#i want a high GPA this time or i will pose my mind

[nkogneatho]

good morning everyone. it's time to cosplay as an adult who has their shit together

[acanvasofabillionsuns]

hi sorry squirreling away all the quotes i like here

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?" Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right. It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be.  "Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game." Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it." He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out." "Famous last words."

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.” “Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?” “Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.” “Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.” Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.” “And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.” “Right.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.” “Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?” “Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.” Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about. It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-” See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit. “I know, like Barbie.” That shuts Dustin up real quick.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place.

The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'" "What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face. "Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again. "There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles. "What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab. "'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'" "And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks. "'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'" "What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat. "Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face. "'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

y'know like barbie

ao3

It's Erica who gives him the idea, incidentally. Though she carries herself with a maturity that far surpasses the boys most days and though she's been through multiple life altering events, she does continue to only be eleven. Which is, it turns out, prime babysitting age.

The Sinclairs are going out of town overnight, it's their anniversary -- 18 blissful years, since our marriage can vote we thought we deserved a night away -- and they don't want Erica to spend the night home alone.

Enter Steve, who the Sinclairs trust with their children and who is inexplicably the only person Erica would accept staying the night with her. Steve honestly didn't believe it even as Mrs. Sinclair was saying it. But he smiles and nods, looks over the emergency numbers on the fridge when they're pointed to, nods at the money on the counter for food that he probably won't take, and waves as they walk out the door promising that he and Erica will be fine for the night and not to worry.

It's only when their car is out of the driveway and the door is shut that Steve realizes he isn't really a babysitter. He is a keep children alive while in a dangerous situation and when the situation is over drive them around because you feel bad that their childhoods have been marred by trauma-er which doesn't have quite the same ring as babysitter, and it's a lot harder to say with that rude tone the boys have been favoring. He also realizes that he's never actually dealt with children, or not girl children. The boys had all been older than Erica, when he had started keeping them alive. Max was definitely basically a teenager when he started really dealing with her; and she was usually okay to do what the boys wanted to do, like go to the arcade. Hopper didn't really trust him with El and that was fine, he wasn't sure he trusted himself with El either.

It put him in an awkward spot now though. Staring at Erica in her kitchen, a little afraid to ask the question on the front of his mind which was "What now?"

So he asks the second question on his mind, "What do you want to do that isn't eat ice cream all night?"

Say what you will about Steve Harrington, and a lot has been said, but he always keeps his promises and he always brings a pint of ice-cream for Erica to have when he comes over to the Sinclair house. Tonight he brought three, all different weird flavors he thought she'd like to try.

"Why can't I eat ice cream all night?" She says it with a challenge in her eyes, but he'd bet dollars to donuts that she's just doing it to make him sweat. "Because I've seen you eat ice cream, we've only got enough for two hours at most." His hand migrates as if of its own mind to his hip. "You need more than two people for Dungeons and Dragons, right?"

Her brows raise, for the first time since he's met her Erica Sinclair is stunned silent. Maybe she's just surprised he got the name right.

It lasts about as long as it takes him to notice it. "You'd play Dungeons and Dragons with me?" There's something fragile in the way she asks, and there is the eleven year old girl she's meant to be. 

"Sure, you'd have to show me how, but if that's what you want to do I'm game."

Eyes narrowed in a distinctly intimidating way he kind of thinks she stole from Nancy, he does his best to make his sincerity clear on his face. "We need more than two people, but I've got something else we can do if you think your fragile manhood can take it."

He's got a retort at the tip of his tongue about just what his manhood can take and remembers just in time that yeah probably shouldn't make a joke like that in front of an actual child. "My pride isn't that delicate, I think I can handle anything you dish out."

"Famous last words."

He follows her to her bedroom, waiting outside the doorway to let her space stay private until he's told to come in. A clear plastic tub slides out from under her bed, out of sight but easily accessible and when the lid pops off he gets why. Rows of Barbies stacked neatly on top of each other, a mass grave for childhood. Steve has a stuffed bear, fur rubbed off of one ear, tucked up on the shelf of his closet that also got put away sooner than he would have chosen to, when it was too babyish.

“Alright, so who is the, like, elven warrior.”

“That’s not how you play Barbies.”

It’s snapped so fast that he thinks it embarasses her. He tactfully avoids eye contact, pulling out a doll with blonde hair snipped into a professional, if uneven, bob and a green skirt set. She's missing a shoe. “Then how do I play Barbies?”

“That one just won the Nobel Peace Prize, she solved world hunger, but she has plans to kill the Barbie who won the prize in Physics because she stole Barbie One’s research and gave it to NASA claiming it was her own.”

“Right, of course.” This was the kind of shit that happened on Dallas, only Barbie had a lot more awards. “And they’re all called Barbie?”

“Except for Ken, but Ken doesn’t do anything.”

“Well if Barbie just won the Peace Prize wouldn’t she use Ken to kill Barbie so she doesn’t get caught.”

Erica manages a look that is both condescending and considerate. “Barbie can do anything, including get away with murder; but she wouldn’t want to dirty her hands with that sort of thing.”

“And if Ken goes to jail it’s no loss.”

“Right.”

-

So maybe it's more accurate to say that Dustin actually starts it.

Dustin with the shittiest attitude this side of the Ohio, something Robin blames him for.

“Like father, like son.”

“Dustin doesn’t even know his dad.”

“I mean you and Eddie, dingus.”

“I am not that kid's dad. A brotherly figure at best, strong male role model more likely.”

“He’s a bitch because you are, Steve. Maybe if your and Eddie’s love language wasn’t being as bitchy as possible it wouldn’t have rubbed off on your kid.”

“Please don’t put Dustin and rubbing off in the same paragraph let alone the same thought wave.”

Dustin comes sprinting into Family Video on a Tuesday afternoon. “Steve! I need your car.”

“Did you learn how to drive when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Obviously, I meant I need you too.” His hands are on his hips, eyes rolled. Shit maybe he did get it from Steve. “There’s this theoretical physicist coming to Notre Dame to give a talk on the Multiverse Theory.”

Steve was allowing himself a second to consider whether this was worth it, for once, instead of just blindly agreeing to drive Dustin wherever. The drive sucked ass, but it would put him close enough to Chicago that he could try to find a music store that would carry albums from the international metal bands Eddie couldn’t stop talking about.

It was a second too long for Dustin. “Steve, a theoretical physicist-”

See Steve had this suspicion that the kids did actually think he was an idiot. He was pretty sure that none of them, hell maybe none of Hellfire, save for Lucas realized that every athlete in the school had to keep up at least a 2.5 GPA. Which might not have been anything to write home about but Steve kept a 3.2 for most of high school, until the multiple concussions started to catch up with him. He wasn’t stupid, was the point and even if they didn’t think he was an idiot in a mean way he was a little sick of the shit.

“I know, like Barbie.”

That shuts Dustin up real quick.

“N- no, not like Barbie! Barbie is some girl's toy.”

“Excuse me?” Robin, who told Steve that she would not help him parent his children on work days or any other day ending in y had remembered that Martes doesn’t have one and her shift was almost over. “What does that mean, exactly, a girl’s toy?”

“And,” Steve adds, because he can and because Eddie made him drive him to fucking Bloomington because he was fixated on time travel and needed access to some science journal that only existed at Indiana U apparently, “Barbie is on a research team looking for the Higgs particle so she can start figuring out time travel.”

The bell chiming as Dustin leaves has never sounded sweeter.

He’ll definitely end up taking the twerp to stupid Notre Dame.

-

The thing is that Steve thinks he’s never really stopped being a bitch.

He doesn’t want to stop. He likes being bitchy. It’s fun, when you’re doing it with people you like it’s pretty funny, and honestly he’s kinda like Spiderman. With great power comes great responsibility, he’s only bitchy responsibly now.

And it’s actually perfectly responsible as an older brother type babysitter figure to correct the behavior of the younger siblings by being bitchy. If they don’t learn at home they’ll go out in the world thinking that kind of behavior is acceptable, see Steve Harrington in his early high school days who talked to people like his father did.

So when Mike interrupts El with, “I’m not going to ask Steve, he probably doesn’t even know what a Pulitzer is either.”

He says, “Oh, yeah like Barbie won. Or Nancy will someday, probably. It’s a journalism award, Wheeler.”

And when Lucas corrects, “I don’t actually think you can win an award for comics. It’s still really great though, Will!”

“Barbie won the Kirby Award in 1985 for best artist, I’m sure Will is soon to follow.”

Or when Nancy tells Holly, “Are you sure you wouldn’t want to be something important instead?”

“You could be an actress and do something cool like go to space if you want, Hols, like Barbie.” And maybe he says it with a little more bitch than he should that time, but he’s seen the ballerinas in Nancy’s room, she didn’t always want to be an investigative journalist.

It gets to be second nature. When someone starts being shitty about something or to lighten the mood.

Erica doubts whether she should run for student council. It's her first step to being actual president, like Barbie.

Dustin makes a crack about Steve's possible future prospects when he butts in on a conversation between Steve and Robin. "I could do all three, I could be a counselor and a hair stylist and an engineer. Maybe I'll add EMT too, Barbie wouldn't stop at three, why should I?"

Or when Mike sneers at him, "What are you a cop?" All because Steve told him not to buy weed now that Eddie had stopped dealing.

"Ew, no, because you look like a fresh-faced little narc trying to be cool and you're gonna get ripped off."

"What so not like Barbie?"

"The Barbie world has achieved equality at a level that it doesn't need the cops." Eddie sometimes has to get high after a run in with Powell or Calahan who he still doesn't really trust after the spring. Steve has been treated to many a lecture on why the police were a waste of resources.

He lets Mike sit with that for a minute before he adds, "Like Barbie, I am very cool and know what it looks like when I'm being taken for a ride. If you're gonna get pot from someone other than Eddie, ask Hop where he used to get all of his shit."

It doesn't feel stupid, until El comes running into the cabin one afternoon that Steve has decided to join the rebuilding effort. It’s actually just him and Hop, who has started trying to quietly parent him, something he’s not entirely convinced isn’t revenge for telling Wheeler that Hop has smoked pot before. Steve is pretty sure El was crying when she came in, something he bumps up to a certainty when he sees how awkward Hop looks right now.

“You mind taking that kid? It’s been a long time since high school.” he rubs the back of his neck, Steve does appreciate that he has the decency to feel weird about asking. “If it’s anything outside of big brother shit I can take over.”

He does let himself get suckered by that big brother line.

El is facedown on her bed in a clear ‘leave me alone I’m crying’ pose but he figures he’s already here it’s not like he can turn around and tell Hop that he was too afraid to approach a crying teenage girl. Like that wasn’t the whole reason he’d been sent in the first place. “Hey Ellie, can I come in?”

She sits up, tear tracks plain on her face but no more are falling, and nods in that endearing, aggressively certain way she’s got. “Is everything okay?” He pauses and asks, “Was it Mike?” because he knows that’ll be the first thing Hopper asks when Steve comes back out.

“You are worse than Dad.”

“That stings, Ellie Bell.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling an already impressive will, “Lucas says it is okay to just want to be happy right now, but all they talk about is what they are going to do. Dustin is talking about going to admission early, Will talks about talking to Dad and Joyce about art school, Lucas worries about his sports and scholarships, and Mike talks about classes that count twice. I do not know what I want to be. I do not know why I have to be anything.”

“You guys have been through a lot. I don’t think anyone would blame you for taking time to just be a kid.”

“What if I never want to be something? What if I do not ever want to go to college?”

He’s made his way over to the bed with her, sits tentatively on the edge like he’s seen Joyce do before. “Then you don’t. You’ll probably have to get a job at some point, but that doesn’t have to be what you are. Lucas isn’t a landscaper just because he mows lawns in the summer.”

“You don’t think Dad would be upset?” she asks.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would really make Hop mad. And you might change your mind. I've been out of school for almost two years and I’m only thinking about college now. Or you could go to college and change your mind about what you want to be. You could be a hundred things, you could be anything! Like Barbie.”

He feels like an idiot almost immediately. A jerk quickly after that. He’s made El’s genuine crisis part of his stupid running joke. But something settles in the room. The underlying tension, the thing that had the hair on the back of his neck raised. He realizes, now, that her powers had probably also been on edge.

"Like Barbie." She says it with a graven seriousness, like Steve's dumb little joke is a mantra now.

"Yeah, and you're a sophomore you don't have to have your whole life figured out right now. And don't take life advice from Henderson anyway, he thought it was a good idea to raise an Upside Down slug as a pet."

He mostly just used it to be a bitch though. Because it was fun. No, it was what he was good at. So good at it he didn't even have to try.

Because Steve had a plan to be bitchy. Specifically to Mike Wheeler who kept flirting with Steve’s boyfriend while taking advantage of his hospitality. Sure it was at their stupid Dungeons and Dragons game, and yeah Steve was the one who said they could host the game at his house now that Eddie had graduated. Yes, he knew Eddie didn't mean anything by it when he responded and usually didn't flirt back with the kids. But it was still the kind of behavior that had to be gently corrected, for Mike's sake because if he didn't stop things were going to get drastic.

His initial plan is already in action. He encouraged El to come along to watch the Party play. It was, admittedly, a half hearted plan. Wheeler got so awkward anytime El was around he mostly just hoped that would keep him from trying anything.

It isn't. Eddie starts to describe a new character, "Blonde and statuesque, she has a long bow in hand and delicate elven features."

And even though El is sitting a few feet from him Mike perks up the way he always does when there's a new NPC to flirt with. He is going to have to have a talk with Eddie about letting the kid try out a bard.

