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infinitegalahad · 4 years ago

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RAY IN THE BATHROOM

Summary: Ray is hiding in a bathroom and has a panic attack over the fact that his only real friend and the love of his life has (supposedly) left him for Brad.

Word-Count: 2.1k

Warnings: References of suicidal thoughts, ptsd, and severe anxiety. Brad is a semi-asshole. Hop on the angst train (with fluff at the end!)

A/N: I was listening to Be More Chill because let's just say that I can heavily relate to Micheal In The Bathroom due to recent events in my life. So then again, what better way to cope then using my biggest kin, Ray Person, in a totally not self indulgent fic?? Also as for the prompt requests-i'm working on them! Sorry, school has been bad. I'm keeping a promise to myself to release at least once a a week and I'm on a gen kill rampage. Idk what else to add so enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody

Masterlist | Send In A Prompt!

Ray doesn’t expect himself to be hanging in the bathroom at their first year reunion. But instead of “hanging”, he’s hiding. Those emotions that never come out are now coming back to haunt him. Ray knows he can't hide behind a shit eating grin and sunglasses. He leaned up against the tub inside of the cramped room, his sunglasses tucked into the neck of his polo as tears sting his eyes.

Ray’s legs felt numb and he knows if he looks into the mirror and sees his flushed face and eyes, he won’t be able to conceal his crying. He’s not able to go back outside and would prefer to fake pee or just check his phone in the bathroom.

“C’mon brah!” Q-tip whined like a child, crossing his legs. “This hurts like a butt cheek on a stick”

“You can’t come in!” Ray yelled as he held back a sob, “The little man is going. Suck it up, buttercup.”

Q-tip had been knocking on the door for over ten minutes before giving up and choosing to pee outside. Ray let out a shaky sigh and fell onto the thin side of the bathtub, biting his lip and he batted his wet eyes with his palms.

Ray and y/n had been an unexpected trio. Partners in crime, double trouble, you went well together despite their differences. You were an educated college student and he was a whiskey tango mess who couldn’t shut his mouth for the life of it. You cried, laughed, and did everything together. Little known to y/n, Ray didn’t have a crush on her-but he was more than in love.

However, when Ray is having severe social anxiety, an event he would typically rely on y/n to help him with, his “partner in crime” falls short. Ray knows that y/n is light years better than him. Here was the smartest and most beautiful woman he had met next to a college dropout who didn’t make it past Geometry.

Now the “perfect pair” is severed, leaving one half alone in the bathroom.

Ray’s forgotten how long he’s been in the bathroom for. These types of events always felt forced, and everyone knew that. Whenever that awkwardness would arise, Ray and y/n would choose to ditch and steal a few beers and sit in the bathtub, watching an obscure eighties film in the dark, cramped room with Ray’s god awful commentary.

But even though Ray has Born American downloaded, he can’t bring himself to watch it. Now he’s laying in the bathtub, picking at grout as he softly grieves. He’s hiding in there while y/n is ignoring all of their history.

Ray first arrived at the party, making a dramatic entrance. He made sure everybody knew that he was there, especially y/n. His original plan was to wear a purple tux he had snatched from walamrt since it was ugly as fuck, and Ray knew that. But knowing that you were going to be there, Ray made an attempt with an expensive navy polo and khaki shorts, courtesy of Nate.

Upon seeing you, Ray ran over from whatever he was doing to talk to you. Whether you were OD’S or a casual jumpsuit, you looked dead drop gorgeous-and Ray never knew how to express his affections. So he pulled you into a hug and muttered a shitty joke, and you just laughed.

Over the course of the next hour, the two of you catched up about your mundane lives. It made Ray feel guilty since he knew that you were better than him in every way possible, on the road of success. Your future sounded like you would go to some fancy school and then marry a lawyer. Ray wanted to be good for you, but he didn’t know how to at all. He followed you around like a lost puppy for the rest of the party, feeling a tinge of jealousy whenever one of the guys would give you a chaste hug or when you wouldn't pay attention to him for five minutes.

Ray didn’;t know why the fuck eh was feeling so sappy. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating (even though that’s exactly what he wanted).

Ray doesn’t hate Brad, but he just hates whenever he talks to you. He sees the two of you, smiling and laughing as you catch u[. Ray knows it’s rude, but he buds in and offers to get drinks for the “three amigos”. You kindly accept and Ray goes away to get drinks. He makes sure to spit inside of Brad’s drink as a childish act of revenge.

As Ray walks down the hallway balancing the three drinks, he pauses to hide behind the door since he hear’s Brad mention his name. You and Brad had moved to the couch, sitting too close for Ray’s comfort levels. He had an arm slung over the couch, which was barely touching you, but Ray had taken it as an offense.

Standing by the doorway and leaning, he overheard Brad’s words.

“Ray’s a little shit, whiskey tango loser, sister fucking, type of man. I don’t know what you see in him,” Brad had casually said, cold and straight to the point. He truly lived up to his name.

That’s when Ray dropped the drinks and ran towards the bathroom. He didn’t hear you respond, and that was the last thing he needed to hear.

Now Ray’s sitting in the tub, no longer holding tears back, but there coming out. A sob escapes his mouth and he tries to smile, but he can’t. He gets a taste of his salty tears and tries to stop the waterworks, but they come back, bigger and faster. It’s been a while since he had a good cry-but it happened at one of the most inconvenient times. And it was over a stupid girl-who he coulnd’t deny that he was in love with.

But y/n was lightyears ahead of him. Besides, Brad was (seemingly) a better fit for her. The scenario began to play in Ray’s wild mind. The memories of “double trouble” will get erased. Their wedding will be small, paid for by the Colberts. Q-Tip will DJ, Godfather will make a speech with his horrid voice, and Ray will make a shitty joke as usual. Worst had come to the worst.

Ray hears a drunk Q-tip sing along through the door to “I wanna dance with somebody”. His feelings sink even deeper cause it makes him think; now there’s no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore. That was y/n’s favorite hobby about these forced get-togethers.

Ray knew that at some point, he’d be forced to come out. As he chokes back the incoming tears, he waits until his face becomes dry, planning to blame it on weed or something in his eyes or the five bud lights he regrets drinking.

Knock, knock, knock, knock

Ray looks up and wipes his face, forcing a fake laugh. “Oh hell yeah, I'll be out soon.”

“Ray, it’s me.” It’s y/n’s voice, and Ray can’t believe it’s her. A part of him wants her to come in, but the other part wants him to defend himself.

“Why do you want me to come out when you can hang out with your new big strong viking? Who talks all educated and shit since you just love being around him.” Ray spits out with a few sniffles.

Based on his words and the sniffles, you can tell something is clearly wrong.

You shake your head and lightly knock again, “Please, that’s not what happened. Brad’s an idiot, and we’re just friends. “Please, come out.”

Ray got out from the tub and came close to the door, feeling your frantic breathes again the door. “My biggest mistake was showing up. I wished I stayed up watching cable porn, or I offered myself. Besides, he’s better for you. Just go away.”

Hearing him say such things made you worry even more, afraid that he could do something to himself that he’d regret.

“Ray, open the damn door. Don’t say dumb shit.” You pleaded, frantically twisting the door knob. The worry was evident in your voice.

“No, fuck you! Fuck this whole place. You’re smart; just leave me alone.” Ray banged against the door as tears came down his face. He immediately regretted his choice of words, knowing that they would hurt you. He turned away to return to the bathtub, only to stop when he heard you now sniffling.

Mega fuck.

Ray reluctantly walks back to the door and opens it, to see your face, all red and wet like this. Both of you stood there, disheveled, tears both running down your face.

Not a single word was spoken between the two of you as you ran into his arms, pulling him close as you cried into his chest. Ray used his foot to slam the door shut and then proceeded to pull you into a bearhug, stroking the back of your head as he comforted you through your sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He repeated as his tears stained your shoulder as well, “I didn’t-fuck. I’m such a retar-” He froze, knowing that you hated that word. “Idiot. I just-fuck. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin all the stuff on your face-”, Ray said as he tilted your face up and started to wipe your tears.

“Makeup. ‘S fine, I’m not wearing much. I just didn’t wanna get mistaken for a middle schooler again.”

Ray and you both let out a chuckle in the midst of your shared crying session. He’s still wiping the tears from your face as you rest your arms on his waist.

“First time we met, y’know. Godfather thought you had a dick for a long time.” Ray added, which earned another laugh from you.

You shook your head, “Remember when Trombley found out I was a girl?”

“Looked like he was about to shit himself-he wouldn’t leave you alone.”

“Ugh, ‘s a nightmare.” The two of you filled the void with the awakened laughter you shared. Ray’s tiny hands moved to your chin, directing it slightly up.

“I still think you’re pretty hot either way, angel.” Ray confessed. The two of you looked at each other for a minute, seeing the love and pupils widen in both of your eyes. Standing on your toes, you and Ray’s lips gently pecked at each other. You could taste the bud light on his lips as Ray’s lips overpowered yours, gently cupping and sucking passionately.

“Fuck,” Ray breathed through the kiss as your foreheads touched, “I love you.”

“Shit, I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” You chuckled as your finger’s played with Ray’s dark hair. It’s gotten longer, and it’s at a length where he can awkwardly style it, but since Ray is Ray-it’s a mess, “I love you too. I’m sorry about Brad, you know how he is.”

“I just thought you and him were having a moment. I just started overthinking it since I thought you didn't wanna be around me. Which is chill, I was vibing,” Ray attempted to joke, which was a way to cope with his pain.

You shake your head and hold his face to reassure him. Ray looks down at you in awe, which makes a smile curve on your lips.

“Brad wasn’t touching me, he just was stretched out on the couch. Ray, don’t say that. You were in the bathroom for over an hour. I knew that you were ethier upset or having explosive diarrhea from Nate’s vegan casserole-or both.”

“That shit was beyond nasty. I bet he got all the ingredients at Trader joes and sold his soul just to buy it.” Ray quickly quipped.

“Jesus, don’t make me vomit.” You huffed as you looked at the bathtub, “Now are you gonna come out now without beating up someone?”

“Yes babycakes, as long as you do one thing.”

Cringing, you force a smile. It’s not because you don’t love him, but sometimes what comes out of his mouth can be questionable. “Yes Ray?”

He grabs your hand, which fits right into his. “Gotta show the homies who’s the alpha around here.”

You don’t mind holding Ray’s hand. You like the tight squeezes and the feel of his soft skin. As the two of you walk out of the bathroom back into the life of the party with the smell of barbeque and the august heat in the air.

“Oh god Ray, shut up.”

Ray simply responds with a goosey laugh.

#ray person #ray person x reader #ray person imagine #generation kill #generation kill x reader #generation kill imagine #carrie writes #tw suicide #tw ptsd #tw severe anxiety

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zxanthe · 6 years ago

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Maka and Soul are best friends and have been since they were infants, but they both have huge crushes on each other and have for a while. Neither one of them knows, but senior prom is coming around and both are looking for dates. More like each other

another late prompt! kinda flubbed it on the “best friends” bit and turned it into more of a “best hatefriends” type of thing - in any case, this is a bit experimental - hope yall enjoy lmao

(also available on ao3)

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“Broooo,” Starleers, and his teeth glitter too brightly under the lights, “you got a date tothe prom yet?”

Jealousy, irrational and sudden, starts buzzing in ahigh-pitched whine by his ear before he squashes it flat with a snort. “Spend afuckload of money to get trapped in some hotel ballroom with a bunch of peopleI hate for three hours? C’mon, dude, there are way better ways to spend yourtime.”

“Okay, but, consider: Tsubaki Nakatsukasa.” He shoots a grinand a wink over Soul’s shoulder. The girl in question smiles and waves backsheepishly. She’s standing a ways down the hall with Liz Thompson and – oh God.Soul’s heart skips a beat. He swivels his head back frontways, cool as can be.

“She actually said yes?”

“Of course! It’s not like I thought she wouldn’t or anything,I mean have you seen these guns?”

Throbbing, gently glistening muscles are thrust under hisnose. “Should make you a sandwich with all that jelly you got there,” Star sayswith a smirk.

Soul makes a show of rolling his eyes and shoves him away.“Bro, c’mon.”

“No bro, you c’mon.It’s our senior year. Think of all the people we can make fun of!”

“Like we don’t do that every day.”

“But they’ll be thinking they’re even hotter shit thanthey’re usually not so it’ll be twice as funny.”

“Still no.”

“Brah. Whatever, let’s hit the gym. Not much time left tofit in those gains, ya dig?”

“Unbelievable,” Soul grumbles. He grabs his bag and slamshis locker shut.

Across the hall, Maka grabs her bag and slams her lockershut. “Who, Evans?”

“Yeah!” says Liz, smacking her gum. “Tsu’s already goingwith Blockhead over there, might as well go along for moral support. ‘Sides,didn’t you two used to be like BFFs up till like middle school?”

She very determinedly doesn’t look back. She can feel herears heating up. “Okay, one, that was a long time ago and we don’t really talkanymore because he turned into a jerk, and two, Tsu, really?!”

“Black Star has such nice deltoids, Maka,” Tsubaki saysmournfully. “They’re sculpted. Andhe’s actually not all that bad, once you get to know him.”

“You’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe so. But you know, he’s kind of charming, in his ownspecial way.”

“Oh my God.”

Liz cackles. “Look, I’d ask Evans myself cause mmm, grungerocker boy with a sexy-ass glare? I’d be all over that, baby, but Kid alreadyasked me, so my hands are kinda tied.”

Maka huffs. Her ears must be totally red by now, ugh, shereally hopes Liz isn’t in an observant mood. It’s not like she expressly needsa date to go to the prom; going stag is very much a thing. Having one wouldn’tnecessarily make the undoubtedly agonizing experience any better, much lessSoul Evans of all people. She imagines, though, for a brief, blinding instant,what he’d look like in a suit – oh no, Liz is looking at her and she doesn’t likethe glint in her eye. Maka clears her throat and fumbles at the threads ofconversation. “That rich boy transfer student? No way.”

“Yes way,” Liz says, smugness creeping into her voice, “andif – “

“ – you don’t go I will be fuckin’ hurt.”

Soul rolls his eyes. “Would you quit it already, it’s beenlike a week now. Th’ fuck you even need me there for anyway, dumbass, you’vefinally got a date with the chick you’ve been talking about nonstop for likethis entire semester.”

“Uh, yeah, and I need my most loyal follower and favoritewingman there to bask in the combined force of our blinding hotness.”

“Jesus, you’re so weird,why do I even talk to you?”

“The words I speaketh are ambrosia on thine ears, my goodbro. Hey, why don’t you ask out Tsubaki’s friend? That short flat-chested onewith the pigtails, I forgot her name. That way you don’t have to worry aboutthird-wheeling us.”

Soul chokes on his protein shake. Black Star pounds himvigorously on the back. “Breathe, brother. I know, I know. But take one for theteam, yeah?”

“Fuck you,” Soul gasps. “You’re the worst.”

“Shh. No tears, only dreams now.”

“Maka Albarn,” Soul begins, “is the nerdiest, most uptight –“

“ – idiotic slacker in the entire school!” Her ears aresteaming, she’s sure of it. “I can’t be seenwith a guy like that, the act alone will drop my GPA by a full lettergrade!”

“GPA-shmeePA,” Liz says with a dismissive wave of herfreshly-painted nails. “Listen, you won’t flunk out of college or whatever justbecause you go party for one night. Besides, what if things go south withBlockhead and Tsu needs backup? Who’ll look after our girl?”

