#he and robin pull it into columbia house

[intrenalcrisisnerd]

I saw a bright orange Volkswagen bus today and thought that that should be the car Neil buys whens he's on his own.

[littlechivalry]

I love the idea of our Hawkins teens going to a showing of a Rocky Horror so much so please join me in this:

Eddie's driving. He's excited, loves that he gets to 'pop their cherry.' He pulls up to Harrington house expecting to see Steve and Robin posted up outside in full Brad and Janet regalia.

Eddie of course is dressed as Eddie and of course he thought about Frank but that might be too much. Steve is cool but is he cool? Eddie hopes but he's not an idiot.

Instead of proper Midwestern church clothes he finds Robin standing out front in a raggedy black suit, her hair greased down while Vicki (and yes Eddie had had his suspicions) is next to her dressed as a maid with her own bright red hair teased out to heaven.

"Riff Raff? Magenta? I didn't expect to see you two here."

Vicki laughs but Robin gives him a look that makes a shiver run up his back.

"So where's Steve? Decided to stay home?"

The last syllable barely leaves his lips when the door opens and - - -

LEGS. Fishnet stocking LEGS. Tap pants and a bustier and a shining tail coat and a top hat and a blinding grin and LEGS.

"Columbia?"

Steve laughs and dances down the steps and he's wearing tap shoes too? Eddie may not survive this.

Robin laughs at him but Vicki pats his shoulder in commiseration.

The drive to Indy is filled with jokes and conversation and music and Eddie is paying attention to the conversation. And he is paying attention to the road. But

LEGS

They get to the theater and get their props and their seats. A few songs in Steve begs off to go to the bathroom. Does Eddie watch him go? Of course. Can he actually see him very well in the darkened theater? No. But it's the principle of the thing.

Then the music starts up for the Time Warp and Eddie is on his feet along with everyone else in the theater. There are performers on stage dancing along with the movie, a long line of tuxedo clad strangers when suddenly a figure goes flying across the stage and Eddie can hear Robin and Vicki whooping but he is frozen.

It's Steve. Tapping. It's a perfect recreation of Columbia's dance routine and when the other boy finally comes to a stop, gasping, on a chair at the corner of the stage Eddie finds his voice screaming louder than he has at any concert he's ever been to.

A few minutes later Steve makes his way back to his seat and Robin lunges past Eddie to throw herself at him. Eddie can make out that she's talking but not what she's saying.

They make it through the rest of the show and it's amazing. Eddie's second favorite moment may be when Steve and Robin wrapped their arms around him during "Eddie" wailing out fake sobs.

They sing and shout themselves hoarse. The ride home is quiet but in the best possible way. Robin and Vicki are as good as sleeping in the back of the van and Steve is leaning against the window, humming along with the radio.

"Hey," Eddie says softly. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"

Steve smiles but it's barely a shadow of his usual smile and it fades fast. "When I was little my mom still gave half a shit about being seen as a good mother so she put me in dance classes. It didn't last too long. My dad didn't like it and after a while it became more important for her to be seen as a good wife so I was taken out and put into every sport."

Eddie doesn't say anything. Can't say anything.

"I really liked it though? I can't play music and I'm not much of a singer but I really like dancing. Robin had to put up with me practicing this almost constantly for the past few weeks. I thought she was gonna kill me."

"So you learned this for tonight?"

Steve turned to face Eddie and smiles. "I learned it for you, man. Thought you would get a kick out of it."

The small ember of Eddie's crush on Steve had initially been lit years ago in high school. He had banked it carefully, couldn't bear to let it go cold but too worried about losing Steve as a friend to let it flare bright.

"You learned it for me?" Eddie's stomach feels warm

"Yeah," Steve says, smiling. "Every Eddie needs a Columbia, right?"

Steve is laughing at him and that only makes Eddie feel warmer. Steve. His crush, Steve. Steve did this for him.

"Yeah," Eddie says. "Yeah, he does."

"Thought so," Steve says, turning back to the window.

Eddie drives them back to Hawkins in a silence full of potential.

[anarcoqueer1994]

I see all these posts about the older ST teens going to Rocky Horror and I love everyone's HC on who would be who but hear me out. What if Steve's guilty pleasure is Rocky Horror Picture Show, sneaking to watch it as a teenager whenever his parents aren't home. He loved the costumes, and the campy songs, and the way each character was unapologetically weird. He had a copy on a VHS he kept under his bed underneath a pile of skin mags. And he has always wanted to go see it live at the theaters, even buying a costume and makeup when he was 16, thinking about going to the showing a few towns over. But he chickened out, terrified Tommy or Carol would find out.

Well fast forward a few years, Vecna is dead and Steve is happily in love with his two boyfriends, Billy and Eddie. His parents aren’t home as usual, so they, along with Nancy, Robin, Argyle, and Jonathon, are all hanging out in Steve’s room.

Eddie being nosy and never able to sit still, is snooping through Steve’s closet when suddenly he comes across of gold shorts folded neatly on the top shelf. Eddie, of course, pulls them out to question Steve, loving any chance to annoy his boyfriend.

Steve of course turns beet red, awkwardly explaining that he got them for a Rocky costume a few years ago. It inevitably leads to him explaining how much he likes the movie. As he does, he holds his breath, despite everything, worried his friends would laugh. But they don't.

Jonathan actually speaks first, a little high. "That's cool, man. I love that movie." Argyle nods his head in agreement.

"I've actually never seen it." Nancy admits.

"Really?! You have to, babe." Robin flashes her a smile. "I know what we are watching next movie night."

"Yea right, like you two actually watch the movie on your little date nights. It's just an excuse to..." Eddie makes an obnoxious kiss face, Robin throws a pillow off of Steve's bed at his head laughing.

"I mean, I don't know about you, Eds, but I would love to see baby girl in tight gold shorts." Billy winks at Steve, his face turning red from the nickname in front of their friends. They are all use to it by now no one bats an eye.

"That's a great idea!" Eddie laughs, before kneeling down next to Steve on the ground. "What do you say, sweetheart? Wanna go see it? I think there is a showing at the old theater ever Saturday at midnight."

"I...I don't know." Steve says hesitantly, still nervous about sharing his "embarrassing" little secret.

"Come on, Stevie, it'll be fun. We can all go." Eddie looks around the room, everyone nodding their heads, excitement building.

"Fine, fine we can go. But everyone needs to dress up, okay?" Steve smiles despite himself, genuinely looking forward to the following Saturday. And yes, in that weeks time, Nancy did manage to watch the movie, despite all the "distractions" from Robin.

That night they meet at Steve's house. Billy and Eddie were already there, getting ready with Steve. It's Eddie who answers the door for them. The other two still getting ready. He is dressed as...well Eddie, complete with a fake head gash and plastic saxophone. In his words "I already owned most of clothes."

Jonathan is dressed as Riff-Raff, partual bald cap and everything.

Argyle, to everyone's surprised is dressed as Janet in a white slip and bra. "I just really dig Susan Sarandon."

Robin is dressed as Columbia, and Nancy as Magenta. "You can't tell me these two weren't secretly in love."

Billy is the next to come down, except he's wearing the gold shorts and matching boots found a week earlier. Everyone is surprised, expecting that to be Steve's costume. Billy just brushes it off "What can I say, can't denied the world this body." He smirks wrapping his arm around Eddie’s waist as they all wait for Steve.

Of course he and Eddie know the truth but everyone else assumes Steve chickened out, is going to come down is some generic Brad outfit. What they don't expect is minutes later, the sound of heels coming down the stairs to the entry way where they are waiting.

Steve had dressed as Frank, tiny black underwear, corset, pearls, tights, it was all there. His makeup, though capturing the gaudiness of Frank, was done well. He tries to ignore the eyes staring at him in shock. "Um...shall we go?"

That night, a week ago, when everyone left, Steve showed Billy and Eddie another costume he had, one for Frank. He told them that's what he wanted to dress in but he was terrified. They encouraged him though, gave him the confidence to do so, but they didn’t tell anyone else, giving him the space to back out. Right now though, they were proud of him, doing what he wants, consequences be damned.

Billy breaks the silence, pulling Steve to his other side, while keeping Eddie in place. "You look hot, sweetheart." He kisses his cheek.

"Fuck yea, you do." Eddie adds, pulling away from Billy, only to sandwich on the other side of Steve, knowing he wanted to do this but also that his self consciousness is rearing its ugly head. He places another kiss on Steve's other cheek.

Everyone else joins into the compliment ls and soon Steve is at ease. That night he has the time of his life, grateful to have such awesome friends.

[newstfionline]

Friday, February 23, 2024

Poverty Has Soared in New York, With Children Bearing the Brunt (NYT) After several years of declining poverty, New York City saw a sharp reversal in 2022, when it experienced its largest yearly increase in the poverty level in a decade. Twenty-three percent of the city’s residents were unable to afford basic necessities like housing and food, according to a new report by a research group at Columbia University and Robin Hood, a large philanthropic organization. In 2021, that number was 18 percent. The number of New Yorkers living in poverty, nearly two million in all, included one in four children. The findings mark a major setback for New York City, where expanded government aid during the coronavirus pandemic had helped to counteract job losses, rising rents and high inflation.

Private lander makes first US moon landing in more than 50 years (AP) A private lander on Thursday made the first U.S. touchdown on the moon in more than 50 years, but managed just a weak signal back as flight controllers scrambled to gain better contact. Despite the spotty communication, Intuitive Machines, the company that built and managed the craft, confirmed that it had landed. There was no immediate word from the company on the condition—or even the exact location—of the lander. The company ended its live webcast soon after confirming a touchdown. Mission director Tim Crain said the team was evaluating how to refine the lone signal from the lander, named Odysseus, which delivered experiments to the moon for NASA. The landing put the U.S. back on the surface for the first time since NASA’s famed Apollo moonwalkers. Intuitive Machines also became the first private business to pull off a lunar landing, a feat achieved by only five countries.

U.S. Examined Allegations of Cartel Ties to Allies of Mexico’s President (NYT) American law enforcement officials spent years looking into allegations that allies of Mexico’s president, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, met with and took millions of dollars from drug cartels after he took office, according to U.S. records and three people familiar with the matter. The inquiry uncovered information pointing to potential links between powerful cartel operatives and Mexican advisers and officials close to the president. But the United States never opened a formal investigation into Mr. López Obrador, and the officials involved ultimately shelved the inquiry. They concluded that the U.S. government had little appetite to pursue allegations against the leader of one of America’s top allies. Mr. López Obrador called the allegations “completely false.” Drug cartels have long infiltrated the Mexican state, from the lowest levels to the upper reaches of government. They pay off the police, manipulate mayors, co-opt senior officials and dominate broad swaths of the country.

In Latin America, Guards Don’t Control Prisons, Gangs Do (NYT) Ecuador’s military was sent in to seize control of the country’s prisons last month after two major gang leaders escaped and criminal groups quickly set off a nationwide revolt that paralyzed the country. In Brazil last week, two inmates with connections to a major gang became the first to escape from one of the nation’s five maximum-security federal prisons, officials said. Officials in Colombia have declared an emergency in its prisons after two guards were killed and several more targeted in what the government said was retaliation for its crackdown on major criminal groups. Inside prisons across Latin America, criminal groups exercise unchallenged authority over prisoners, extracting money from them to buy protection or basic necessities, like food. The prisons also act as a safe haven of sorts for incarcerated criminal leaders to remotely run their criminal enterprises on the outside, ordering killings, orchestrating the smuggling of drugs to the United States and Europe and directing kidnappings and extortion of local businesses.

UK nuclear missile test fails for second time in eight years (CNN) For the second time in just eight years, a U.K. nuclear missile has failed its test launch. According to a statement made by a U.K. Ministry of Defense spokesperson on Wednesday, a test of a Trident 2 ballistic missile off the coast of Florida in late January resulted in a failure—though the spokesperson said that the failure was due to a one-off “anomaly” and “therefore there are no implications for the reliability of the wider Trident missile systems and stockpile.” A source told the media that the missile launch test was fired off by the nuclear-powered submarine HMS Vanguard using a dummy warhead instead of a real nuke. Apparently, the Trident missile and its dummy warhead were successfully fired off into the air, but the missile’s first-stage boosters failed to ignite, leading to the missile’s quick trip to a watery grave.

Russia outsmarts Western sanctions—and China is paying attention (Economist) Nazem Ahmad, an art collector and financier, has been under American sanctions since 2019. That may sound like a problem, but it has not stopped him from smuggling half a billion or so dollars for Hezbollah, a Lebanese militant group, according to America’s Treasury. He moves art, cash and gems across borders via galleries in the Ivory Coast, family offices in the UAE and portfolio firms in Hong Kong. His financial tapestry is underpinned by bank accounts in America. All of this displeases Western policymakers, who are trying to make sanctions more stringent. But just as the West ratchets up sanctions, ways to circumvent them are becoming more sophisticated. Although the purchase of Iran’s oil is restricted by America, its exports are nevertheless at an all-time high. Countries that are not party to the West’s price cap on Russian oil, which are together home to half the world’s population, are willing to pay more than $60 a barrel. Brazil, China and India have all bought more since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Many of the country’s biggest customers, including the UAE and Turkey, import its cheap fuel for domestic use at the same time as exporting their own more expensive non-embargoed oil. Lots of business has moved beyond the West’s reach. When America and Europe banned firms from insuring ships that carry Russian oil if it sells above their price limit, India and Russia established their own insurers.

Desperate for soldiers, Ukraine weighs unpopular plan to expand the draft (AP) When the Russian army mounted a full-scale invasion two years ago, Ukrainian men zealously rushed to recruitment centers across the country to enlist, ready to die in defense of their nation. Today, with Russia in control of roughly one-quarter of Ukraine and the two armies virtually deadlocked along a 1,000-kilometer (620-mile) front line, that spirit to enlist has faded: Many Ukrainian men are evading the draft by hiding at home or trying to bribe their way out of the battle. Along the frigid and muddy front line, commanders say their army is too small and made up of too many exhausted and wounded soldiers. As the war enters its third year, the most urgent and politically sensitive challenge pressing on Ukraine is whether it can muster enough new soldiers to repel an enemy with far more fighters at its disposal. The parliament is considering legislation that would increase the potential pool of recruits by about 400,000, in part by lowering the enlistment age from 27 to 25. But the proposal is highly unpopular.