He does at least have one other tool in his belt. "Oh, like Barbie."

Steve knew what he'd get as he said it. A groan from Dustin, who falls for this as being sincere about as often as he falls for the dumb-dumbs and dipshits line -- which is everytime for the record. Will and Lucas keep their laughs small, enough that they're covered by Erica's snort. The original Hellfire crew mostly looks confused, it's becoming less and less their default as they warm up to the Steve he is rather than the Steve they thought they remembered; but he likes to keep them on their toes.

Eddie is charmed. He can tell. Sees him duck his head behind his screen and his binders, trying to preserve the stern and scary dungeon master image. That apparently isn't possible if you're smiling like an idiot at your stupid boyfriend, so he's been told.

And Mike has maybe been on the wrong end of the joke a few more times than everyone else. He turns an interesting shade of red, two parts anger and one part embarrassed is Steve's guess. The foot stomp is unexpected, but he expects its been passed down the Wheeler line as a shared signal of outrage. "Not like Barbie, this isn't some stupid kids game. She's probably a hot, wisened archer ready to reward us for helping her village, not some stupid doll that you're obsessed with."

Eddie's blank face with the twitchy eyes has fallen into place when he sits back up from behind his screen. His things aren't going according to plan, panicked face. "I think that's a good place to end things this week. Wheeler, Henderson, Jeff, and Lady Applejack you've all cleared enough experience to level right? Do that before next week."

Steve knows enough to keep his mouth shut while everyone packs up to leave. Sends a small smile to Erica on her way out to the family minivan, he knows she struggles a little being the youngest at the table even if she won't say it. He has to imagine that the outburst had stung a bit.

"You gotta be nicer to little Wheeler." Eddie chides once everyone is gone, halfhearted at best when he's telling Steve off into the soft skin of his neck. When he feels the admonishment more than hears it.

"I'm not mean to Mike." He says on instinct, he does try not to be. "And he started it."

"Definitely think you started the Barbie thing, Sweetheart."

And well, yeah. "I Barbie all the kids equally."

Eddie hmms Steve can feel the vibration of it through his back and on his neck. Eddie is about to start something he better plan on finishing. "He asked Hop where he should get weed."

Oh. "I didn't think he'd actually do it!" And then, "Is that why he keeps flirting with you, revenge?"

"No, he's got a bunch of misplaced jealousy because Will and the girls think you're hot." He toys with the edge of Steve's shirt as he says it. Perpetually cold fingers brushing the clothes warmed skin beneath making him shiver.

"The girls don't think I'm hot."

He hums again, nips at the blush red skin at Steve's neck. "El used to, Max definitely has a taste for jock.

"That's not my fault, you let Mike play a bard." He wishes he didn't sound so desperate.

"Wanted to leave the Paladin spot open for you, baby."

"I'm starting to feel convinced, we could go upstairs and you could show me your character sheet."

The things he'll say to get laid.

"Don't think I can do that Stevie, smooth as a Ken doll down there. Could show you the actual character sheet though." 

His back is cold as Eddie pulls away, smirking unrepentant as he lets Steve have the tiniest taste of his own medicine.

"Barbie has a very active sex life, actually." He's never been one not to double down. "Let me show you the fun we can have without getting your dick out."

-

He does leave it alone for a little while, even though he really, really doesn't want to. But despite what his friends, his fifth grade report card, and his mom might think; Steve is capable of keeping a hold of his worst impulses when he wants to.

So he lets opportunity pass him by.

He makes no comment about Barbie when Eddie talks about how John Carpenter is a film auteur. Not even when Dustin tries to define auteur for him. Incorrectly, but Robin comes to Steve's defense.

Barbie goes unmentioned, barely when an argument breaks out about Nobel prize winners, of all things. He thinks the kids argue more now than they ever have like it's the only way they have to get their bloodlust out now that the Upside Down was closed. He was quickly boxed out of the conversation, even if Erica kept sending him little glances over everyone's heads. (She'd let him have Peace Prize Barbie a couple weeks ago and maybe he was a little obsessed.)

Holly wants to be a vet now, a singing vet who is also on TV, but mostly a vet. She tells him all about it while he waits for Mike to find his shoes? Definitely not his quarters for the arcade, the day any of them bring those is the day Steve brings the nail bat back out. He’s one impulse purchase away from getting one of those little coin dispenser belts that the employees have -- Gareth just quit, maybe he still had his? Mike's frown is a little less general annoyance at Steve and a little more confusion when he's finally ready to leave and Barbie has gone unmentioned.

He almost breaks again when Eddie starts talking about sports. Or he starts talking about NASCAR which is close enough for Eddie, he has a surprising taste for racing for someone who never wanted to put his van on the starting line at parties. A woman led a Busch Series race for the first time, what a year '86. He's got no opinion on Barbie's ability to drive at all.

He could let a joke go. He could be nice. It wasn't so out of character that it needed this kind of attention.

-

Mike has forgiven him by the time the next session rolls around. Delayed two weeks after Eddie screamed so loud on stage that he couldn't speak for two days, and then again for Jeff's emergency appendectomy. Eddie has stopped leaving pointed gaps in conversation for Steve to fill with mention of Barbie, he has had his thinking face on instead which is good for Steve about as often as it isn't.

He leaves it alone. A little bit of non-life threatening surprise is good for the soul, or something. Listen, he’s made it this far by only asking questions when shit is about to get really, really bad and Eddie’s thinking face has only resulted in something bad once or twice -- and they probably should have spent more than a couple minutes negotiating that particular kink anyway.

When the kids start showing up and nothing has come from the thinking face, he assumes it was just for them anyway. He settles in to see whatever shit Eddie is going to do.

"From the ditch you pull a human man, a paladin. His plate is dirtied by his time on the ground but clearly gleams in its typical state. He's handsome, a square jaw and fluffy brown hair-"

"Ugh is this Steve? You already made us do a quest for him," Mike complains, maybe he hasn’t completely forgiven Steve for that last interruption.

Steve has, by his own count been the inspiration for at least three NPCs for this campaign: a white light faction rogue, Sol, that the party had to rescue from the dungeons of the nightmare King after he was caught sneaking into the bedrooms of the prince -- like it was Steve's fault that Wayne had super hearing; a young fighter from the gladiatorial combat ring who helped the party rescue a group of kidnapped children that were going to be used as bait in the next round of fights; and the most obvious Prince Stefan who sent the party on a quest to kill his betrothed a Duke called Thomas the Boarish and rescue his knight Rowen and beloved Bard Edwin -- it's not like he could unkiss Tommy, and he could be a dick but boarish was dramatic. 

He was not this paladin, assuming Eddie was telling the truth about saving the Paladin he'd made for Steve.

"Cut the out of character chatter, Michael, before it starts counting in game. The Paladin before you is handsome in a bland, approachable, non-threatening way," Mike opens his mouth again, how is that not like Steve surely perched at the edge of his tongue and stopped in its tracks by elbows from Erica and Joey. "He introduces himself to his rescuer, Will the Wise, 'Thank you, kind sir, I would have been down there for ages before my lady noticed my absence. I am Sir Kenneth.'"

"What deity does he serve?" Will asks, something suspicious drawing across his face.

"Is there a holy symbol on his armor?" Gareth follows up. Gareth has been backing a lot of Will's plays lately, Steve thinks something might be going on there but he hasn't wanted to deal with Eddie teasing him for being a meddling matchmaker, again.

"There is no identifiable holy symbol on his clothes or armor." Eddie says, there's a mischief in his eyes, the way he tilts his head with quiet challenge and smiles.

"What God do you serve?" Erica asks, blunt and to the point. She gets cranky when her rogue doesn't have anything to stab.

"'The Lady in Pink,' he answers."

Any time Eddie reveals lore shit there's always a bunch of people talking over top of each other. It always turns into the kind of mass blob of shouting that Steve has a hard time parsing out, especially these days. Eddie somehow manages to distinguish not only people but the things they're saying and keeps his cool enough to keep the story going.

"Roll your insight, Gareth. Jeff, with a 15 history check, you have heard some whisperings from your homeland about a newly ascended goddess but not a name. Dustin, you're not getting shit with a 5 don't even try that but my back story says shit with me. Will, pretty sure that's a cleric spell but I'll let you have it he's a Neutral Good alignment. An 18, shit, yeah Garebear he does seem to be telling the truth that is the deity he follows; but that isn't the whole truth, you know a lot of the newer pantheon have a colloquial name and a true name."

"I'm sorry," Lucas says, "we aren't familiar with your lady. What can you tell us about her? Why would she leave you there? And that's a 14 on persuasion before you even ask."

"Why would I have asked that, Sinclair the elder? He has stars in his eyes when he speaks, 'before she ascended she was already limitless. A powerful warrior, an expert marksman, a mage beyond compare. Her power grew and grew until the only place left to explore was godhood.'"

"And what's her real name, if we wanted to spread the word?" Joey asks.

"'Oh she's everything. She's the lady in pink, she's the goddess with the golden mane, but before she ascended she favored one name I assume she has kept it.'"

"What is it?" Mike asks, perched at the edge of his seat.

"Oh no," Dustin whispers, a dawning horror on his face.

"'Barbara, though she preferred it shortened. Nicknames you call them," Steve sees the joke, knows where this is going a split second before reality breaks through the haze of fantasy for the players around the table. Eddie's smirking now, smile too pleased and too attractive. "'Y'know like Barbie?'"

[protectbrowngirls]

Protect brown girls who didn’t know the following scholarships existed

This isn’t my normal content, but I was thinking recently about how many academic opportunities I missed out on simply because my parents didn’t know the Western academic institution like my white peers did. And by the time I heard about most of these scholarships and programs, I was too old to apply, or they didn’t make sense for my career path anymore.

I have a lot of young followers. I imagine many of you find yourselves in a similar position, where your non-South Asian peers are applying for scholarships that no one ever told you about. I also imagine many of you are looking for ways to seek education on your own terms, and figuring out the finances poses a hurdle. So I wanted to do a rundown of some prestigious and/or South Asian-centric scholarship programs that you may find yourself eligible for and interested in, at a time when you’re young enough to take advantage of these opportunities--or, at the least, young enough to keep them in mind as you go through school.

This is not a list of every scholarship out there. The scholarships listed here are specifically prestigious, nationally or globally recognized scholarship programs that don’t require independent nomination or enrollment in a specific field of study. As a result, these are also highly selective programs, with some granting fewer than 50 awards each year. But that shouldn’t discourage you from applying! God knows your white peers are applying without caring if they meet the requirements.

National Merit Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: Junior in high school; must take PSAT/NMSQT test in 11th grade; must achieve one of the highest scores in the state the test was taken

Country of origin: US students, or US citizens studying abroad

What the program covers: Minimum $2,500 for undergraduate studies; maximum full tuition for undergraduate studies at certain schools

Deadline to apply: Take PSAT/NMSQT by January of junior year

Link

Coca-Cola Scholars Program

Eligibility requirements: High school senior; minimum 3.0 unweighted GPA; must demonstrate leadership capacity and commitment to making an impact at their school/community

Country of origin: US citizens or nationals

What the program covers: $20,000 for undergraduate studies

Deadline to apply: October 31

Link

The Gates Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: High school senior; person of color; Pell-eligible; minimum 3.0 unweighted GPA

Country of origin: US

What the program covers: Full cost of attendance not covered by other sources of financial aid for undergraduate studies; funding may continue for postgraduate studies in certain fields

Deadline to apply: September (phase 1); January (phase 2)

Link

NIH Undergraduate Scholarship Program

Eligibility requirements: Must demonstrate exceptional financial need; minimum 3.3 unweighted GPA; must be enrolled or accepted for enrollment at a 4-year undergraduate institution; must commit to a paid Summer Laboratory Experience and 1 year of full-time employment at NIH post-graduation per year of funding received

Country of origin: US

What the program covers: Up to $20,000 per year for undergraduate studies

Deadline to apply: Mid-March

Link

(Note: Some schools may require you to go through an internal application process before endorsing your application for one of the following scholarships. Check in with your university to see if there’s anything you need to do before applying to one of these programs.)