“I know taekwondo, you know,” Tsu says from on top of herbed.

“Not the point. C’mon, Maka!”

“A triangle has three sides,” Tsu says. “Senior prom wouldn’tbe right without you. You don’t even have to ask anyone if you don’t want to.”

I do, though, mumblesa little voice in the back of her head, and an image of Soul surfaces in herbrain. She bites her lip. “Well…”

“Uh,” says Soul.

In front of him, Maka puts a hand on her hip. “Uhhh,” she mimics. “Are you just goingto stare at me like an idiot all day or was there something you had to say?”

His stomach’s doing backflips and it’s making it very hardto concentrate. The bell just rang, they’re huddled awkwardly against the walljust outside the classroom to avoid getting swept up in the crowd, and herealizes, belatedly, that he doesn’t have to do this. He could just go byhimself, and be the awkward third wheel, but. Ugh. This is stupid – why’s he sonervous? (He knows exactly why.) He plays it off as lofty annoyance. “Do you,”he begins.

“Do I.”

“Do you. Wanna go to prom?”

Maka gapes. She was thinking he’d be asking to copy hercalculus homework for the billionth time, or maybe help on a biology problem –they have entirely too many classes together and it’s bullshit, it really is –but not this. She’d been agonizing ona dignified way to ask him for the past three days, and then this just dropsinto her lap –

“Hello in there,” Soul says. “Wow, am I really thatoffensive? I’m hurt.”

Her heart’s beating too fast, ugh, God, she can’t think – wait,he asked her, does this mean – could it be that –

“Yes,” she blurts.

Disappointment skewers his stomach mid-somersault. “Well,that settles that, I guess.”

Mortification consumes her as she realizes what she justsaid. “No!” she cries, too passionately. Soul turns around and quirks aneyebrow. Her ears are flaming. “Imean, yes! I mean, you’re – palatable! I’ll go to prom with you!”

“Oh. Oh. Hella.Rad. Guess I’ll uh. See you then. You have my number already, right?”

“Y-yeah!”

Fuck me, Soulthinks as he escapes, hoping she didn’t catch him blushing like a motherfucker,hella rad –

- you’re palatable – Maka wants to die –

REALLY?!

“Really?” Maka asks.

They made it intact to the dance floor. Some sappy countrysong is playing. The floor is packed with sweaty, inept teenage dancers; itreeks accordingly. He’s wearing a rental and she’s got on this knee-lengthpurple number that really highlights her lack of any womanly curves whatsoever.Her hair’s half-down half bizarre corkscrew pigtails. Liz and Tsubaki must havedone her makeup, there’s no way she could get it to look that polished on herown. She looks gawky. She looks ridiculous. There’s something funny happeningin his chest at the sight of her.

She feels the light, hesitant pressure of his hand in hersand on her hip like nothing she’s ever felt. His palm’s a little clammy. He’sso tall. When did he get so tall? Her heart’s beating a million miles an hour.She wants – she wants – she takes a deep breath. “Do you even know how todance?”

“Nope.”

“Ugh, figures.”

“Hey, you were theone who wanted to get out here, not me. Don’t you dare complain.”

She steps on his toe and feels gratified at the little yelpof pain he gives. “Ugh, you’re so…it’s a freaking dance, dummy, not a sit-at-the-table-like-a-weirdo!” Her heartleaps into her throat as a terrible thought occurs to her. “If you didn’t wannacome,” she says, a shade quieter, “why’d you even ask me?”

Soul swallows. “I, uh. Star, he.”

Oh no. Oh no, she’s a world-class idiot. “Don’t,” she says thickly,beginning to pull away. “Ha ha, very funny, ask the ugly one out for shits and giggles – “

“No!” Soul’s grip tightens. “It wasn’t – I wouldn’t – do youactually think I’d – “

“Yes!” she says,trying to escape in earnest now, and Soul flinches, stung. He doesn’t let go,though.

“Listen to me, itwasn’t a dare, okay, I – “

“Then why!”

“Because – it’s uncool to go to prom without a date and – “

“Oh, so it’s about your image, is it! God, men, you’re all so – “

“Let me finish!” hegrowls, and tries to pull her back to him, but he pulls too hard and of courseshe fucking trips and suddenly it is taking all of Soul’s considerablebalancing skills, honed from years spent studying the ways of the skateboard,to keep them from eating shit like a couple of goddamn morons. They performseveral very silly and energetic twirls instead, earning them some dirty looksfrom neighboring couples.

“Holy shit,” says Black Star from their table, elbowingTsubaki. “This is going way better than we thought.”

“It’s beautiful,” she sighs, smiling a little.

“Jesus,” Soulsays. He’s dipped her. This final move was necessary to prevent them fromfalling, and also to make everything look totally awesome and intentional.Their faces are very close together. She’s got really, really pretty eyes, henotes, a little dazedly. “Because I wantedto,” he blurts out.

Her throat bobs as she swallows. Her mouth is suddenly verydry. “You…what?”

“I mean, like, Star was like, ask Maka, because she’s Tsu’sfriend and all and it would just make sense and I wouldn’t go otherwise but I actuallywanted to, also, I mean, ask you.”

“Oh,” she says. She’s dizzy from all the spinning they justdid and kinda breathless. This close she can smell his cologne. The lights aretoo dim to properly tell but – her heart stops – is that a blush on his face? Oh. Oh.

Oh. She’s looking at him with something very much likedisgust, or shock, or something – fucking hell, he blew it, this is it, shereally does hate him now. He straights back up. The song is still fuckingplaying. He knew this was a bad idea, the entire night, all of it – this danceis just the rotten cherry on the shit sundae of the entire liquid fart of hisentire high school career. He swallows hard, and wonders how much more she’dhate him if he bolted right here and now –

Her brain has short-circuited, as it tends to do around thisstupid, stupid boy. “Are you even going to college?” she blurts nonsensically.

He looks visibly startled. “What? No. No. Fuck the police,”he mumbles.

One beat. Two. Then she busts out laughing. Okay, now he’sdefinitely blushing, she can see it, it’s confirmed. Silly, silly coolguys.

“Fuck you,” he mumbles. “I hate you.”

She’s feeling very brave, or maybe very stupid. Maybethey’re the same thing. She tightens her grip on his shoulder and steps incloser. “Do you?” she asks him. “Well I hate you more. I’ve always hated you.”

“Oh, sick. Even when we were kids?”

“Especially then.”

His eyes get a strange, blazing look. It makes butterfliesexplode in the pit of her stomach. He jerks her through a turn round thecorner. “Well I’ve hated you since I first saw your stupid face,” he growls.“Every time you smile I get so fuckin’ pissed, I wanna just, just kiss it right off you.”

“Holy shit,” Maka blurts, and now her whole face is probablythe color of a fire engine, “son of a,” and she goes for it, loops her armsround his neck and presses close like she’s wanted to all night.

“You’re awful,” Soul rumbles, and hugs her tighter, “fuckingterrible – “

“Uncouth, moronic – “

“Why don’t we cut the crap,” he says suddenly, “and blowthis joint. Let’s go to The Creek and stargaze, like we used to.”

“The Creek?”

“Oh yeah. Our one. Bet our fort’s still there andeverything.”

“Bet.”

“You’re on. Loser’s gotta pay up with – ” and she feels hisbreathing hitch “ – a kiss.”

She pulls away and looks at him. There are spots of color inhis cheeks, and when he meets her eyes they deepen and he looks away. Ice cold,yeah right. She takes a deep breath. They have a lot of catching up to do.

“Deal,” she says, and smiles.

#soma #soulxmaka #soul/maka #soul eater #ask fic #se by z #zxanthe writes sometimes #i wrote this after watching scott pilgrim vs the world for the first time #kms #Anonymous

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woorenergy · 7 years ago

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Jeffmads Month #31 : Free Space

Sooo before I post the whole thing, I wanted to thank @jeffmadsmonth ; the Jeffmads Month was an interesting thing to do, and I discovered a lot of wonderful artists like this ! So thank you.

Also, since this last Jeffmads Month I made is a fanfiction and english isn’t my native language, it’s probably full of mistakes. But I did my best, and I hope you guys will like it ! Don’t hesitate to correct me if I wrote something bad.

***

James Madison and Thomas Jefferson were a surprising couple.

Not surprising in the way that nobody has imagined them to end together ; their love was clearly obvious since the moment they both had started to consider themselves as good friends (or something like that). Indeed, they were very tactile and dedicated for each other. So their relationship was natural, almost banal for their friends and families, and everyone was okay with that- even Charles Lee, this homophobic little shit.

But no. Their couple was surprising in the way that, in spite of their hands hold together, their smiles and their glances exchanged, sometimes followed by light chuckles, they almost never talked- at least not in front of the others. Madison was a reserved, sensible, quiet boy, but it was more unexpected from Jefferson when we knew how much talkative, loudmouth he was, and how he liked to show off ; like a taller Hamilton.

But in his boyfriend's presence, the Virginian looked... more quiescent. Transformed in somebody more "Madison". He spoke to him only infrequently, just to talk about his day- they didn't always have their lessons at the same time. But their friends never heard them exchange a “I love you” or some sweet nothings, like other couples in their school ; they were the exact opposite of Lafayette and Hercules, when we thought about it ! The two foreigns spent their entire time to claim their love wherever and whenever they could, shameless, like in a bad musical.

Some people noticed it with amusement (like Angelica : Jefferson seriously thought that this girl had eyes everywhere), but everything passed by their glances, their smiles, their gesture. These little things frequently insignificant for the others had an important, powerful meaning for them ; it was indeed their own way to communicate. For example, Thomas often put his hand on James' when this last was trying to talk about something, it meant “I'm still listening to you, I'm not going to interrupt you.”, or when James was curled up against his friend, then he wanted some comfort, or just some affection. And of course, he knew that he could talk about what was bothering him, if he had the need to. Words could be some assistance, sometimes.

But James didn't like to talk. Actually, James was too anxious to talk. He didn't really know how to make a correct sentence ; he started with an idea but rarely managed to achieve it. It was frustrating and nervously exhausting for him. Even when he had to write a message or a letter, it was necessary for him to fully condense his attention on what he wanted to say, and he wasn't always capable of this effort of focusing for many reasons. Obviously, he ended up by talking about this problem to his boyfriend, long before they started dating each other. It was hard for Thomas to understand this at first ; for him, everything was so much clear when we comunicated ! If we had a mouth, a tongue and teeth, it was for a particular reason, right ?

Paradoxically, after talking about this again and again, and putting some definite words on what Madison was feeling when he spoke, Jefferson understood, and didn't try to force his lover to interact if he didn't want to. They finally found these signs, these codes which founded their relationship. They were fine like this. In fact, the shorter one was happy that his friend was making efforts just for him. Just for his own good.

Of course, it didn't mean that they had take a vow of silence forever ! They still spoke when they were alone ; thus, James could be less anxious because of the public place's pression. He felt a little more free and could talk easily, even when his sentences could be finished by an annoyed sigh, or even with a sob if he was in a bad mood. But Thomas noticed that he was making efforts, step by step, and could talk about his entire day without even stutter, almost without making any break in his telling. It sounded very paternalist, but he was so proud of him, and didn't hesitate to tell him at any moment.

Because it was true : he was fucking proud of his boy.

"Jemmy-honey, wanna watch something with me tonight ?" Resounded the Virginian's voice at the other side of their apartment.

"Sure." "Jemmy-honey" answered, shruging.

Jefferson reappeared in their room with a warm smile and collapsed on his back, onto the bed that they shared. James, seated at his desk to type a document for his school, finished his sentence and turned around towards his lazy boyfriend, sprawled into the sheets ; he tenderly smiled when he saw him in this position... He was so cute.

"Can I just finish writing this ? It won't be too long, I promise."

"Of course ! I'll find something to watch, take all the time you need." Exclaimed Thomas while grabbing his laptop and sitting against the pillows.

Madison thanked him with a shy smile and turned back to his screen, doing his best to focus on the words he was typing, wishing to hurry up and crawling into his lovers' arms as fast as he could. Of course, this extreme focusing didn't let him notice the mischievous grin on Thomas' lips, or his face falsely focused on his researches, or else the strange absence of the singular sound of his fingers typing against the keyboard. No, he didn't pay attention to any of this.

So, after a few minutes, James finally saved his document and turn off his computer, before heading toward his boyfriend and leaning next to him. He put his head against his shoulder and his hand on his stomach by reflex. They often stayed like this when they were watching something in their bed.

"So, what are we going to watch this time ?"

"There's something I wanted to show you for a while now... It's a special movie."

"Please, don't tell me it's a porn movie or anything !"

"What ? No, of course not ! I know you hate this kind of stuff. Trust me, you'll love it. Can I start it ?"

James nodded with a sigh of relief ; he knew that Thomas wasn't the kind of guy to lie to him, or to make some silly prank on him like this, so he trusted him. He finally passed his arm around his boyfriend's waist. Jefferson did the same around his shoulders, bringing him back more against his body, and the movie began.

At first, the screen was entirely black ; then the image and the sound gradually appeared, showing Thomas himself on the screen, talking with the person holding the camera.

"You're recording this, right ?"

"Yeah, yeah, hurry up and do your thing, I have a fucking social life."

Madison blinked, recognizing Samuel Seabury's annoyed voice, one of their friends from the school (even if "friend" was a strong word for him). He frowned and glanced in direction of his boyfriend who was still watching the movie, while he was staying as expressionless as possible. But his eyes, glowing with emotion and pride betrayed him, so he just turned back to the screen to understand what was happening.

"Well, my dear James, began the Virginian, turning towards the lens, I wanted to make this film just for you, so you can see how beautiful, worthy and special you are. I know you've been under a lot of pressure because of the school, but you did so much progress recently. You need- no, actually, you deserve someone to remind you how amazing you are- and don't deny it !"

James couldn't help an amused chuckle to pass his lips at this last comment... His boyfriend knew him too well.

The movie made a transition in the school's cafeteria ; in front of the lens was this time the Marquis de Lafayette and Hercules Mulligan, decked at the table they habitually occupied during their breaks, listening what Thomas was asking to them- this time, he was behind the camera. The two young men were holding their hands, as usual. But what made laugh James was the caption displayed under each person : "The French Baguette" for Lafayette, and "BRAH BRAH U DEAD" for Hercules.

"Well, I think James is a wonderful guy !" The French exclaimed, excited. "Everytime I have a problem to understand an english word, he explains it to me ! He's patient, and kind, and very smart too ! I mean, he's not as obstinate as Alexander- nobody is, but he's doing his best for the things he likes. And he's doing great ! Right, Herc ?"

"Well, I couldn't agree more," added Hercules with a wide smile, "like... like he's the exact opposite of me, he's calm, patient and all, but I really enjoy his presence. In fact, sometimes it's good to be with someone who's not yelling all the time ! He's a nice person, especially if he makes my Laffy happy."

"Hercules ! He's recording this !"

"So, what ? You usually love this nickname !"

"Not in front of the guuuuuys !"

"Ooh, look at this cutie blushing !"

"Dudes, stop." Interrupted Thomas' voice.

The couple exchanged a glance half-surprised, half-embarrassed with the cameraman before looking at each other again and laugh, almost ignoring the camera pointed towards them. A near sigh was heard, and a second transition brought a new person on the screen : John Laurens, sitting down on a bench of the school and indicated by "The Gay Mess" lower. Again, James laughed lightly.