Leaked Files Show the Secret World of China’s Hackers for Hire (NYT) A cache of documents from a Chinese security firm working for Chinese government agencies showed an extensive effort to hack many foreign governments and telecommunications firms, particularly in Asia, as well as targets of the country’s domestic surveillance apparatus. The documents, which were posted to a public website last week, revealed an eight-year effort to target databases and tap communications in South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Malaysia, India and elsewhere in Asia. The files also revealed a campaign to monitor closely the activities of ethnic minorities in China and online gambling companies. Taken together, the leaked files offered a look inside the secretive world of China’s state-backed hackers for hire. They underscored how Chinese law enforcement and its premier spy agency, the Ministry of State Security, have reached beyond their own ranks to tap private-sector talent in a global hacking campaign that United States officials say has targeted American infrastructure and government.

Israeli forces fired on food convoy in Gaza, UN documents and satellite analysis reveals (CNN) Analysis from the U.N. and CNN have concluded that Israeli forces fired at a U.N. food convoy on February 5. The convoy of trucks was carrying food supplies to central Gaza. Correspondence between the U.N. and the IDF had confirmed the convoy’s path before it began moving through Gaza, and the trucks were waiting at an IDF holding point when Israeli forces opened fire. Juliette Touma, global director of communications for UNRWA, said, “Gaza has become very fast one of the most dangerous places to be an aid worker in. It is an extremely complex environment to operate in. Quite often our teams are forced to deliver humanitarian assistance under fire.” “It’s really difficult to see how this could be a legal attack,” said Janina Dill, co-director at Oxford University’s Institute for Ethics, Law and Armed Conflict. “At a minimum it would look like a very serious violation of international humanitarian law. Whether it’s also criminal then depends on questions of intent, which is something that needs to be established in a court of law.” Luckily, no aid workers were directly harmed by the Israeli attack, though the absence of the convoy’s supplies will likely be felt by the people served by the UNRWA.

The looming Rafah offensive is pushing Egypt-Israel relations to the brink (Daraj/Lebanon) Rafah has become the new focus of Israel’s war. It is pressing to invade the city on the border with Egypt, where 1.4 million people—more than half of Gaza’s population—are now sheltering. An Israeli ground offensive on Rafah, Gaza’s southernmost city, would be a clear violation of the peace treaty between Egypt and Israel. Yet Israel’s aim has been clear since the war began: to push the Palestinians to a new “transfer” to Egypt. Israel has almost completely destroyed the Gaza Strip, sabotaging its infrastructure and creating enormous suffering for its residents. The aim is to turn the lives of more than 2 million Palestinians into hell, forcing them to accept anything given to them, whether it is a local administration established by Israel, or pushing them to voluntary and forced displacement toward Egypt. Targeting the narrow area that is crowded with Palestinians from Gaza may lead to an influx of displaced people across the border into Egypt. For Ayman al-Raqab, a political science professor at Al-Quds University, the Rafah offensive would cause a “forced exodus” to the Egyptian border, raising tensions between Egypt and Israel and pushing Egypt to “suspend the peace agreement and allow the Palestinians to carry out operations against Israel from its territory.”

Suicide science (NYT) “The bridge is sealed up.” Last month, with those words, the general manager of the Golden Gate Bridge announced the completion of a suicide barrier—stainless steel netting that extends about 20 feet out from the walkway for the length of the bridge, making a jump into the water below extraordinarily difficult. In the United States, the suicide rate has risen by about 35 percent over two decades, with deaths approaching 50,000 annually. The U.S. is a glaring exception among wealthy countries; globally, the suicide rate has been dropping steeply and steadily. Research has demonstrated that suicide is most often an impulsive act, with a period of acute risk that passes in hours, or even minutes. Contrary to what many assume, people who survive suicide attempts often go on to do well: Nine out of 10 of them do not die by suicide. (If you are having thoughts of suicide, call or text 988 to reach a lifeline for help.)

[heymrstargazer]

celebration time IT’S THE 100TH DAILY HC!!!! thank you for the continued support as i post these (often shitty) hcs, i appreciate it very much. with that being said, ive jammed together a few hcs ive posted, leading up to the backstory of one of of my most popular ones (neil kissing andrew’s forehead) in a little fic (also sorry if there’s spelling mistakes i had to hold this off until today despite that i had stuff to do so hopefully its alright ??)

daily aftg hc: Most would easily shove the day into a bad category because of the pouring rain and flashing lightning. Andrew would not. He easily relished in the gray sky peeking through the curtains, tucked safely under a mountain of blankets all shoved to his side after Neil grumbled that it was too hot. 

Though, that was another reason it wasn’t a bad day. Neil was still curled up next to him despite the late hour of the morning. His red curls fell over his forehead, eyes, ears, and messily around his head on the pillow. Strands stuck up in unnatural poses that made the corner of Andrew’s lip quirk up. 

“You have the worst bedhead,” he mumbled, half-hidden in the black duvet he tugged up past his shoulders. 

Neil squinted his way. “And you have a blanket addiction.” To prove his point, one scarred hand crawled out from under the sheet and pulled back the corner of one blanket. Then the next. And the one under that. And so forth until he finally found the rest of Andrew, poked him once under the ribs, then got up and padded out of the room. He would forever regret the day that Neil found out he was ticklish. 

With a sigh, Andrew trudged out of the room and into the quiet kitchen, a blanket wrapped over his shoulders. Neil was standing at the counter, blankly staring at the coffee pot with the bag of grounds in one hand.

“Space cadet,” Andrew hummed and grabbed two mugs. It was another name on the ever-growing list, one he’d been using more as the new semester approached. 

As expected, Neil slanted an unamused look his way and continued the task at hand. He watched for another second, readying an excuse if Neil caught him staring, before turning to the fridge and retrieving a package of strawberries and whipped cream. 

He laid the halves out nicely on a plate, sorting them into several different shapes before deciding on a frowny face. Each received one swirl of whipped cream, carefully placed in the center. A short huff interrupted the process, the one Andrew easily recognized to be Neil’s laugh, and was followed by an amused, “Did you forget something?”

The strawberries were good, the mugs were out, the whipped cream was open, the fridge was closed, as well as every other detail Andrew calculated. Stubbornly relenting, he glanced over to Neil with a squint. Instead of an answer, Neil’s eyes trailed down and he offered one small nod. Oh. 

“Pants are an unnecessary social construct,” he concluded, topping off the last of the strawberries with a sprinkle of sugar. Neil’s lip pinched between his teeth, the closest thing to a smile he would allow himself, before one of his hands gently reached toward Andrew. It would be rude to turn down the offer, right?

Andrew slotted himself into Neil’s arms, tugging him down for one kiss before resting his head on Neil’s shoulder. He could smell the cheap laundry detergent on Neil’s shirt, and remnants of last night’s cigarettes embedded in his collar. Neil’s fingers scratched lightly at his scalp and some part of him wished they could do this everyday. Nicky was retrieving a few things from the Columbia house, Kevin was staying with Wymack for their last free week, Robin was off with friends, and the rain meant Neil was confined to dorms instead of his morning run. Which, in turn, meant they were stuck all alone in the dorm together. Not that Andrew minded. 

He startled only slightly when Neil’s hand crept up the back of his shirt, squinting at the light after opening his eyes. 

Neil pressed his lips to his temple for a moment before handing over a steaming mug. “And I’m the space cadet.” Blearily taking his coffee, and unsettlingly unaware of the time that passed, Andrew leaned against the counter to wake up for the second time that morning. He observed Neil, watching him move around the kitchen to put things away, wipe off the counters, and take a few sips of his own coffee.

Unlike Neil, Andrew wasn’t as shameless about his staring. He calculated Neil’s reaction times, glanced away before he could be caught. Neil didn’t even have to be in his line of sight for him to remember the blue of his eyes, the scars on his hands, or the pitying, judgmental expression on his face as he sent reporters into an early grave. It didn’t even have to be Neil at all. It could be his shirt hanging over the railing of the bunk, or his fucking socks on the coffee table. Sometimes it was the half-empty water bottles strewn everywhere from the windowsill to behind the TV.

Or, like now, it was the emptiness of the dorm. It would’ve seemed dead, scarily so, if not for the steady breathing of Neil next to him. He only indulged in silence like this with Neil. With Neil on nights when the rest of the foxes were partying. With Neil on weekends at the Columbia house alone. The stillness was scarce, but desired in a way too unfamiliar to be safe at first. Too open, too easily accessible for one person to enjoy alone, but, at the same time, too untrustworthy to spend with a stranger.

That could be all the murder documentaries talking, though. So, instead, Andrew focused on Neil. Neil who, for the longest time, was a stranger. Completely unknown to anybody but himself, the dead, and people who wanted his head on a spike. Anything the general public did know was a lie, or at least half of one, piled so high that Andrew never quite knew how Neil kept track of them all. 

But, there he was, standing in the dorm’s kitchen, holding a whipped-cream topped strawberry up to Andrew’s mouth. Which he took, and regretted almost instantly as Neil happened to wipe said whipped cream all the way from the tip of his nose down to his chin.

“I hate you.”

He only shrugged back. “My hand slipped.”

Before Andrew could call out his lie, Neil busily attended to his ringing phone buried deep in his pocket. “Ah shit,” was his final declaration before hurrying to the bedroom, coffee abandoned and forgotten behind him.

Neil was supposed to be downstairs helping Matt ten minutes ago. Andrew knew that, but why should he say anything? He’d rather chalk it up to the amusement of Neil running around piecing together whatever outfit he could. Watching him gracelessly slip on his untied sneakers and nearly trip out the door because of it, casting one apologetic wave behind him. 

Andrew wasn’t a liar, though, and most certainly not to himself. For the past months he had stretched out every day, minute, second of alone time with Neil. It was another difference in shamelessness, Neil falling on the opposite side this time. Neil wasn’t always actively looking for every single opportunity to be alone together. Prioritizing was welded and stitched into his DNA, only analyzing the appropriate times for everything and shoving down any other urges. 

On the other hand, Andrew didn’t care if they were on the court or in a packed room, if he saw an out, he would take it. Nothing else mattered because Andrew knew their time was running short. His last year starting up meant the inevitable approach of his permanent departure. He hadn’t brought it up with Neil quite yet, they still had months to go, but they’d have to think about it soon. And he really didn’t want to. 

Instead, on unhurried, quiet days he’d take as much of Neil as he could get. Even if it was small, even if it was in the middle of the worst kind of days, he’d take what he could get because he was going to miss Neil. And, even though that absolutely terrified him, it was the truth. 

The truth had been a difficult thing between them, often ugly and unfortunate, but a key component to a type of trust they both desperately needed. Avoidance felt like a lie. Neil was the liar and Andrew was supposed to call him out, not the other way around. Not talking about it felt even worse than a lie. It was a nauseating truth they both knew, unspoken and untouchable out of the fear it provoked, yet it was still the fucking truth. Undeniable, terrifying truth. Soon they wouldn’t even see each other, much less have time alone. 

After numbly changing into regular clothes (pants included), brushing his teeth, and cleaning up the mess on the counter, he stood in the center of the kitchen. 

Never once had he kissed Neil in front of the foxes. That was another thing reserved for time alone. It wasn’t a regret, it was a fact. A truth, even. It didn’t go undiscussed, though. They spoke of it months ago, before Andrew worried every waking moment of leaving, and Neil said it was fine.

Weekends and one week breaks don’t always allow for alone time. The point of the question was to solve some of that issue. Widen their chances of affection to more than behind a locked door. Neither had taken advantage of it yet.

But, soon enough, the only people around to see it would be the press. The press couldn't keep their mouths shut, though. Matt could. 

And, again, the truth wasn’t a pretty thing. But, maybe instead of avoiding it, they needed to work around it. Bee always told him small steps were still important. It was beyond important that he and Neil spent more than a night together at a time. And, if that meant receiving a kiss in front of Matt Boyd, then so be it. 

He heard their voices outside, opening the door and looking once, then twice before spotting them just down the hall. Holding tightly to his courage with willpower alone, he walked their way. Neil was quick to see him, analyzing the look in his eyes and the hand Andrew gripped into his sweatshirt. Neil knew this routine, taking the clenched-jaw determination into account before wordlessly leaning forward and pressing one kiss to his forehead. Andrew wasn’t stupid enough to stick around for questions. 

He settled the panic in his chest with one of the double fudge cookies in the cupboard. Small steps were important, and he would take as many as he needed, as many as he could, to use up every possible moment with Neil. Because he was going to miss him. And, while that was sickeningly unfamiliar, they would adapt. They would last through any emotional hurricane or attempted murder, and sometimes a kiss on the forehead was enough to assure him of that.

----

(also can i just credit this to @archiveofourfoxes ?? like she basically came up with everything except the actual physical writing. but anyway thank you for being my one person friend group i appreciate it very much)

[andrewsleftknee]

times Andrew and Neil say “i love you”: the electric boogaloo

i tried to make these ones a little longer, but i’m not sure if they sound like i rambled. 

part one (x)

it’s Andrew’s final year at Palmetto and he’s becoming aware that when he’s gone Neil won’t be with him for at least a year, but probably a few more on top of that. he doesn’t get much time alone with Neil between classes, practice, and Robin and Kevin in the dorm, so Andrew would take Neil to the roof or to walk around campus until Robin and Kevin fell asleep. they shared a bed now that Robin has moved into their dorm, and now that Andrew was more comfortable with it, he found the time before him and Neil went to bed very comforting. they usually spend that time facing each other and exchanging soft touches that almost resembled cuddling. after their first game of the year Andrew was a little emotional. no one else noticed his change in mood except for Neil, so when they were alone Neil asked him about it. Andrew told him that he realized that he was leaving at the end of the year, and he doesn’t want to give it up just yet. Neil nods in response and asks Andrew ‘yes or no’, and when Andrew says ‘yes’, Neil pulls him in for a bone crushing hug. Andrew tucks his head into the crook of Neil’s neck and hugs Neil back. when they go back to the dorm later that night, Andrew let’s Neil hold him. Andrew turns his head after a few minutes, kisses Neil’s temple, and says “i love you” to Neil. Neil kissed his hair in response, and they both fell asleep a few minutes later.