Rhodes Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: Aged 18-24 years; must demonstrate outstanding intellect, character, leadership, and commitment to service

Country of origin: Global

What the program covers: Generally 2 years’ tuition for any postgraduate course offered at the University of Oxford, plus an annual stipend for living expenses

Deadline to apply: Early October

Link

Fulbright Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: A bachelor’s degree; interest in facilitating cultural exchange

Country of origin: US (with some options for non-US applicants)

What the program covers: All expenses for 1 year to study, teach English, or pursue a research/professional project in a foreign country

Deadline: Mid-September

Link

Gates Cambridge Fellowship

Eligibility requirements: Must demonstrate outstanding intellectual ability and leadership potential

Country of origin: Global (minus UK)

What the program covers: Full cost of tuition, plus living stipend, plus discretionary funds, for most full-time graduate programs at the University of Cambridge

Deadline to apply: Mid-October (for US citizens in the US); December or January (for all else)

Link

Marshall Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: Senior in college or recent college graduate; minimum 3.70 unweighted GPA; endorsement from President, Provost, or Academic Dean of undergraduate institution

Country of origin: Global (minus UK); undergrad degree must be obtained in US

What the program covers: Full cost of tuition for up to 2 years of postgraduate study at any university in the UK, plus monthly living stipend and allowances

Deadline to apply: Late September

Link

Chevening Scholarships

Eligibility requirements: An unconditional offer from an eligible master’s course at any UK university; at least 2 years of work experience

Country of origin: Global (minus UK)

What the program covers: Full funding (tuition, room, and board) for any 1-year master’s program in the UK

Deadline to apply: Early November

Link

Knight-Henessy Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: First bachelor’s degree must have been obtained no earlier than 7 years prior to the year of enrollment

Country of origin: Global

What the program covers: Full tuition, plus a living stipend, for up to 3 years of graduate study at Stanford University

Deadline to apply: Early October

Link

Upakar Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: At least one parent born in India; family adjusted gross income <$90,000; minimum 3.6 unweighted high school GPA

Country of origin: US

What the program covers: Up to $2,000 per year for undergraduate studies

Deadline to apply: Late April

Link

APIA Scholarship Program

Eligibility requirements: Minimum 2.7 unweighted high school GPA; preference given to students coming from low socioeconomic backgrounds

Country of origin: US

What the program covers: Minimum one-time $2,500 award for undergraduate studies; maximum $20,000 for undergraduate studies

Deadline to apply: Late January

Link

SEED Scholarship

Eligibility requirements: At least one parent of Indian ancestry; minimum 3.0 unweighted high school GPA

Country of origin: US

What the program covers: $10,000 for undergraduate studies (tuition only)

Deadline to apply: March 1

Link

[alreadyblondenow]

Prom & six packets of condoms

Mark Lee x reader // FLUFF, SMUTT , ANGST

Part of PROM SERIES: MARK LEE

Themes: high school! au, prom! au, college! au, best friends to lovers

Word count: 7k

Summary: Prom, six packets of condoms, a funeral, and graduation all needed first to happen before he can finally win you. 

Warnings: character death (a parent) if you’re not comfortable with that please click away, mentions of alcohol, mentions of other idol (nct dream), loss of virginity, protected sex, fingering, slight depression, mourning phase, 

A/N: inspired by true events, I just finished reading First Times by moonctzeny and I won’t lie I was inspired and my prom memories haunted me the whole day so here you go. Phrases/ paragraphs in italics are flashbacks. Proofread this once only hehe. I will make a time stamp for every condom and will post it on the following days hehe. Enjoy reading

Time stamps for this fic/condoms: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

“You’re the new girl right? Hi, I’m Mark”

It’s been almost four good years since Mark ate lunch with you during the first day of freshman year. You were the new girl in town by that time and you don’t know anyone in school. Mark is the nicest person you’ve met and ever since that fateful day, you two are inseparable and you became best friends.

Now senior year is on full throttle and it seems like everything is happening so fast. Maintaining your GPA, college applications, spearheading extracurricular activities and prom then graduation in just a weeks... its all too much.

“Hey, you all set for tomorrow? You’re not going to ditch me with some other dude who’s more handsome than me, right?” You’re talking to Mark through FaceTime while you two prepare for tomorrow’s big event. He jokes about you ditching him last minute and he told you he’d still love you if that really happens.

“If you mention it again, fine! I’ll go with Jeno-“ you teased him back.

“Hey! I’m just kidding. Don’t do that!” His laugh and his smile are still addicting to watch even if it’s through your phone screen.

Mark asked you to prom, which you think is so sweet of him. And it might not looked like it, but prom is a pretty big deal for Mark as much as it is for you.

It’s that time of the month when you and Mark do a scary movies Netflix and chill ritual in his room. You were waiting for him to get the bag of Cheetos from their kitchen and it was pretty dark in his room and when he finally came back, he was biting a red rose in his mouth and posing sexily in front of you. At first, you thought he was just making you laugh but you saw him walk towards his guitar and strums it. Before he sing you a song, he hands you the rose and kissed you on the cheek.

And that’s how Mark asked you to prom. Simple yet so unforgettable and meaningful. You will never forget how he sings so passionately in front of you and only for your eyes to see.

“Y/n, my best friend. Will you go to prom with me?”

“Who would reject such a great promposal? Yes!”

That night, after his promposal, you two watched scary movies without even noticing that you two were cuddled up and holding hands.

He’s all crazy about how he wants to do everything right for you and also so he could have that full experience with prom. Unforgettable promposal, wrist corsages, his tie matches your dress. Everything has to be perfect.

The most awaited day finally arrived and you are excited to spend a day that happens once in your life. When you walk down the stairs as Mark waits for you with your parents, he was speechless on how beautiful you are.

You know when Mark is getting flushed and shy when he starts to say “uhm” more than three times and he can’t look at you in the eye but he steals glances just to admire how beautiful you are. He puts the corsage around your wrist and you think it’s pretty not because it’s in your favorite color but because Mark chose this.

After your parents took a picture of you and Mark, the limousine arrived right on time. You saw Jaemin peeking at the limousine’s sunroof with a big smile, cheering for you and Mark excitedly because you two look good together.

“Mark, you didn’t have to match your tie with the color of her dress you know? By the way, y/n you look beautiful” Haechan opens the door for you and Mark to join the party inside the limousine with their respected dates.

“Oh Hyuck, it’s his idea give him a break. You look handsome too, nice hair!”

The drive to the hotel was already fun and full of laughter but the big event itself, was a shindig. Disco balls and chandeliers, glitters, confettis and balloons everywhere. Everyone was having a good time, smiles everywhere and everyone was dancing under loud music.

And while you admire everyone having the time of their lives, Mark is only admiring you. He can’t take his eyes off of you, thinking how asking you to be his date is a right decision. What if he asks you to be something else? Something bigger than just being a date. He brushed his thoughts away and just enjoy this night to the fullest with you. Being your date is a great excuse for him to wrap his arm around your waist from behind as you two dance under loud party music like crazy teenagers.

After having a blast at prom and getting half drunk at the after party, you ended up tired and exhausted in Mark’s bed. He flopped beside you putting his right hand under his chin and admire you smile at the ceiling. To him you’re still as beautiful as the first time he saw you today even though your face is all oily and your hair is already down.

“I’m pretty sure we did everything that’s needed to be done for a perfect prom” he said, slightly whispering to not ruin the silence in his room.

“Hmm. Not everything, but yeah it’s perfect. You’re perfect” you whispered back sweetly, trying to let him know that you’re flirting.

“What do you mean?” He bounced back a question immediately and totally missed your flirting. You let out a sigh.

“I overheard Jaemin and the other boys are going to lose it with their girlfriends tonight. Because of that, their prom will be extra special you know? But Mark, you’re perfect! You made this night beyond perfect and I couldn’t ask for more” You see him smile and blush, hugging his favorite striped pillow and try to hide his shyness.

It does make him kind of envy with the others because he wants to lose his virginity too tonight, but the problem is he doesn’t have a girlfriend. The room became silent when Mark told you that. You thought of all the things he did for you today just to give you an unforgettable night and then a crazy idea hit your head like a lightning.

“You can still do it. You have me”

The idea made him speechless and excited but he’s good at hiding it. “Wow- Jeez, I don’t know what to say but are you sure? Because I want this to happen, like really.” He almost confessed his feelings for you but he stopped himself before he ruins this moment.

“Yeah. I want to lose my virginity too tonight” the awkwardness is starting build up between the two of you. “Let’s just pretend we’re together. We do love each other as friends but you know, just so we could have a good time while having sex we uhm- we need to think that we’re together”

“No problem with me” he’s been pretending that you two are together ever since he developed a big crush on you. “Do you want to go to the bathroom first?” He offered.

“That would be great, yeah. I could use some time to fix myself first” you head towards to his bathroom and locked it nervously. The idea wasn’t supposed to make you nervous because it’s Mark but you caught yourself getting excited about the sex.

You found him making the bed and he made the room all dark and left his lampshade open. You walk towards the edge of his bed, Mark on the other side and you see him loosen up his tie and starts to unbutton his dress shirt. When he’s all naked in front of you, you hear your heart pound and beats so fast when you saw him crawl to your side. “Come here, I’ll unzip your dress”

You turned around and you feel his hands roam around your shoulders before he proceeds to unzip your dress. “Nice bra” he says when you faced him again.

Mark invites you to his bed to come lay down holding your hand as if you’re going to fall. It’s weird how it’s not your first time laying on Mark’s bed but this time it felt like it’s your first time.

He gave you a peck on the lips, a quick and friendly kiss. “That’s our first kiss as best friends. I want you to know that It’s me and like Im not going to do anything bad to you. I’m just appreciating my best friend” theres a slight pang on his heart when he said that because right now he wants to scream and tell you his feelings for you.

Mark kissed you again to silence his thoughts. And it was a different kiss from the first one. This kiss made your head move around his pillows, you feel your head sinking as he kiss you deeper and deeper, both of your hands are exploring as if it has a mind of its own.

“And that’s our first kiss, being together” and I want you to know that I love and if you could just wait for me to man up, I will love you fiercely. But of course he didn’t have the courage to say that part to you, instead he kissed you and pretended to be with you.

It was hard to stop kissing Mark and be away from his incredible lips. Lips he used for singing and for his prayers, now he’s using it for kissing you. “Let’s get you naked, baby” he said in between delicious kisses.

He pull away from the kiss and once again admired the girl in front of him. “Mark, you deserve everything” you said, sitting up in front of him. Guiding his hands towards your chest just to brush his soft hands against your clothed boobs and gave him your consent and the honour to unclasp your strapless bra.

You smiled at him when you felt your bra fall down the mattress. He pushed you back on the mattress, kissing your lips and slowly traveling down your neck.

For a minute he just stayed above you and looked at your exposed boobs and proceed to remove your laced panties. You hear him let out a soft exhale, when finally seeing you full naked in his bed.

It’s your first time having sex and neither is Mark but you don’t know why that certain nervousness was gone. He was smiling sweetly to you when he made his way in between your legs kissing your lips again. You feel Mark’s hands roam around your naked body and his touch are just as addicting like his lips. “I’ll be right back”

In the quickest way possible, he went to his bathroom to pump his dick a few more times to make it even harder and grabbed a few condoms from the drawer.

“Mark Lee, are you planning use all six of that?” you were pointing at the condoms.

He chuckled at what you said and went back in between your opened legs and give you a kiss again. “Baby, want to roll it?” he asked, giving you a packet of condom and you nod your head excitedly.

When all is settled, both of his hands are on both sides of your head, cock already lined up, he’s just taking his time with you. “Thank you, Y/n” it should have been ‘i love you, y/n’ but again he kissed you to silence his thoughts.

Pushing inside you slowly, feeling how your walls felt so warm around him. You on the other hand, moaned out the hurt and kissed Mark until you smile whenever he playfully thrusts in you to catch your attention and look at his eyes.

Mark was cute the whole time he was rolling his hips. Cute but fucking hot when looks directly in your eyes and intentionally goes deeper inside. It was quiet and only your moans and his, the skin slapping from Mark’s thrusts are the sounds you can hear inside his room.

You guide his hand to grip your left boob and he got the message and he kneads them. Pulling Mark’s head close to your boobs so he can suck it like the ones you saw in porn, he got the message too. All these are new to him but he’s happy you’re okay with him having the full experience using your body.

If Mark gave you the best full experience for prom, you’re going to give him the best full experience in having sex. It was not long when Mark reached his climax and shoot his cum in the condom and you on the other hand came with the help of his fingers and shivered like crazy underneath him.

Pulling out immediately, he threw the condom and lay beside you, covering you with his familiar sheet that you only use to cover your eyes during scary movies. But now, he’s using it to cover both of your naked bodies. When he pulled you close to him, you were still shivering and sensitive. So he kissed you and until you finally calm down and accept his warmth.

The next day, the sun is shining brightly on Mark’s room and your naked bodies are still underneath Mark’s sheets. You caught him looking at you when you opened your eyes, and you greet him with a smile like you usually do whenever you two had sleepovers.

Waking up with Mark beside you smiling handsomely is not new for you, this happened a hundred of times already. But waking up with Mark beside you naked and his hand is on your waist, is definitely new for the both of you.

“Good morning, beautiful”

“Good morning “ you greet him back with a hoarse voice, “oh wow your smile is nice. Who did you fucked last night, huh?” you added playfully cupping his handsome face and smiling brightly like the sun.

“You” he said with a grin on his face.

“Oh, that’s right I gave you that smile. Can I take it back?” you leaned to his face for a kiss, and you showered him with kisses while you both laugh and giggle like little kids. He ended up being on top of you again, just like last night while he was inside of you.

He lay back on the mattress, thinking maybe you don’t want to do this anymore but it’s morning, and being horny in the morning is something he cant control. So he asked you, “are we still together?”

“Yes. Just until breakfast “ you answered him without hesitation.

That’s his go signal to kiss you again just how you like it. Feeling his incredible lips again that you will surely miss the moment you two eat breakfast. Slowly pushing the sheets away, exposing your body again for him but this time in broad daylight and he can see all of you.

He props he arms and stayed beside you, admiring your glow under the morning light that shines through his window while you let his right hand cup your pussy and let him play with it.

You knew what he’s doing. He’s making you feel good and he’s just laying beside you watching you moan his name with closed eyes and parted lips. The position was damn too comfortable you can move your legs all you want until you’re satisfied while he’s putting digits inside you, gliding his finger up and down your slit or in and out of your cunt.

“Mark” you moaned his name when he finally hit the nerve while your left leg opens a little while he touch you. When it was all too much, you grab hold to his hand begging him to stop because it’s making you weak in all ways possible. And when he did stopped, you were breathing deeply and sharply.

You watch him lick the fingers that went inside you and he looked so hot. He waited for you to calm down and press yourself to his body for an embrace. You and Mark stayed embracing each other thinking how you don’t want this to be over yet. Thinking loudly but not saying it to each other.