"So, what do you think of James Madison ?"

"Oh, isn't he your boyfriend ? Well, I think he's pretty cool. We don't really care about each other though, but he can be some good compagny. One day we had to work on a project together, and he was so shy with me... It was kinda cute. I didn't imagine him like this, he always seems pissed at school, like an emo kid or something, you see ?"

"You are the emo kid, Laurens."

"I know, right ? I may have some kind of influence on him... Do you think he would like Panic!At The Disco ?"

"No he won't. Nobody does, except you."

This time, Madison bursted out laughing under Thomas' benevolent look and consolidated his grip around his waist.

The movie continued the same way ; each person interrogated gave their honest opinion on James, explaining how much he was important for them, or, if this person interviewed didn't feel that close to him, just telling that he was a great friend. Jefferson even asked to their principal teacher ; George Washington, damn it ! But the most surprising thing was to hear Hamilton himself sounding his praises... That was kinda unexpected, but he was well imagining a cut scene where Jefferson was threatening the poor Alexander with a gun pointed against his temple if he had the idea of saying any negative thing on him. That would be really accurate, though.

The video ended on Thomas, winking towards the camera, followed by a little "I love you." whispered, then the screen turned black again. The couple stayed motionless in front of the laptop for a few seconds, then the ponderous silence of the room was broken by a sob slipping from James. Thomas quickly leaned to him and passed a hand on his cheek.

"Oh, shit, no no no, I didn't mean to- please, don't cry ! Jemmy ?"

As a response, James laughed between his tears and buried his red face into his boyfriend's shirt. This one rarely knew what to do when the shorter man started to cry in front of him, so he just held him tighter than before without saying any word. His hand fondled his back in large, slow, circular movements, while he felt some hiccups shaking his shoulders. They stayed in this position during a long, very long moment ; Madison managed to calm his sobs and raised his head towards his friend's. His cheeks were wet, and his eyes completely red and bordered with dark circles, like he hadn't slept in a week. Thomas found this vision heartbreaking, but felt a little relieved when he saw his smile.

"I'm so sorry, James," muttered the Virginian, guilty, "I didn't want you to cry..."

"Thomas, that was t-tears of joy, and- Jesus Christ, I can't believe y-you've really made this video just... just for me. I-It was so beautiful... T-Thank you, that's all I needed right now."

With a nervous chuckle, Jefferson leaned and put a kiss on James' each cheek, before spreading him onto the pillows again. He saw him more relaxed, staring at the ceiling with a neutral expression, certainly lost in his own thoughts.

"Sometimes, I'm wondering what I did to deserve you," he finally whispered, wiping his wet eyes. "I never do anything for you, but you're still making me incredibly happy. Why do you keep being so nice to me ?"

"First of all, I'm nice because I'm your fucking boyfriend. Secondly, you're doing so much for me, you don't even realize it ! Seriously, I love you and I'm happy by your side, what else would I want from you ?"

"I... I don't know... I'm not this k-kind of man who does romantic and crazy stuff for his lover, like you did with this film. D-Don't you want me to be more... more dedicated to you ?"

"What a stupid idea !" Thomas settled between his boyfriends' legs and, putting his chin on his torso, encircled his neck with his strong arms. "I'm an extravagant man, and I like to do extravagant things, especially for you. But I love you for who you are, and I don't care if you're not doing strange things like I did, because your presence is already something marvellous in my life. Trust me, you don't have to feel guilty. I love you so, so much Jemmy, and it's enough for me."

"Promise ?"

"Promise."

"Geez... I love you too."

After these words, Madison put his arms around his friend's shoulders and kissed his forhead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his lips while they were botch laughing lightly.

"Wanna watch something else with me, Jemmy-honey ? Something that won't make you cry." Added Jefferson, blinking.

"That would be lovely."

#hamilton #thomas jefferson #james madison #jeffmads #jeffmads month #fanfiction #gay stuff #everyone like gay stuff #and everyone like p!atd #don't listen to thomas

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eldritchsurveys · 7 years ago

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oo5.

Have you ever been served breakfast in bed? >> Maybe once or twice? A long time ago? What is the most challenging meal you have ever cooked? >> I make a point of avoiding challenges in cooking, unfortunately. I’m really averse to fucking up food, for multiple reasons. I’ll get over myself eventually, but it’s just not a priority right now.

Are you one to approach others, or let them approach you first? >> I mean, in what sense... What was your favorite thing to do as a little kid? >> Well, my paracosm at that time was a city called Jacana Heights, and Eden Long and I would perform in movies for the entertainment of the populace (I think they like, thrived on it... like, in a sustenance sense? I’m not sure of the logistics because I didn’t think that deeply about the worldbuilding of things back then). So I did that a lot. Here on Earth, I kind of just... cut out clothes for paper dolls for hours at a time, built things with building sets, played with my dog, and later on, played computer games. Are holidays as fun for you now as they were when you were younger? >> I didn’t get any holiday experiences at all as a child, except for when I was thirteen and then it was actually horrible lmao, so actually... I have a lot more fun with holidays now.

Do you find non-fiction to be boring? >> Nah, unless it’s a subject I literally don’t care anything about. Like... Republicans. Are you a punctual person? Or are you always late? >> I’m not always anything. Do you own a thesaurus? Do you actually use it? >> Nah, Google is my thesaurus. What is the longest essay or research paper you have written? >> Ten pages about Jim Morrison in junior year. Do you ever write your own short stories? >> Hell yeah. Sometimes I even still do. Have you ever been close to drowning? >> Twice. Have you ever had a panic attack? >> Yes. Do you find it easy to relate to other people? >> It gets a little easier as time goes on, and as I meet more people. But I think it’s part of the human condition to always feel a little set apart. I just try not to give that feeling too much credit, because it doesn’t exactly know what it’s talking about. Are you ashamed to leave the house when not looking your best? >> No. Are you modest? >> Nah, not really. Do you ever worry about your loved ones dying? >> Not especially. Like, I don’t actively worry about it, since grief doesn’t particularly frighten me as much as other things do. That doesn’t mean I’m like “oh cool whatevs” at the idea of people I love dying or anything, it’s just... not a worry. Do you watch any Japanese anime? >> I’m coming around to it. I was talking to someone on Discord and they mentioned that it seemed like the older a Western person is when they’re introduced to anime, the more time they have acclimating to the differences from Western media. So really, I’m not alone in how much I struggled to like, connect with anime the way people who have grown up with it do. I was out here thinking there was something wrong with my brain meats because no one had ever presented it that way to me. Damn. Anyway, the ones I’ve liked so far are Kill La Kill, Ouran High School Host Club, Mahoutsukai no Yome, Kuroshitsuji, Puella Magi Madoka Magica (is that even the right order lmao), and... yeah, I guess Axis Powers Hetalia, although overall I connected to the fandom more than the anime itself. Is there a foreign culture you are interested in learning more about? >> You damn right. Do you have your own laptop computer? >> I have two. Will this week be a good one? >> I mean, it’s a week. I suppose it’s all right, as far as weeks go. Who is the last person that texted you? >> Sparrow. When is the next time you work? >> I don’t. Where did you get the shirt you’re wearing? >> It’s an undershirt, I have no idea. What are you going to do next? >> I’m not sure. Maybe another survey, maybe I’ll go back to my dashboard, maybe I’ll randomly start breakdancing, who the fuck knows. Do you currently have feelings for anybody? >> Sure. Do you enjoy eating veggies? >> Very much. Do you know the difference between a vegan and a vegetarian? >> Yes. Who did you text most today? >> I didn’t text anyone. Do you have a reason to frown right now? >> Sure, I suppose. I have reasons to do any facial expression at any given time, because like... life be like that. What brand is your straightener? >> --- Do you own any Converse? >> Nope, they hurt my feet and fuck up my gait because of my pronounced arches. Are you wearing socks? >> Nope. Do you enjoy long car rides? >> I enjoy a lot of things about long car rides. The freedom of the open road is one of those “quintessential American(tm) things” that I actually deeply understand and yearn for. I enjoy being in cars, probably because I spent so much of my childhood around them and in them. I like talking to the people I’m in the car with -- a lot of good conversations are likely to happen during car rides, especially on highways, because there’s not a whole lot of distractions, just you all and the road. However, I don’t like being stuck in the car for hours at a time without a chance to stretch my body, and sleeping in the car is a fuck. So, you know. Downsides. What’s the last thing you drank? >> Water. Who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night? >> Hallie, online, and Can Calah, here. Are you one of those people who are always cold? >> No, I get hot much quicker than I get cold. Are you wearing any clothes that don’t belong to you? >> No. Do you paint your nails? >> Occasionally. Do you like doing laundry?   >> I mean, more than other chores, sure. There aren’t a lot of steps, it doesn’t involve icky things, and it’s not very time- or energy-consuming (the machines do most of the work). How about the dishes? >> Eh. I prefer doing the dishes in a sink with a window over it... anyway, we use the dishwasher. Do you even like doing housework? >> No. That’s probably really clear, lmao. Don’t you hate being blamed on? >> Of course. Do you even care about politics? >> Not the bits that don’t immediately affect me. Have you ever met anyone famous? >> Yeah, I met... multiple musicians, and Criss Angel once. And Julianne Moore! I keep forgetting about her. Do you check your email everyday? >> The Gmail Checker app in my browser alerts me whenever there’s new email, so I just... rely on that. Do you have a membership to the gym? >> I do, and I really need to fucking terminate it, but the legal bullshit is so overwhelming (gyms can be really fucking cagey and I wish I’d known that before I gave them my fucking bank account information to open a membership) that I never do it. Ugh. Do you tan? >> No. What is your natural hair color? >> Dark brown. Is it that right now? >> Yep. Do you prefer guys with dark hair or light hair? >> I can’t be bothered to care. When was the last time someone gave you flowers? >> Valentine’s Day. Do you expect to be married in the next two years? >> Yes. Do you have someone who is protective of you (father, brother, etc.)? >> No. Would you ever get implants? >> Probably not, unless it was subdermals. Have you ever dated someone of another race? >> Obviously. What did you drink at the last party you went to?: >> What was the last party I went to... Does the last person you text messaged have any tattoos or piercings?: >> Tattoos, yeah. Someone asks if you’re okay, but you’re not. Do you tell them the truth?: >> Depends on who’s asking. If it’s some person on the internet that I don’t really talk to, then they don’t get those kinds of details. Do you know anyone whose birthday is today?: >> No. How did you meet the last male you text messaged?: >> --- Where was the last place you went, that you hadn’t been to before?: >> Chicago in general. Last person to text you? >> Sparrow. Are you mad at anyone right now? >> No. How do you feel about your hair right now? >> It’s there. Being hair. Are you wearing jeans, shorts, sweatpants or pajama pants? >> I think these are considered sweatpants. What are you doing tomorrow? >> I don’t know, chillin, I guess. Is your hair up or down right now? >> It’s not anything. Do you know how to play poker? >> I’ve forgotten by now. Have you ever had an ear infection? >> Nope. What’s your favourite thing to order when you get Chinese food? >> I like chicken satay and lo mein or like... I don’t know, something with a lot of crunchy vegetables. And seafood. What did you have for breakfast this morning? >> The first meal I ate was the veggie burger. Are your nails painted a dark or light color? >> No. What color was the last fish you had? >> Like... as a pet? I’ve never had one. Have you ever read in the bathtub? >> No. Have you ever put ice cubes in milk? >> No. What do you use to remove your makeup at night? >> If I happened to be wearing makeup at some point, I’d use Burt’s Bees face cleaner wipes to remove it. Do you use the Facebook chat often? >> Nope. Do you have any baby pictures of yourself on your computer? >> Digital photos didn’t exist when I was born, and I’ve never scanned any physical ones. Do you eat onion rings? >> Rarely. When did you last go to the zoo? >> I don’t remember. It was probably the ElectriCritters thing with Hallie. I really don’t go to the zoo that often, lmao. How many cardigans do you own? >> Two. One has a big skull on the back and the other one’s a Slytherin cardigan. Do you own a robe? >> Yeah, it’s a Ravenclaw one. (I’m a Slytherclaw, lol.) Music is playing right now, isn’t it? >> It was, but I paused it to listen to the rain. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? >> No. What kind of shampoo do you use? Does it smell amazing? >> I use conditioner sometimes, and it smells like peppermint, so yeah, amazing. Have you ever buried a time capsule with a friend? Did you dig it up yet? >> No. How many pairs of shoes do you have? Are they under your bed? >> Two, not counting rain and snow boots, and no, they’re by the apartment door. Have you ever had to be put to sleep at a hospital? Why? >> I misunderstood that for a second because “put to sleep” is what people say about euthanising animals, lol. I was like, “uh, I’m pretty sure no one’s killed me at the hospital, brah” and then I realised. No, I’ve never been given general anaesthesia, but I have been sedated. When are you planning on moving out of your parents’ house? >> I did that already. Do you like crust on pizza or do you cut it off?  >> I don’t eat it, usually. What was the last song you listened to? >> I don’t remember now, but False King by Two Steps From Hell is playing. What is your favorite lunch meat? >> I like chicken breast or turkey on a sandwich. Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? >> Can Calah doesn’t have a phone. He doesn’t need one. Who was the last person you texted? >> Sparrow. Do you have any sisters? >> Yeah, two. Do you have to watch yourself in the mirror while you brush your teeth? >> Yeah, because like... I drool toothpaste everywhere when I’m brushing my teeth, lmao. So I gotta pay attention. Who in your phone has a heart after their name? >> No one. Do you think anyone has feelings for you? >> Yes. Does everyone deserve a second chance? >> Sure, even if it’s not necessarily from me. I don’t believe in condemning anyone.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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drv3imagines · 7 years ago