Andrew had graduated a few days prior, and he and Neil were spending as much time together as they could. Nicky was going to sell the Columbia house at the end of the summer, but he said that Andrew and Neil could stay there before Andrew had to go to Boston to start practices with his team. the few days they had together were emotional. Neil had cried for the first time since Baltimore, and Andrew shed a few tears while trying to comfort Neil. they had spent the last four years learning to trust each other enough to share these intimate moments together. the last few days in Columbia made leaving for Boston harder than Andrew ever thought. Neil drove him to the airport and tried to say goodbye without crying, which did end in tears. Andrew unbuckled Neil’s seatbelt and urged him into his seat so that he was sitting on Andrew but facing him. Andrew wiped his tears away and pulled him down for a soft kiss. when they broke apart, Neil let out a shaky breath. “i love you,” he whispered against Andrew’s lips. Andrew responded with: “i love you too. always.” Neil repeated ‘always’, opened the door, and climbed off Andrew so he could get his stuff. he walked Andrew to the entrance of the airport, gave him one more kiss, and walked back to his car. he sat for a minute with his head on the steering wheel and let the tears pour from his eyes onto the pair of shorts he was wearing. he pulled out his phone and texted Andrew. when Andrew felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he pulled it out to see a text from Neil saying ‘i miss you,’ and Andrew wanted to walk out of where he was standing in line for security and go back to the car and drive home with Neil.

they didn’t verbally express their love much when they were both at Palmetto. physical touch and quality time is how they would express their love before. now they can do neither because of being so far apart and had conflicting schedules. they still don’t verbally express their love much now that they are apart, but Neil tries is best to make sure Andrew knows that he does love him even with the distance. they call at night when they’re both free, which usually ends with Neil asleep on the living room couch. Andrew will watch Neil until he can barely keep his eyes open, and would end up falling asleep as well. he isn’t good at verbally expressing like Neil tries to be, but Andrew makes sure that Robin and Neil are looking after each other when Andrew couldn’t be there to look after them. this worked for them, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t wish they were together. Neil’s bad days got more frequent. he didn’t know if it had to do with Andrew being gone, but he hated to admit that he was more dependent on Andrew than he thought. Andrew noticed, and started planning when he could go to Palmetto to be with Neil for a few days, but they never had more than a day open at a time. when September rolled around, Andrew decided that one day was enough. maybe he could convince his coach to have a day or two off on top of that so that he could visit Neil. with a lot of convincing, his coach let him have Saturday practice off so that Andrew could fly out on Friday night and come home on Monday morning. he didn’t let Neil know he was flying out, but he did tell Wymack and Robin so they could help surprise Neil before the game he had that night. Robin drove Andrew back to their dorm as they waited for Neil to get back from his last class of the day. Andrew never thought he’d be the kind of person to set up a surprise for his partner, but Neil had him do a lot that he never thought he would do. when Neil got back from his class and saw Andrew sitting on his couch, he let out a shaky ‘hi’ and put his hand over his mouth to stop a cry from coming out. Andrew walked over to Neil, and Neil pulled him in for a hug, letting his tears fall onto Andrew’s shirt. “are these happy tears?” Andrew asked when Neil started to calm down. “they are. i’m sorry,” Neil replied, wiping away the tears that threatened to come up. “don’t apologize,” Andrew said, pulling Neil to lean on him. “i love you,” Neil whispered. Andrew whispered it back.

they didn’t have a gap in their schedule to meet on Neil’s birthday. Andrew didn’t tell Neil that that’s when he wanted to see Neil the most. he wanted to celebrate him making it another year when Neil thought he’d never make it this far. Andrew decided to coordinate with Robin a way that they could have a birthday dinner for him even though they were apart, so Andrew decided on a restaurant he knew Neil liked, and asked Robin to order the meal he knew Neil liked (he also let her order something for herself for helping Andrew set this up), with money he had sent to her over venmo. he had it so that their meals would be delivered after him and Neil had finished their evening practice and were all showered. he had texted Neil to not have dinner, to which Neil sent a thread of confused messages in response, but understood when he arrived home to a paper bag at the front door of his dorm from one of his favorite restaurants, and Robin smiling like a motherfucker behind him. he called Andrew the second he got into his dorm and greeted him with a “what the fuck?” and Andrew replied: “congrats on surviving to twenty-three. think you can make it to twenty-four?” and Neil just smiled in response. “Andrew,” he started, but he didn’t know where he was going with it. “i love you,” Andrew said. “eat your dinner. Robin has something in there too. tell her to fuck off while you’re at it.” Neil smiled and said that he loved Andrew too, passes Robin the fries she ordered, and sent her off to eat with some of the junior girls. they enjoyed dinner together, and afterwards Neil got ready for bed, falling asleep before Robin got back from down the hall. Robin saw that Andrew was still on the phone with Neil, and talked to him while she got ready for bed, which woke Neil up for a few minutes until Robin told him to go back to sleep. he did, and he fell asleep feeling content and happy.

[minniminyard]

Neil’s last year at Palmetto (ie the year alone)

He knew that this was coming

He was prepared.

PrePARed

Andrew leaving just before the Foxes’ summer practice started for his own practice didn’t feel definite. It didn’t feel like he wasnt coming back.

He’s now months into the season, November making the air in his lungs burn each time he goes for a run,

Which is often now that the bed is empty and Robin doesn’t fill the silence left behind without the cousins

But he saw this coming, in the back of his mind,

The point where the sporadic phone calls and FaceTimes didnt quite make up for the thousands of miles between them that he didn’t want to think about counting

Because he would happily count them if it led him closer to Andrew

And don’t forget that one weekend where Andrew was able to come to palmetto but between the flight and training and games, they just slept the weekend away and he was gone before Neil could blink...

But he saw this coming, where he’d throw himself into practice, into runs, into his final year of college and

He saw this coming, where he hadn’t spoken to Andrew in days and each breath was getting a little harder

He saw this coming when Wymack said, kid get out of here and I don’t want to see your face until Monday, you hear me?

Trudging out from practice, dragging his feet out to the car park, Neil just wanted to go home.

Home was thousands of miles away. He pulls out the keys from his pocket, singling out each one. To the dorm, to the stadium, to the Maserati, to the house in Columbia.

The key to the Maserati.

You gonna use that, Andrew calls from—

Neil’s head flicks up and he wonders how he let himself be surprised by anything.

What are you doing here? How are you here?

Romantic, josten, Andrew responds. And I’d like to think by now you know what a plane is.

Neil feels a smirk, but it never fully forms.

Yes or—

Yes, Neil breathes

Andrew moves closer and a hand rests in Neil’s hair. The other comes to rest by his jaw, fingers cupping the back of his neck.

Neil let’s himself breathe, and finally it doesn’t burn in his lungs.

Neil’s hands grip the sides of Andrews jacket.

Neil drops his gaze, Andrews stare too intense.

He moves closer still, kissing Neil almost softly, and then sticking close, bodies just shy of touching.

We’ll be better, junkie.

Neil takes it for what it is, a promise.

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 1: Chapter 18

Four release, the AMAs & Christmas in Manchester 2014

Word count: 1.5k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

In the middle of November, Aurora was glued to her laptop as she watched the little clock in the corner of her screen ticking away the minutes. She finally hit refresh on her browser one last time and suddenly the new One Direction album was live. She pressed play on the first track, smiling excitedly as Steal My Girl started to play. While the song filled her headphones, she opened up new tabs, logging into Twitter to see how the fans were reacting to Four. She smiled as she scrolled through tweet after tweet of fans gushing about their love for not only the album but also for the 5 boys. She felt so much pride for what they had accomplished, having been present for much of the writing and recording of the album she knew just how hard each of them had worked on every single track. She knew they deserved every piece of praise they were receiving now. She texted Harry once she was about halfway through the album.

◊Aurora: I am so god damn proud of you. Call me when you’ve got a break between interviews.

She continued listening and reading and she had only 2 tracks to go when her phone lit up with Harry’s grinning face. “Congratulations baby!” she cheered when she answered the call, hearing him chuckle.

“What on earth are you doing up in the middle of the night?” he asked.

“Like I was going to wait until morning for the album release. I wanted to see how all the Brit fans were reacting to it before the Americans wake up.”

“And what’s the verdict?” Harry asked.

“Oh, everyone on twitter hates it,” she joked, laughing when she heard Harry let out a mock gasp. “No, they love it. As they should. It’s incredible H.”

“God, I miss you,” Harry sighed. “We’ve got interviews all day and I’m already exhausted.”

While he was talking, Aurora scrolled across a tweet about her and she quickly read it out to Harry.

>1DFan75: Has anyone else noticed that @.AuroraStark has writing credits on Where Do Broken Hearts Go and Fools Gold… what do I do with this information?

“I’m gonna reply,” she said.

“What are you gonna say?” he asked.

>AuroraStark: Hoping this was a good revelation for you. If so, I’d advise listening with the volume cranked and scream along at the top of your lungs. Enjoy and go support our boys. x

“Well you have fun on twitter babe, I gotta get back to the interviews.”

“Have fun,” Rori replied, “I’ll talk to you later ok.”

xXx

A few days after Four was released, Aurora boarded the StarkJet and flew to LA. She went straight to the hotel as soon as she arrived and started getting ready. She had just slipped into her mid-calf length black dress and was sitting on the edge of the bed strapping on her heels for the evening when there was a knock on the door.

Your face lit up when you opened the door to be greeted by all 5 members of One Direction, Harry standing in the middle wearing her favourite grin. She laughed as she briefly realised that they were also wearing all black outfits, ensuring that it would look as though she had intentionally dressed to match them. Harry stepped forward, sweeping her into his arms and pulling her into a bruising kiss as the other boys pushed passed them into the hotel suite.

“I missed you,” she whispered when they pulled apart. “You look fantastic by the way.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth, love,” Harry replied.

“Can you too stop sucking face so we can go?” Louis asked with a laugh, interrupting the couple’s reunion.

Rori rolled her eyes at her friend. “Do you want a cuddle too, Lou?” she joked, letting go of Harry to walk towards Louis with her arms spread wide.

“Good to see you again darl,” he said as the two hugged. “But let’s go, the car’s waiting for us out front.”

Aurora had an incredible night; unlike the previous year she was able to enjoy the evening without the crushing anxiety she had been under with the pressure of her first performance. Instead, she was able to play the role of dotting girlfriend, a role she absolutely loved. She cheered loudly when the boys won each of their three awards for the evening, kissing Harry when each win was announced before he made his way up onto the stage with the other boys to thank their fans. When they performed Night Changes, Aurora sat in the front row in awe, her eyes glossy with unshed tears and her face full of the love and pride she felt for the man she was lucky enough to have called hers for the last year. When the show finally came to an end, Harry and Rori said goodnight to the others as the boys headed to one of the afterparties. The young couple chose to skip the party and headed back to the hotel instead to spend some much needed time together before Aurora flew back to New York the next day.

xXx

Aurora finished up at Columbia a few days before Christmas and after many hugs’ goodbye to her fathers, she boarded a flight to Manchester to spend the Christmas break with Harry and his family. Since she wouldn’t be home, Tony and Steve had chosen to also take a trip for the holidays and were spending Christmas in Malibu, so without access to the jet, she was on a commercial flight and it was long. She spent the hours with her sketchbook spread open on the table in front of her seat, a coloured pencil behind each ear and another between her teeth as she worked. When the flight finally landed, Rori collected her things, throwing everything into her oversized handbag and slinging it over her shoulder before pulling her carry on out of the overhead bin. Once she made it through the arrival’s terminal, she began scanning the hall. She spotted Harry standing towards the back of the small crowd. He had his Green Bay Packers beanie pulled low, his curls poking out from underneath it, dark sunglasses covering his eyes and a heavy winter coat slung over his arm. His smile stretched across his face when he finally noticed Rori making her way towards him, his dimples popping in his cheeks.

“Hey you,” he greeted softly once she finally reached him.

“Hey you,” she echoed, letting go of her suitcases handle and leaning up on her toes to kiss him. They made their way towards the parking garage after pulling apart, one of Harry’s hands resting on her lower back while the other tugged her luggage along behind them.

The sun was sitting as they left the airport and turned south, Aurora’s hand was resting on Harry’s thigh and she watched the clouds turn salmon pink in the sky. It was dark when Harry pulled his landrover into the driveway of Anne and Robins house, and Rori smiled warmly when she climbed out of the car to find Anne stepping out onto the front step.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart,” Anne called out once Rori closed the car door behind her and crossed the small front garden to greet the older women. Harry joined them a moment later with Rori’s bags in his arms and Anne lead them both into the house. Even though they’d only been outside for a few moments, Aurora’s nose was red from the cold and she gratefully removed her coat, hanging it on the hooks in the entry hall. They continued on towards the kitchen from which Aurora could smell the roast in the oven. Robin was standing in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil as he prepared cups of tea for the four of them, and he happily hugged Aurora in greeting before turning back his task. Once the tea was ready, they all sat down around the kitchen table, catching each other up on everything since Aurora had last visited during the summer.

The next day was Christmas Eve and Gemma arrived that evening, just in time to join the family on the sofas in front of the tv, the fireplace crackling as they watched the Grinch who stole Christmas. Aurora had been quiet for most of the day, as she usually was on the anniversary of her mother’s death, but she’d found comfort in Harry’s constant presence by her side and had tried not to let her grief consume her as it had in previous years. By the time they found themselves snuggled up under a blank on the sofa, Aurora felt more at peace with her mother’s absence in her life than she thought possible.

Christmas with Anne, Robin and Gemma was filled with plenty of tea, cosy sweaters, cheesy movies and more food than any of them could eat. By the evening, Aurora was collapsed on the sofa, snuggled up against Harry’s side, sharing a soft blanket as the sound of Michael Bublé filled the living room and Gemma and Anne danced across the rug.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[exyghouls]

secret santa time!

this is my TFC-Net Secret Santa post for @julianlavelle!! merry christmas!!

on ao3

-

Christmas had never been something that Neil had really experienced. For a while he felt no desire to take part, but being around his family as they prepared for the holiday season piqued his interest.

“Andrew,” he asked on the roof the night after their last finals, “do you want to do Christmas this year?”

He looked over lazily, smoke drifting from his mouth. It came out in a puff when he replied, “Do you want to?”

Neil shrugged, feeling sheepish at best. He took the cigarette from Andrew and took a short drag before handing it back. “I guess I want to try. Who knows, maybe I’ll hate it.” He kicked his feet over the edge of the roof and leaned against Andrew with a sigh.

i. 2007

Andrew had never exactly liked Christmas. He liked being able to disappear without his foster parents getting calls that he skipped class. He liked that he could shovel the driveway without the possibility of missing the bus. Later though, it became a nuisance.

Nicky had been big on Christmas when Andrew and Aaron had first moved in with him. The first year, he told them they wouldn’t be doing present exchanges but used some of his savings to decorate and cook a big dinner. Aaron was mortified by the amount of effort he had put in but Andrew was unaffected. They didn’t do as big of a celebration the following years, but Nicky always liked to do something.

If Neil wanted to do something, he could arrange that. Christmas was a bullshit holiday with bullshit intentions, but he could give Neil a couple gifts and get cinnamon rolls for breakfast or something.

Only a couple freshmen stayed behind for the break. Neil stuck back too with the intent to keep an eye on them, but he and Andrew went to Columbia on the 24th and left the kids to Abby.

They went shopping before going to the house. The first stop was to a department store, much to Neil’s apparent confusion.

“I thought that when you said shopping you meant for food and liquor,” he said.