You both want the same thing but none of you knew that truth. For you, Mark only loves you as a friend. And for Mark, he cant pursue you because he’s going away eventually and you don’t deserve that kind of love.

“You do know that what you did for me is a big deal, right?” Mark breaks the silence but not the embrace.

“Mhmm. Are you happy? Cause I am” you heard Mark’s heart beats faster and loudly as you pull him more and tighten your embrace.

“I’m so happy, I can finally die” it made you both laugh but still not moving to break the embrace and finally have breakfast.

After what happened you two spend your days together like how you normally do. Going to school together, Netflix and chill, church every Sundays. And if someone will accidentally brought it up, you two will just laugh it all out.

Come graduation, the saddest day of your life. That and the day after graduation. Graduation simply means ‘Goodbye Mark Lee’ and finally letting him go and wish him luck for his college years in Canada.

“I hate Canada” you cry your eyes out as you two sit in front of the big feast your family and his family prepared for graduation dinner and Mark’s send off. “Why do you have to pick the earliest flight tomorrow” you whine.

Mark hugged you and gave you a spoonful of ice cream that you cant resist. “Sorry, I just have to take care of a lot of things before school starts” It’s not that you hate him for going home to Canada and study for college there, but you didn’t even get to spend the summer with him because he has to be there already.

The night before Mark leaves, it was emotional. You cried and cried in your room, looking at the pictures in your phone and the ones that are on your bedside drawer. You cried until you were tired and eventually fall asleep.

Mark leaves at exactly 6am.

And it’s 5am when your mother woke you up with a panic. “Your father had a heart attack. The ambulance is taking too long”

Everything happened so fast that you didn’t have a chance to think it all through. Because of the panic, you drove your parents straight to the hospital as fast as you can, crying while you’re driving and saying your apologies to Mark that he will not hear because you left your phone at home.

“Why isn’t she picking up?” Mark is already at the airport, waiting for you and his flight. Half mad but mostly sad. “She cant just let me leave without saying goodbye right?” he was furious already in front of his parents.

But you never came. And he went back to Canada with a broken heart. He was mad to you because you were petty and selfish just because he can’t stay here for the summer you made him suffer by not sending him off.

While Mark is in the air and up above the clods hating you, you’re in the hospital crying because you lost your father. It was so painful for you to see your mother cry and constantly blame yourself for not driving fast enough instead of crying for Mark while you were driving.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee told Mark the news about your father. It takes a matter of seconds for him to burst into tears while he was in the middle of fixing his dorm room and immediately taking back everything bad he said to you through texts.

In the day of the funeral Mark’s mother handed you her phone, “A phone call from Mark, love. I think you should talk to him, maybe he can cheer you up.” It was sweet for Mrs. Lee to tell you that, but you’re still mad at yourself and yourself mad at him for telling you such hurtful words. Nonetheless you took the phone from Mrs. Lee and answered without saying a word.

“Hi” you heard him gulp, he sound tired “I’m worried for y/n. Who’s taking care of you? You haven’t returned any of my messages or calls. Baby, you have to be strong” the pet name made you tear up, and you let your tears fall continuously because you miss him so much.

“Just say the word and I’ll come back there. Fuck college, I can enrol next semester”

“No don’t do that. I’m taking care of myself Mark, I’m sorry for making you worry” he was glad to hear your voice again. If he sounds tired, for him you sound sad and broken. “I promise to talk to you when I come home, okay” you added, and without any other words you gave back Mrs. Lee’s phone and excused yourself.

As you mourn with your mother and get used with all the changes, you realised that you have to be strong for her and for yourself. Days passed by slowly and it was torture everyday but Mark helped you with all that he can even though he’s far away.

He sends visitors in your house to cheer you up and so you won’t succumb into sadness. First he sends his parents because he figured you and your mother might need some company or help with anything.

The second visit that you got was Mark’s friends Jaemin, Haechan, Renjun and Jeno who made sure to make you laugh every second or minute.

And the third visit was from Mark, he came all the way from Canada. “Im here now” he wasn’t suppose to visit until Christmas but he can’t take it anymore, his worries are killing him. It’s like a dream being in Mark’s arms again, inside your room and enjoying his warmth.

“How’s Canada? Did you found a replacement for me yet?” you whispered, he was glad that you made a joke you’re starting to sound like your normal self again.

“If they can last six rounds on their first night having sex with me then yeah, they can replace you” you punched him hard on his arm and he let out a loud “ouch!” You’re sure that your punch will leave a bruise that he can take on his way back to Canada.

“I was kidd- fuck, y/n that hurt like a motherfu-“ he was really in pain and you can see his eyes watery already. “Im sorry” you kissed his arm and went silent again, curling on your bed waiting for Mark to embrace you again.

“I was just trying to make you laugh and you give back by punching me.” He embraced you again, caging you with his arms. “Even if someone can last 12 rounds, I will still not replace you and you know that”

When Mark’s three day visit has come to an end, you get to say goodbye now. And even when he’s away again, he still takes care of you and your mom by any ways he can. It went on and on and on until you’re finally back on your feet. Though of course half a year is still not enough to fully recover from your loss, you don’t have much of a choice.

College was incredibly tiring and challenging but its better than staying in your room and looking at the ceiling for weeks. It’s a good thing too that college kept you busy and diverted from being sad and lonely. You had new friends and they are great, a couple of suitors but no one can still top Mark’s charms. And you’re more than happy to see your mother smile and cook around the kitchen again. Just like you she fights hard to have a happy life again.

“Can you please eat more? You’re getting thinner and thinner every week I swear! Don’t wait for me to go there and make you eat” you’re getting an earful from Mark because he noticed you got thin because of the stress and maybe from your depression.

“Bye Mark, I gotta go. Need to finish this paper, love you ugly person!” You waved goodbye to him through your phone screen.

“Love you too, please go eat” he says before ending the call.

The moment you finished the paper, you thought about teasing Mark because you got an earful from him earlier. With all you courage and bravery, you sent him a sexy picture. Not too vulgar but enough to make him hard and that’s for sure.

You: [attached photo]

You: Miss me?

After a couple of seconds, your phone dings.

Mark: I do :(

Two years have passed and everything is still fine and you’re completely happy with everything in your life. College is going pretty well, your mom is happy and that’s what always matters, and Mark.... became busy. You two can only talk during Sunday nights because he has a part time job already and he needs to study, so who are you to demand for time, right?

Until one day you saw a girl behind him sleeping in his bed so soundly during one of your FaceTime calls with him. “Let me guess, she can lasts six rounds” there was bitterness with how you talked to him, you’re just thankful that he didn’t deny it.

“Eight actually” it was not right to say that and he knew that, but he doesn’t understand why are you so upset.

“The fact that you told me you’re busy and you cant talk to me because of some reasons then I’ll find out about this? Im your best friend” there was a moment of silence, then it hit you. “Am I?” he never once lied to you, even if he wants to lie to you about something he always tells you the truth no matter how it will hurt your feelings.

“Of course you are, you’re hurting me how can you say things like that”

You ended the call and ignored him for much more important stuff in your life.

A month of not talking became seven hurtful months, you figured if he can replace you he can be replaced too. You thought maybe that this is just for the sake of having revenge, but it’s not.

Taeyong was definitely not for revenge. You fell hard, head first and it felt good. He was a lot like Mark but more free spirited than Mark or maybe because he’s older and he’s graduating college soon. Taeyong adore you and your mom, he can even make your mom laugh and you’d be happy just by hearing her laughs. Sex with him was also great. Greater than the one you had with Mark but you figured thats already given because Taeyong is experienced.

You were in the middle of finishing a paper when Taeyong lure you into taking a break and have an adult stress release. With no questions asked you jumped on him, leaving your laptop open and leaving your paper that’s due in a couple of hours.

He was balls deep inside you when Mark called through FaceTime and your FaceTime in your laptop automatically accepts calls. You didn’t even know that the call was ongoing and that Mark saw you and Taeyong having sex in your bedroom.

Mark called to tell you know that he’s wrong about choosing someone over you and that he’s coming home for a three day vacation again. But instead of having a talk with you, Mark saw you and Taeyong while you’re both at it and he saw you laughing loud when while Taeyong is kissing your neck. Mark looked away and ended the call.

Days passed by and you didn’t know about what Mark saw. And it’s been almost a year from the last time you two had a conversation, that’s why you’re shocked when you saw him at church one fine Sunday morning. After the mass you waited for him outside the church, “You hate me so much that you didn’t even tell me you were coming home?” you were furious.

He didn’t say a word because he remembered how you’re happy having sex with Taeyong a few days ago. “You hate me so much you didn’t tell me anything about your boyfriend” he said and walked away, just like that.

Mark never stopped loving you, but he was hurt. He went to your house but didn’t have the guts to knock and talk to you but your mother saw him. “Mark? My love what are you doing here? Its cold outside, come in y/n is not home so its safe” he was shocked that your mother knew about his misunderstanding with you.

Your mother made Mark his favorite tea and gave it to him with a smirk that made him let out a laugh. “Im guessing you knew already?” You mom nods, still has a smirk on her face.

“Taeyong is a sweet boy you don’t need to worry. You can’t blame him, you’re too slow. You always had your chance but I don’t know what’s keeping you from winning her. I’m starting to get disappointed” your mother teases Mark and playfully pretends that she’s disappointed.

“I’m better than that guy- just give me a few more months. Or years” Mark gulped, realising what he’s promising to your mother, “I won’t stop until I become your son in law”

“That’s the spirit! To be perfectly honestly you two are stressing me out, so please do what you must”

You are getting tired of the constant push and pull with Mark so you decided to finally talk to him and iron things out before things get out before misfortunes like losing your friendship happens. Even though you’re not sure if he’s okay to talk you still went to his house, only to find out that he went somewhere. “It’s okay Mrs. Lee, I’ll wait here” you point at their porch swing and there, you wait for your best friend to come home.

“Y/n?”

“Hey” you nervously stood up from the swing, “I was waiting for you”

“Good. We need to talk” he sat down next to your side of the swing and he rocks it gently, giving you guys a little breeze. You notice he’s awfully in a good mood and you wonder why.

“Can we please stop fighting? This is not us. I miss you and- I don’t have to fabricate what I want to say to you. I miss my best friend, and that’s that” you kept it real and short because you’re dying to hear him talk, you want to hear his side, his point of view, his say in all of this.

“I wasn’t keeping that girl, she was never a secret. It just kind of happened. Life can be so stressful if you’re alone and far from home. Then you over reacted and started calling me a liar but the truth is I don’t know how to say that ‘hey, I had sex last night’”

“Of course you can tell me if you had sex with other girls Mark, why would you think that I won’t care?”

“Don’t fool yourself, y/n. We both know we have feelings for each other. We don’t say it out loud because were scared someone might get hurt. But our actions speaks loud and clear for us”

What Mark said was true, and as expected the truth was too much for you. Taeyong flashes in your mind and you constantly ask yourself if this is considered cheating. “What are we going to do now?” you asked him.

“I know too well what I’m going to do, and I’m not telling it to you. And I know that Taeyong is a nice person, I know because I just talked to your mom. If you’re happy with him, then be happy with him. Don’t let what’s going on between us ruin that great relationship. I just want for us to stop fucking fighting, like what you said I miss my best friend and that’s that” he smiled sweetly at you and pulled you in a hug. His hug that you missed so much you don’t want to let go now.

‘Good things happen to those who wait, but great things happen to those who ‘hustle’ it’s a quote that Mark read somewhere in the internet and he couldn’t agree more. But in his case, he can’t ‘hustle’ because that means stealing you from Taeyong. So he waits. Patiently. If fate decides to bring you two together, then Mark will definitely grab that chance.

Things went back to normal and the two of you talk again everyday during your senior year in college. Sharing stressful times during internship and talking about what you guys want to happen in the future. It’s always been like this with Mark, you two are very different people who have different views and goals in life but nonetheless you support each other no matter what happens and you two somehow meet in the middle and work things out. For the importance your friendship.  

Did you stop him from studying college in Canada? No. Did he stop you from dating Taeyong? No. You strongly believe that your differences makes your friendship more interesting.

You and Taeyong on the other hand, had a rough time and decided to end things because it’s the right thing to do. He can’t keep on disappointing you when he forgets about your dates, he has a stable job so he’s busier than ever and he admits he’s been falling out of love. You were hurt. And you decided to stay single and heal alone from the heartbreak before you open a new chapter with Mark. Now, you’ve been single for almost half a year already and Mark is clueless.

“Do you think that it’s unfair that you get to attend to my graduation but I can’t attend on yours?” you watch Mark fix his gradation robe through your phone and you feel so proud of your best friend.

“Fine. Fly here now, I’ll give you an hour” he jokes, and you both let out a laugh. “Don’t worry, were still having the same graduation dinner. Again.” he adds.

“Okay fine, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, at my graduation. Oh can you bring that robe? I want us to take a picture wearing our graduation gowns” you pout through your screen.

“Well, It’s not allowed but fine princess, I’ll make it happen” the pet name made your heart flutter.

Graduation felt more like prom to you. Why? Because you’re looking forward to see Mark and take cute graduation pictures with him. After the graduation ceremony, it was not hard for you to find him because he’s the only person who’s wearing a different graduation robe.

“Mark!” you ran towards him excitedly and he catches you with welcoming arms. “you look fucking handsome!”

“I know, told you I’ll make it happen” he winks at you and put you down on the ground.