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We need some angst [We didn't we totally didn't but Mod Kaede will oblige] THE DEAD MEME IS BACK, BACK FOR NOW I'M SO FUCKING SORRY, I WAS BUSY IN JULY HANGING WITH MY FAM. I HAVE NO EXCUSES FOR AUGUST I WAS JUST LAZY FOR DAYS AND I AM SORRY BUT I AM BACK. BACK FROM THE DEAD AGAIN. HOPEFULLY I'LL STAY ALIVE THIS TIME Also thanksssssss andromeda773 probably won't be the same for a while for these requests tho :,) Last words I say before I stall any longer Fuck school Shuichi Saihara -He's crying, he's shaking, he's being a complete crybaby he doesn't care though -He's holding your hand as if it's the end of the world, repeating the same apology under his breath -He didn't know that someone poisoned his tea, he didn't know that when you warned him -And now your unconscious barely hanging onto life -You told him if you don't make it survive for you, to not regret anything that happened -But he regrets everything already and he just wants to hear you tell him it's okay already -The worst part about this is that he's wearing his hat again, the hat he promised to never hide under again -He made that promise to you didn't he? -He should be ashamed for doing this, but he doesn't feel ashamed for his actions in the very least -He just wonder how he can ever face your glance at him if you survive this -He lowers his hat trying to hide the tears streaming down his face -:,) Ouma Kokichi -"Pathetic, they really sacrificed themselves for me thinking I cared! Nishnishi~ Of course that was a lie~" -"Seriously they actually pushed me so I wouldn't get stabbed! I feel a bit bad for my dear S/O-Chan though..." -"That was a lie~!l -"I hope they never wake up again actually, yeah that be one less annoyance to deal with wouldn't it?" -"Yeah... One less annoyance, yep.. Everyone here's just in my way of surviving~! Haha~!" -Lies -He's lying to himself and he knows it -His expression isn't matching his words at all, he's friggin crying and he can't even smile -Worse of all now he's sounding out of character -If that even is his real character he's forgotten what his true nature was long ago though -But he doesn't bother correcting himself he just wipes the tears falling down his face -"Jeez... If I can't even lie how can I call myself a liar~?" -"But that's okay because S/O is totally gonna. survive! And once they live we can go back to normal and I can lie again!" -"Yayyyy~!" "Even as I liar I can tell the truth once in a while~" -Everything just said is a lie -:,) -(Just gonna keep posting :,) emoji's) Kiibo -Ḣ̸͇͎̮͇̽́͝õ̶̩ŵ̶̩̤͎̫̌̋̿̄̔̾̍.̴̧̨̦͉̮̱̙̫̝̮̜͒̊̒͆̅̈́̒͝.̴̡̢͖̩̮̪̩̫͚̰͖̳͓͗͌̈͒̆̑́͛̇̀̐́.̵̢̛͓̪̩̱̬͉̜̳̘́̀̽͐̄͒̃̍̐̋̓́̕ͅ ̸̨͙̳̰̻͉̺̬͙͓̭̖͈̀̄̆̆̎͘͝s̶̟̣̹̾̈́͌t̵̡̼̤̲̠̞̟̪̗͇͕̯͉̀͒r̸̦͔̩͇̦̞̰͓͎̅̈́͌̆͛̒̎̐́̅̊̈́å̸̦̈͂̈́͐��̡̢̠n̴̡̨̛̬̝̙̘̠̰̺̹̺͙̲͈͈̊̓̈͋̑̾̂̚g̸̠͚̪̍͊̄̂͆̋͒̍͌ë̴̛̫̬̖̗̺͙͉͉̣͎͉́̀̕ͅ -"I'm having a malfuction? How... strange.." -"I̵̧̦̠̤̣̝̪̗͎̳̥̻̿̈̋̄̍̏͘ ̶̧̘̙̱̙̰͔̦̹̥̲̯͙̒̔́́͋ǫ̵̘͕̘͓̰̫͖͂̚n̵̡̼̪̺͍̩͎̯̳̱̭͇̐̇̋͊̂̎́͋̔͆̕͘̕͜͜l̷̨̦̼͇̺̻̘̙̝͊̋̔̿̈̒̐̐͌͋̐͋̒͐͘y̸̻͇̟̠̪̬̫̼̗̹̬̰̰̣͍͂̔̾͊́̉͌̌̐̉̀͊̍͝ ̸̨͚̪͉̇̽̉̃̍̾̐̌̉͝h̵̢̦̟̲͇̺̗̀̈̍͛̅̂̍̈́̌́́̔͝͠͠a̶̡̫̰̪̭̰̰̥̺̤̖̰͋̎̂̑̂̚͜͜ͅv̸̳͛͑̽̌͆͗̎̚é̸̡̦̖͎̟̩̫̖̝̘̖̗͙̏͆̃̓̎́͆͑̌͊̌͜ ̷̡̳̪̭̲̼̭̙̝͙͈̙̗̜͒t̸̨̨͚̜̲̝̯̹̤͓̮̰͇͇̟͆̎̿̅͠h̶̨̨̞̭̞̻͊́̀̇̍ȩ̸̳̝̬̞̻̕͝ś̷̤͔̻̟̝̱́̇̍ế̵̱͇͕̗̈̄͌̆͗͂̔̊̈͝ ̶̮̲͈̗̟̒̒̑̎w̷̨̺̥̣̗̬̬̻̬̠̪͎̓̒͊̉̚h̴̨̧̭̝̭̣̦͔̰̝̫̞̳̀̅̈͋̎̅̽̃̓̚͘è̵̘̰̑̌̂̌͐̾̋͠͝n̴̝̰̂̓ͅ ̷̡̡̪̝̯̬͕̪̰̳͔̌͛̾͒̈͘͜͠Į̷̛͚̾́̈͠m̸̠͍̜̈́̀̏̀̃ḿ̵͓̪̯̰̻̭̥͙̰̔͋̋ ̵̙̙͓̱̹̟̭͇́̄̅͑͌ṳ̸̲̩̼͇̼̱̪̎̋̏͂͊͐̂̾͒̕̕̕n̵͍̪͐̿̈͗̓̊̎̇d̶̬̝̰̳̙̈̿͒̾̓͑̅̊̽̂̌̂͑e̶̛̯̘͉̹̰̅̀̎̔̍̉̐̈́̔͛̔̚̚͘r̷͎͖̞͍͎̈́̏̎ ̶̧̡̦̻̙͔̥̝͔̫̝̯͈̼̱̾̀̓͐̽͑̽̑͋͆̏ĕ̶̡̼̫̪̮̪͔͍͍̮̋̐͜m̷̡͈̮̞̰̮̱͎̜̹̗͈͉̪͆̐̓ͅỡ̷̡̢̲̳̥̳͔̼̲̫͋̏́͂̾́̈́̓̄̄̑̚ẗ̴̡̺̪̝̮̖͇̗̩́̅̌͒̓̈́̂̇̿̐i̸̡̯̮̞̮̝̳̜͋̽̂̔̍̌̏̑̎͆distress ̷̟̙̦̮͌̃o̴̢̫̞͙͕͙̥̯̎̈́͒̈́̈̿̋̿̿̈́̆͗̎́̿ŗ̷̧̥̣͈̖̯͉̖͔̳̌̅̏̒̌̎̌͆͘͝͠.̴̲̅.̵̡͔̖̙̬̰̬͚͓͈̼͖͋͂͊̂̿̌̀͘͠ͅ ̵̡̰̮̟̤̞͙͙͖̞͔̟̐̌̆̿͆̆̑Ä̷̢͈̬̮̦̺̘̟̭͚͆̈́͒̚ bug... -I wonder if S/O knows what's happening to... Me -When Kiibo wakes up he expects to find the face of a worrying S/O, or just S/O sitting beside him happy to see him wake up -Instead all he finds is a crying Kaede and Shuichi trying to cheer her up (which is strange) -Why are they so sad though? And why do they seem so distressed to see him awake? -"K-K-Kiibo-Kun...? Y-Your already awake...? I-I.." -Akamatsu-San if you don't want to say it I...I" -"N-No it's fine.. As the leader it's my duty to tell you you Kiibo..." -"Tell me what?" -"S/O-San.. Died protecting you... Iruma-San had tried killing you but S/O had stopped her." -"But... But S/O-San died in the end... Iruma-San dead too now and now she can't fix you so I don't even know if S/O's death is going to be in vain and if you die too..." -"I'm honestly so s-sorry.. For being such a bad leader.." -Kiibo doesn't answer -Instead his program crashes and he sees glitches flash before his eyes -:,) Kaito Momota -(Mod Kaede: I cried again...) -He's banging his fists on the walls angrily yelling about how he should have protected you -It's fucking sick that he couldn't have even figured out how you were acting strange. -No it's fucking sick that he didn't save you. What kind of boyfriend is he to let his partner get hurt protecting him?! -In total this game's only proving his weakness's again. Fuck this game's making him feel totally useless again! -If he can't protect you now, how are the both of you supposed to see the stars together again? -No, no matter what there's no fucking way that you won't see them with him again. -He'll make sure of that -So for now he just needs to look at the bright side of things, and hope for the best -"Ain't that right S/O?" -(Insert dead or totally alive S/O smiling at him here) -"S/O?!" -(IMAGINE IT AS YOU WILL IT'S EITHER F- OR GOOD END IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THIS JUST ASK WHEN THE ASK BOX IS CLEARED) -:,) Ryoma Hoshi -Mod Kaede: (Totally not crying) MOTHER FUDGER WHY IS ANYTHING WITH RYOMA ANGSTY??? WHEN IT'S ANGST IT ONLY MAKES IT WORSE??? -He seriously can't catch a break can he? -First her now you huh? -Why is it everything he loves end up burning because of him? Is it because he's cursed? His luck really is the worst though... -"Actually I believe the fact that I'm cursed -"Really? Ryoma no fucking really? -"It does makes a bit of sense though right?" -Lying next to your bed, where you currently lay looking at him you give a shrug -"Nah, it's just the fact the world's a fucking bitch to us all. But it'll turn up better soon I tell you! So uh.. Please don't blame this on yourself. C'mon?" -"Your fucking dead" -Pushing his hand though your stomach, it goes right through the wound which looks brand spanking new even though you died hours ago -"Seriously how does this even work?" -"I will admit one thing. Your conscious is fucked up for imagining me like this yes." -"Oh so it's just my conscious trying to make me live..? Again?" -"Shut." -"BUT I MEAN" -"It's (BLANK)'s fault isn't it? Not you're nor anybody elses So please don't... Visit me anytime soon.." -"...." -"It hurts" "I know it does, but it's okay, you have everyone else and I swear they care for you!" -"Are you going to disappear any time soon? Please don't say yes" -"Probably" -"Ugh.." -"Well... Just remember I love you... And please live for me... That's all I ask Ryom-" -Saying goodbye to you as fast as your returned, you left him once more -Groaning he takes now gone lollipop out of his mouth, before digging into his pocket for a cigarette -It's his last one, fuck he hasn't done this in so long so why now? -That doesn't matter though he lights it before taking a puff -It's not long before Kaede finally finds him sobbing into your bed -:,) Korekiyo SINguuji -Is it bad that I purposely spell it without an H? -And is it badder that I admit I never stop calling him that that? -Does it maker it WORSER that I'm going to make this imagine that irony everyone hates? -I think I made it horrible by not knowing his personality well... (SPOILERS AGAIN...) -Never had he once wanted you to see his older sister, even if he spoke of the day where all of you could unite and finally meet each other -He had never wanted it to happen so soon, it was too soon -An innocent(?) and pure(???) soul such as yourself to die this soon because of his unholy soul -He hadn't deserves your affection, he doesn't even know why you loved him -You truly were a strange part of humanity that much he admit -"Thank goodness, you were only injured I was frankly worried about you for a moment S/O" -"But as much as I hate saying this, you've made some stupid decisions you should've told me beforehand so we could've just avoided this mess" -"Now your stuck in bed till Tojo-San says your better which will most probably be long from now..." -Giving a sly smile you apologize to him -"You are genuinely the most thickheaded human being out there aren't you?" -"Which is fine. Now you cannot run when I try to tell you all about psychology and-" -"SH-" -Even though you were stuck in bed months at least he could happily sit beside you observing you -:,) Gokuhara Gonta -Stop this -STOP THIS -NO NO NO- -Mod Kaede will NOT -BYE GOODAY -CHUM, BUDDY, FRIEND, PAL, AMIGO, BRO, BRAH, DUDE, YOU NOPE -I RATHER WRITE KAEDE ANYTHING THEN THIS. -AND KAEDE IS MY RELIGION FOOLS -(Gonta's soul is too pure for any type of angst AND I REFUSE THIS) -:,) Amami Rantarou -He's been trying his best to help you recover -It was his fault you even got hurt in the first place so it was the least he could do! -Harukawa's been telling him to stop, that it's pointless for him to do anything now -But he's not listening to her he won't allow her negativity stop him from helping you. -(Yeah this is the best I could come with. I still suck at his character) -So no :,)

#mod kayayday #ahaha i'm so fucking sorry #shuuichi saihara #ouma kokichi #korekiyo shinguuji #gokuhara gonta #ryoma hoshi #Let us pray to Angie's God I never do this again #kaito momota #amami rantarou #angst #imagines

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inkyardpress · 7 years ago

Text

THE GATEKEEPERS EXCERPT

Mallory

7:55 AM

where r u?

8:11 AM

r u coming??

8:17 AM

seriously wtf, when will u be here?

Liam

10:34 AM

Srry

MALLORYGOODMAN

Seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three.

Harder.

Faster.

You can do it, I tell myself. You have to do it.

Seventy-four, seventy-five.

Stop being the kind of lard-ass who let her boyfriend pressure her into scarfing down onion rings.

“They’re so good,” he’d insisted. “Extra salty, really crispy. They’re the perfect balance of light batter and onion, like tempura. The chef brought his A-game to the deep fryer. You’ll be sorry if you don’t at least try one.”

Whenever our squad wants to meet for dinner, I suggest a place with a salad bar. I always eat the same thing—a blend of arugula and romaine, shredded carrots, red cabbage, diced peppers, and celery sticks, tossed in lemon juice, with a side of fat-free ranch dressing. If I’ve been good, I grab a grapefruit or an apple for dessert at home.

Obviously, I wasn’t good last night.

Liam wouldn’t let it go, though. He leaned across the table, doing that baby-feeding, airplane-in-the-hangar move with the onion ring, complete with sound effects. Everyone in the whole restaurant started looking at us. Sure, they’re always looking at us, because Liam’s kind of our school’s Golden Boy, but last night they were seriously staring. The easiest thing was to open up and just eat the stupid, greasy thing. So I chewed and smiled when all I wanted to do was to spit it into my napkin—but I’d never hear the end of it if I did that.

I swear Jasper Gates was ready to search inside my mouth afterward to make sure I’d actually swallowed, like on those cheesy survival game shows where the host verifies contestants downed the whole worm. Jasper was the one who demanded I eat another, because the first one was “too small.” Sitting there, all kicked back and smarmy in his obnoxious plaid shorts and Ray-Bans, I wanted to smack him. Who wears sunglasses inside at night? We’re in Illinois, not LA. And my diet is Jasper’s business how exactly? Do I get on him for the stupid loafers he insists on wearing without socks, even when it’s snowing?

Can you believe he actually wonders why I call him the JasHole?

Ugh, I hate Liam’s friends.

Seventy-six, seventy-seven.

I dig in my heels and try to spring up even more quickly as I run the stadium steps for the third time. My pulse quickens inside my chest.

Okay.

That’s more like it.

My brother Theo and his best friend, Braden, turned me on to running the stairs, something their football coach makes them do first thing in the morning during the season. That way they can spend the afternoon drilling on the field or weight training for their two-a-days. Kids at other schools can’t believe how much our teams practice. They always say this after we’ve beaten them, so you tell me who’s got it right.

One twenty-one. One twenty-two.

Well, most of us believe in all the practice.

Ahem, Liam.

First, he makes me ingest a fatty carb bomb and then he doesn’t even show to run the stairs with me this morning? He claimed he hurt his knee playing ultimate Frisbee after soccer practice yesterday. Last night, the JasHole was all, “You should give it a rest, brah. Don’t want to be a gimp when the season starts. Take it easy.”

Well, guess what, Liam?

Winners walk it off.

Winners play through the pain, brah.

Winners make time to run the stairs, each day, every day, even those days when they know they’ll be up until 2:00 a.m. writing their final AP Italian theme on Il pendolo di Foucault.

I keep going.

I mean, my calves feel like they’re on fire right now, like they’re being poked with burning hot knives, but the discomfort’s just spurring me on.

Go. Run faster.

I make it to the top and sprint back down the steps double-time. I don’t count the stairs on the way down; that’s considered rest.

Rest is for the weak.

Three hundred. Three hundred and one. Three hundred and two.

Move it, Calorie Mallory. Get your fat ass up those steps. Knees up. Knees up to the chest. More. Do more.