“We’ll get to that,” Andrew waved off as he led them to the PJ section in the back corner. He motioned to the racks and shelves they stood between. “Pick some pajamas.”

Neil cocked his head to the side. “What about you?”

“Pick mine too.” Andrew was thoroughly bored with Neil’s ignorance. “Santa, elves, reindeer. Christmas shit, yes?”

He smiled, just a little, and went about trying to find anything in a small. All they had left on Christmas Eve was extra small and double X’s, but he managed to find plaid pants, one pair in red and the other in green, and matching shirts with penguins and lights, respectively.

Food shopping was easier, though Andrew was remembering all of Nicky’s past attempts to make a holiday meal. He was a decent cook but the man was no good under pressure.

Something about the disgusting amount of domesticity must have amused Neil, because he broke into a smile and looked at Andrew like he had put each star in the sky.

“What?”

Neil paused for a moment, smile not faltering. “Nothing.”

He snorted a little. “Nothing.”

Neil swayed to nudge him as they walked out of the store with their bags, that small smile still on his face.

This makes Neil happy, Andrew noted, keeping it in the back of his head.

ii. 2007

Once they got back to the house, Neil helped with putting all the groceries away before vanishing into Andrew’s--their--bedroom to put on his new pajamas.

He walked out in red pants and the penguin shirt, looking half giddy. He pulled out a baking sheet and preheated the oven while Andrew poured them drinks. He put premade cookie dough on the sheet in chunks, standing hip to hip with him. Neil bumped into his side and put the cookies into the oven. Not wanting to waste time, Andrew set the timer before crowding him against the counter.

“Yes or no?”

Neil jumped up to sit on the counter beside the oven and leaned down. “Yes.” He took the initiative to kiss Andrew, keeping his hands to his hair.

They got interrupted sooner than they ought to have been by the timer. Neil moved away and took out the cookies, busying himself getting a plate and searching for a spatula. Andrew stood patiently to the side, taking long sips of his drink. He made them weak.

It was ambient once they were in the living room with cookies and some channel marathoning Christmas movies. Andrew let Neil swing his legs onto his lap and lay against him at the same time, curling around him.

Andrew refused to let his heart race. He refused to acknowledge how cute Neil was like this, how happy silly shit like pajamas and cookies made from premade dough made him.

iii. 2008

Neil broke out the pajamas they had gotten last year. He wore the pants on occasion, but the rest of the set stayed shoved into the back of Andrew’s drawer.

Nicky insisted on having a Christmas dinner with the Foxes. The girls had graduated and it hit him harder than usual when he realized that family dinner no longer included them. They were always family, but it was harder for them to all be a part of it. Renee hadn’t had the room in her schedule, Allison had last minute company obligations, and Dan’s flight got snowed in.

They had managed to slip away without a trace. They drank and blew smoke out the bedroom window and locked out the rest of the Foxes.

Neil wanted this. He wanted to feel giddy off witty comebacks that Andrew shot at him, wanted to feel warm and then burning hot as Andrew brushed lips over his.

His mood worsened again when he came to the violent, sudden realization that he only had one of these left with Andrew before they graduated.

“Is it no?” Andrew asked, pulling away as soon as Neil tensed.

“It’s still yes,” he said, but the unsure tone made Andrew shoot him a questioning look. “Just thinking about how many holidays we have left. I think I’m starting to like Christmas, if only for the culture. Just thinking about how we won’t have many more like this.”

Andrew hummed and kissed him once, quickly. It stopped him from rambling, if anything. “They’ll be better when we have our own place and no noisy jolly fuckers around to ruin the night.”

He couldn’t help smiling at the implication. Neil reached up to pull him in for a kiss, tasting the future, tasting hope, tasting better things to come.

Neil liked the new feeling that replaced the cold, replaced the winter, replaced the holidays. He couldn’t stop thinking, our own place. It was a mantra, a pick-me-up, a promise. Even if Andrew dismissed any implication, it felt amazing.

iv. 2010

Andrew wasn’t coming to Palmetto during break. All new players were to stay for extra practice, orders of the captain. Neil figured, he would stay on campus too, taking care of the kids who couldn’t go home. He was the only fifth year senior and the team captain, even though Kevin came to practice over break because the Florida team wasn’t making new players give up their Christmas.

Robin stayed by Neil’s side for most of the break. She had stuck to Andrew like glue the year before--that is, once she realized he wasn’t going to kill her.

Just before noon on Christmas Eve, Neil and Robin were sitting in the corner of Abby’s living room, drinking coffee and hot chocolate respectively. The other kids were dispersed through the house or on the court for a Kevin-ordered conditioning. A sophomore striker was out for the first half of the semester for a broken wrist and still couldn’t get her throw right, so Kevin was helping her to switch hands.

He got a text from one of the freshmen that he was being asked for on court without specification. He showed Robin and she shrugged, getting up to follow him to the car.

When they walked into the stands, Neil saw Kevin instructing the sophomore on how to angle so he could make it past the goalie. Neil couldn’t see his face, covered by a helmet, and he was wearing light padding, but Neil’s heart nearly stopped when he realized that Andrew was standing in the goal.

Neil raced down the stands and Robin trailed behind. Another player on the court who was doing footwork saw him and unbolted the door--a freshman, the only one that year.

Andrew noticed too. He called off Kevin and dropped his stick in time for Neil to half-tackle him in a hug.

“You left Chicago?” Neil asked after thinking about who’s around. The only one who didn’t know about them was the freshman, but Neil didn’t give a damn.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Kevin,” he drawled.

He drew back from the hug. “Yes or no, Andrew?”

“Yes, idiot.”

Neil pulled off his helmet, holding it at his side as he kissed Andrew, not minding the sweat. They were interrupted when a ball was shot at their feet. Robin stood at mid court, handing Kevin back his stick.

“Don’t I get any sugar?” she asked.

Andrew rolled his eyes and held an arm out. Robin ran forward and was sandwiched between them.

“Ew, you smell,” she said, wrinkling her nose. Neil burst out laughing. The other Foxes on the court came and hugged them too, but Kevin abstained in favor of making a wall so Andrew had a way out. He liked this, liked the family he had made. The holidays had been feeling bleak, but they made him feel at home.

v. 2014

Neil Josten was twenty six years old and playing for the US Olympic team and the Seattle team beside Andrew. Robin had already gotten offers from them in her fifth year. Unlike the last two years, she passed up their offer to go to Washington and spent the break with her parents instead.

Seattle was snowy but less dull than Chicago had been. Andrew had lunch with his press manager, so Neil went for a run. He came back and got out of the shower only ten minutes before Andrew’s car rolled up. It was snowing and creating a picturesque holiday scene.

He had hot chocolate and tea made for them--his nutritionist was getting on him about drinking so much caffeine--by the time the door opened. The suite was big enough that he couldn’t see the door from the kitchen.

“Took a little longer than expected, huh?” he asked. Andrew turned the corner looking pissed and dripping wet. He was hugging something close under his coat, right on his chest.

“There’s a situation.” Neil raised an eyebrow before he saw Andrew pull a kitten out of his coat, looking only a couple months old and damp. He set it on the counter and stripped his coat, not paying attention to the look on Neil’s face or how he scooped it up and slipped it under his sweater.

Andrew vanished for a second, coming back with a fluffy towel and some thinner ones. He put them on the counter and let Neil figure it out as he left for another minute. He fumbled to get the little thing wrapped up, listening to it mewl, only looking up when Andrew put a cardboard box on the counter and began lining it with the towels.

“We have to take it to a vet,” Neil said.

“We can Google things.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “We need to get it tested and shit, make sure it won’t drop dead on us.”

Andrew paused for a second. “You assume we’re keeping it?”

Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Were you planning on not?”

He stayed silent for half a second before regaling Neil with the tale of how he saw it on the side of the road in the snow. He looked around with it in his coat for half an hour and couldn’t find any siblings or mother, so he drove home with it.

“All that, and you wouldn’t want to keep it?”

“Cats are almost as much work as you.”

Neil stuck his tongue out and put the kitten into the viable nest Andrew had made for it. He filled a little dish with water and stuck that in there too. It immediately started drinking, even if it seemed hard on walking.

When Andrew left to get properly warm, Neil looked up a vet with good reviews. He found one in uptown with a high enough rating and called to see if they had openings. The receptionist started drawing on about how they took some walk-ins and they didn’t have a packed schedule and if he wanted to come in that would be fine. He said he would be in soon and thanked her, hanging up as soon as he could.

Andrew walked out in different jeans and a fresh shirt. Neil looked down to the box. “We’ll go now if you don’t have any other plans,” he said.

Andrew nodded. He took the kitten out and handed it to Neil, who put it neatly into his sweater, and took the box out to the car. Neil pet the kitten’s head during the whole drive and cooed at it, to Andrew’s disgust.

They went home knowing it was okay if slightly malnourished and probably, eighty percent chance, a boy. They were given instructions on feeding and general care. Neil checked the pet policy on their building and promptly convinced Andrew to keep it.

Maybe, when they found another, hairless cat outside the court, they took that one in too. Maybe Andrew half-joked that it was ugly just like Neil. Maybe they ended up with two cats the day before Christmas and spent the holiday curled up with them. Maybe Neil was going to be alright. Maybe Andrew was the reason that every Christmas was good.

[philosophiums]

Hi! For the prompts, can you do one where they go to eden’s twilight and Neil gets roofied? Thanks!

this is… such a good prompt. not sure i took it where you were thinking, but…. here’s this 2k mess

i’m going to regret not proofreading this, but i’m tired and i don’t care

Andrew answers his phone in the bathroom of his New Mexico apartment. “Robin,” is his greeting to the base pumping in through the speaker. The Friday night call is unexpected and routine-interrupting. He’s getting ready for bed, not about to miss out on taking advantage of his weekend of sleep; Robin should be too busy celebrating the Foxes’ latest win to even think about calling him.

“I can’t find Neil,” she says, her panic audible over the intoxicated laughter of someone too close to the phone, rolling into Andrew and upending him.

“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t find Neil?” Four fucking words, and Andrew feels just as empty as he had when he’d been standing in the aftermath of a riot, holding a duffel bag in one hand and a scuffed-up racquet in the other.

Robin’s breath comes in thick and sticky against Andrew’s ear. He can smell the alcohol in the club, though he knows that none of it is on her breath – she’s like Neil; she doesn’t drink.

“I mean that he went to go get the next round for the table and now he’s gone.” There’s a push of noise and then the music is gone and it’s just a memory of laughter and shouting, catcalls and the infrequent patter of late-night traffic.

“He didn’t run,” Andrew says, because Robin would have only gone outside if she had been thinking that; she is intimately familiar with Neil’s story, the crossing of frequencies into her own. Andrew pushes the bathroom light switch down very precisely and paces out of the room. “Get back in the club. Talk to one of the bouncers and tell them what’s going on. If they give you shit, give them the phone and let me talk to them.”

The bedroom is dark, orange light leering only from a small lamp by the bed, and Andrew leaves it that way. He shifts the phone to speaker and sets it on the dresser, shoving his legs into jeans, swapping out his balding night shirt for armbands and something fresher. He’s not planning on leaving, but he wants to be ready. Neil probably just went to the bathroom and Robin is overreacting.

Or Andrew isn’t reacting enough.

He puts the phone to his ear again and listens more clearly to the ass end of a muted conversation between Robin and an unidentifiable male. A breath close to the phone pushes out a heavy exhale before Robin starts speaking. “He says he’ll help me look. Should I check the alley? Maybe he went for a cigarette.”

Andrew doesn’t tell Robin what to do or not to do. If he was there, he’d have a firmer grasp on his bearings, something solid to jerk around and choke an answer out of. If he was there, Neil never would have gone missing in the first place.

There’s a pitch in sound again as Robin works her way past the line of club-goers waiting to gain entrance. Andrew paces. Neil’s probably fine, but if anyone can manage to attract danger in a club he both frequents and feels relatively safe in, it’s Neil. Fuck, he attracts danger every time he breathes.

“What the fuck?” Robin’s voice is dropped to a crouch, her breathing domineering, pressing into Andrew from all sides and digging bared teeth into his ear. There’s a shout that isn’t hers, angry and growing farther away, and then it’s just Robin’s breathing, the accidental kick of a beer can and the muttered curse of someone who is looking at the finish line instead of keeping an eye on their feet.

“What?” The emotion in Andrew’s voice is a whetting stone, whittling away at any remaining distance he has between himself and others.

“I-I found him,” Robin says, something like regret making her words too heavy to come out easy.

Andrew is out the door. “Tell me,” he says after Robin breathes out Neil’s name.

“He’s… in the alley,” she says, and there’s a shuffle and a flap of fabric like she’s taking off her jacket and keeps getting caught on the sleeve. Her voice moves in and out of Andrew’s ear like a frequency wave. “Shh, Neil, it’s okay. It’s me, it’s Robin. It’s okay.”

“Tell me,” Andrew repeats, staring his car without a clear memory of the steps he took to get here, the two flights of stairs and the long walk across the dark parking lot.

Robin starts and stops, her breath hitching and catching like a body being dragged over loose pavement. After fighting with what might have been tears, she finally says, “He’s drugged out of his fucking mind,” and it’s a lost fight and a worst nightmare for Andrew.

“Is he dressed?” Andrew asks, with a feeling of scraping his fingernails across his tongue. Robin doesn’t answer, so Andrew growls out the question again as he swerves around a line of three cars going way too fucking slow for his liking.

“M-mostly.”

Andrew’s fear lashes out in a palm slammed against the steering wheel. “I’m catching a plane. Stay with him. Keep me updated.” Ending the call feels like pulling life support, but it’s necessary in the same way. He calls the airport next, and having money comes with its perks, because he’s got a ticket for the next flight to Columbia ready and waiting for him when he arrives. But being rich only gets him so many concessions, and the flight doesn’t leave for an hour and a half.

He picks a seat at his gate and forces himself to sit there while he checks his phone.

Nothing.

He calls Robin.

“Hi, Andrew, sorry,” is how she opens, sounding harrowed. Andrew says nothing, waiting, not wanting the concern and desperation to be as evident to her as it is to him. “We’re at the hospital. They wouldn’t let me back there with him, but they said they’re pumping his stomach, that he was roofied. They think it was probably GHB, but they’re not sure.”

Andrew has a difficult time reconciling the world-weary Neil Josten he left at Palmetto with a man oblivious enough to allow an opening for letting a liquid date-rape drug to be slipped into his drink. He takes a deep breath in and lets it out slowly. It’s not Neil’s fault. The only person to blame here is the asshole raised to think it’s okay to take whatever he wants without asking.

“Was he raped?” The people sitting within earshot of him all turn startled and offended looks his way, but Andrew doesn’t have the mind to give them the time of day. He needs to know.