“Now now children, just like prom. Look at the camera. Big smiles please!” your mother initiates to take those cute pictures you always dreamed of. “Honey go see some of your friends, we’ll wait here” and off you go to say goodbye to your friends.

While you were away, your mom took the chance to talk to Mark and tell him that you and Taeyong are long gone. “What? She didn’t tell me anything about them breaking up” Mark was shocked, he felt betrayed for a moment but mostly happy because now he can finally ‘hustle’.

“Honey, she wants to recover from the breakup by herself. She didn’t want to drag you in the mess. Just like you she waited patiently for the right time, until she heals”

Because of that great news, and you didn’t know that Mark already knew about the truth, he became bold about his feelings for you. Now that you’re both home and Mark will not go back to Canada anytime soon, you spend each day together just like when you were in high school. You notice how he flirts with you constantly everyday, how he tells you he loves you without even stuttering, he even asked you, “if we end up getting married someday, which will probably happen” he winks, “how many kids do you want” and the question completely caught you off guard.

It was Netflix and chill night and you and Mark are cuddled in the middle of his bed watching a scary movie, screaming and shouting like teenagers. After the movie, he needed to pee but he didn’t want to go to the bathroom alone, “come on, I’ll stay with you while you pee” you offered and he gladly accepted.

While he pees, you snoop around his bathroom stuff and you see the box of condoms and recognised the condom brand, “is this the one we used that night?” you asked boldly.

He chuckled low, shy to to answer your question but he said, “same brand. different box”

Something came inside your head that maybe he used it all up while he waits for you ‘patiently’ during your time with Taeyong. “And no I didn’t fool around while I was waiting for you. The box before that was the box. Our box.”

“So this new box will wait patiently too?” you teased him.

“No it’s for tonight” he came closer to you and hugged you from behind, looking at you through the mirror. “Why didn’t you say that you and Taeyong were long done?”

“Let me guess, my mom told you” he nods, you turned around to face without breaking his grasp around your waist. “That’s cheating” the teasing never stops and you returned the hug. Putting your arms around his neck and ruffling his soft hair.

“Are we together again?” Mark asked shyly, his blush was visible and it made smile and nod your head to answer his question.

The next thing you know, your lips touched. It was like the first time you kissed him, or rather the second time. The way he kisses you is still the same, full of love, careful and addicting. It’s the exact same lips you want to kiss everyday and forever for as long as you want, and anytime you want.

He caries you back to his bed without breaking the kiss, thinking about how many times he imagined this kind of moment with you again. He sat on the edge of his bed as he puts you on his lap and carefully removes your clothes. You did the same with him and you’re eyes  widened when he’s perfect body greets you. “You’ve been working out?”

“Mhmm. Since the day you sent me that sexy picture of yours, thought it might not be fair if you’re the only one who has a hot body” the thought of Mark looking forward to have sex with you again made you laugh and remove the pieces of clothing remaining in your body. You pushed him to the mattress and removed your pants in one swift move then proceed to remove Mark’s.

The kissing continues once you’re both naked in bed already, touching each other freely and boldly. Mark being on top and you laying comfortable beneath him. As the moment became more intense, the feeling of his kisses changed. It became filthy and lustful, and you want more. He took turns between your lips and your nipples, holding you close to his body. “I’ll be right back”

You try to guess how many condoms he’s going to use tonight, and to your surprise. He brought one. Only one. And somehow you get what he’s saying with that condom statement.   “One condom is enough to prove and show to you how I love you so much, then I can do it again on the next day, then again and again” he kissed your nose as he kneels in between your legs. “but if you want to finish the whole box tonight, it’s fine with me”  

“Hmm. No, one is enough for me too”

“Thought so too” he guides your hand to pump his dick and make him hard even more before he rolls the condom. He put both of his arms on both sides of your head and leaned down even more so he could reach your lips and kiss you while he fucks you. It was a feeling like any other when Mark finally pushed in. Not even Taeyong can make you feel good like this, as if every thrust is full of pleasure.  

You feel your body being dragged from the mattress because of his fast pace and hard thrusts. Eventually pulling away from the kiss for air and let out all your whines. Mark’s thrusts are sometimes slow and deep like he’s rearranging your guts, and sometimes his thrusts are piercing and fast.

“No more pretending, I love you and I will never let you go again” he said those beautiful words while he was thrusting fast and gripping your hand, bringing you to your climax.

You do love him too so much but you can’t say it out loud because he didn’t stopped thrusting until it’s too much for you that your toes curled and you shake uncontrollably underneath him, moaning his name loudly. He finally stopped and loaded the condom with his cum. You watch him removed it from his dick and throw it away but his dick still shoots some more cum on the sheets and you watch him get embarrassed.

After cleaning up, he slides under his thick cover and cuddles with you. Arms around each other saying ‘i love you’ over and over again and sealing it with hundreds of kisses.  

Story time 

During my prom, I have this friend who moved to Canada we were really good friends. He became face of the night during prom because everyone wants to take pictures with him because he’s going to leave the next day already. 

We stayed good friends we just talk everyday and he helped me through a really bad breakup and then I helped him surprise his girlfriend during valentines. (we have a flower shop and he bought expensive af flowers for the girl and we delivered it to her house) the she cheated. 

And then after six years he went home and we had coffee :))))

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Bluegrass-Chapter Four

                     A special thank you to @statell​ for your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Four

Claire and Molly were hopping from one farm to another in Lexington when Claire announced she had to make one extra stop. They were done for the day and she filled Molly in on her date for the weekend.

“Chad Remington called out of the blue and asked me to dinner. High profile date, lots of press I’m sure. Chad gave me a one hundred dollar minimum to buy a dress. Will you help me, please?”

Molly looked confused and finally found her voice, “what about Dusty?”

“What about Dusty?”

“He would …”

“Dustin and I are best friends Molly, nothing more.”

Molly watched Claire’s eyes and saw compassion, maturity, and truth. “Okay, I didn’t know how you were together. So it’s like brother and sister then.”

“I don’t know about that, I never had either, or a Mother and Father. I don’t have anything to compare it to. I just know that Dusty put me first and for the first time in my life, someone knew I was in the world and cared about me. And I cared for him the same way. You watch, when we spy on him in the coming year, I will bet money he’s in love before his GPA is 4.0, the little brat. Let’s go”

Molly was young but she had a great eye for fashion from looking at hundreds of magazines. It was her guilty pleasure fueled by sitting in waiting rooms of salons, waiting for no one, consuming every page that the magazines offered. Claire tried so many dresses on but Molly scrunched up her nose. The saleswoman began shooting darts at the young woman, so she took over and looked through the evening wear pulling dresses as she went. She handed five dresses to Claire.

Claire’s eyes went wide as dress after dress fit perfectly, hugged her curves in the right places, and was fashionably short.

“Well young lady, now I have the opposite problem of having too many choices. What do you think?”

Molly pulled the best fitting dress and walked to the shoes, pulling a gorgeous heal with straps that exposed almost her entire foot. She grabbed a pair of silk stockings on the way to the register.

“Straighten your hair and put this in it.” She handed Claire a beautiful cubic zirconia hair clip that would sparkle against her dark hair.”

“Straighten my hair? Like how?”

“I’ll help if you want.”

“Yes, I think that would be really nice if you don’t mind.”

Once back in the truck, Molly got very quiet and seemed preoccupied with something troubling. She said goodbye to Claire and got into her car, but Claire stopped her. She leaned against her truck and looked down at Molly as she prepared to leave.

“Something is troubling you, Molly. I don’t want to impose but is there anything I can help you with?”

Molly locked her hands on the steering wheel and looked at her lap shaking her head. Claire waited, giving her the time to decide if she wanted to speak her trouble or not.

“Last night I was harassed by the police. They said I would be arrested if they caught me again. I don’t want to go to jail but I probably will because I have nowhere else to go.”

Claire watched the tears streak down Molly’s sad face, and she was ready to offer this sweet girl whatever she needed.

“Whatever it is Molly, I will help you, I promise.”

“I lost my job a month ago and I have no more savings, so I had to leave my apartment.” She blushed crimson talking about her poverty. “Can I park here tonight and sleep, so the police will leave me alone? I can tell them you allowed me to stay here. I won’t be back until after dark, I promise.”

Claire pulled the young girl out of her car and helped her up the stairs. “Molly, are you an orphan too?”

Molly looked at Claire through her bleary eyes, “no I have an aunt and older brother but neither of them can take me.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen. I’m too old to collect the welfare that kept me going my last year of high school, my church helped as well.”

“Did your parents die sweetheart?”

“I don’t know. They just left and never came back.”

Molly cried in earnest, apologizing to Claire as she was led into the house.

“I won’t hear another word about it, young lady. You need to bring your things in. You can wash what you want and take the extra room. See? No one has ever used this room, so it has been wasted. If you sleep in here it will not be an empty room anymore. I hate empty rooms, don’t you?”

Molly looked around and Claire could see her mind working on being a burden.

“So, what I need you to do is get your things from your car while I make dinner. I have needed a roommate, but I don’t know anyone in Kentucky. I would like a roommate so will you stay with me?”

Claire had talked so fast Molly hardly had time to formulate an answer and her bulldozing boss was suddenly her benefactor, offering her safety from the cold dark night.

Claire was pushing a warm plate of food at Molly and bringing in blankets and pillows. She sat across from Molly and ate from her plate in silence, watching the poor young woman inhale her dinner.

“Molly, I won’t accept any money from you, but I need your assurance you will be honest with me about what you need.”

Molly grabbed her hand and struggled with her tears, shaking her head yes.

“That is good enough for me dearest. Get some sleep, and there is more on the stove if you are still hungry. Good night love.”

Claire was intimately familiar with orphan’s pride. Many households took her in and fed her, gave her a room, and reminded her of their generosity every day after that. Uncle Lamb died and left her alone at sixteen with no one to care for her. It was the loneliest time of her life, more so than the eleven years she spent traveling the world with Uncle Lamb because then, she always had him.

Claire retired to her room and prayed that Molly would have the fortitude to give this a chance. This was a match that needed to happen, and she was the best advocate for this young girl, because she understood what she was going through.

The food was left on the stove to encourage Molly to eat. Claire heard noises in the kitchen and relaxed knowing she was fed and warm. Before she made it to her patio for Yoga the next morning, she noticed her sparkling kitchen and all dishes put neatly away. This was going to be easy she thought as she pressed into her first pose.

As the week progressed, Molly made fewer mistakes and pulled a small notebook out of her pocket each time Claire asked about the treatments. Molly would look at her notes and Claire would write furiously as she worked through the files. Claire let several monumental wins go by without noticing them because she was locked in her head.

She was so excited about seeing Chad at the end of the week she hardly noticed anything. The ripping of paper brought her mind back and she watched Molly deftly pull a syringe out of the sterile sleeve and twist a needle on before plunging it into a bottle of Penicillin. Claire walked over and looked at the medicines, bandages, fecal collection cups, and gloves she would use for treatments this morning.

“Wow Molly, you are certainly getting the hang of things. I am very impressed. Claire leaned back on a stall as she talked bringing the horse forward to nibble her hair. She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek hearing him complaining of pain. Claire opened the stall door and looked at a trough full of food from earlier in the day. He wasn’t eating, his head was hot, and his mouth hurt, according to him. Claire asked to look in his mouth and he finally obliged. There was a large abscess on the roof of his mouth. Most likely from a bur in his hay.

“Oooh, that looks nasty my friend. Molly, I must find the barn manager and see if they want me to lance it today. Be right back.”

Claire came back with several men who all crowded into the stall to help hold the suffering horse. Claire took the halter from one of them because she would be far gentler getting it on. She asked Molly to watch the men, and how they held the horse still.

The horse was not happy with the searing pain in his mouth, but Claire had it lanced quickly and flushed with peroxide. She could tell the pain was improving when she put her hands on his cheeks. A stiff shot of antibiotics and they were on to the next horse.

Molly wanted to know how Claire understood to look in his mouth but decided not to ask. She was still fresh to Claire’s treatments and would know her ways soon enough.

They quit early on Friday so Claire would have plenty of time to freak out before Chad picked her up. On the patio, a small cat cowered in the corner and they almost missed it. Claire picked it up and stroked it while it sat in her lap. Molly was bringing groceries into the house when Claire got up and asked her to drive the cat home.

Molly followed where Claire directed, and they watched the cat run toward a house. Claire followed, rang the doorbell, and when the door opened the cat ran inside.

“Sorry to bother you, your cat was lost and crying so we brought it home. Have a nice day.”

Since the homeowner did not know how far they had come, she figured Claire had seen the cat in her yard at some point. Molly, on the other hand, could not understand how Claire could know, so she asked her and got her mind blown.

“You, you hear them tell you things? Is that what you said? Cat’s don’t talk so how do you hear them?”

Claire did her best to explain the images she sees and using the cat as an example, she pointed to the clumps of Black Oak trees and told her she saw the cat climbing one of them.

“I have only seen these trees here, so I thought it was a good start. We got lucky.”

Molly was quiet. Another doubter, she thought. This was something she was used to, and silence was always Dustin’s response to her truth. She dropped it and turned her thoughts to Chad, not a hard thing to do because she found him very attractive. The only man who could top his looks was Jamie Fraser, she thought. Now he was off the charts. She thought about Jamie for the rest of the trip home and wondered why he hooked up with such an awful woman.

Later, Claire and Molly sat on the porch watching the sky turn its Kentucky colors. The sunset was distracting enough to let Chad slip up the stairs and watch the women for several minutes. Actually, Molly got a passing glance, but Claire was studied from her feet to the top of her head.