I ask myself, Do you think the New Trier Trevians ate onion rings last night? Hell, no. Did the Lake Forest Scouts wolf down fro-yo last week? Doubtful.

Hustle. Now.

I glance at my iWatch. All right, I’m in the zone. I’m at 95 percent of my target heart rate. I’m a finely tuned machine, burning off serious blubber. Keep it up.

Five hundred forty-nine. Five hundred fifty. Five fifty-one.

I’m sweating now, but that’s good because sweat is fat crying for mercy.

I mean, why would Liam slam on the brakes now? Why would he look for an excuse to slack? Our senior year starts Monday.

This is the time to go balls-out.

We haven’t reached the summit. There’s no time to coast. We’re coming up on the hardest part of our twelve-year academic climb—applying to college.

Now is when we show the world what we’re made of.

Now is when we prove we have the right stuff for Princeton’s early decision.

Now is when we lay the groundwork for our senior year.

Liam and I spent the past couple of months honing our skills at our camps, getting in our volunteer hours, and doing our extra coursework so that we’ll to be ready to kill our exams and nab our respective state championships when classes start. Winning those matching Homecoming King and Queen crowns come October wouldn’t hurt, either, because that would show that we’re social as well as athletic and academic.

We’re the full package. We’re hashtag BarbieandKen.

Which is why we have to push ourselves harder right now.

I don’t want to give up. Quitting? Not an option. I remember what happened over the summer with Paulie and Macey, and I feel like I’ve swallowed glass, like I’m all slashed up inside. They had everything...until they decided they didn’t, so they gave up. Stopped fighting. Braden speculates that maybe they both burned so brightly, flaming out was inevitable.

I refuse to accept that.

So I need to be strong. I need to be hard. That’s why I’m not even allowing myself a drink of water until I hit my first one thousand steps.

I give myself a gut-check. Are you tired, Mallory? Do you want to surrender? Yeah? That’s because you’re not reaching your full potential. You’re at a B-minus of effort right now, and that’s an unweighted grade, non-honors track. Your performance doesn’t even merit a state school, let alone Ivy League early decision. What are you going to do, end up somewhere mortifying like the University of Iowa, with all the slackers? NO. You’ve sacrificed for this. You’ve earned this. Claim what’s yours.

I step it up.

I push and pump my arms.

Explode. Off. Each. Step.

I won’t give up.

I can’t flame out.

I harness the energy inside of me.

I go harder and higher.

Senior year starts in three days.

And I will be ready.

Stephen

12:30 PM

can we walk by again @ 1:00 PM?

Kent

12:31 PM

Stalker 😊

STEPHENCHO

“So this is your homerun swing?”

I don’t reply.

Kent persists. “Walking back and forth in front of the new girl’s house in the broiling sun ’til she notices you?”

The beads of sweat dotting his upper lip give him the illusion of having a mustache.

Yeah, he wishes.

“Trust in the process,” I assure him. As we approach her house, I slow my pace so drastically, it’s like we’re suddenly a couple of senior citizens mincing along behind our walkers.

“I trusted in the process an hour ago, back before my Chucks were melting into the asphalt.” He points at his black Converse. “Now I just want to strip down to my underwear and lie on an air conditioning vent. I wanna mainline a pony keg of Gatorade.”

I attempt to explain my rationale again. “She’s gonna notice us out here. She’s gonna notice us and then she’s gonna invite us in, at which point we’re gonna be charming and shit and it’ll all happen from there,” I say. “My plan is foolproof.”

Kent tugs at his vintage Run-D.M.C. Adidas T-shirt, which is now drenched in perspiration and clinging to his narrow frame like a second skin.

“Please. Your ‘plan’ is the opposite of foolproof.” Kent makes air quotes with his fingertips when he says the word plan. “This is the worst ‘plan’ in the history of ‘plans.’ If this ‘plan’ were in World War II, this would be your Stalingrad. PS, you’re the Germans losing 330,000 men in this scenario, not the Soviet resistance. Pretty sure MENSA’s revoking your membership over said ‘plan.’”

Kent’s probably right, but I refuse to admit it. See, I’m so desperate to meet this girl that I don’t even care. While it sounds premature, I have a good feeling about her and I can already tell she’s different in all the right ways. (I’m not psychic. My mom had the 411 long before the first moving truck arrived. She’s not only on the Homeowners’ Association but she’s also the Realtor who listed the house.)

I’ve been thinking about this girl ever since I heard she existed. Scoop is, the family’s here from London and the mom’s writing some book about the suburbs. Maybe one of those coffee-table books, wide and thick, with as many pictures as words? North Shore makes total sense because nowhere is more suburban than here.

I’m serious—we should be listed in Wikipedia under “suburbs” because this town elevates the suburbs game to a whole new level. Peace and quiet? Check. Amazing school system? Check. Lots of natural beauty and green space? Check. Nonexistent crime stats? Check.

Beyond that, North Shore sets rules on how things should look. Image is everything up here. For example, like every other suburban town, we have a McDonald’s. However, there are no golden arches out front of ours, ’cause someone decided that would be tacky. Instead, there’s a small, tasteful wooden sign posted amid a bunch of wild roses. Also, the restaurant’s housed in a big green Shaker-style barn, with columns and white-paned windows.

It’s weird.

The town’s as strict with home standards as it is with businesses. Like, no one’s allowed to chop down trees on their own property without a permit, so every home is surrounded by lots of old-growth oaks. Most of the houses, especially those close to the lake like ours, sit on two or three acres. (Ask me how much this sucked when we used to trick or treat. We wanted candy, not cardio.)

Basically, North Shore’s nothing but big ol’ houses on huge green lawns, yogurt shops, and fancy, useless designer boutiques. I hate having go all the way up to Gurnee or Libertyville to buy comic books, yet there’s three places downtown to pick up a two-hundred-dollar sweater for your purse dog. I’d be all, Who wants that stuff?

Except I know at least ten people who would.

Anyway, the new family bought the Barat house, which is why I feel conflicted about being excited that they’re here. I hadn’t talked to Paulie much since junior high, or hung out with him since grade school, but it’s still really sad. My mom, who’s usually totally in the know, isn’t 100 percent sure where the Barats went. Their attorneys handled the sale because the family hauled ass out of North Shore ASAFP.

I can’t blame them.

The new girl’s dad is this world-famous, super-eccentric British artist with a man-bun. I looked up a lot of his stuff online. He’s always doing these avant-garde art installations, often so bizarre they end up on the news. I read a listicle on BuzzFeed about him. The piece that stuck out most was his exhibit in Burundi, a country where something like 75 percent of all the residents are undernourished. The guy built a replica of McDonald’s golden arches out of bags of liposuctioned fat as a statement about global inequality.

What did that even smell like once the sun hit it?

(FYI, his piece was not shaped like a Shaker-style barn.)

My point is, no one’s like that here in North Shore; no one has that kind of social conscience.

No one’s super-eccentric.

No dads have man-buns, that’s for damn sure.

The girl’s name is Simone and she’s my age and on her Instagram, she’s smokin’ hot, but not in a fake, plastic-y way like everyone else in this town. Maybe that’s because her mom was a famous model. Simone’s got this long, coffee-colored wavy hair that’s shaved on one side and she kind of dresses like a vocalist from a ’70s rock group. The times I’ve spied her from the street, she’s been wearing lots of scarves and bangles and other cool stuff that definitely does not come from J. Crew.

Simone has a casual elegance, like a Disney princess who doesn’t know what she is because an evil queen gave her amnesia and forced her to live in the forest. She strikes me as worldly and wise and chill, deep and interesting in a way that all the brittle future sorority girls in my school are not. She definitely doesn’t seem like the type of girl who’d eviscerate you for the cardinal sin of asking her to a middle school mixer, leaving you shamefaced and speechless in the middle of the cafeteria, too terrified to ever try again.

Kent says no one could have possibly have drawn these opinions, nobody could have come up with all these positive character traits by simply walking past her house.

I maintain that he couldn’t because he has no imagination; he’s too linear in his thinking. That’s also why I always beat him at chess.

I wouldn’t expect him to understand my fascination with Simone. He’s been obsessed with this generic blonde goddess named Mallory since grade school. I bet Mallory wouldn’t even bother to spit on him if he were on fire, but I keep that to myself. Kent soldiers on in his relentless pursuit, hope springing eternal. He kind of reminds me of a dog chasing a car when it comes to Mallory—he’s never going to catch the vehicle and he’d have no clue what to do with it if he did, but damned if he ever stops running behind it.

While he might whine about stalking Simone, he’s helping me anyway.

“There’s no fluid left in me—I sweated it all out. I’m literally leeching salt at this point,” Kent complains. He swipes his forehead and rubs his fingers against his palm. I hear the grit when he scrapes his hand against itself but pretend I don’t.

He says, “Seriously, bro, there’s a crust on my brow. Come on, Stephen... It’s over. Give it up. Let’s head to the beach. I wanna go walk directly into the lake, like, shoes and all, I don’t even care.”

I need to admit defeat.

And yet...

“One more pass?” I want this to sound like a command, a marching order, but my words come out more plaintive than planned.

He narrows his eyes and stares me down for a solid thirty seconds. “You suck.”

I guess plaintive worked.

We turn at the corner for our final walk-by when we see her garage door opening in the distance. Like Botticelli’s Birth of Venus, Simone comes into focus from the darkness of the garage, her form slowly revealed as the door inches upward, only instead of being surrounded by angels while naked astride a clamshell (my preference), she’s standing in front of a mountain of cardboard, buttressed by recycling bins.

She is the embodiment of divine love, august gold, wreathed and beautiful, clad in the heavenly raiment of a baggy, tie-dyed overall dress.

Oh, yes. She will be mine.

“You said that out loud, dude,” Kent tells me. “You may want to work on keeping your internal monologue, you know, internal.”

Simone spots us and waves.

“Check it out, she’s waving!” Kent says, shielding his eyes with his hand as he squints down the long, curved, sun-drenched driveway. Every house in our ’hood is set back from the curb no less than one-tenth of a mile. (Again, this blew at Halloween. Batman shouldn’t have to wear gym shoes.)

Kent continues, “No, that’s not a wave. She’s gesturing for us to come up to her garage. Yes! Score! You know, I doubted you, Cho. I did. Thought we were wasting our time, but you proved me wrong. Get up there and claim your woman. ’Bout time something good happened around here.” He gives me a small push in her direction.

“Walk faster,” I hiss, my heart beginning to race like a hamster on a wheel. “Actually, run.”

Kent comes to a dead stop. “Aw, hell no. Not this again. I am not walking faster and I’m sure as shit not running. I did not just sweat out half my body weight going back and forth for you to wuss out when you finally get your chance to talk to her. You wanted her to see you? Mission accomplished. Get your ass up there and have a conversation. ’Cause I’m done here. We have less than a week left before school starts and the last thing I wanna do is stand in the blazing hot street for one more second. Now, I’m going for a swim and you’re gonna go work your magic. Text you later.”

He walks toward the wooded path that leads to the residents-only beach on Lake Michigan a couple of blocks away while I stand frozen by her mailbox.

I want to talk to her. I do.

I want to work my magic.

I want to so badly...but I just can’t.

Maybe Kent’s not the dog who’s caught the car. Maybe it’s me.

I open my mouth to try to explain but the words won’t come out.

Kent’s a whole house away when he glances over his shoulder. He sees that I haven’t moved. He looks at a bemused Simone—she’s still midwave—and then at me. With a small shake of his head, he jogs back over. He’s out of breath by the time he reaches me.

Grudgingly, Kent says, “I could probably be your wingman for a few more minutes.” Relief washes over me and I’m able to move again. We start walking up the drive together.

He asks, “How is it that you’re both the smartest and the dumbest guy in our school?”

I shrug.

If I knew, then I’d tell him.

KENTMATHERS

“You are coming across as a fucking lunatic right now, you hear me?”

Stephen won’t look at me.

I tell him, “You don’t seem like someone walking up to introduce himself to a girl he’s been crushing on, oh, no. You look like someone who wants to make an ottoman out of her skin. Take a deep breath and chill.”

I’m trying to not sound as frustrated as I feel...and totally failing.

I don’t know how Stephen always ropes me into his schemes, but here we are. A-fucking-gain. All I want to do is go to the beach and catch some sun so that I don’t look like I spent the summer walking to and from the dorms at Physics Camp (which I did). I mean, I can live with being short and I’ve made peace with the fact that I’m still carded for PG-13 movies, but I draw the line at a farmer’s tan. One good afternoon on the sand; that’s all I need.

Yet am I chillin’ on the shores of Lake Michigan gettin’ my bronze on?

No.

Instead, I’m on another one of Mr. Cho’s Wild Rides and I’m over it.

Stephen’s always all about this false bravado, Mr. I Have a Plan and Mr. I Will Make It So. He’s such a nerd that he actually draws what he envisions. I mean, he storyboards out the whole damn thing. Because he’s so good at picturing himself Making It So with the Plan He Has, we reach the point where everything clicks and he actually could achieve his goal but then he chickens out and blows everything.

He had one job today, which was to go up and say hey to the new girl, and he can’t even do that on his own.

I want to help him, I do, but being his keeper is getting old. We’ve been locked in this wingman dance since we met in preschool. This is his pattern. Today reminds me of when we used to go to the waterpark in the Wisconsin Dells as kids. The whole school year, he’d boast about jumping off the high dive and all the flips and somersaults he’d do, comparing himself to Sammy Lee, the first Asian American to win Olympic gold in platform diving. How he’d be a better diver than anyone else at the pool because he understood aerodynamics and would use that to his benefit. I have no doubt that’s true. Stephen’s getting early acceptance to MIT, count on that. Dude’s got a brain the size of Montana.

But then he’d climb up, tiptoe to the edge of the board, look at the water and freak the fuck out.

Everyone would have to scramble off the ladder so that he could climb down. He’d talk a huge game but couldn’t follow through, could never commit. He didn’t dive off the big board, not once. He had zero confidence in his execution, regardless of having it perfect on paper.

His problem is, he builds all this stuff up in his head. Thinking about whatever he wants to do ends up being so much scarier than the act itself that it cripples him. The only reason he ever made it down the giant slide at the park is that I went in tandem with him.

I can only say, “Just do it” so many times.

I mean, I’m not a goddamned Nike T-shirt.

Don’t get me wrong, he’s great at what he knows. He’s the strongest competitor on our Physics Olympics team. But the second there’s not a set answer to a question or he encounters an untrodden path, he falls apart.

The bitch of it is, I bet he has a chance with this girl. At a cursory glance—and given the full, rich backstory Stephen’s already assigned Simone, provided it’s true—she could be a match. I mean, I spend all day, every day with him, so I know he’s interesting. He has to be, for me to put up with all his bullshit. He can fascinate me and I’m not easily entertained. When he feels comfortable, he’ll talk at length about any subject, and he’s not like those boring-ass meatheads at school who are All Sports, 24/7.

At the very least, Stephen could be the first guy to ask her out here in North Shore. They don’t have to fall in love; maybe they could be great buds. Maybe no end zone, just friend zone? At least he’d have tried to score, you know? But if I weren’t here walking him down the long-ass driveway, telling him to not look like a goddamned serial killer, even that would have no chance of happening.

I don’t want to be all, He holds me back! because that’s a shitty thing to say about my best friend.