A shuffle of sound comes over the speaker, like it’s been muffled against a shoulder of scratched against a palm. Then the air clears and Robin is back. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but they’re doing a rape kit anyway, I think. But I don’t know.”

That’s not good enough. Andrew clenches his fist against his thigh and forces himself to stay seated. Pacing isn’t going to help anything, isn’t going to help Neil. “If they let you see him, call me.” Andrew hangs up and stares at the screen of his phone for a too-long moment before clicking it to black. He checks his ticket to see what time he’s expected to be landing and is annoyed to find that dawn will be rushing at him by the time he gets there. Neil isn’t going to want to stay in the hospital once he’s lucid, and Andrew isn’t going to be there to make sure he gets home safe.

He texts Robin to make sure she takes Neil to the house in Columbia when the idiot inevitably decides he wants to run.

There’s no response until Andrew is already on the plane, and then it’s just – ‘he’s more or less lucid. i told him you’re coming.’

Andrew takes that at face value and puts his phone on airplane mode for the flight.

As soon as the wheels are on the ground, Andrew gets another text from Robin – ‘left the hospital. he insisted on going home – shocker.’

Frowning, Andrew calls Neil only to immediately go to voicemail. He calls Robin. “Where are you?”

“The house in Columbia.”

“Where’s Neil?”

“Upstairs.”

“Good. Stay there. My plane just landed.”

“Yes, sir,” Robin says, reverting to stony sarcasm now that fear isn’t interrupting her brain-to-mouth function. Andrew should take the cue from her and calm the fuck down, but he won’t be able to breathe until he sees Neil for himself.

It’s long past the witching hour when Andrew pools onto the sidewalk with the other passengers. Without a car, he’s forced to take a cab, sliding into the first one he sees and glaring aside any possible comments about his lack of luggage. Andrew gives the address, and the cabby drives in silence, the way Andrew prefers it.

All of the lights are on in the house when he gets there, and Andrew is reminded of being a child with a nightlight, of the house across the street who left their porch light on for a missing daughter who would never come home. He knows exactly how many steps he takes to the front door, the specific way the key needs to be twisted in the lock to get it to open, but he doesn’t remember any of it.

Robin is sitting on the kitchen counter, mug of coffee in her hands, a cup of steaming tea and a milkier cup of coffee sitting next to her. Andrew doesn’t say thank you, but he takes the cups and walks upstairs.

Neil is a shivering ghost under two layers of blankets, window flung open to let in the shattering cold. Andrew wants to demand that Neil take off the blankets, that he let Andrew see him, all of him, but he doesn’t say anything, can’t, won’t.

“No lecture?” Neil asks. He’s lucid, drug out of his system, weary from the game and probably stressing over the time he lost while drugged.

“If you’re asking for it, then you already know what I would say.” Andrew approaches the bed and hands over Neil’s tea before tucking a leg under himself and sitting on the edge.

It takes a while before Neil sips from his cup, and then his shoulders start relaxing and his shivering becomes more prominent. “I’m so stupid,” he hisses, pinching his eyes closed, hands shaking dangerously.

Andrew takes the mug away and stands up. “Yes,” he agrees, setting the cups very carefully on the bedside table. “That’s old news.” He walks around to the window and slides it closed, then kicks off his shoes and gets into bed, this time leaning back against the headboard. Neil watches him the whole time, and Andrew doesn’t tell him to stop. “C’mere,” he says instead, and Neil manages to crawl over and keep both blankets draped over his shoulders.

It’s not until Neil is settled against Andrew’s chest that Andrew finally feels even slightly better. They’re touching despite the padding between them, Neil shivering from the cold but warming up against Andrew’s side.

“I wasn’t raped.” Neil’s voice is a muffled ball of cotton, but the room is so quiet that it’s a pounding bass that rattles Andrew’s bones and jars him awake. “I would know.”

“If it was penetrative,” Andrew amends.

Neil is silent for a while, shivering slowing. Maybe he’s thinking, taking the time to wrap his head around the fact that he was found with his pants down, and fondling counts as rape. “I don’t remember it,” Neil finally says. “What if I want to live in denial?”

Andrew snorts, the most laughter that’s been pulled from him since the last time he saw Neil several months ago. “You?”

Neil laughs, shocked like a livewire but honest and full. He laughs until it’s soundless, until Andrew feels hot tears soak into his shirt, until it peters off into a gentler rock of shoulders, ocean waves eking out through the cracks in Neil’s composure. “I missed you,” Neil breaks, and Andrew believes him.

[ecodweeb]

Delivering Jason's 500e to South Carolina

Over Memorial Day weekend, my friend Jason bought this robins egg blue Fiat 500e. When he drove his Mercedes C250 up to Raleigh, he asked me a lot of questions about living with my electric Smart car for a year. He told me that if he could get into one for under $200/mo, it would be saving him money and it would save his a hefty over mileage fee on his Mercedes lease. I asked him what he thought about Fiat's, and he said he liked them, so on Sunday we went to Westgate Imports which had 15 used 500e's on the lot. He fell in love with a $9,998 low mileage 2015, which he bought and I agreed to deliver it to his home (380 miles away).

I had my route fully planned: Tanger in Mebane, Havana Phil's in Greensboro, Mallard Creek Park and Ride in Concord, Lowell County Library, overnight in Columbia at my friend's house, then a charge at Fountain Inn before making it to Columbia, SC. Each location was between 70 and 80 miles apart, well within the range abilities of the Fiat. The initial stop went as planned, Tanger was not busy and I was able to plug in quickly. I was reading Paul Orfalea's autobiography Copy This!, and grabbed a tea from one of the restaurants before taking off for Greensboro. This is where I hit a snag. I'd used Havana Phil's charger back in April when I drove my Smart ForTwo Electric Drive Cabriolet to the Greensboro Odyssey event. However, Phil's single-plug ChargePoint was giving a charging error on the Fiat. I won't lie, I had a moment a panic...had the on board charger failed? I pulled out my phone and found that the Greensboro Coliseum had installed a ChargePoint dual plug station just a few weeks ago. I had 20% power, so I was able to get there easily.

As I was plugging in, a maintenance guy in a truck drove past. 10 minutes later, as I'm reading my book with the AC on, four maintenance guys roll up on a golf cart and ask me a million questions about the car. They'd never seen anyone use the charger, didn't know how it worked, and couldn't believe I was driving this car 380-miles using free charging infrastructure. The local's recommended Stamey's Barbecue for lunch, noting that President Bush had eaten there. The food was good, and they didn't rush me from the counter after I finished my food and camped out reading my book for an hour.

My next charge wouldn't be until Concord, at a park and ride. I had one staff member inquire about the car while I was waiting. Keep in mind, I'm spending 3 to 4 hours at each location to recharge this car. I had one more charge stop before I'd reach my overnight in Greenville, which was the Lowell County Library in Belmont, NC. Due to the crazy traffic, I took back roads to get from Concord to Belmont. This was the only time I've ever seen an EV charger that was placed on a sidewalk. It was truly the strangest location, almost an after thought. However, I wasn't the first car to use it. I was really glad it existed, because I would not have made it to Greenville otherwise.

The drive to Greenville was not smooth, it was late at night and I missed an exit and had to take a longer way to my destination. I was really scared, because the battery had been at 0% for at least two miles. I got to my friends street and couldn't find his house. Finally, I managed to get to his home and plug in. I'd been on the road for right at 12 hours at this point. My friend had swapped over a 6R20 plug for me, but the circuit wasn't upgraded to be a 20A 240v, so I had to charge on Level 1 speeds. That was OK, as I planned to get a full sleep and only needed to go 20 miles for my next charging stop at Fountain Inn.

This was the second most annoying stop behind the Park and Ride because there was nothing to do. I had to wait an hour for the Subway to open, on a Saturday, so I could get breakfast. However I only needed 2.5 hours here to make it to Jason's house. I left Fountain Inn and drove down 26 at highway speeds with the AC and Cruise Control on. I arrived at Jason's house with 30% battery leftover, and used my charging adapters to fully charge the car from his oven's power outlet before he got home. When we got home, he drove me in the Fiat downtown and we located all the charging stations he would be using. He treated me to a meal, and then dropped me back off at his house so I could wait for my friend Nate to pick me up and take me back to Raleigh.  It was quite the adventure -- and not something I'd want to do frequently. However, the fact that it could be done is what's important.

[barpurplewrites]

Anticipation

@a-monthly-rumbelling Smut Prompt: stilettos/high heels, party, dirty talk

Rumbelle Non-magical AU Secret Dating.

-x-x-x-

Belle and Ruby arrived at Jefferson’s house wrapped in long coats that were more suited to winter than this balmy summer’s evening. Gold’s Cadillac was parked on the drive already, as they hurried by Ruby said; “I bet Gold is dressed as the Narrator.”

Belle gave a non-committal hum in response. She knew for a fact that Gold was dressing as the Narrator, she’d helped him choose the costume. She would have told Ruby that, but they had decided to keep the change in their relationship status to themselves for a while.

Ruby grinned at Belle as she rang the doorbell, “You ready?”

Belle thought about what she was wearing under her coat, as slight smile tugging at her lips as she imagined Gold’s reaction. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The door opened slowly to reveal Jefferson in a perfect Riff Raff costume he drawled; “Good evening,” and then looked them up and down, “I hope there are costumes under those coats ladies.”

Ruby toyed with the lapels of her coat; “Let us in and you’ll find out.”

Jeff grinned and waved them inside. He pointed to a long rack that must have come from his tailor’s shop, “Coats can go there ladies, we’re in the ballroom, plenty of time to get a drink before we start the film.”

Belle and Ruby peeled off their coats to appreciative sounds from Jeff. Ruby was in a French maid’s outfit making her a very tall Magenta. Belle was in plain white underwear complete with torn slip as Janet Weis. Ruby gave Jeff a twirl and held her hands up to Jeff who responded with the fingertip to elbow handshake that Riff and Magenta share throughout the film.

“This way ladies. The Master is having one of his affairs.”

Belle felt a thrill of excitement as Jeff threw open the doors of the ballroom. It looked like everyone had come in costume. Amid the crowd Belle had no problem spotting Anton who was amazing as Eddie, complete with a sax slung over his shoulder and a scar across his forehead. Ruby pointed out Robin and Regina who were wearing Brad and Janet’s finale costumes, although she did tut that Robin had opted to walk around in stocking-feet rather than brave the high heels. The more conservative guests, like Mary Margaret and David, had gone for the tailcoats and bright waistcoats of the unconventional conventionalists. Jeff had kept the decorations to a minimum, allowing his guests costumes to create the atmosphere.

Ruby bounced on her toes and squeezed Belle’s arm; “Isn’t this wonderful?”

“Oh yeah, but I need a drink before we attempt the Time Warp.”

Jeff waved an arm in the direction of the bar and twirled away to check on the projector. As they approached the bar Gold popped up from behind it, clutching a bottle of scotch. Belle gave him a shy smile, which he returned. He really did look stunning in that impeccable smoking jacket with a cravat knotted around his neck. While Ruby was busily checking out the vast array of alcohol Jeff had provided Gold blew Belle a kiss and mouthed ‘You look wonderful.” Ruby turned to her holding two bottles of beer, Belle nodded at her choice and Gold handed Ruby a bottle opener.

She cracked the tops and grinned at him; “Opted for the Narrator tonight, hey Gold?”

He shot Belle a sly smile and nodded at Ruby; “Ah, yes, after a fashion.”

He stepped from behind the bar and leaned casually on a much longer cane than he normally used. Ruby let out a low wolf whistle. Belle’s jaw dropped, this was not the costume she had helped him pick out, well half of it was, but the rest; Belle licked her lips, oh my. From the waist up Gold was respectably dressed; he wouldn’t turn a head on the street even if he was walking by the convent. From the waist down he had fully embraced the spirit of Frank N Furter. Belle’s eyes roved over the classic black suspender belt, the fishnet stockings and the very impressive black glitter high heels. Ruby nudged her in the side and Belle realised that she’d spent several long seconds openly staring at the snug black briefs that were covering Gold’s cock. A blush raced to her cheeks, when she looked up at his face he was smirking at her with a knowing twinkle in his eyes.

Before she could say anything Ruby suddenly groaned and loudly said; “Hi Gaston.”

Belle and Gold turned in time to see Gaston strutting across the room. Belle took a sip of her drink to stop herself laughing out loud. Gaston was dressed as Rocky  in a gold speedo and not much else. Charles Atlas might have approved of Gaston’s well-muscled frame, but Belle found the sight slightly nauseating, although that was probably because she knew what a pompous, slime-bag Gaston was. He barged past Gold and planted himself in front of Belle.

“Ah Belle! I see you’re Janet, want me to touch-a-touch-a-touch you?”

His hands were already moving forward as if there was no doubt of her positive response. Belle snorted and stepped back putting as much distance between her and Gaston’s oily hands as she could.

“Gaston, I don’t like men with too many muscles,” She locked eyes with Gold, before pointedly looking at his groin, “Just one big one.”

How Ruby was holding in her laughter at the dumb look on Gaston’s face Belle would never know, she linked arms with her friend and the two of them started to stroll towards the seating area. As she walked past Gold Belle gave him a smile; “Time Warp with me later?”

“I’ll do my best.”

As Gold watched the ladies walk away, Gaston huffed and glared at him.

“But you don’t have any muscles!”

Gold rolled his eyes and tapped his finger to his temple; “I’ve got the one that counts.”

He walked away from the very confused Gaston, who finally shrugged, “Brains aren’t muscles, huh must be a librarian thing.”

 Gold was drawing a fair amount of attention as he made the rounds greeting people, so Belle’s own gaze was pretty well camouflaged. That smoking jacket had been an excellent choice, it was short enough to sit nicely above the suspender belt, and give her a lovely view of his bum. She was idly thinking about giving that pert arse a nice slap later when she heard Mary Margaret say Gold’s name.

“He’s so much more relaxed lately, don’t you think? I mean I thought seeing him smile was a shock, but I never expected to see him like this!”

Ruby leaned forward and whispered; “Do you think he’s getting laid?”

Belle managed not to splutter on her drink, but it was a close call. Mary Margaret hummed as she considered Ruby’s suggestion.

“Maybe, but who? You know him better than anyone Belle, who do you think he might be knocking boots with?”

Belle was hyper-aware of the odd look Ruby was giving her. Thankfully before she had time to answer Jefferson called out; “Movie time!”

Mary Margaret clapped her hands and bustled off to find David. Ruby smirked at Belle; “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this Belle, I can tell you know something juicy.”

 Belle could feel Ruby’s raised eyebrow as Gold took the seat next to her, but she ignored it in favour of asking him; “Can you dance in those shoes?”