“I’m a bit speechless. I’ve never seen you out of your scrubs.”

Claire stood up quickly, shocked to hear his voice right behind them. She introduced Chad to Molly, smiling the whole time, so excited to be going somewhere fun. Molly waived and sighed at the charming Chad Remington. When he smiled at her she almost swooned. He was a beautiful and elegant man. She forced herself to go inside because staring after them was just plain weird.

Chad admired Claire’s shiny straight hair and the little black dress, long legs and killer shoes as they walked through the restaurant to their table. The conversation seemed to have no end as they got lost in the others back story. Chad’s brother came to their table and sat with them for a while. When the food reporter for the local news wanted to interview him, he suggested an open place right next to their table. While that was going on, Claire turned her attention back to her handsome date.

After dinner, they walked the downtown area because there was so much more to talk about.

“You have a hopeful for the road to the Kentucky Derby? What exactly does that mean?”

“Claire, I’m surprised you don’t know the term since you doctor these horses every day.” He was teasing her.

“No one’s ever had the time to tell me. Now might be a good time.”

“All the breeding farms you visit in this area are working toward one thing, to drop a foal that will be the next Secretariat. When I decide on my breeding matches for the year, it’s a bit like a mad scientist mixing genetic material to produce a super runner. At least that’s what it feels like to me. Once in a great while, someone produces a foal that was born to run faster than all the others and it’s like magic watching him win race after race.

“So the road to the Kentucky Derby?”

“The road is a group of races decided on by Churchill Downs. They are stakes-grade, minimum one mile, and the top four finishers win points. The second phase of the road to the derby is called the super six. Stakes-grade, tough races, with fierce competition because so many horses drop out during the first phase. Owners can nominate their horse for the Triple Crown as early as January. Right before the race, the top twenty point winners are chosen to run for the roses. Just getting to that point is a star in your breeder crown that will never dim, it’s a permanent elevation to elite breeder. It’s all I’ve ever aspired to, producing one of those twenty horses.”

“My preference for racehorses was a carryover from my Uncle who raised me. He loved the sport and talked about it constantly. He spoke of the Triple Crown winner Secretariat with such reverence I would giggle sometimes. He was quite a horse according to my uncle.”

Chad stopped walking and pressed Claire to the wall of a large retail building. His hands were on either side of her head and she was thrilled to the bone because he might kiss her any minute now.

“Claire, I really like you, really like you. Would you mind if I kissed you?”

“I do not mind, that would nice.”

She barely had time to finish her sentence when his lips pressed rather hard on hers, flatly, and unmoving, then released her.

“Well, that was something awful I think. I just rushed it, and I am very rusty. Can I try again?”

“Of course.”

This time, he looked into her eyes and took his time getting to her lips which Claire found very exciting. They kissed three more times and each time was better.

“My God Claire, did you feel the earth move a bit when we kissed?”

“Umm, no actually.”

“Me neither. I think that is okay because it will happen next time. Claire, it’s one o’clock in the morning already. Let me get you home.”

They kissed once more at Claire’s door and she waved goodbye. She was confused because the last time she kissed like that was at a campus party with someone she didn’t know. In fact, she ended up taking that great kisser home for the night, and it was rather good if she remembered correctly. It made no sense that Chad, a handsome breeder who was easy to talk to, initiated kisses that did nothing for her.

The next day, Jamie was running through the kitchen grabbing some fruit before leaving to watch Nick with the yearlings.

“Come here Jamie, there’s your strumpet, in the paper, laughing with her nose in the air. Come here!”

Jamie looked over Isobel’s shoulder and sure enough, Claire, looking fabulous with…Chad Remington! What the hell was this all about he wondered. Most people assumed Chad was gay so how did she end up at dinner with him? He bit into the apple and left Isobel muttering under her breath.

“Jamie! Glad you could make it. I refuse to say I told you so by the way. Let’s have a look at your magic colt.”

Jamie could see three colts being lunged by a handler who was clicking up their speed, while Midnight Runner was stationary looking at the weird man in the middle without a clue what to do. When his handler used the big whip to get the horse moving, the colt looked at his backside where he heard the whip and then back at the handler.

“Tell the handler to make contact with the whip. Give the lad some incentive to run away at least.”

Nick called out and the handler flicked the whip on the colt’s ass making him jump and glare at the man.

“He still doesna get it. I know someone who might help. I’ll get her here today, but chances are he won’t run. Just like ye told me, Nick.”

Claire clicked off from Jamie’s call feeling weird butterflies in her stomach. She had a vague recollection of his handsome face and a solid memory of what she saw on the inside of the man. It took her back to that day. She didn’t hate Jamie Fraser, and it sounded like he really needed her help. She made two calls to reschedule and told Molly they were going to Highland Brothers for the rest of the day.

Molly had ceased to be impressed by the large breeding complexes, but her eyes were darting all over the compound as she took it all in. Jamie waved them on to the premises.

So he is waiting for me this time. What on earth could be so wrong, she wondered.

Jamie pulled her aside right away so Molly would not hear him. He looked like he was chewing glass when he spoke to her.

“This colt is special, Doctor Beauchamp, I need for him to at least make a showing at the two-year-old races. It could finish me in Kentucky if he refuses to try. Understand? Ye said ye could understand them so I’m askin ye lass, please can ye find out what’s wrong wi’him?”

Claire looked out at the training arenas where three other horses were running on the lunge line and the colt was chewing on the handler’s hair.

“Oh dear, that is a problem. Can you leave him in the ring alone and let me take a look? I need Molly to observe him for me. From what I’m getting from him already, you, Mister Fraser must stay out of his sight. Okay?”

Claire walked into the arena and smiled at this enormous, but childlike colt who trotted to her, so happy to smell and taste someone new. She felt the presence of an innocent who didn’t understand what he was supposed to do. When Claire put her hands on his cheeks, she showed him he was supposed to run, as fast as he could.

He asked why. Why do I run? Is there a treat when I get there? Are you going to run too?

Claire laughed at the similarities between the colt’s thought process and a small child. She told him to get ready to run and called for Molly to get the sugar cubes from the truck. Molly came back to the rail and watched her crazy boss line up to race the horse. She constantly touched his face and they finally lined up together. Claire took off running as fast as she could. The colt stood and watched her but then jolted into a gallop, ears back, butt muscles exploding and passed her like a lightning bolt. He looked around for her, confused again, but saw her big smile and arms held out wide so he ran to her.

Molly saw the beast running right for Claire and she jumped the rail to help her. The colt came to a dead stop a foot from Claire, and Molly could swear he looked happy like this was a game. Claire’s arms were around his neck and she laughed. The colt backed up and reared on his hind legs like a kid saying, “watch this!”

Molly sat on the rail for the next two hours as Claire led the colt through a series of gates and games that seemed to heighten his interest and fun. Jamie pulled Nick to his hiding place to watch the transformation in the colt and the crazy vet that was making it happen.

“Why are we hiding Jamie?”

“The lad thinks I’m his mother and just wants hugs when I’m around.”

“What the hell? I swear it looks like she is speaking to him and he is listening!”

“Somethin like that Nick, she has a way to communicate wi’em. You should see him run, like the wind he is!”

The men watched the duo in fascination as they both lined up to race again. Molly was laughing as she watched Claire seem to taunt him into racing.

“Molly, if you would do the honors of saying bang please.”

“Bang!”

Claire took off as fast as she could run, and the colt watched her until he again seemed to get hit with electricity making him bolt into his own race. Claire knew he could sense her emotion, so she concentrated on winning, at whatever cost, she wanted to beat him.

The colt passed her going so fast she could hardly see him and she smiled triumphantly as he ran his heart out, right up to Molly to get his treat. Then he ran right at Claire again to bask in the glory of being the winner. He trotted around her as she told him ‘I want to win!” and he taunted back ‘never! I am the winner!’

Claire was still panting and holding her hip but kept up the teasing wanting to implant the love of winning.

“Okay big guy, race you to Molly for the rest of the sugar cubes!”

Claire ran with all her worn-out might as the colt blasted past her filling her head with Ha-ha, Ha-ha.

“Cheeky little bastard.”

Molly looked up as the colt appeared to be a beast of a horse running dead for her. She was so scared she fell backward, right into the arms of Jamie Fraser. She looked up at him and thought she had died and gone to heaven. She smiled up at him and saw their wedding, and children, and a glorious future together.

“Ye alright lass? Ye bumped ye head on the rail.”

Claire was running for Molly, ready to pass out but she opened her arms to hug her across the rail.

“Jesus Christ, Molly. Are you alright?”

Molly shook her head and blushed with embarrassment as Jamie set her on her feet. Nick had joined Claire in the arena and gave the colt some love while he praised her for making him run. Jamie looked at Claire and could see the gears working in her mind. He decided then and there that his prized colt, his road to the Kentucky Derby, and his business, were now the domain of one Claire Beauchamp because if there was a way, only she knew it.

Molly was packing up to leave and Nick had taken the colt back to his stall. Jamie noticed Claire was relaxed around him with none of the flirting jitters most women get from his presence. He found it energizing and delightful like he could be charming without stoking an unwanted forest fire.

“He won’t get the idea from this in one-day Mister Fraser. I had to goad him into running. Without the correct motivation, he won’t run or at least not his hardest. Do you want me to come back?”

“Aye. I know ye have a practice to run so whatever time you give me will be much appreciated and I will pay ye well lass.”

Claire smiled at this incredibly handsome man. “Three times a week for as long as I can.” She started walking to her truck and Molly.

“How ye gettin along wi’out Dusty?”

“It’s hard but Molly is doing great.” Another brilliant smile for the Scott and she climbed into the passenger seat.

“How do you do it Claire? Dusty would have walked off the earth for you, Chad wants to date you, and Jamie looked like he would do a backflip if you asked him to.”

“Claire laughed tiredly. Dustin is very special, Chad-isn’t, and Jamie needs me more than he needs air right now. It isn’t about me, it’s the circumstance we all find ourselves in.”

“Jamie is so good looking, is he married?”

“Almost. I thought you liked Chad!”

“Not anymore.”

Claire looked at her dreamy-eyed assistant as they drove off, and laughed before diving into files to update her notes for the day.

[cartoonfangirl1218]

Give them what they want ch. 5

A split mushroom/pepper pizza or just allowing Aziz and Lonnie to make their choice of portobello mushroom pizza. That was the question of the day.

Ever since, she arrived back in Auradon, she decided to put in action her plan to give people what they want. The girl everybody liked and desired. Not just for her powers. How?

If there was anything that she learned from being used that there for every question, there were three things lying underneath. 1st. What he said he wanted. 2nd. WHat he secretly wanted but didn't have any telepathic powers to convey it. 3rd. What they would most desire yet knew was unlikely to happen.

She was going to be that 3rd option. For once she was going to use the idea that a genie was to sup pose to give people their biggest wishes to her own advantage. She wouldn't grant wishes, but she would definatly act personable and generous enough that no one would dare critize her for being selfish and bitchy.

"Jord? Still here?" Aziz snapped his fingers in front of her face.

"Yes." She snapped back, "I'm just thinking before I answered."

"Dude, not a life or death decision."

Jordan inwardly scoffed. Sure, not a life or death decision. But wars had been commited for less. Relationships and friends still left her for aN unknowable (unknowable to her at least) reason lying in her personality.

So while Lonnie and Aziz were allowing the option to split the pizza, she knew they would much prefer to eat a whole pizza filled with mushrooms.

"You can have the mushrooms." Jordan answered.

"Cool!" Aziz grinned and slapped her on the back.

Lonnie placed the order to the cafeteria lady to the dorms and they spent their free gorging out while Jordan daintily nibbled at the edges of the pizza not occupied by the mushrooms and their disgusting smell.

So she barely ate. The smell kinda ruined her appetite. After she accidentally swallowed one of the portobellos when she was trying to take off the crust, she pleaded a rain check. Rushing early to her next class to stuff her face with cherry-filled chocolates before anyone else arrived.

At twelve on the dot, Fauna arrived to start her class, Fae and Humans Throughout the Ages. It was a simple class, try to take notes, read the homework and be able to argue persuasively. At the end of each chapter Fauna assigned, she put two theories on the cause of what had happened.

There was a correct theory and those that got it had full credit (as long as they gave a proper reason why) and those who chose the incorrect theory got half credit depending how good their argument was.

She heard her stomach grumble, and almost regretted her decision not to split the pizza.

"No. Don't think so selfishly. That is exactly why people can't stand being around you." She reprimanded herself.

She knew better than to try to please everybody. So she just stuck to those that she wanted to keep around, that it would hurt too much if they left and reviled her.

But it still exhausted her. Up till now, she didn't know how many requests and questions people asked of her in a day. And taking the time to think of the option that the person really wanted actually took more concentrating than she liked.

An almost instinctive, subconscious part of her wanted to give up trying to figure out what people wanted and to please them. It was too hard. She just wanted to scream, "Please just tell me what to do! Be honest, and tell me exactly what you want. Be the master and tell me so I can do it for you."

"Tell me what is so horrible about me so I can change myself!"

She couldn't make decisions on her own. Obviously she sucked at them. She somehow kept missing the important things, the things that influenced people to stay or leave her.

But she knew she couldn't say that. It would give more of a reason for people to see her as a genie. She had to repress it, she had to stick with what she was doing.

Thinking, analyzing, weighing what people SAID they want, the undercurrent of what they would desire but not say, and what action or words that make them happy and be pleased with her.

Yet every time a decision, a question was thrown her way she felt a small primal paralyzingly fear.

