas, referring to a character in John Knowles’ novel A Separate Peace who was a nonconformist, constantly refusing to follow rules and regulations, doing stupid shit like wearing his tie on his head, and organizing a group called the Summer Suicide Society. ↩︎