“Just about, I might need a little support.”

“Oh I can manage that, you know I never mind a bit of hands on assistance.”

Gold coughed at her reference to their Time Warp lessons where dancing hadn’t featured much.

“Yes, I recall that you nailed the pelvic thrusts.”

The lights dimmed and Belle took the opportunity to lean in and whisper in his ear; “As I recall you nailed me.”

She twanged his suspender strap and turned her attention to the film. The atmosphere was rowdy as everyone was shouting out the audience participation lines and singing along. As the Time Warp neared people began to stand up and move onto the dance floor Jefferson had set up for this purpose. Belle took Gold’s hand and the stood up, but stayed close to their seats. During their practise sessions they had found that as long as he missed out the jump to the left he could get through the rest of the dance without too much difficulty. They stood facing each other just in case Gold needed a steadying hand. Belle took another lingering look at his outfit and bit her lip.

“You look so sexy.”

He ducked behind his hair and smiled shyly. Belle loved that little gesture, she was tempted to grab him and snog the living daylights out of him, but the Jefferson hollered Riff Raff’s line and the Time Warp started. They got through it with only a minor wobble, but by the time Columbia’s solo started Belle could tell from Gold’s face that his ankle was paining him. She sat down and nodded for him to do the same. He eased into his seat with a wince.

“Sorry sweetheart, it’s harder with the heels.”

Everyone else was still dancing, Belle licked her lips; “Is anything else harder with the heels?”

Gold gave her a wide-eyed grin; “Well, yes. I was hoping you’d give me a hand with that later.”

“Want me to oil you up and rub you down?”

They’d been edging closer and closer to each other as they spoke, now there was only a tiny gap between them. Gold sighed; “Yes.”

Their lips met and they totally forgot that they were in a room full of their friends who had no idea they were dating. Ruby spotted them first and let out a shriek that alerted everyone else. Belle sighed and pulled her lips away from Gold’s, letting him hide his giggles in the crook of her neck. She grinned at Ruby, who was whooping up a storm. Somebody called out; “Get a room!”

Everyone watched as Gold whispered something to Belle and she answered with a rapid nod. The two of them stood up and hand in hand hurried out of the room. Mary Margaret asked; “Where are they going?”

Jefferson sighed; “Oh, Gold is staying here tonight, so I’m guessing they are heading to the guest room. Which is directly above us. Does anybody mind if I turn the sound up a bit?”

[drtanstravels]

When I finished off my previous post Anna had been attending a conference in Paris and the two of us had been wandering around the city, exploring the catacombs, doing a lot of eating and shopping, all the while trying to avoid stepping in dog shit. Now we had to fly over to Canada to attend a wedding.

Saturday, September 7, 2019 Today was the day that Anna’s cousin, Robin Wong, was to marry Kat Gan in Vancouver, Canada and nobody from Anna’s immediate family were able to attend so that became our duty. We had to fly out from Charles de Gaulle Airport at about 9am for a wedding ceremony at 11am being held halfway around the world, however, timezones would allow us to pull it off, but only barely. The traffic wasn’t be too bad that early in the morning so we got in an Uber, wound our way through the city, past the extensive vagrant tent villages en route to the freeway, and then we cruised relatively smoothly to the airport. Once there we kicked back in the lounge for some breakfast before boarding and, due to being tired from the little sleep we got leading up to that flight, were both able to snooze for the bulk of the nine-hour trek to Vancouver.

When we landed we had about 45 minutes to pass through immigration and get to the wedding. This meant that we had to change in the toilets at the airport, because I don’t think the tracksuit pants and t-shirt I was wearing to be comfortable on the plane were really appropriate wedding attire and Anna was dressed similarly too. Once we had changed and were in the cab the clock was ticking and we were cutting it extremely close. In fact, by the time we got out of the taxi, dumped our suitcases in a storage area in the lobby of the venue, and found our way to the garden for the reception, we walked down the aisle and found a seat less than a minute before the bride and her parents were to take the same path to the stage. It was a beautiful reception and when it was all finished we collected our luggage and caught a taxi once again to check into the Rosewood Georgia Hotel. Compared to our hotel in which we had spent the past few nights in Paris, our new room was enormous and, as an added bonus, it had possibly the best shower I have ever used, one we both took advantage of to wash off the sweat and stink of sleeping in a rather warm airplane for hours. This is where we were staying for the next four nights:

Finally a hotel we could both conveniently open our suitcases in

We even had our own corridor

Looking into our bathroom

This glorious shower was like having and endless bucket pouring on you!

We unwound for a bit in the hotel before the wedding dinner that evening, but there were other plans for a portion of the afternoon too. Another of Anna’s countless cousins, Catherine Sprunt, is married to a British guy called Darren and he is exactly like me in every way, but ten years younger, leading Anna to refer to him as my “Brother from Another Mother.” He even has the same tattoo of a plastic chair as I do, because the original idea that led to it was his. Anyway, Darren had stumbled upon a bar nearby our hotel that he thought I’d like called The Moose and he wanted to have a few mid-afternoon libations with the two of us before we went to the wedding dinner. That sounded like the perfect idea so Anna and I got ready for the dinner and then went down to meet Darren at The Moose. When we got there it turned out that he had found this awesome little dive-bar similar to my local back when we lived in New York, Jeremy’s Ale House, right down to the bras hanging from the ceiling. This place played great music and had cheap drinks, however, Catherine didn’t go because she is currently pregnant. She probably needed the rest anyway. It was a warm day so it got a tad hot wearing a three-piece suit inside and Anna felt the constant need to point out that Darren and I were wearing essentially the exact same thing to the dinner. We were a bit overdressed for where we were hanging out so I probably fit in better when I rolled up my pants to cool my legs.

We were having a blast kicking back in The Moose, but soon we had to make our way to the dinner at Floata, a Chinese seafood restaurant located in Chinatown, the name of which providing us with endless laughs. It was really good just eating, drinking, and chatting to a bunch of Anna’s cousins on our table, with whom I get on really well, and after the speeches were done and a bit more of a party-like atmosphere had set in I decided to bust out something I had worn under my suit for the occasion; an original Bryant ‘Big Country’ Reeves NBA jersey from back when the Grizzlies were originally in Vancouver, and a player that I used to love. It was only when I saw the photos that I realised how pasty my arms look when I’m wearing a black singlet indoors.

As the celebrations wrapped up everybody said their goodbyes, some guests filled takeaway containers with leftover food for the following day’s lunch, and a few of us, Darren included, went back down to The Moose for a while to see out a fun night, briefly interrupted by a crazy tramp coming in and playing the spoons. Some scenes from the ceremony, The Moose, and the dinner:

This pretty much happened as soon as we arrived at the ceremony

We had barely sat down when Kat came down the aisle

Kat and Robin taking their vows

Our view into The Moose later that afternoon

A bit warm inside

Darren and myself having a laugh

A great idea, but we had to get to dinner

Anna with a photo of her grandparents

“That’s tomorrow and Monday sorted”

Our official wedding attendance photo

To them I guess I qualify as ‘Big Country’

A selfie after I had put my clothes back on

Back in The Moose

Sunday, September 8, 2019 The plan for Sunday was lunch at another Chinese restaurant, this time in a different part of town almost an hour’s walk away so we decided to hoof it. We were staying in a pretty cool area of the city, but we didn’t realise how bad the homeless problem was right across Vancouver, there are derelicts absolutely EVERYWHERE, some just sitting, others wandering around, however, they don’t really hassle you too much. Just like pretty much all of the Canadians we encountered on this trip, they were really polite and friendly. The few that did approach us generally apologised in advance for having to ask us for money, the ones with politely written signs again apologising in writing, some to the extent of, “Sorry, I haven’t eaten since yesterday, could I bother you for some change,” that type of thing. Clearly you couldn’t give to all of them, otherwise you would become one yourself and they seem to realise this, just moving on if you decline. We figured there had to be a reason for the sheer amount of vagrants here and it turns out that Wikipedia has entire page entitled Homelessness in Vancouver, here is how the crisis is summed up in the opening paragraph:

Homelessness in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada is a social crisis that has been rapidly accelerating over the last decade. According to the United Nations, homelessness can either be relative or absolute. Absolute homelessness describes people living in absence of proper physical shelter. Relative homelessness describes people living in poor conditions of health or security, including an absence of both personal safety and steady income despite having physical shelter to reside in. As of 2011, roughly 2,651 people in Vancouver are subject to one of these types of homelessness, or are transitioning between them. Homelessness as a social issue in Vancouver originated from federal funding cuts to affordable housing. After market housing increased, the cost of housing became one of Vancouver’s main causes of homelessness, alongside lack of income. The homeless population in Vancouver have developed or previously suffered from mental health and addiction issues, and they are subjected to high amounts of crime-related victimization. There have been several approaches to reducing the homeless population in Greater Vancouverby the city and other organizations. As of 2011, the rate of homelessness in Vancouver has stopped increasing, but it is not being reduced either.

That’s crazy when the 2016 census showed there were only 631,486 people in the city, meaning that roughly one in every 250 people in Vancouver is technically homeless. Even if that homeless number applied to the Greater Vancouver population of 2,463,431, it would still be staggering. This also wouldn’t be the last time we would encounter them en masse, not by a long shot.

Anna and I continued walking to the downtown area of Vancouver, passing Rogers Arena, once home to the Vancouver Grizzlies NBA team and now the Vancouver Canucks of the NHL, past fields of geese in creekside park, and to the Chinese restaurant where we had lunch with members of Robin and Kat’s respective extended families. After lunch the two of us continued to explore this part of the city, looking at the sights and stores, but we both soon became exceptionally bloated, my stomach noticeably protrudent, even through a jacket. I guess Chinese food in Canada affects us a little differently than it does in Asian countries. It got so bad that at one stage we were both standing on a bridge, looking at our necessary arch enemy, Google Maps, to see where to venture next when I tried to discretely fart to release even just a little of the potentially belt-breaking pressure in my abdomen. I would’ve got away with it, too, if a gust of wind hadn’t blown up behind us just seconds after, wafting it back in our faces and causing and audible response of “Phwoar!” from us both. It was seriously that bad! We continued walking in the general direction of our hotel, Anna’s terrible eyesight cracking us both up along the way when we passed Homer St. Cafe and Bar and she thought the sign said Hombre’s, although it didn’t even remotely resemble a Mexican restaurant. We also kept seeing posters for a giant flea market on nearby Granville Street so we dropped in to check it out. The market was held in what appeared to be an old, disused theatre where the upstairs carpet was extremely sticky, however, there was some great stuff, but it was pretty expensive. A good example of this was the awesome original Married… with Children t-shirt I found featuring Al and Peg Bundy sitting on a sofa, Al with a hand down his pants as usual, but it was CA$150.00 (US$113.00)! I didn’t get it, but I did walk out of there with a cool Mr. T t-shirt.

After all that walking we went back to the hotel to relax for a bit before meeting up for a great dinner with our friends who had driven up from Seattle to see us, Momo and Takuo, as well as Takuo’s mother. After dinner they all went back to their hotel so Anna and I met up with Darren at The Moose one last time, or so we thought, as well as a friend of his from London that was in town, Harry, who looked identical to Seth Rogan. It’s very rare that you walk into a bar on a Sunday night and they are playing Children of Bodom at full volume, but we stuck around for a bit before opting for a change of environment. We found another cool bar upstairs in a nearby building that had a main area at the front and another bar around the back with a pool table and shuffleboard table. We were having a really great time just drinking and trying to figure out the rules of shuffleboard while playing when Anna and myself went over to order some drinks and a woman next to the bar had an amusing mishap that even had her laughing hysterically and telling her entertained friends. I won’t relay the story here as, despite it not being particularly offensive or triggering, this website is still blocked from being linked to Facebook after three months for some reason, a situation I’m still trying to rectify. Add to this the fact that my personal Facebook account recently got a three-day ban when I posted an interesting article that contained an image of a naked statue and I get the feeling they may be as sensitive as some Canadian millennials. Anyway, I saw the woman telling her friends what had just happened so I passed the story on to Anna, who thought it was priceless, and I then took a photo of the room so I could remember. The woman working behind the bar didn’t care when I told Anna the story, but as soon as I let Darren in on the comical tale, she told me I was objectifying women, insisted I delete the photo, and that we leave. Okay, I guess we’ll just take our money back to The Moose. Never be more upset than the victim. Looking around different areas of Vancouver:

Walking through the city

An outdoor stadium opposite Rogers Arena

Now outside Rogers Arena

The Canucks Store

Someone has been stacking rocks for some reason

Panoramic shot across the water

A field of geese

Trump dog kennel

Trump and Putin dog toys

I think we’ll be checking that out

Looking back toward the city

Inside Granville Flea

Looking down on Granville Flea

A portion of dinner

The shuffleboard table, the picture from the bar I was allowed to keep

Monday, September 9, 2019 It was now our third day in Vancouver, yet we hadn’t really explored much of the area in which we were staying so the plan for Monday was to take it easy and look around our general vicinity, as well as the Gastown neighbourhood of Vancouver:

Gastown is the original settlement that became the core of the creation of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. Currently, it is a national historic site and a neighbourhood in the northwest end of Downtown Eastside, adjacent to Downtown Vancouver.

Gastown was Vancouver’s first downtown core and is named for “Gassy” Jack Deighton, a Yorkshire seaman, steamboat captain and barkeep who arrived in 1867 to open the area’s first saloon.

Gastown is a mix of “hip” contemporary fashion and interior furnishing boutiques, tourist-oriented businesses (generally restricted to Water Street), restaurants, nightclubs, poverty and newly upscale housing. In addition, there are law firms, architects and other professional offices, as well as computer and internet businesses, art galleries, music and art studios, and acting and film schools.

It was a great part of town, but the weather that day was terrible so we intermittently got stuck in bars and cafes while waiting for torrential downpours to cease. The rest of the time was spent shopping and eating, but after a while we began to notice a pattern; every time we entered any business we were always greeted by someone asking us if we had been there before. When we replied that we hadn’t, we would receive an answer of something to the extent of, “Oh, because we do things a little differently here” and then told what makes their store, cafe, bar, dispensary, etc. unique. Even the owner of the secondhand store that was selling, among other items, a pile of 8mm pornographic movies from the 1970s said something similar, but he had a valid point because I hadn’t encountered anything like that in real life before, even while I was volunteering in a New York City thrift store. Another interesting sight was the Gastown steam clock:

Gastown’s most famous (though nowhere near oldest) landmark is the steam-powered clock on the corner of Cambie and Water Street. It was built in 1977 to cover a steam grate, part of Vancouver’s distributed steam heating system, as a way to harness the steam and to prevent street people from sleeping on the spot in cold weather. Its original design was faulty and it had to be powered by electricity after a breakdown. The steam mechanism was completely restored with the financial support of local businesses as it had become a major tourist attraction, and is promoted as a heritage feature although it is of modern invention.