She would say the wrong thing, something insignificant to her, but big to them. And then it would be the last straw, and they wouldn't forgive her, they would leave her. It was stressful, she wasn't used to all the mental gymnastics but she would stick it out, and follow through.

Because when she did they would smile at her and praise her, and for a brief moment, she would be safe. Safe in the knowledge that for the time being, they wouldn't think of leaving her alone. That she worthy enough for them to stick around in the long run. She was good, and nice and useful.

They wouldn't see the ugliness that was so obvious to everyone else. Though she wondered what it was.

"I think Theory A is the correct one. I mean, you agree that the Salem Witch Trials were obviously started by evil witches as to get rid of witches that stood against them. Come on stand by me on this one." Doug nodded eagerly at her from the seat over, snapping Jordan out of her mental reverie.

In truth, she didn't. She thought it had beev made up by human girls who wanted attention and exasperated by superstitious adults. No wizards or other fae had been involved whatsoever. That had been confirmed by some history books written by fae that witches rarely populated areas where superstitions were rampant. Nor would they really try to hide that they were witches in the first place.

But...she liked Doug. He was so sweet. She wouldn't mind to keep hanging out with him and learning some chemistry dooda from him or video to his musical talent.

If she agreed, he would be pleased. It would keep up his high grades in Fae and Humans Throughout History and improve his GPA that much more. Plus with a high GPA, he would get what he most desired. Being accepted to a collage and going on to a occupation not in the mines like his forefathers and the rest of his family.

So she bit back her convincing argument that would have knocked most of his case away and coyly nodded her head. "I agree. Doug is right. After all witches are well-known for keeping their status as number one and jealous of other competitors."

Jane raised her hand, "I disagree. The right answer is Theory B. According to the chapter you assigned last night, most fae didn't even live in the area. And if they did, witches are not known to hide the fact that they are witches as the status of a witch can lead people to come to them for help in healing and other good magic arts."

Fauna nodded her head at Jane's answer, "Class take note, Jane has the right idea..." and so on went her spiel. Doug, then passed her a note.

I didn't think you would completely agree with me on Theory A without offering more of an opinion to support it. Usually you are good at this class. Did you space out on last night's homework?

Jordan quickly scribbled her own note. I thought you wanted me to agree, and support you. Let you take the lead.  From the corner of her eye, she saw Doug opening the note and look at her curiously. Like she was an abstract picture he just didn't get. Once class was over, Doug stopped her on the way out. "You want to support me?" He said dubiously.

Jordan's chest squeezed with anticipation. The anxiety that he would insult her for her stupid decision, that she was useless in helping him. Another calculation. What did he wat to hear from her? What would make him happy with her?

Some flattery would probably work here. "I think you do have good ideas. I already say my opinion enough, I was letting the teacher see that yours could stand on their own." It sounded awkwardly phrased and vague to her ears, and she could see from his reaction that he was even more confused than ever from her answer.

"I'm sorry that I didn't support your argument well and made you wrong in front of everybody." Jordan whispered softly.

"It's not a big deal." Doug told her. He opened his mouth to say something else but she interrupted.

"Good." Jordan chirped brightly to keep Doug from asking further questions and she ended up making a bigger mistake. "So we're cool." "Yeah..sure?"

"I'm glad. You're a nice boy, Doug. I'll see you around." While Doug blushed at the unexpected compliment, Jordan walked away thinking. Okay, she said things that she never would have done if she acted like she normally did.

Which kept her in his good graces. He still liked her. She must have done something right.

Which only proved one thing, there must be something horribly wrong with her usual personality. She was right. She was a bad person as herself.

She would just have to change that. Do what people wanted to hear. After all, it was better to be good, and beloved than alone as herself.

[lo-55]

Revel Ch. 12

Onwards to Ohara                    

 Tori was restless.

 Everyone could see it, from her handmaids to her husband. Ever since she had returned from her trip to her mothers home she had drifted through the halls in the golden afternoon light and walked the fields of her worst enemy without her usual air of cheerful delight.

 Victoria was a people person.

 She always had been, even when the only thing she could focus on was her next paper, her next test score, her college major, her GPA, her STEM projects, she had always loved people.

 She loved humanities and history. Even though it was science that her mind was hardwired for, even though it was mathematics that her parents pushed her to pursue, Tori had always loved people.

 What she wanted to study was humanities. Anthropology, if it must be academic, she didn’t care.

 They had settled for anesthesiologist. Her parents and herself, but mostly her parents. Anything to show off how smart she was. How many grades she had skipped. How many awards she could win.

 By the time she was eighteen she was trapped. Strangled by a blue ribbon around her neck, her leash so short she could barely speak to her neighbors without being pulled away to ‘focus on her future’.

 She hated it.

 Tori was not a spiteful person. She didn’t keep many grudges. But when she died, and she died so young in retrospect, so young and so oblivious to the world, missing out on so much of her life, she      hated    .

 She hated her first grade teacher for telling her parents that she was a genius instead of sending her to remedial classes for being so bored in class that she didn’t do her work. She hated whoever was in charge of her junior high that sent her right on to high school. She was only Twelve and suddenly she was a freshman.

 She hated her parents for pushing her so far and so hard and so      much    without ever letting her climb trees or play but decided to have her test her limits and climb ladders

 She hated      herself     for knowing too much, for showing up her peers whether she was trying to or not, for giving her parents an excuse to isolate her. For not standing up for herself. For not knowing people or making friends. She hated herself for dying alone.

 All of this meant that now, when she was pretty but not smart, did it seem very unusual for her not to strike up a conversation with everyone she found in her path.

 Tori could have seen it coming that Madelle might come for her, or Aelia, or Lapa, or any of her other handmaidens.

 The one person she wasn’t expecting to come find her that warm day in spring, was her husband.

 He found her in the gardens that had begun to grow her own home islands plants. At some point when he had gone home with her, he had also procured seeds and clippings of their flowers and had them planted here.

 Now, almost a year after, they were starting to bud in the golden sunlight.  

 Tori sat amongst them, staring at the sky and thinking about the formation of clouds. The pull of molecules, the weight of water, and the cold upper atmosphere. She thought of light reflection and refraction, and just how could sky islands exist? How were their clouds so thick to stand on but not so heavy that they fell? What stopped gravity from dragging them?

 She had tried for so long so hard not to think too much. Not to try to unravel all of these mysteries, or consider devil fruit, or lost history. Or anything else like that.

 She tried to just be pretty. She tried to just know people, without ever seeming like she knew much at all.

 But now the itch was back.

 The curiosity.

 The want to know.

 It was here and she was having trouble shoving all of it back into the box inside her chest while her mind whirled through things she had once known and tried to forget.

 She was just reminding herself about cloud seeds when a shadow fell across her face and she found herself staring up at her husband.

 “Katakuri,” she said, surprised. She had neither heard nor felt him coming. Not that sensing was her specialty. “Hello,” she sat up slowly, drawing her legs up under her. Her skirts wrinkles around her calves.

 “What’s wrong with you?”

 Tori blinked at him once. Twice. Thrice.

 “Oh. You’re blunt.” What else would she expect? This was Katakuri, not a courtier. He had no need to soften his words to her. Even if he was in a court and not in their home garden, she doubted he would mince his words.

 In fact, if he was more prone to talking she was sure he would wind up in more fights with, well, everyone.

 Katakuri’s brows furrowed and he lowered himself to his knees in front of her. He still towered above her. Tori took the liberty of taking his hand in hers.

 “Forgive me. I’ve been thinking.”

 “Thinking of what?” he asked suspiciously.

 “Ah. Well, a lot of things. The sun and the moon and all of the stars. There’s so much I don’t know, and so many questions I’ve never asked.”

 “Then ask them,” he said, like it was simple. Like it was easy.

     What’s behind your scarf?    The part of her that was still bitter whispered. The part that feared the consequences of what would happen if she was more than just pretty again. But she didn’t ask that. She didn’t say such a spiteful thing, and besides.

 She already knew the answer.

 “There’s some questions that aren’t easy to ask. Or easy to find answers to,” or      legal    to find answers to. “Our library on the island is limited largely to past years accounts and agriculture and irrigation. And the ones on Imperia are similar. I’ve had my lessons there.”

 She did not mention that the only real things she had learned there was the island's personal history and her family's role in it, and to a smaller extent geography and tides. Everything else she had already known. Math, science, and so on, that hadn’t changed across the dimensions. It didn’t help that they didn’t even know what DNA was here. And wouldn’t for another twenty years, if she remembered correctly.

 Katakuri stared at her for a long time, like he was contemplating not her, but the secrets of the universe.

 Finally, he spoke.

 “There is an island,” he said, “Where they have thousands of years of accumulated knowledge. If you want to know something, that is the place to go. South of us, across the calm belt.”

 “In West Blue?” Tori cocked her head. They were in the New World, a million miles away from Paradise. They were sandwiched between the North and West Blue’s.

 It took her a minute to realize.

 He was talking about-

 “Ohara,” his voice was a low rumble. “You could go to Ohara. You’re restless. And snappish.”

 Tori frowned at him. “I am no such thing.”

 He just arched a brow at her until Tori felt herself start to flush. It was a jittery sort of anger. It was fear and old, bitter spite that reared its ugly head when it hadn’t in twenty years.  

 If she gave in to herself, if she let herself start devouring books and knowledge, what would become of her then? Who would she be? What pedestals would she stand on, that even her handmaids and her friends, and her family could not climb to stand beside her on?

 She didn’t want to do that again, but her skin itched and her mind yearned. There was so much she didn’t know. There were so many places she had never been. This world was strange and new and-

 She knew everything, she told herself. She knew how water flowed and clouds formed. She knew how cells gathered together to make a person. She knew how lightning cracked through the skies to the seas. She didn’t need to go to Ohara, there was nothing else she      needed    to know.

 But god, there was so much she      wanted    to know.

 And here was her husband, offering it to her.

 On top of that, he did something only the Orseolo brothers ever really did to her.

 He called her on her behavior. He saw her behavior.

 Tori slowly reached up, and took both of his hands in hers. Her smile was soft, and affectionate. She wanted to grin like a loon, but she didn’t know she could do that yet. She’d had a little too much training.

 “I want to. I want to go to Ohara.”

 Tori was traveling more these days than she had ever travelled in her entire life. In either life.

 The trip from Komugi to Ohara wasn’t a straight shot across the Calm Belt. They had to sail all the way to Reverse Mountain, and then down to the West Blue. The Big Mom pirates didn’t have seastone lining their ships, only the small ship that ferried her away from Komugi, sans her husband but including his young brother.

 At twenty five he was one year older than Tori and still only half grown for a Charlotte, meaning he was actually a foot shorter than Tori was. It was strange to look down on anyone from Katakuri’s family, but whenever they were together she found herself staring at the short cropped purple hair of Charlotte Cracker.

 He was cute, this young. He didn’t have his scar yet and he was all bright eyed and cheerful and utterly terrible at staying still. He also glued himself to Tori’s side as soon as Katakuri asked him to keep an eye on her.

 He only had a modest bounty yet, and that was mostly because he was Big Mom’s son, so he could leave Paradise and not get a whole army of Marine’s on his ass. Unlike Katakuri, who had already gone toe to toe with no less than three rear admirals.

 When she thought about it, he could probably kill her with a napkin.

 It was a good thing they got along.

 Privately, Tori wondered if she wasn’t already halfway in love with him. They were too alike.

 Yet, he couldn't be more different from his younger brother.

 “Hey,” she caught him by his elbow when he went nearly skipping by. They both stayed steady when the boat lurched into the dock. “Calm down, FireCracker. We’re here already. You can stretch your legs,” she teased. He’d gone completely stir crazy somewhere around the second week on the ship, and it was on the backs of the fighters in the crew that his energy fell. He sharpened his skill and sword at their expense.

 Now, he was about ready to leap over the side of the ship and start a fight with whoever he saw. Given that this was an island of scholars, he wouldn’t find anyone who could pose a challenge.

 “Behave,” Tori warned him, and led the way off the boat.

 They both towered across the other inhabitants of the island by at least three feet in all directions. The crew was more average sized and they ran around like bees securing their space at the docks. Tori didn’t know how long she was going to be here. She didn't even know how long Ohara was going to be here, but she was going to take advantage of what time she had.

 Cracker was supposed to watch over her, he’d been sent to do as much by his brother, but she doubted it would last long. She was going to be reading, and he would get bored of that soon enough.

 Cracker reminded her, in some ways, of Gemma. He was a brilliant, brutal fighter and he knew it. But while Gemma was cunning and vicious he was cocky and perhaps a bit foolish. And neither of them could stay still for very long. The curse of always being ‘able’.

 Tori had to crane her neck up, up, up to see the tops of the Tree of Knowledge. It was amazing. It was ancient and towering and it enveloped the entire island in a cool shadow.

 It was every bit as magnificent as Tori had ever dreamed, and then some.

 “It’s strange, don’t you think?” she asked, drawing Cracker’s attention to her. Her handmaidens had stayed on Komugi, dressed as her in turns, to distract anyone who might wish her harm.

 “What is?” he asked, looking away from where he was eying one of the dock workers.

 “The tree of knowledge. It’s old and big. I’ve always thought of knowledge as new and ever growing, infinite possibilities.”

 Cracker squinted at her.

 “... Mama sure picked a good person for my brother.”

 Tori was so startled she didn’t even think of saying anything to him before he was off harassing a strong looking man down the block.

 “A good person huh?” Tori started to smile. Maybe that was true. And maybe Mama had picked out a good person for her, too.