Although sometimes I think about where I’d be if we hadn’t met, if my parents had bought that smaller house in Kenilworth and not the one a few miles up the road in North Shore. Then he’d be my archrival at the Physics Olympics and not my closest companion.

Would that be so bad, I wonder?

Would we push each other toward greatness, his Tesla to my Edison?

Guess we’ll never know.

The closer we come to the garage, the more Stephen slows, and I feel like I’m dragging a reluctant mule to market.

Ridiculous.

On second thought, I wonder if Stephen’s just freaked out about this being the Barats’ old house. Didn’t happen here, but there’s still kind of a bad vibe, you know? We hung out with Paulie all the time when we were little. But Stephen and I stopped running around with Paulie around the time that friendships solidify more because of shared interests and less due to geographical proximity.

Neither of us ever fought with Paulie, never had a falling-out or anything. We just went in different directions. It happens, you know? God, though, I felt so bad for everyone in his family, especially his little sister, Anna. How do you even deal when you’re twelve?

Stephen took it extrahard. He was fixated on the whole thing, to the point that I was secretly kinda glad about going to a different camp than him over the summer.

I thought he was moving on, but what if he’s not? Maybe that’s why he’s suddenly panicky about his plan working. Maybe he’s freaked out about seeing the inside of Paulie’s house again.

When we’re about ten feet away from Simone, I get my first good look at her. Beyond her mountain of dark hair, I notice her eyes, which are a warm amber color. Through Stephen’s extensive social media stalking, he found out that her grandfather’s from India. But for being part Indian, her skin’s surprisingly pale and she’s covered in freckles. She’s cute in a messy, hipster way, except she doesn’t give off a pretentious vibe. She strikes me as the kind of girl who’d forget she’d stuck a paintbrush behind her ear

While she may not be my type, I see what intrigues Stephen. She’s about the first girl up here who doesn’t come across as a miniature version of all our mothers, with sculpted triceps, blown-straight hair, and a splashy floral tank dress.

(Is it weird/kind of oedipal that I find that combination oddly erotic? Wait, don’t answer that.)

“Cheers!” she says. I don’t hear much of a British accent. Huh. Thought she was from England? “We have a right mess going here. Look at this rubbish—we’re practically drowning in it! Can you please tell me when and how they collect the wheelie bins?”

I can’t help it, I start laughing at her turn of phrase while Stephen shoots me a murderous look, I mean, really full of poison. I get a hold of myself, explaining, “Sorry. That sounded exactly like something Mary Poppins would say. By the way, hi, I’m Kent Mathers.”

She holds out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Mary P.”

Stephen bleats, “I thought you were Simone!”

I want to face-palm out of secondhand embarrassment but I quickly interject with a subject change to afford him some dignity. “So, the garbage cans and recycling bins are picked up on our street on Tuesdays and Fridays. Just leave them by your garage and a guy from Streets and Sanitation will pull up to the side of your house in a little golf cart.”

“That’s brilliant!” she exclaims.

“Nothing but the best for North Shore,” I say.

“A bit fancy here, isn’t it?” she replies, which is an understatement in the same way that saying that the ocean’s fairly sizable or a Maserati’s kind of a zippy ride. The average home around here has six bedrooms and just as many baths. And everyone renovates their kitchen every five years. God forbid we keep our almond milk in a fridge from 2010.

Simone tells us, “My friend Cordelia says my strategy for America should be finding the biggest bitch in school and immediately taking her down. Is she right?”

“Hmm,” I reply, pretending to muse. “That’s less ‘high school’ and more ‘prison.’ You should probably Netflix Glee and also Orange Is the New Black.”

“I shall make a mental note. I already feel you’re both full of helpful advice, you possibly more than him,” she says with a grin in Stephen’s direction, “so I insist you come inside for something cold to drink before you melt on the spot.”

Even though she’s teasing, I can see Stephen blanch and yet again I feel like I’ve gotta rescue him.

“Okay, very important to discuss before we come in and definitely will determine if we’re gonna be friends,” I say, referencing the one subject that will absolutely, positively draw Stephen out of his shell and into the conversation. “Are you Biggie or are you Tupac?”

She tilts her head to the side. “As in...Smalls and Shakur?”

“Uh-huh. As in the most violent and hotly contested rap rivalry from the mid ’90s.”

She crosses her arms over her chest and looks thoughtful. “When my parents were our age, they said they could immediately identify kindred spirits by scanning their vinyl/cassette/CD collections, but now that music’s digital, it’s impossible to walk into someone’s home and assess their tastes. Kind of a shame, really.”

“You’re dodging the question,” I say.

“Not a dodge, just providing context. Honestly, my musical proclivities are profoundly eclectic. I listen to everything from opera to Swedish death metal depending on my mood.”

I raise an eyebrow. “There you go, dodging again. This gonna be a thing with you?”

She makes an X mark over her heart. “No, promise, won’t be a thing.”

“Then what’s your answer? Or did you need to step into your car first to collect your thoughts?” She seems confused as I peer around the four-car garage. I clarify, “You do drive a Dodge, right?”

Simone holds up her hands in the universal stop symbol and I notice she’s wearing dozens of funky bracelets. Do they get in the way in the bathroom?

(Is that a strange thing to wonder?)

“Okay, okay. Point taken. Hmm... Who do I prefer? Well, both artists had such an influence on modern hip-hop that to choose one over the other would be like deciding between peanut butter and chocolate. Both are perfect, for different reasons.”

My suddenly mute friend Stephen avoids eye contact and traces circles on the floor with the tip of his sneaker. Some days it’s like I want to take video of him so he can see how he comes across. Bro, give me something to work with here.

(I should storyboard that shit out for him.)

I persist, “Oh, you must be into baseball because clearly you root for the Dodgers. Listen, anyone who’s familiar with the genre has an opinion. Can you like them both? Absolutely. But you have to prefer one over the other. So who’s it gonna be—Biggie or Tupac?”

“I feel like there’s a lot of hidden weight in this question,” she says, tucking a wild strand of dark hair back into her scruffy topknot.

“There is,” I reply. In my peripheral vision, I see Stephen sizing up all the cardboard. Ten bucks says he’s mentally drawing himself inside a fort made of boxes.

Simone tucks her thumbs into her dress pockets and leans back on her heels. “You understand my reticence, what with being new and all.”

“I do.”

“I clearly run the risk of alienating one of you, potentially both.”

I nod. “Distinct possibility.”

“One that I fear.”

“Right now, your choice is the Schrödinger’s cat of opinions. At this moment, you say you prefer both Biggie and Tupac but that can’t be. It’s simply not the natural state. You have to be one or the other. We need to open this box and find out for sure.”

I like her.

I don’t like her like her but she seems fun, seems like she’d be a fine addition to our crew. Let’s be honest, it’s a fairly exclusive crew, as Stephen and I aren’t exactly the most popular kids in school. We’re not hated, we’re just not even...considered, you know? Adding an interesting person to our social circle could only make our senior year better. We used to be friends with everyone growing up, but people started to splinter four or five years ago, forming their own cliques, and now Stephen and I are way too insular. We’re a party of two, which is kind of depressing.

Maybe if we tried a little harder, we’d be invited to stuff. We’d be welcomed back into the fold, reintroduced into NSHS’s social scene. (People are always crying about all the drinking and the drug use among high school students up here, but I’ll be damned if I’ve ever even seen any.)

However, Simone’s not going to want to be around me and my fascinating friend Stephen if he can’t find a way to open his goddamned mouth and interact.

“Then, my answer is... Me Against the World,” she says, naming off a Tupac album.

Stephen breaks into a massive smile and fist bumps Simone, the thrill of this unexpected victory infusing him with a turbocharge of confidence. “I’m Stephen, Stephen Cho. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

I exhale.

He may just be okay after all.

WANT MORE? ADD IT TO YOUR GOODREADS AND ORDER IT TODAY!

#The Gatekeepers #Jen Lancaster #ya books #ya reads #bookworm

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brooklynislandgirl · 7 years ago

Note

11, 15, 36, 48, 54

11. Favorite time of day?

“M’favourite time a’ day? Twilight, eiddah sunset or sunrise. Is when da kine are quiet. Ya can take a deep breath an’ step back from all da’s gone by or all dat ya got still waitin’ for ya. Is a moment when the universe leans in for kiss an’ tells ya dat ya doin’ fine an’ for carry on.Is also da perfec’ balance between darkness an’ light, where both have equal footin’ an’ can see, for once, eye to eye. Or mebbe heart to heart.”

15. On a day like today you would...?

“...T’row on a swim suit, grab m’ board, an’ wade out inna ocean.

Sea-spray in ya face, sal’ waddah in ya hair. Sunlight trailin’ gentle fingers down on ya skin an’ no kine around but ya own t’oughts. When ya board jus’ starts for plane on a wave but ya no stand up yet. Da anticipation of da bottom turn. Here is differen’ den back east on da mainland. Here is barefoot an’ in a bikini or for you...trunks.Dere, da beachbreak is small an’ fas’, an’ a full win’er wetsuit...timin’ is tougher, da lunge more harder. But still, tell me wha’s more beddah dan dat moment ya know ya caught it an’ da wave is standin’ promisingly, strongly...an ya can do a pop-up wi’ a lil skate turn. Ya board loose an’ ya can feel how much juice da wave’s got...an’ den ya plunge in...”.

36. What would you tell your younger self?"I...if is okay, Steve...I no wan’ answer dis question, brah.”

48. What is one thing you want to confess?

“Some times... I don’ like bein’ peaceful. I don’ like always turnin’ da oddah cheek. Some times... I wanna be a koa...a warrior. A queen. Da kine of woman dat takes da world by da t’roat an’ shakes it til its blood run down her chin an’ da heavens tremble. Wanna be fierce an’ have da whole world hold its breath in fear.

An’ sometimes... sometimes I hate dat people are always ‘you need to be protected, you precious child.’ ‘you can’t possibly know what you’re saying/doing/thinking!’ ‘If anyone hurts you...’I mean...dey goddah know I’m an adult, yeah?

Jus’....ugh.”

54. When was the last time you thought you were beautiful?“Uhm...I had really nice hair m’ fresh man year for high school....”

#Mahalo!Steve #She's Talking to Angels {Bethisms}#Making Wishes on Passing Cars|Answered Asks #hoouna

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likeshipsonthesea · 8 years ago

Text

A Little Taste of Forever

Nursey Week Day Five: Tomorrow

Warnings for mild homophobic language.

Nursey, he decides, is drunk. So drunk. The drunkest. Drunkliest. Snort. There’s no need for an l, but it’s so much funnier that way.

“L’s are funny,” Nursey says, beaming so much that his drunk-flushed cheeks are far away enough that they miss each other. He makes a fish face in an attempt to rectify the situation, but then he goes cross-eyed trying to look at his lips and just gets dizzier. He leans on Shitty for more support.

“I myself am partial to G’s,” Shitty says thoughtfully. “More fun to write.”

Nursey hums. “Cursive G’s are the shit.”

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Jonesy asks, laughing loudly and obnoxiously, as he is also drunk. It’s funny, because he’s a senior and Nursey is a freshman who’s never tasted alcohol before, but they both have the same tolerance.

“Educated things, Jonesy,” Shitty says, sniffing haughtily. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Jonesy scowls, flipping them both off. “Fuck off.” He side-eyes them, his lips curling down at the corners the way they do before he gets cruel. “You look like a couple of fags, hanging on each other like that.”

Nursey tenses, ready to pull back. He doesn’t agree, but, well. He doesn’t have completely platonic feelings for Shitty and, anyway, he’s always found it best to just try to blend in and not be too different. He’s already got so much to make him different.

But Shitty tightens his arm where it’s propped under Nursey’s armpits and around his back. “Huh, we don’t look like a pile of sticks, do we Nursey? I feel like we have more muscle mass than that. We do play hockey, after all.” He says it so casually, like he doesn’t know of any other meaning for fag at all. It makes Nursey giggle, in his drunk state, and he presses the noises into Shitty’s shoulder. Shitty grins down at him and winks.

Jonesy blinks dumbly. “No, I mean like-”

“God you’re dumb, Jonesy,” Cutta says, shoving Jonesy none-too-lightly. “How the fuck did you get an 1800 on your SATs?”

“He didn’t,” Upper says, snickering, and the pair of them cackles as Jonesy grumbles curses under his breath.

“See you, losers,” Shitty says, saluting the rest of the group as he leads Nursey towards the freshmen dorms. The rest of the group is made up of juniors and seniors, whose buildings are farther down the path.

“Bye,” Cutta says, and Upper grunts some kind of parting word. Jonesy is still colorfully detailing what Upper’s mom said last night as Upper rolls his eyes, unfazed.

“You don’t have to walk me,” Nursey says quietly, trying not to be too much of a burden. He’s already so lucky that the guys invited him to the party tonight, especially since he’s just a freshman, has never drank before, and is, apparently, a light weight. Shitty’s the only guy on the team who Nursey 100% enjoys being around and he really doesn’t want to push him away. Being needy has never made people stay, he’s found.

“Nursey, my beloved brah, it is an honor to walk you back to your dorm. And, anyway, I’m nothing less than a gentleman.” He grins down at Nursey again, and there’s a flutter in the bottom of Nursey’s stomach that, for the first time, he is happy to have there. He’s already so different, he reasons, what’s one more thing?

They reach Nursey’s dorm in a little over fifteen minutes, as Nursey really doesn’t know how to walk when he’s drunk. Shitty knocks on the door and Nursey’s roommate opens it, looking annoyed and bedraggled. Nursey’s pretty sure he has a rehearsal for the school play in the morning and he does feel bad about waking him up, but not too bad ‘cause, you know, the drunkenness.

Shitty deposits Nursey on the bed, then rummages through his bedside drawer and grins when he pulls out a little container that rattles as he moves it. He puts that and a half-filled water bottle he finds on the floor on Nursey’s side table. He pushes lightly at Nursey’s shoulder to keep him awake a minute longer and Nursey whines, wanting to sleep.

“Hey, I’ll let you sleep, just listen for a sec. I’ll be back in the morning, but if I’m not here, take the meds and drink some water. I’ll be here eventually.”

“Tomorrow?” Nursey mumbles, face falling into his pillows as he drifts.

“Yeah, tomorrow. Bye, brah.” Nursey isn’t sure, but he thinks that Shitty gives him a mustachioed kiss on the forehead. Nursey’s stomach flutters, but for a different reason this time. He’s never gotten that kind of affection before in his life and it’s-it’s.

It’s just a lot.

The next morning, Nursey wakes up with the worst headache he’s ever had in his life and he’s mostly dead as he stares morosely at his dorm floor, wishing he’d never tried alcohol. There’s a knock at his door and he frowns, wondering if his roommate is back from rehearsal already, and he opens the door to find Shitty standing there, grinning, holding up a bag that’s discolored in areas from grease.

“I brought breakfast,” he says, making his way into the dorm. “Hash browns and Egg McMuffins from the Mickey D’s down the street. Only way to cure a hangover, my dude. Excessive amounts of grease.” He plops down on Nursey’s bed and begins digging around in his bag o’ grease.

Nursey stares at him, a little dumbfounded.

He’s never… he’s never had someone be there, be there for him, when they said they would be.

Huh.

*~*~*

“The way I figure it,” Shitty says, voice all posh and uppity in a way he’d hate if he realized it, as he gestures vaguely with the hand currently holding a joint, “we need the daddy issues. Otherwise, what else would we have?”