The steam used is low pressure downtown-wide steam heating network (from a plant adjacent to the Georgia Viaduct) that powers a miniature steam engine in its base, in turn driving a chain lift. The chain lift moves steel balls upward, where they are unloaded and roll to a descending chain. The weight of the balls on the descending chain drives a conventional pendulum clock escapement, geared to the hands on the four faces. The steam also powers the clock’s sound production, with whistles being used instead of bells to produce the Westminster “chime” and to signal the time.

We continued strolling around for the rest of the afternoon, including passing a pretty scary park in Downtown Eastside that contained the highest density of homeless people and junkies I had seen in a such a small area in all my life, and before long it was time for dinner. We went to a restaurant that had a great six-course tasting menu and it was fantastic, possibly because we had never been there before and they did things a little differently, but it would’ve been even better if we weren’t being constantly interrupted by a waitress who felt the need to keep asking us, “How’s everything tasting over here?” Once we had finished we went back to our room for an early night, but here’s a bit of what we saw that day:

The cafe that Anna had previously thought was a Mexican restaurant called “Hombre’s”

Anna having a bloody mary with brunch

Looking a little grim over the water

More like “probably”

I love the little trick pulled by the store behind the steam clock

A little background info on the term “Gassy”

A mural of stupid, sexy Flanders on a wall next to the pub where we got stranded

A shoe store used Nike Air Force 1s as vases

A statue of “Gassy Jack”

About the man himself

Clearing up toward the end of the day

Tuesday, September 10, 2019 Our last full day in Vancouver had come so we wanted to hit up a completely different part of town, but there was something else we wanted to try first; Japadog. Friends and relatives in Canada had been telling us all about how good these Japanese-style hotdogs are and there was a stand near our hotel so that was breakfast sorted. It was only a small stall so the full menu wasn’t available, but we were still happy with what was available and shared an okonomi dog and a spicy cheese terimayo dog, as well as pulled pork poutine, and all I can say is that if Japadog ever comes to Singapore, it wouldn’t take me long to get chubby again!

Mmmm, “Love Meat” (if you want to see the menu properly, just click here)

What we came away with

After we were done with the dogs our plan was to look around Granville Island, especially the Public Market:

In the 1970’s, Granville Island began its successful transformation from an industrial wasteland to one of the most beloved public spaces in Vancouver.

As Vancouver’s premier artistic and cultural hub, located in an urban, waterfront location and steeped in a rich industrial and maritime heritage, this unique destination attracts millions of visitors each year from Vancouver and around the world.

The charm of Granville Island lies in its unexpected mix of uses.  The famous Public Market, open daily from 9 am to 7 pm, is home to more than 50 independent food purveyors and contributes to the Island’s appeal as a renowned culinary destination. In the Net Loft Shops and Railspur District, many of Canada’s best artists and designers can be found. Granville Island is home to many cultural venues and hosts numerous performing arts and cultural festivals year-round.

Operationally self-sustaining, Granville Island is home to more than 300 businesses employing more than 3,000 people.

We walked down to the island (which is now technically a peninsula), entered the market, and spent a great deal of time going up and down the food aisles. Eventually we found Kaylin & Hobbs, a store that sold New York style pickles and anyone who knows me well would be aware of how much I love anything pickled. I started sampling a range of different pickles, eating as many free ones as I could, but it turned out to be honey mustard and the full sour pickles that I liked the best so I bought a jar of each. Even though not a lot of time had passed since we had had our Japadogs, seeing all of the great-looking food in the market was still making us hungry so we took a seat in the food court and ordered some oysters, a lobster, and some vegetables, me accidentally getting some lobster stuck to a window while trying to get it out of its shell.

When lunch was done we decided to catch a ferry back to the main part of town, taking a beautiful ride across the water. When we got off the boat we started to look around the nearby shops, even encountering a 24-year-old dog with the worst teeth in one store when it suddenly dawned on me — “Oh shit… I forgot the pickles.” Anna at first had a shocked look on her face, but that soon changed to one of amusement when it occured to her that this is kind of expected of me. She asked me if I wanted to go back and get them, but it was too much effort for a couple of jars of pickles, no matter how good they were. Instead, we just kept looking around at the stores before heading back to the hotel to pack in preparation for our flight the next day. When we had finished packing we went out for dinner and to enjoy our last night in Vancouver. We stopped at a couple of bars, but it occured to me that we were near one that had caught my eye the previous day in Gastown, an Irish pub called The Blarney Stone. You might be wondering why a simple Irish pub would stand out to me. Well, my favourite band, Ween, have a song called The Blarney Stone which sounds like it is being sung in a raucous pub in Dublin, however, it was a Tuesday night in Vancouver and this place wasn’t particularly busy, but we still had to stop by for a drink or two. A taste of our last day in Vancouver:

Looking over Granville Island and the market

Token panoramic shot

Entering the market

I could’ve happily spent the entire day sampling pickles

“One of each, please.”

Getting busier

About to have some oysters…

…and a lobster

The result of a lobster, not a sneeze

Catching the ferry back

Still going

Anna enjoying the ride

That’s one ugly dog

The sign out the front of The Blarney Stone

The Blarney Stone wasn’t as happening as I had hoped, but I still had to go on principle

We had to fly back out to France the next day so watch this space for the conclusion of this adventure when we spend some time in the small French village of Colmar and then a final couple of days in Paris again.

We loved Vancouver and its ridiculously friendly and polite citizens, but this part of our trip wasn’t about us, we wouldn’t have even been there if it weren’t for Kat and Robin’s wedding. Congratulations, guys, and we both wish you a lifetime of happiness together.

Traveling to Canada for a wedding and spending four days exploring Vancouver When I finished off my previous post Anna had been attending a conference in Paris and the two of us had been wandering around the city, exploring the catacombs, doing a lot of eating and shopping, all the while trying to avoid stepping in dog shit.

[biofunmy]

When Our Daughter Walked In on Us

One sunny Sunday morning, my husband and I were in bed, right in the middle of things, when he shouted and pulled the comforter over us. But it was too late: We’d been caught.

We don’t usually do it on top of the covers. My feet get cold and I like to feel all snuggled up. And the dog sleeps in our room and I don’t like him to see, so we usually stay under the sheets. But not that morning. That morning, my husband was feeling groovy.

Maybe because it was a Sunday and no one had to get Korean martial arts or soccer practice or even down the street for a guitar lesson. Maybe it was because we didn’t have to meet the tree trimmers for an estimate on how to save our birch tree that was dying because of the drought or let in the electrician to fix the broken kitchen light or take our daughter to urgent care for her swollen tonsils (that would be the following weekend).

So when my husband pulled me over and kissed me sweetly on the lips, and because I am 49 and sweaty — always so sweaty! — I kicked off the covers (the dog was still asleep).

We were having a great time until suddenly my husband shouted and threw his arm behind me to grab for the covers. I didn’t know what happened until he said, “She saw us.”

“What?’ I said. “Who?!”

“What do you mean, who?” he asked. “Our 13-year-old daughter, the only daughter currently residing in this house. She walked in and I saw her and believe me, she saw us.”

“No,” I screamed. “No! No! No! No! No!”

“Yes,” he said. “You’d better go talk to her.”

My mind frantically reviewed all possible options. “Let’s pretend this never happened,” I said to my husband. “I won’t say anything and you won’t say anything and she definitely won’t say anything — ”

“No,” he said. “You have to go talk to her.”

Why couldn’t he talk to her? But I knew why. She was probably dying of embarrassment and would never want to discuss this with her dad.

I’d been a sexuality educator for Planned Parenthood in college. I had a master’s degree in public health from Columbia. I’d had The Talk with my kids many times over the years. I could face my own daughter. It was no big deal. Sex is healthy and normal. Sex is a beautiful thing, especially between middle-aged married people.

I could explain what she’d seen. I just wished it could have been missionary; it would have been so much easier. But fine, I could do it.

“No problem,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, and by the way,” my husband added, “it was bad. I mean you might have been whispering some stuff when she walked in and you don’t whisper very quietly and — ”

“Shut up!” I said. “I get it!”

I went to talk to my daughter, but she was in the bathroom. I knocked on the door.

“I’m in the bathroom,” she said.

“I can see that,” I answered. “I want to talk to you.”

“Can we discuss this please?” I asked.

“No thanks,” she said. “I have no questions. I will never enter your room again without announcing my presence.”

I went back to my bedroom.

“Well?” my husband asked. I told him it went really well.

Later, I heard the clang of dishes and footsteps in the kitchen. I went to have a face-to-face with my daughter.

“Honey,” I started to say, but she cut me off.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Mom.” She poured herself some cereal. “Daaad,” she called, “It’s O.K. You can come out now. I’m not scarred for life or anything.”

I thought about the time, decades ago, when I walked in on my parents. My family was visiting my brother in his one-bedroom apartment in Atlanta. My brother let our parents stay in his room, and he and I were sleeping in the living room. The only bathroom in the apartment was through the bedroom. I got up late at night and went to the bathroom. When I came out, my parents were getting romantic.

What was I supposed to do? I flung myself across the bedroom to the safety of the living room. My brother was fast asleep on the couch. I was in college by then and I found the whole thing gross and unsettling.

With my three teenagers, we talk a lot about dating, relationships and how a long-term partnership lasts — we know that sex in a marriage is something to celebrate. But privately.

The day my husband and I were caught went by like any other day. My daughter walked the dog. My son went to a friend’s house. My oldest called from college to say she needed a microwave. We managed to raise three teenagers and had never been busted. Until that morning. And if not for perimenopause, at least we would have been under the covers like normal parents.

But I believed my daughter’s assurance that she was not scarred for life. She seemed unfazed by the whole thing. She turned down my offer to discuss The Incident, but when I told her I was writing about it, she read the essay and offered her own edits. I said, “Who are you? My daughter or my editor?” She just patted me on the arm and said, “It’s going to be O.K., Mom.”

Bottom line: She handled the whole thing way better than I did.

“I should have knocked,” she said. My husband nodded and said, “I guess you should have knocked.”

Next time, I bet she will.

Robin Finn is the founder of the L.A.-based writing course Heart. Soul. Pen., and is working on a memoir.

Sahred From Source link Health

from WordPress http://bit.ly/2YUersK via IFTTT

[trendingnewsb]

5 Signs Hollywood Has No Idea How College Works

As Millennials are set to become the most educated generation in history, it has never been so important to properly prepare young folks for how college truly works. Which is harder than you might think, because Hollywood is constantly filling their smartypants heads with the wrong information. For example …

5

“The Dean” Is In Charge Of So Much Less Than Movies Think

Ah, the dean — the end-of-level boss any fun-loving college kid has to deal with at some point in their education. But are they really gods on campus, Judge-Dredd-like adjudicators who wield absolute power over the lives of their students, kicking them out for the slightest infraction / date rape?

In Monsters University, Mike and Sully are immediately expelled by Dean Hardscrabble for their spooky hijinks without so much as a tribunal or a conversation with the university president.

Disney/Pixar And they become the best scarers, so college degrees are basically meaningless.

In Animal House, whenever one of the Deltas’ “pranks” goes awry, it’s always Dean Wormer who arrives to deal with the situation.

“Hey, why are you going over our grades with us instead of our academic advisors?”

The dean in Necessary Roughness is in the process of shutting down the football program of a major college, which would be a feat slightly more impressive than teleporting the entire school to another dimension. Hell, the dean in Patch Adams has the power to punish Robin Williams merely for being too happy.

Read Next

Affleck Seems To Think It's Ok To Joke About Harassment Now

But in reality, the power of these administrators isn’t that big of a deal, mostly because there are so. Many. Deans. The title of dean is often honorary, and deanships come with so few actual responsibilities that schools hand them out like particularly easy scout badges to their senior staff members. In plenty of colleges, there are now deans for every silly department. In real life, if a club/frat/sorority was doing dangerous or stupid stuff, they’d probably have to deal directly with a faculty advisor, who would then probably report to some kind of designated disciplinary group, who would probably then report to some other board. Even worse, there are real deans out there who hate that they’re now deans instead of professors, because they’re totally unable to do anything they wanted to. The red tape they thought a dean could clip had more red tape behind it. So sure, don’t fuck around with a dean, but mostly because they’re likely miserable enough already.

4

These Days, Everybody Can Get Into College

According to Hollywood, the first major hurdle a college kid faces happens long before their first keg stand: admission. Waiting on the envelopes that decide your future can be so nerve-wracking! The tension! The drama! The disappointments and triumphs! Of course, it wouldn’t be as dramatic if those kids could simply turn to one of a hundred other colleges that are sure to accept them — which is exactly what they can do in reality.

Getting into college has literally never been easier in the entire history of higher education. By some estimates, there are up to 44 percent more seats available for every student who wants to go to college in the United States. Sure, it’s still a total crapshoot to get into prestigious universities like Harvard or Yale. But that pretty decent college two blocks down from your favorite Burger King? Walk in with a credit card, and you get as much learning as your brain can handle.

So consider the lead in Accepted, who, thanks to his straight-C average, is unable to get in anywhere, and thus constructs an entire fake school in order to fool his parents — a ruse which includes completely renovating an abandoned hospital(!!). The movie is set in Ohio, which has a number of schools that would probably happily take our poor hero. For example, there’s the nearby University of Akron, which has a 97 percent acceptance rate.

Universal Pictures Which is even more shocking when you consider that 5 percent of all applications are nothing but feces smeared on the form.

Glee is another show set in Ohio that bafflingly overlooks this. At one point, state-championship-winning quarterback and glee club leader Finn has a chance to play a football game in front of a scout from Ohio State, but his chances of wooing the school fall through when the scout ends up much more enamored of another player. So instead of accepting an almost guaranteed spot at a large number of Mid American Conference schools (or even Division II or III colleges in Ohio, including football powerhouse Mount Union), Finn gives up on the idea of college altogether and joins the Army, where he poetically winds up shooting himself in the foot.

Pfft, name one current pro player who went to a MAC school besides those 74.

3

A Fancypants Letter Of Recommendation Doesn’t Mean A Damn Thing

When it comes to letters of recommendation, Hollywood seems to think that colleges have the same mentality as a street gang — the only way you get in is if someone cool vouches for you (also, if you want to get into Harvard, you need to kill a snitch while the dean of admissions watches). A letter of recommendation is a guaranteed way to stand out from all the other applicants. Unfortunately, because Hollywood has convinced everyone it’s so important, it no longer is.

Partially as a result of too many misleading TV plots, the recommendation letter market has become completely saturated. Many colleges now receive thousands of letters a year. It’s nuts. This is especially the case for the Ivy League, where every other kid’s dad is golf buddies with someone in the Fortune 500. In 2017, a former Dartmouth admissions counselor admitted that even letters of recommendation from former presidents and olympians all blur together after a while. In fact, the one that’s made the most difference was from a school custodian whom a student had become friends with.

So why does Hannah Montana’s older brother Jackson feel the need to slave away for his next-door neighbor? He wants a recommendation letter, and ends up giving his neighbor massages and pedicures and doing his laundry. Even their dad gets dragged into it, forced to go on a date with the neighbor’s obnoxious sister. In the end, Jackson rips up the recommendation letter, which in reality would alter his chances of getting in about as much as ripping up the college janitor’s second napkin while he’s eating at Quizno’s.

And it’s not like Hollywood writers seem unaware of how pointless these letters are, given how often they let their characters fuck them up to make a point. When Doogie Howser has to write a recommendation letter for his best friend Vinnie, he winds up screwing him over by badmouthing his achievements. This doesn’t (as Hollywood tells us) destroy their friendship and Vinnie’s future, but happily teaches Dougie a lesson in friendship. Meanwhile, Me And Earl And The Dying Girl ends with the titular dying girl posthumously explaining in a recommendation letter to a film school why the titular “Me” had missed so much school — to hang out with her, a dying girl. If terminally ill people could guilt NYU into accepting C-students, a lot more Make-A-Wish kids would receive bribes to write recommendation letters.

2

Parents Are Going Back To School Alongside Their Kids, But It Ain’t For Wacky Shenanigans

Yet another hilarious plot device! Dad moves into college with his son, they get closer than they thought they would, and hilarity ensues despite the implication that the “adult” in this situation seemingly has nowhere else to go. Surprisingly, Hollywood kinda gets tidbits correct here and there on this subject — it just completely misses the point of second chance education.

In An Extremely Goofy Movie, our ol’ pal Goofy loses his job and finds out that he needs to go back to college in order to reenter the workforce. Forget about the fact that he was more or less a line worker in a factory; it sets up the entire central conflict that both Goofy and his son Max have a lot of learnin’ to do about each other.

Over in Arrested Development, Michael Bluth chooses to move in with his son George Michael at Cal while attending the University of Phoenix online. The forced close proximity that the duo used to value when living in the attic of the model home has now become a point of tension in their lives.

So the reality is somewhere in between. Parents are now taking more unique routes to further their education, be it part-time evening classes at a local college, or online classes, or even specialized certificate programs. They’re going back to school at higher rates than ever before. What they’re not doing is making much of an attempt to get into wacky shenanigans with their kids. They’re goddamned serious about this education stuff, with plenty of college kids pointing out that their parents are often working harder in classes than they are.

Weirdly enough, a number of parents are going back to school so that they’ll be better equipped to help their kids with homework. Math is hard, guys.

1

You Can’t Get Randomly Hired As A Professor

Being a college professor must be a sweet gig, right? You work few hours and earn crazy amounts of money, and if you land tenure, you’d have to set a student on fire before you could get fired. So it makes sense that a bunch of smartypants protagonists get to become professors at the end of their stories, retiring from hijinks to inspire the next generation of all-white genius heroes.

This happens to sort-of-alright architect Ted Mosby. After losing his job, as a consolation prize for being stood up at the altar, his love rival pulls a few strings and gets Ted a position teaching architecture at Columbia University. Columbia University. Because he knows a guy who knows a guy. We’re not even entirely sure Ted has more than a bachelor’s degree.

In the penultimate episode of Girls, after fans have spent an entire season worrying about her future, Hannah gets also gets this last-minute parachute thrown at her. Thanks to her being a “hot shot” writer, a cool upstate New York college has offered Hannah a job teaching “the internet” to kids who were probably contributing to BuzzFeed before she even figured out how to pick another background for her WordPress blog. Still, the job is steady (with benefits, she proudly exclaims), and will allow her to amply provide for herself and her newborn infant. We know people want their characters to get happy endings, but this is about as believable as Hannah becoming god empress of Mars because the head of NASA liked one of her tweets.

In real life, random goobers have a precisely zero percent chance of being given a steady gig teaching college. Becoming a professor is a difficult and costly process. Almost every position in academia goes to PhD graduates who have spent their entire education desperately trying to make sure they’d never have to look for a job in the real world. And if their discipline is in the humanities (as it is with writer Hannah and architect Ted), even a doctorate only gives these nerds about a 50/50 chance of landing a job in academia.

But even taking into account sitcom characters’ leprechaun levels of luck, wanting to get into teaching college isn’t that good of a career move. Starting professors make little over poverty wages, get no health benefits, and their job longevity is worse than that of a Bond villain. There’s no stumbling into that bad a deal; you have to be really committed to not wanting to become a Starbucks barista.

Isaac is still way too proud of his college degree. Follow him on Twitter.

You probably think we’re going to just link to that college sweater from Animal House and we just did, BUT you could really use a 6-pack of air freshener if you’re in a dorm. Thank us later!

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Or sign up for our Subscription Service for exclusive content, an ad-free experience, and more.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2mmDENu

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2AZ0xwB via Viral News HQ

[trendingnewsb]

5 Signs Hollywood Has No Idea How College Works

As Millennials are set to become the most educated generation in history, it has never been so important to properly prepare young folks for how college truly works. Which is harder than you might think, because Hollywood is constantly filling their smartypants heads with the wrong information. For example …

5

“The Dean” Is In Charge Of So Much Less Than Movies Think

Ah, the dean — the end-of-level boss any fun-loving college kid has to deal with at some point in their education. But are they really gods on campus, Judge-Dredd-like adjudicators who wield absolute power over the lives of their students, kicking them out for the slightest infraction / date rape?

In Monsters University, Mike and Sully are immediately expelled by Dean Hardscrabble for their spooky hijinks without so much as a tribunal or a conversation with the university president.

Disney/Pixar And they become the best scarers, so college degrees are basically meaningless.

In Animal House, whenever one of the Deltas’ “pranks” goes awry, it’s always Dean Wormer who arrives to deal with the situation.

“Hey, why are you going over our grades with us instead of our academic advisors?”

The dean in Necessary Roughness is in the process of shutting down the football program of a major college, which would be a feat slightly more impressive than teleporting the entire school to another dimension. Hell, the dean in Patch Adams has the power to punish Robin Williams merely for being too happy.

Read Next

Affleck Seems To Think It's Ok To Joke About Harassment Now

But in reality, the power of these administrators isn’t that big of a deal, mostly because there are so. Many. Deans. The title of dean is often honorary, and deanships come with so few actual responsibilities that schools hand them out like particularly easy scout badges to their senior staff members. In plenty of colleges, there are now deans for every silly department. In real life, if a club/frat/sorority was doing dangerous or stupid stuff, they’d probably have to deal directly with a faculty advisor, who would then probably report to some kind of designated disciplinary group, who would probably then report to some other board. Even worse, there are real deans out there who hate that they’re now deans instead of professors, because they’re totally unable to do anything they wanted to. The red tape they thought a dean could clip had more red tape behind it. So sure, don’t fuck around with a dean, but mostly because they’re likely miserable enough already.

4

These Days, Everybody Can Get Into College

According to Hollywood, the first major hurdle a college kid faces happens long before their first keg stand: admission. Waiting on the envelopes that decide your future can be so nerve-wracking! The tension! The drama! The disappointments and triumphs! Of course, it wouldn’t be as dramatic if those kids could simply turn to one of a hundred other colleges that are sure to accept them — which is exactly what they can do in reality.

Getting into college has literally never been easier in the entire history of higher education. By some estimates, there are up to 44 percent more seats available for every student who wants to go to college in the United States. Sure, it’s still a total crapshoot to get into prestigious universities like Harvard or Yale. But that pretty decent college two blocks down from your favorite Burger King? Walk in with a credit card, and you get as much learning as your brain can handle.

So consider the lead in Accepted, who, thanks to his straight-C average, is unable to get in anywhere, and thus constructs an entire fake school in order to fool his parents — a ruse which includes completely renovating an abandoned hospital(!!). The movie is set in Ohio, which has a number of schools that would probably happily take our poor hero. For example, there’s the nearby University of Akron, which has a 97 percent acceptance rate.

Universal Pictures Which is even more shocking when you consider that 5 percent of all applications are nothing but feces smeared on the form.

Glee is another show set in Ohio that bafflingly overlooks this. At one point, state-championship-winning quarterback and glee club leader Finn has a chance to play a football game in front of a scout from Ohio State, but his chances of wooing the school fall through when the scout ends up much more enamored of another player. So instead of accepting an almost guaranteed spot at a large number of Mid American Conference schools (or even Division II or III colleges in Ohio, including football powerhouse Mount Union), Finn gives up on the idea of college altogether and joins the Army, where he poetically winds up shooting himself in the foot.

Pfft, name one current pro player who went to a MAC school besides those 74.

3

A Fancypants Letter Of Recommendation Doesn’t Mean A Damn Thing

When it comes to letters of recommendation, Hollywood seems to think that colleges have the same mentality as a street gang — the only way you get in is if someone cool vouches for you (also, if you want to get into Harvard, you need to kill a snitch while the dean of admissions watches). A letter of recommendation is a guaranteed way to stand out from all the other applicants. Unfortunately, because Hollywood has convinced everyone it’s so important, it no longer is.

Partially as a result of too many misleading TV plots, the recommendation letter market has become completely saturated. Many colleges now receive thousands of letters a year. It’s nuts. This is especially the case for the Ivy League, where every other kid’s dad is golf buddies with someone in the Fortune 500. In 2017, a former Dartmouth admissions counselor admitted that even letters of recommendation from former presidents and olympians all blur together after a while. In fact, the one that’s made the most difference was from a school custodian whom a student had become friends with.

So why does Hannah Montana’s older brother Jackson feel the need to slave away for his next-door neighbor? He wants a recommendation letter, and ends up giving his neighbor massages and pedicures and doing his laundry. Even their dad gets dragged into it, forced to go on a date with the neighbor’s obnoxious sister. In the end, Jackson rips up the recommendation letter, which in reality would alter his chances of getting in about as much as ripping up the college janitor’s second napkin while he’s eating at Quizno’s.

And it’s not like Hollywood writers seem unaware of how pointless these letters are, given how often they let their characters fuck them up to make a point. When Doogie Howser has to write a recommendation letter for his best friend Vinnie, he winds up screwing him over by badmouthing his achievements. This doesn’t (as Hollywood tells us) destroy their friendship and Vinnie’s future, but happily teaches Dougie a lesson in friendship. Meanwhile, Me And Earl And The Dying Girl ends with the titular dying girl posthumously explaining in a recommendation letter to a film school why the titular “Me” had missed so much school — to hang out with her, a dying girl. If terminally ill people could guilt NYU into accepting C-students, a lot more Make-A-Wish kids would receive bribes to write recommendation letters.

2

Parents Are Going Back To School Alongside Their Kids, But It Ain’t For Wacky Shenanigans

Yet another hilarious plot device! Dad moves into college with his son, they get closer than they thought they would, and hilarity ensues despite the implication that the “adult” in this situation seemingly has nowhere else to go. Surprisingly, Hollywood kinda gets tidbits correct here and there on this subject — it just completely misses the point of second chance education.

In An Extremely Goofy Movie, our ol’ pal Goofy loses his job and finds out that he needs to go back to college in order to reenter the workforce. Forget about the fact that he was more or less a line worker in a factory; it sets up the entire central conflict that both Goofy and his son Max have a lot of learnin’ to do about each other.

Over in Arrested Development, Michael Bluth chooses to move in with his son George Michael at Cal while attending the University of Phoenix online. The forced close proximity that the duo used to value when living in the attic of the model home has now become a point of tension in their lives.

So the reality is somewhere in between. Parents are now taking more unique routes to further their education, be it part-time evening classes at a local college, or online classes, or even specialized certificate programs. They’re going back to school at higher rates than ever before. What they’re not doing is making much of an attempt to get into wacky shenanigans with their kids. They’re goddamned serious about this education stuff, with plenty of college kids pointing out that their parents are often working harder in classes than they are.

Weirdly enough, a number of parents are going back to school so that they’ll be better equipped to help their kids with homework. Math is hard, guys.

1

You Can’t Get Randomly Hired As A Professor

Being a college professor must be a sweet gig, right? You work few hours and earn crazy amounts of money, and if you land tenure, you’d have to set a student on fire before you could get fired. So it makes sense that a bunch of smartypants protagonists get to become professors at the end of their stories, retiring from hijinks to inspire the next generation of all-white genius heroes.

This happens to sort-of-alright architect Ted Mosby. After losing his job, as a consolation prize for being stood up at the altar, his love rival pulls a few strings and gets Ted a position teaching architecture at Columbia University. Columbia University. Because he knows a guy who knows a guy. We’re not even entirely sure Ted has more than a bachelor’s degree.

In the penultimate episode of Girls, after fans have spent an entire season worrying about her future, Hannah gets also gets this last-minute parachute thrown at her. Thanks to her being a “hot shot” writer, a cool upstate New York college has offered Hannah a job teaching “the internet” to kids who were probably contributing to BuzzFeed before she even figured out how to pick another background for her WordPress blog. Still, the job is steady (with benefits, she proudly exclaims), and will allow her to amply provide for herself and her newborn infant. We know people want their characters to get happy endings, but this is about as believable as Hannah becoming god empress of Mars because the head of NASA liked one of her tweets.

In real life, random goobers have a precisely zero percent chance of being given a steady gig teaching college. Becoming a professor is a difficult and costly process. Almost every position in academia goes to PhD graduates who have spent their entire education desperately trying to make sure they’d never have to look for a job in the real world. And if their discipline is in the humanities (as it is with writer Hannah and architect Ted), even a doctorate only gives these nerds about a 50/50 chance of landing a job in academia.

But even taking into account sitcom characters’ leprechaun levels of luck, wanting to get into teaching college isn’t that good of a career move. Starting professors make little over poverty wages, get no health benefits, and their job longevity is worse than that of a Bond villain. There’s no stumbling into that bad a deal; you have to be really committed to not wanting to become a Starbucks barista.

Isaac is still way too proud of his college degree. Follow him on Twitter.

You probably think we’re going to just link to that college sweater from Animal House and we just did, BUT you could really use a 6-pack of air freshener if you’re in a dorm. Thank us later!

If you loved this article and want more content like this, support our site with a visit to our Contribution Page. Or sign up for our Subscription Service for exclusive content, an ad-free experience, and more.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2mmDENu

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2AZ0xwB via Viral News HQ