Nursey rolls his eyes, grabbing the joint back before Shitty can put holes in his duvet. “Yeah, you know, I think being a mixed-race kid in high society is too easy. Let’s throw in some parental issues to make it more interesting.”

Shitty winces. “Shit, sorry brah. I didn’t think.” He stares down at his blanket and scrunches up his face. “Fuck.” He takes the joint back when Nursey hands it to him. After he takes a drag, he drops his head onto Nursey’s shoulder. “You don’t deserve daddy issues, Nursey.”

Nursey takes the joint back, fiddling with it. He rests his cheek on Shitty’s head. “You don’t either,” he says, quietly. He takes the last drag of the joint and then snubs it out, putting it down on Shitty’s bedside table. Shitty takes his hand and starts fiddling with his fingers, bending them this way and that. Eventually, it just devolves into the two of them holding hands.

“It’s not-” Shitty starts and stops, like a broken fuse. He sighs. “If he would just listen, you know? Heard me when I said things, listened to what I want. He doesn’t see what I want with my life, just this-this plan he’s made for me. If he could just see me.”

Nursey can feel the scratchy sign of tears at the back of his throat. “I’d be happy if they even just looked.” His parents- their gazes never fall on him, just passed him. Like he’s a part of the furniture, the décor. Just an accessory to make their life look prettier, and not even to them. It’s just for appearances, for other people to coo over and value them more. He isn’t a person, he’s an accomplishment. All of the things he does- music, academics, hockey- it’s just another thing to take out at parties and use to make other people feel inferior. And when he falls short…

“Fuck,” Shitty whispers, trying to be silent and failing spectacularly. His fingers twitch over Nursey’s, squeezing too hard for a second before releasing. “Hey Nursey?”

“Hmm?”

“Come to mine for break.”

“Wha-”

“I mean it.” He squeezes Nursey’s fingers. “My mom would love you and my grandparents always make too much food, anyway. Maybe two growing athletes could eat up all of their roast.”

“I-” Nursey closes his mouth, worried about what will come out if he doesn’t. He doesn’t have any permanent plans for winter break. His mom will be in California until New Year’s Day and his dad is in London until half into January. He has no reason to go back to a penthouse in New York that echoes when he takes a step, like his loneliness is following him around, stalking him, haunting him. “That would be great, Shits.”

Shitty squeezes his fingers again. “Alright, then. Pack and I’ll be at your dorm in the morning; we’ll take my car.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

*~*~*

Nursey is in the middle of chemistry when Shitty pops his head into the room. Mr. Schmidt is droning on about the polarity of water and Nursey’s lab partner is falling asleep. The only excitement happening is Nursey waiting for his lab partner to fall asleep so that his head will fall forward and rest on the notes he wrote earlier in pen. The day would become much more amusing if one of his classmates wore “water is mad polar” backwards on his head for the rest of the day.

Shitty grins at Nursey when they make eye contact. Then he winks and Nursey can’t help but laugh. Schmidt doesn’t seem to notice him, but then Shitty throws open the door completely with a flourish and marches into class.

“Mr. Knight-”

“Hello, Alan, how’s the missus?” Shitty salutes him without stopping, heading straight to Nursey’s desk. Nursey, try as he might, can’t pull the grin off his face.

“Mr. Knight-”

“Sorry, Official Hockey Business, I’ll need Derek Nurse for the rest of the period. It’s very important, I’m sure you understand.” Shitty starts packing up Nursey’s bag very haphazardly and Nursey takes the bag when Shitty hands it to him, half-zipped up with papers falling out.

“I will call the headmaster-” Schmidt is getting so red in the face that Nursey begins to worry for him. It doesn’t stop him from following Shitty towards the exit.

“McGuire already knows.” Shitty stops in front of Schmidt’s desk and smiles angelically. He pulls a crumpled green piece of paper out of his pocket; a pass. Schmidt grabs it out of his hands, grumbling all the while, and straightens out the pass. He’s fuming as he hands it back, eyes on fire, and Nursey knows that there’s nothing he can do to dispute the signature.

“Better be on your way then,” Schmidt says through gritted teeth. Shitty mimes tipping his hat.

“Good sir.” He turns to the class of freshmen and bows dramatically. “Pardon the interruption, good sirs, ladies, and gentlepeople.” Then he marches out of class. Nursey laughs at the absurdity and follows him without question.

“What was that about?” he asks, jogging a bit to catch up with Shitty.

Shitty turns and grins over at him. “It’s a surprise.” He leads Nursey through the halls, taking short cuts that Nursey still doesn’t recognize after attending Andover for five months now. They come upon a set of stairs marked Faculty Only, but Camilleri, the math teacher, pushes open the door from the other side and holds it open to Shitty, nodding at him with a small smile on his face. Shitty shakes his hand vigorously and moves through the doorway. Nursey nods at Cam and does the same.

Shitty leads him down a few more hallways, then stops in front of a ladder going upwards. He begins to climb. Nursey, as always, follows. At the top of the ladder, Shitty pushes open a door and a gush of cold air flows in. Nursey crawls out of it after Shitty to find it’s an opening to the roof of the main building, which overlooks the front courtyard.

“Shitty?” Nursey questions.

“Come look.” Shitty gestures at him from where he’s sitting further down on the shingled roof. Nursey scoots down to meet him slowly, afraid that he’s going to go tumbling off. He’s never liked heights much. Which is funny, since he grew up in a penthouse in New York. Might be because of that, he thinks now.

When he’s situated, Nursey looks out across the courtyard and barks a laugh before dissolving into shocked silence. The shrubbery, usually impeccably cultivated, has been cut to spell “Happy Birthday!” across the entire front courtyard. Nursey looks over at Shitty, who’s wearing a name-appropriate shit-eating grin.

“Happy Birthday, brah,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

“What-how- Shitty.” Nursey doesn’t know how to respond. It’s so ridiculous and dangerous- he could get months of detention for messing with the foliage- and so perfectly an example of Shitty’s way of showing affection.

“I checked your transcript to find out what your birthday was sometime back in October. The landscaping guys said sure, as long as they didn’t get blamed and they got some extra cash out of it. The beauty of it is that you can hardly tell when you’re down next to them. It’ll take McGuire weeks to figure it out, if he even does.” He begins bouncing lightly, the glee of a child getting a present in his eyes. “Do you like it?”

“Shitty,” Nursey says again, shaking his head in pure awe at Shitty’s… everything. “Yes, yes, thank you, it’s-it’s fucking beautiful.” He laughs at himself; he’s supposed to be good at speaking, but this, just. He laughs again, so happy he could cry, and he thinks he might actually be crying a bit.

Shitty throws an arm around Nursey’s shoulders. “I love you, Nursey.”

Nursey looks out at the dramatically written card- because that’s what it is, isn’t it? A giant ass card- and shakes his head.

Nursey doesn’t know if he loves Shitty. Well, he knows he loves Shitty, but he doesn’t know if it’s the kind of love that’s happy just to be love or if it’s the kind of love that wants and aches and desires. He misses Shitty like one would miss breathing when they don’t see each other for too long, but when he sees Shitty it isn’t greedy. He loves what they have, their friendship, and it’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s everything, really.

His crush has turned into so much more than romance and Nursey’s never valued platonic relationships over romantic relationships before. In all of his books, the poor, lonely heroine is whisked away by her love interest and she’s happy for ever after, and Nursey always assumed that that’s what would happen. He’d fall in love and they would make it all better. But with Shitty, he doesn’t want kisses or sex or proclamations of undying love.

With Shitty, casual touches and shared jokes, cuddling for warmth and comfort, saying I love you simply because it’s true with no heavy meaning behind it, unwavering loyalty and presence and friendship. Crazy schemes done just to get each other to smile. It’s all wonderful, the best thing Nursey has ever experienced, and it makes him so fucking happy it’s a little dumb, but he doesn’t care. Shitty’s friendship is the best relationship in Nursey’s life. It’s as simple as that.

“I love you too,” he says, and means it more than he’s meant anything else he’s ever said.

“This is just the first part of your present,” Shitty says, getting excited once again. “Just wait until tomorrow; it’s gonna be sw’awesome.”

“Sw’awesome?”

Shitty nods. “It’ll make sense tomorrow.”

*~*~*

“I think I’m gay,” Nursey says one night after an away game. They’re bunking because Nursey’s roommate pulled at the game and Shitty lucked out with the single this time. They decided to make a fort, Nursey’s idea since he’s never made a fort big enough for two people before. They’re sitting between the two double beds- though Shitty didn’t have to share, the school books double rooms and just lets one guy sleep in one alone- with blankets and pillows piled on every side imaginable. In between them, they’ve got a pile of cards as they play Spit at a rapid pace.

“What?” Shitty asks, attempting to get rid of his cards. Nursey puts his last nine down and slaps the smaller pile and Shitty curses colorfully. Nursey wonders if there is a way Shitty could paint with expletives. He’s sure it would turn into something interesting, if disjointed.

“I said that I think I’m gay,” Nursey says again, enunciating clearly. He’s been thinking about telling Shitty for a while now, and using it to win this round of spit seemed like a perfectly acceptable idea at the time. Now, he’s doing the after-acting falling-panic thing and he thinks it’s rather rude, but doesn’t voice his opinion.

“Oh,” Shitty says, blinking as he realizes what’s happening. His face splits into a silly grin. “Cool, man, thanks for telling me.” He wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously, making his mustache move with it, and Nursey laughs pleasantly. “Got your eye on anybody?”

Nursey shakes his head. “Not really.” He starts setting up his cards for the next round and Shitty does the same. “I had a crush on you in the beginning of the year,” Nursey says, and then immediately wants to destroy the fort so he has something to hide under. What the fuck was that? What the fuck, self?

Shitty grins, a pink tint to the tops of his cheeks. “Little old me? I’m flattered.”

“I don’t anymore,” Nursey hurries to say, and wincing when it makes him seem like he’s trying too hard.

“It’s cool, man. I don’t mind.” He puffs out his chest, like a peacock, and Nursey shakes his head at him. “I’d have a crush on me, too.”

“You do have a crush on you,” Nursey says and Shitty laughs, the loud, brash one he has that reminds Nursey to be unapologetically himself every time he hears it.

“It’s the stache,” he says solemnly, and then dissolves into giggles. Nursey shakes his head.

“Come on, let’s keep going,” he says. “We’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”

Shitty sighs, leaning back on his pillow-rest and putting strain on the fort’s walls. “Oh, tomorrow. How you always loom over me. Leave me alone, dickbag.”

“I’ll assume you’re speaking to tomorrow when you say that,” Nursey says with a quirk of his eyebrows, then giggles when Shitty flicks the three of diamonds at him.

*~*~*

There’s a knock on his dorm door at 11:47 at night. Nursey is asleep, has been asleep for hours, since his chem final was today and he spent the entire night prior up studying. He shuffles groggily over to the door and pulls it open to find a bedraggled Shitty pacing back and forth.

“Shits?” Nursey rubs at his face, wondering if this is a dream.

“Hey, man, sorry to stop by so late.” Okay, it’s not a dream; Nursey’s mind never would’ve dreamed up something so weird as Shitty apologizing for coming by too late. This past May, Shitty showed up at three in the morning and dragged Nursey to an impromptu showing of Romeo and Juliet but Bro Version. Nursey doesn’t care what anyone says; Bromeo and Mercutibro were meant to be.

“It’s okay, come in.” Shitty hesitates for moment before accepting the invitation. He plops down onto Nursey’s bed and Nursey closes the door and does the same. “What’s up, man?”

“Uh, it’s just. Shit.” He’s buzzing visibly, can’t sit still. His fingers are tapping senselessly on his legs, which are jiggling as well, out of time. Nursey wants to calm him somehow, so he tries to, putting his hand on Shitty’s shoulder and squeezing firmly. Shitty takes a deep breath, and when he lets it out, he relaxes slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

Shitty stares down at his fingers, now just twiddling them together. “Nothing’s wrong, it’s just…” He sighs again, looking up. Nursey notices for the first time that his eyes are rimmed with red and his cheeks are blotchy. Like he’s been crying. “I don’t want things to change. No, fuck, scratch that- I don’t want things to change for the worse.”

“Shitty, that’s not going to happen.” Nursey takes one of his hands in his own, squeezing tightly.

“You don’t know that,” Shitty says, slightly frantic, as he gestures with his free hand. “I get this place, like. As fucked up as it is and how much I hate it sometimes, I understand it. I know how to get the good donuts from the teacher’s lounge. I know how to trick the science teachers into thinking it’s a single period when it’s really a double. I know which bathrooms have the good hand dryers and where to hide weed in my room so I can pass inspection. I spent a year learning how to forge McGuire’s signature. I-” He swallows hard. “I don’t think I could do that again. It’s-it’s too much for a place that hates me on principle.”

“Shitty…” Nursey shakes his head. “It’s going to be different at Samwell. You won’t have to do any of that shit because you’ll be your own person. They won’t ream you for wearing a crop top; they won’t hate you for interjecting about how it was really a woman that invented something and the man just took the credit. It’s the Gay Ivy. They’ll fucking love you.”

Shitty smiles a little at that. “Yeah, yeah I guess.” His expression falters, then. “Do you-do you really think they’ll like me? I-I know I’m something of an acquired taste.”

Nursey actually laughs at that. “Yeah, but you’re unrelentingly there. No one can withstand your stubborn charm. You just do to them what you did to me.”

Shitty quirks an eyebrow at that, but the worry has left the set of his lips. “What? Pick my favorite and then latch on so tight that they can’t let go?”

Nursey can’t help his grin at hearing that he’s Shitty’s favorite. “Yes. Because if they love you even half as much as I do, you’ll have yourself a friend for life.”

Shitty grins. “I love you, too, man.” He turns, leaning against Nursey’s side. Nursey’s as tall as him now; Nursey grew four inches this year. So much has changed since August and he wouldn’t have changed a thing. “You coming this year was a fucking miracle,” Shitty says, quiet and sincere. “I- Upper and Chatty, they aren’t too bad, but you, man. You just get it. You’re not even a little bit of an asshole- well, a little. But a good little.”

“Thanks, Shits.” Nursey drops his cheek onto Shitty’s head. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Ditto, brah. Ditto so hard.”

Before Nursey can chirp him for his use of “ditto” in such an emotional moment, Nursey’s roommate whispers furiously, “If you’re going to fuck, do it somewhere else!”

“Shut the fuck up, Claude!” Shitty whispers back and Nursey giggles into his shoulder. He does tell Shitty that maybe he should go back to his own dorm now, if he’s feeling up to it. Nursey will have to attend classes with Claude for the next three years, so he’d rather not make an enemy of him.

In the doorway, Shitty asks, “You’re coming tomorrow right?”

“To your graduation? Fuck yeah. Except…” Nursey’s eyes catch on his bedside table clock. 12:04. “S’not tomorrow. It’s today.”

A funny little smile comes onto Shitty’s lips. “Today, huh?” He nods, looking down the hall. “Sounds about right.” He looks back at Nursey. “See you later, then.”

With a hug, he runs off down the hall. Nursey knows, as he watches Shitty go bounding along in socks with cat faces on the toes, that his and Shitty’s relationship still has years to go. He’s made an everlasting friend in Shitty Knight.

#nursey #derek nurse #nurseyweek #check please #shitty #shitty knight #my fic #homophobia #back to the long titles again i guess #i think i'm trying to combat the short one-word prompts #with fucking novels as titles #seriously self wtf #also #i love their relationship so much

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bambl-ing · 8 years ago

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I'm…going to ask for all the get to know me asks, haha. ^^;

I WONDERED IF YOU WOULD BUT I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN

alright get ready for wAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

1. What is you middle name?jokes on u I don’t have one

2. How old are you?20, but I feel eternally 17 which grows more and more awkward with each passing year

3. What is your birthday?10/05/1996

4. What is your zodiac sign?Libra !

5. What is your favorite color?it’s a tie between orange and purpleI also like blue

6. What’s your lucky number?5

7. Do you have any pets?a dog, two cats, and a snake!

8. Where are you from?like where was I born ? I was actually born in Korea, but I moved to the states when I was 2

9. How tall are you?like maybe 5′7″ or 8″ idk it’s been a few years

10. What shoe size are you?Sometimes 8, sometimes 9

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?more than I ever thought I would, probably not as many as other people

12. What was your last dream about?I was at my old manager’s house and she had me doing laundry, but when I put the clothes in the dryer it started filling with water and I was like “um I don’t think it’s supposed to do that” and she was like “oh no I know what’s going on” and she told me about this time in ‘86 when all across the country, everyone who had washed their clothes with a certain kind of soap went to bed and were rudely awoken by their clothes just randomly flooding water out ?

so then she was like “that’s what’s happening but it should stop soon, so if you could just take apart the dryer and let it drain before putting it back together and drying the clothes that would be great” but then she also had a really old shelf unit that she wanted me to build but I had a thing I had to go to in like, an hour? and there just wasn’t enough time to take apart and rebuild the dryer AND the shelf, so I was a little annoyed and also like “crap, which one should I do first”

13. What talents do you have?uh. nothing out of the ordinary really ?14. Are you psychic in any way?nah (at least not that I’m aware of and nobody’s mentioned anything)

15. Favorite song?The Middle by Jimmy Eat World

16. Favorite movie?uhhhh…I guess right now Arrival? I just REALLY want to see it again alsdfh

17. Who would be your ideal partner?someone who respected me and who I could trust completely

18. Do you want children?NAH

19. Do you want a church wedding?don’t really want to get married either? unless like, the benefits…,,

20. Are you religious?Not really

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?yis

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?nope

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?I mean I went to Warped Tour and met a bunch of bands does that count

24. Baths or showers?you know if I had an actual nice big bathtub in which I could actually submerge myself without my knees awkwardly sticking out and getting cold, I would probably really like baths?? I’d definitely shower first though, baths would be for soaking in warmth

25. What color socks are you wearing?I’m wearing two pairs, white and the other is white and blue

26. Have you ever been famous?LOL NOPE

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?not really, all that attention…………

28. What type of music do you like?all of it

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?nah

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?4 ( ᐛ )

31. What position do you usually sleep in?I can and will sleep in any position, lately I’ve been falling asleep on my back though because Jack’s been sleeping by my pillow and I like to shove my face in his fur, nice n soft

32. How big is your house?not that big, but big enough

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?cereal of some kind or a bagel and butter, sometimes a cheese omlette if I have enough time

34. Have you ever fired a gun?nope

35. Have you ever tried archery?yes ! and I loved it

36. Favorite clean word?a few, serendipity, soliloquy, and haphazard just off the top of my head

37. Favorite swear word?I can work pretty well with any of them in the right mood

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?maybe like two days ? maybe a lil more I dunno

39. Do you have any scars?a few here and there

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?well if they’re secret i wouldnt kno would i ( ᐛ )

41. Are you a good liar?unfortunately I think so, as long as like…the benefit of the lie outweighs my guilt over lying

42. Are you a good judge of character?I got no clue

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?really badly sure

44. Do you have a strong accent?I mean I don’t think I have any kind of accent ?

45. What is your favorite accent?Cajun( •⌄• )✧

46. What is your personality type?like the MBTI? I’m an INFJ

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?as if I’d remember (probably nothing that expensive tho)

48. Can you curl your tongue?yeah but I can’t do the clover thing

49. Are you an innie or an outie?innie

50. Left or right handed?Leftie !

51. Are you scared of spiders?yeah but I don’t like killing them unless they’re in my room and I don’t have a jar

52. Favorite food?how do people pick one food like,,, there’s so much good food, food is so good??

53. Favorite foreign food?again, how ????

54. Are you a clean or messy person?more messy than clean, but I also get really annoyed with too much mess and then angry clean

55. Most used phrased?if I’m counting everything I say out loud AND what I just think to myself, probably “you’re stupid,” “shut the fuck up,” “fuck you,” and “I’m going to stab you”

…all of these are aimed at myself, and it probably makes me sound really self-hateful? X’D but I’m not, I just get frustrated with myself and am always 100% done with my shit

56. Most used word?probably “I” “a” or “the” going statistically lmao

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?depends, I usually shower at night but my showers are usually 15-20 minutes, and for work I have to put my hair up and also a hat, and I’ve got blunt bangs that I have to make sure are perfect, u know? so give me another like 8 minutes

58. Do you have much of an ego?no, not really at all

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?suck, then when they get small it’s been a few minutes and I’m impatient so I crunch ‘em

60. Do you talk to yourself?oh yes

61. Do you sing to yourself?me and only me

62. Are you a good singer?no? maybe? average? I’m probably not that terrible but when other people are around I become terrified and choke up and die

63. Biggest Fear?People™

64. Are you a gossip?only with my close friends who I know won’t spread the gossip

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?hlkfshdfos I don’t watch enough movies and my memory isn’t that great

66. Do you like long or short hair?long !

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?give me a pencil and paper and like an hour

68. Favorite school subject?English and PE

69. Extrovert or Introvert?Introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?I’ve been snorkeling, close ?

71. What makes you nervous?A Lot

72. Are you scared of the dark?yes, but sometimes nah

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?mostly no if they’re strangers (it’s terrifying to do that okay), but occasionally yeah

74. Are you ticklish?very, don’t touch my sides

75. Have you ever started a rumor?not that I can remember, and I don’t think I ever would intentionally?

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?define authority

77. Have you ever drank underage?in the presence of my mother, yeah

78. Have you ever done drugs?nah brah

79. Who was your first real crush?probably like…third grade, this kid named Micah. idk if it was a “real” crush, but like I really liked him and wanted to hang out and talk about dragons

80. How many piercings do you have?4, double piercings in my ears

81. Can you roll your Rs?yep

82. How fast can you type?I actually knew this at one point in like sophomore or junior year? it was either 86 or 96 CPM, smth like that

83. How fast can you run?fast, but not super fast, so like…kinda fast. I’ve probably gotten slower cause I don’t run regularly tho

84. What color is your hair?brown and really nice in the sunlight, I love it

85. What color are your eyes?brown again. sometimes I’ll just remember “oh yeah I have brown eyes!” and I actually really like them too, I think they’re a nice brown

86. What are you allergic to?I honestly haven’t run into anything yet

87. Do you keep a journal?I keep like an angry journal? but not just ordinary anger, it’s when I’m REALLY in a shittastic mood

88. What do your parents do?my mom’s a transcriptionist/editor/proofreader and my dad own a secondhand store

89. Do you like your age?I mean,,

I don’t hate it, but it makes me really uneasy when people are like “oh you’re 20 you definitely do 20-year-old things and you are an Adult” and I’m just like “no not really actually”

90. What makes you angry?some stuff, but I don’t like getting angry so a lot of the time I’m able to reason with myself

91. Do you like your own name?well enough

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?I will birth no babies ever and I have no desire to raise any real children, but if my OCs count as my babies then shit tons and counting

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?again, OCs? all of them. actual real, breathing, sticky children? none

94. What are you strengths?I know my weaknesses ?

95. What are your weaknesses?sighs

96. How did you get your name?I think like…it was my grandmother’s middle name?

97. Were your ancestors royalty?not that I know of

98. Do you have any scars?déjà vu

99. Color of your bedspread?which one LMAO uh the top one is blue, the one underneath that is pink, then a blue/white/gray patterned, a darker pink knit, white, then a white knit

100. Color of your room?orange ! a really nice light orange that can look yellow in some light >u

#ask meme #personal #azuregold #I honestly didn't feel like these were all that personal ?#fortunately #otherwise I wouldn't have reblogged it #anyway it's always fun answering questions !

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metawitches · 8 years ago

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Crazy Ex-Girlfriend — “Where Is Josh’s Friend?” — Image Number: CEG201a_0010.jpg — Pictured: Rachel Bloom as Rebecca — Photo: Scott Everett White/The CW — ÃÂ©2016 The CW Network, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend — “Where is Josh’s Friend?” — Image Number: CEG201a_0151.jpg — Pictured (L-R): Vincent Rodriguez III as Josh and Rachel Bloom as Rebecca — Photo: Scott Everett White/The CW — ÃÂ©2016 The CW Network, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Rebecca’s peddling as fast as she can to avoid taking a good look at herself. She doesn’t have Josh, Greg, or Paula to keep her relatively sane any more. She has her new girl group, but neither Val, nor Heather are likely to go as far down the obsession path with her as the other three did. Val shares her obsession with Josh, but has too much self-respect to take the stalking too far, I think. We’ll see. Even if she does, I doubt it will affect the other parts of her life.

Rebecca was seeing “signs” everywhere, right from the pilot on, and Paula encouraged it. It was literally a giant sign pointing to Josh that told her to move to West Covina. That makes the negation of the signs that much more meaningful. Greg was the anti-Josh when he refused to give the “danger” sign credit for his decision to leave instead of staying in West Covina with Rebecca. He took responsibility for the decision, and told her that straight out. The acknowledgement of Josh’s love kernels was also a step in the right direction for Rebecca, but she still had to ask Greg if he loved her. She’s still too caught up in seeing what she wants to see in people, rather than seeing what’s actually there. She’s been forced to face that Josh never really loved her, and the results have been difficult for everyone, and will probably continue to be.

When we first saw West Covina, in the first iteration of the song in the pilot, it looked like a typical small southwestern town: graffiti, some boarded up buildings, a little run down and rough around the edges. Economy not necessarily doing great. Then it became bright-colored and idealized from the point of Paula and Bex duet of West Covina at end of pilot on, until the last couple of episodes, when the reality began to show through again. Lately, the plaster is peeling off the walls, there are drug dealers and murderers, and help doesn’t always come when you need it. Rebecca is starting to feel the truth of her own situation there. Josh isn’t as perfect as she thought he was either, and a perfect relationship with him isn’t possible.

Paula also isn’t who she claimed to be in the pilot, the friend who would be there for Rebecca no matter what, to help her win her Prince Charming. In the pilot, just as Rebecca was realizing that maybe it was crazy to follow Josh back to West Covina, Paula swooped in and convinced her, NO, REBECCA, YOU’RE NOT CRAZY. Now, Paula’s trying to undo all of that damage from season 1, and convince Rebecca that maybe it is crazy after all to build her identity around these two guys, or her girl group, or whatever crazy scheme she’s up to this week. Paula led Rebecca through the obsession with Josh and ensuing shenanigans, maybe she can lead her through the recovery as well.

Wow, they’re throwing out massive hints that something went terribly wrong in Paula’s past. She recognizes the signs of alcoholism immediately. She ran away from her wedding (then came back). She’s had dreams end in disgrace. She has difficulty believing her dreams can come true at all. Hang on hard to law school, Paula! Don’t let this one go!

I still miss Greg. Sorry, Paula, your own issues were blinding you when it came to Greg. Sure, he and Rebecca both have their own issues to work on, but if they can get to a healthier place in a season or two, they are the ones who belong together. He’s her equal and her match in ways Josh never will be. Paula saw Josh as the fun fantasy boy she wanted instead of the practical, boring husband she had at home. It’s going to take a lot to convince me that Greg and Rebecca aren’t meant to be together in the long run. He’s left such a huge hole in everyone’s lives, and he’s so devoted to his friends and family. He’ll end up missing them and coming home after he realizes he’s not a big city boy. He’ll be back, wait and see. :)

Rebecca and Greg’s relationship would have gone differently had Paula not been around to constantly steer Rebecca back toward Josh and bad mouth Greg. Not sure it would have gone better, but it would have been different. Both of them need to hit bottom (Greg already has) and get help before they can handle a healthy relationship, and Greg needs to get out in the world and do the things he missed by staying in West Covina to take care of his dad. Had they gone straight into a serious relationship in S1, it would have ended disastrously with them probably hating each other, so in the long run Paula might have done them a favor.

They Were a Shit Show, but they were our shit show. 😢 😢

WHERE IS FATHER BRAH???

Joshie is lost. He started the season homeless, sleeping on bubble wrap in the store’s backroom so that he could avoid Rebecca and his Catholic guilt. He’s progressed through reorganizing every bit of stock and office supplies he could find in the place, to hiding in a packing box covered with packing peanuts. And he’s ashamed he’s living with his mom again. Sure, he felt great for a minute when he got sent to faux burning man to fix the sound system. That was familiar, something he’s good at, and he could be a hero. He met Anna there. But now he’s back in the real world with no Valencia, Greg, or Rebecca to run interference for him when his anxiety get to be too much and a cool new girlfriend to keep up with and impress. I can’t wait to see what he builds in the store’s backroom next. But could Father Brah please come help the kid out? He’s rapidly turning into the crazy, needy boyfriend. Why has Josh only talked to Father Brah once all season, when he’s lost every other calm, supportive person he can usually count on?

WhiJo and Daryl seem to be in great shape, but something still feels shallow about their relationship to me. Maybe it’s just the fact that they needed Rebecca of all people to give them relationship advice. They just seem too perfect, and WhiJo is so judgy of everyone else. Or, maybe I’m just catty and cynical.

Sunil is adorable. The actor is charming and funny. The character is obviously very needy, and recognizes Paula as a mothering type who’d be good for his situation, but I don’t like the way he immediately tried to insert himself between Rebecca and Paula. By all means, let’s bring him into the fold. I get the sense he’d love doing girl group stuff, but stop with the getting involved in Rebecca and Paula’s arguments.

We’ve gotten to know so many more of the background characters better this season. Characters like Maya, Karen, Hector, Trevor, Heather, and Scott, and new characters like Anna. The layers of these characters are being revealed just as we’re finally seeing the truth of West Covina itself. Filling in these details with hilarious bits is one of the things this show does best.

I don’t quite understand the reasoning that had CrazyExGF following Vampire Diaries. Every week when I turn on the TV to watch my neurotic romantic comedy, someone is lying on the ground in the dark with blood pouring out of their mouth (usually Damon, or someone Damon’s attacked). I suspect they figured both shows were romantic shows, so VD watchers would stick around, but tonally the shows are completely different. It’s jarring to go from one to the other. Even worse than going from The Flash to No Tomorrow. No Tomorrow and Crazy ExGF would have been great together. Either would work with Jane the Virgin (CrazyExGF already did), or probably with Supergirl. Maybe even Legends of Tomorrow, since it’s a light, comedic show. But Vampire Diaries is too dark to fit with the brighter, light-hearted comedies, even though they do have a dark edge to them. Please don’t make us do that again next season. And, please give us a next season.

Crazy Ex-Girlfriend Season 2A Review and Analysis Rebecca's peddling as fast as she can to avoid taking a good look at herself. She doesn't have Josh, Greg, or Paula to keep her relatively sane any more.

#crazy ex-girlfriend #metacrone #rachel bloom #review #santino fontana #vincent rodriguez III

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