 The hallways of the library of Ohara were vast and packed with so many books it almost made her head spin.

 It was wonderful and just a little bit frightening.

 A lot a bit frightening.

 There was so much knowledge here, so much she could learn and find. It reminded her all too much of fairs and vicious competitions and night spent sitting in front of her parents while they snapped at her any time she didn’t answer perfectly.

 Even more so, because she knew all of this knowledge was about to disappear. It was going to vanish off the face of the earth, lost forever in the flames of a Buster Call.

 It hadn’t registered before. Tori had known, consciously, that there were a lot of books. She had known that a lot had been lost. But to see it? In person, with her own eyes?

 It made her sick to her stomach. Alexandria burned, Carthage was razed, Yunchin was destroyed, Baghdad was sacked, and the Aztecs were utterly destroyed. So much had been lost from her old world, and now so much again was going to be lost from here. How long? How long until this tree was felled?  

 Tori’s fingers itched. Her stomach churned. No, absolutely not.

 Tori caught the arm of a passing librarian, marked by her name tag.

 “Excuse me,” she said politely, ignoring the fact that the woman didn’t even reach her shoulder. “Do you have paper available for the public?”

 The woman looked at her, surprised, and nodded.

 “Ah, yes. There’s paper available next to the almanacs.”

 Tori thanked her a left her to her work. She found the papers and pends, and grabbed the first almanac off the shelf.

 She began.

 It was slow going at first, until she got into the rhythm of it. No one seemed to notice what she was doing, or if they did they were too intimidated to remark on the fact that she was copying down each book she came across.

 In tiny short hand, each stroke of her pen no thicker than even a quarter inch, she wrote down everything. All of it, page after page she copied every book she could get her hands on. She lost all track of time.

 The spell of translation didn’t break until a ruckus of whispers broke through the small reading room she had found herself in. It smelled like books and ink and dust.

 She looked up, expecting the whispering to be about her, but it wasn’t.

 There was a tiny, tiny little girl standing in the doorway, a book as thick as her head in her hands. Her hair was short and straight, even darker than Tori’s, and her eyes were wide and blue.

 Tori wasn’t the only person in the room. Most of the tables were full of people, and when the little girl started looking around those same tables were suddenly over flowing with books and papers, and there was no room for a child anywhere.

 Tori very intentionally moved the books around. The too-small chair she sat in creaked, giving her away to the little girl. There was only one space left in the room, if she wanted it.

 It took a few minutes before the soft thud of a book on the table across from her told Tori that she was no longer alone. Robins head popped up the other side a minute later.

 “Can I sit here?” she asked, her voice quiet and soft. Tori’s heart melted. She’d always had a soft spot for children.

 “Of course you can sweetheart. There’s plenty of room.”

 “Thank you,” Robin smiled shyly at her. Tori returned it, and got back to her work. She finished the book she was working on and started another. She had gone through five before Robin’s voice broke her concentration again.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Hmm?” Tori lifted her head. “I’m taking notes. I don’t live here, and when I leave I still want to have access to some of this information.” All of this information. At least as much as she could get her hands on.

 Maybe it would have been  better to find Clover or whatever his name was and tell him what was to come. To tell him to start evacuating the books, but honestly? Why would he listen to her? She was no one to him. Just a foreign princess and a pirates bride.

 It was the first part of that that meant she could travel as she pleased.

 “I don’t know that language,” Robin leaned forwards before she caught herself, flushing and drawing back. Tori pushed the paper over to her.

 “It’s short hand. A sort of code for writing things down faster. See? That line says ‘      I destroyed Humbaba who lived in the Cedar Forest, I slew lions in the mountain passes! I grappled with the Bull that came down from heaven, and killed him    .’ “

 “That’s a lot,” Robin looked fascinated.

 Tori smiled at her and pulled a chair beside her. “Would you like to learn?”

 Robin’s whole face lit up. “Yes! Please!”

 She scrambled around the table and popped up at Tori’s side, just a little sprite of curiosity and innocence that watched with rapt attention as Tori showed her what she was doing. It was a shorthand unique to her island, to her family in fact. They had records going back a thousand or more years that looked almost identical.

 Tori realized quickly that if she was a genius, Robin was a super genius. She was just a child but she was already fluent in more languages that Tori had fingers to count them on and she learned everything Tori told her without needing anything repeated.

 What a frightening child.

 Tori did enlist her help. She had Robin translate the texts in languages other than japanese and english and in turn transcribe those for her with the promise of stories of her homeland as payment.

 She felt like she was taking advantage of the child, but Robin didn’t seem to mind. She was just happy someone was talking to her.

 Tori wanted to scoop her into her arms and carry her right home to Komugi, sit her down and spoil her for the rest of her life. She didn’t want this little girl to be chased all over by the government, tormented and betrayed for her entire life. She wanted to scoop her up and protect her at any cost.

 It was because of Robin that Tori left the library that night to get dinner in time to see the sun burning into the horizon behind the Tree of Knowledge.

 Cracked appeared with dinner for her, and enough left over for Robin to eat with them, even though he had no idea she was there.

 “Did you clone yourself in there?” Cracker asked, squinting at the little girl when he caught sight of her. Tori was startled into laughing.

 “Oh, yes. A mini-me,” she teased, ruffling Robin’s hair. The little girl stared up at them, stunned.

 Cracker laughed harder than her and grabbed the little girl by the back of her shirt. He lifted her up when she squeaked and propped her on his shoulder while they walked back to the ship. Robin grabbed his hair, looking bewildered but not afraid.

 “Where are we going?” she asked, looking around the town from her new vantage. The villagers were quickly scrambling out of their way. Tori didn’t take it personally.

 “Us? We’re going to our ship to eat dinner. With you, now. But eventually we’ll go back to Tottoland.”

 “Totto Land,” Robin repeated, looking off at the ocean.

 Tori smiled.

 “It’s where we live. Although I’m from Imperia originally. If you ever decide to travel, you should come visit me there. You’d be more than welcome.”

 “Really?” Robin looked at her with such heartbreaking hope.

 “Yes, really,” Tori smiled sweetly at her. “You’re very smart, sweetheart, and I think you’d like it there.”

 Cracker dropped her on the deck of the ship, and the three of them descended into the cabins to eat in peace. Tori couldn't help keeping an eye on the window, searching the horizon for Navy ships.

 In the morning she would go back and keep at her work, but for tonight she ate with Cracker and Robin and laughed at their silly antics. They were both so young and unburdened by the world. Tori wanted to save them, if only she had the strength.

[inboldmagazine]

INBOLD MEETS: Nwaobiala, the artist healing the hidden traumas of the African Diaspora

Nwaobiala poses with paintings created by BAKHITA. Photo taken by BAKHITA. Interview and Text by Nandi Ndoro. 

Nwaobiala (they/them/their) is the mixed-media artist the African Diaspora never knew it needed. Hailing from Nigeria and Prince George's County, Maryland, Nwaobiala is a 21-year-old creative using short films, photography, personal essays, mixed-media collages, and other mediums of art to promote self-care and self-expression.

Since starting university as a pre-med major to appease their traditional parents, Nwaobiala has been shifting into full-time artistry. Addressing everything from their first time having an STI to intergenerational abuse amongst African mothers, Nwaobiala's art is powerful, especially to black people who have never been able to have these conversations. There is no doubt that as they continue to explore their artistic capabilities, they are creating a movement of young black people who seek to explore, expose, and heal the hidden traumas of communities in the African Diaspora.

Nwaobiala’s most recent project, “we are more than bodies,” explores the effects of cultural homophobia in Queer Nigerian Americans via photography and digital collaging.

Nwaobiala sat down with Inbold in July to talk about their upbringing and what it has been like being honest in communities that often promote secrecy.  

How did you get into art?

I've been writing stories ever since I was in 2nd grade. I showed them to my teachers but never to my parents. They used to say, "You have to be a doctor. You have to go to medical school." They still say that. Then from seventh grade to the middle of 10th grade, I went to school in Nigeria. When I came back to the States, I ended up in this English class taught by this really dope, black woman. When we got to the Poetry unit, I didn't know how to write poetry but I ended up writing a piece about women empowerment. I performed it in front of the class and I got a standing ovation. I was like, "Wow, I'm actually kind of good at this." Then, during my senior year of high school, I took a TV production class and that was the first time I ever held a camera. I thought it was cool how some people used visuals to tell their stories. I had started working around that time so I decided to buy myself a camera. I had also just come out of a terrible breakup so it was perfect timing. I was still using that camera when I got to college.

When did you start doing slam poetry?

After that poetry performance about women empowerment, I found a lot of spoken word videos on YouTube which I became obsessed with. Then, during my freshman year of college, I joined CUPSI, the College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational, so I was competing in poetry slam events across the country. I did that for two years and it was really cool. That was really when I started to express myself more. I just met so many cool people doing their thing: being queer as hell and gay as shit. It was everything I needed. I'm taking a break this year though because I'm not really into slam poetry anymore.

Why is that?

At the time I was doing slam poetry, it was bringing up a lot of trauma in my life. I didn't have therapy and I couldn't deal with it. I feel like people want you to tell them about your traumatic experiences during performances but that's re-traumatizing for me. I needed to take a break. Looking back now, I don't think I'm going to go back to it. I also don't like when my writing is in that "slam poetry format". I realized that when I took poet Ariana Brown's workshop and I was like, "Wow, I hate the way my writing is structured." Once I left that format, I liked my writing a lot more.

How did you get into collages?  

Last year, I was at home for Christmas, and I was really bored. My parents are really strict so when I go home, I don't leave the house that much. So I was like, "Okay, let's make art." I couldn't take pictures though because it was cold, plus I needed models and transportation. I had been seeing people make digital collages so I started making them and they were a really big hit.

“we are more than bodies” by Nwaobiala

Are you still making them?

Definitely. I think digital collages are really cool because you get to put different parts together to create a whole new message. I have one about intergenerational trauma via mothers that's inspired by Safia Elhillo. She has literally some of the best diaspora poems that I've ever read, specifically from her book The January Children. The college is about how cultures that only see women as objects for breeding children, not as a people to be loved, impact our mothers. I think my mother is very much affected by that culture. She's not happy in her marriage but she'll still go around telling people, "At least I kept my man." I'm like, "Who cares?". That nigga stresses her out so why is she happy about that? I think a lot of women are unhappy in their marriages, especially in Nigeria. It makes me so sad. Even more, when I watched the Nina Simone documentary, it reminded me of this intergenerational trauma. Nina Simone was abused by her husband and went on to abuse her daughter. You can see the cycle of trauma within that situation. Now that I think about it, we all remember Nina Simone differently than how she really lived. Exploring that type of trauma and how we interact with our mothers is an example of what my collages are about. Outside of that, I'm also trying to get into music.

I was gonna ask you about that… music is the one thing you haven't conquered yet!

Yeah, I'm trying to get into DJing because I think it's so sexy.

Honestly, it is.

Yeah, but the equipment is a barrier. Same thing with photography. Honestly, all this art shit is extremely expensive. Photography is really expensive. The one lens that I have only cost me $30, so that's good. It's nice but it's not versatile. I've been applying to a million, trillion grants and they’re hard to get so I have to wait until I win some before getting more photography equipment. My laptop is also running out of storage every day because of my YouTube channel. Lol, it's just been a lot.

I love your videos!

Thank you! I actually make my videos via my external hard drive because I can't have them on my laptop. Oh, man. It's a mess. Art is expensive and tedious.

But it's something that you have to continue?

Oh, yeah. Art is the only thing that feels right to me. I'm not drawn to anything else. I don't see myself looking up YouTube videos about engineering, for example. I don't feel any type of drive to do anything but art. I'm interested in a variety of subjects but I like the medium of art. I like how it gets to people and I like making it.

“we are more than bodies” by Nwaobiala

What has your relationship with your parents been like since you started spending more time creating art?

My parents don’t really know about the art thing. See what had happened was, I had told my dad that I was going to go to university as a Bioengineering major to eventually get into medical school, I’m still on an engineering scholarship, but my first semester was so stressful. It was really anxiety-inducing and I was stressed about my GPA all the time. I couldn’t live like that. So I changed my major to Industrial engineering, which even though it’s still STEM, my dad doesn’t approve.

But being a full-time artist is the goal?

Yes. I’m building my brand now with my website and social media. I’m mostly financially independent so even if my parents tell me I can’t do it, I’m just gonna do it.

When did you start identifying with the Diaspora as opposed to just Africans in general?

The Diaspora is home for me. Even though I grew up in Nigeria partly, I can't fully identify with Nigerians because I do have that "Americanness" in me. Whenever I have a dissenting opinion about our culture, they often attribute it to me being "spoiled" or "damaged" by western culture.

Yeah, that "Americanness" will separate you so fast from an African community.

Facts. It's just hard for a lot of people to understand or see any other point of view that's different from theirs. But recently, I've been connecting with a lot of people that I went to boarding school within Nigeria. Some of them are roaring feminists now and that's hella cool. I know two who are queer so I would really like to interview them. In Nigeria, the ignorance about queer identity is real. Actually, I don't even have to go back there to feel the ignorance. I can just go to a family reunion or talk to my Dad. It's really hard to deal with, honestly. It makes me so mad that I need to calm myself down.

Who are some of your influences?

Oh man, this question is so hard! I need to pull out my Instagram. One of the first people that comes to mind is Yagazie Emezi. She's a Nigerian photographer and she's a trailblazer. I like everything that her work revolves around. I also like her personality: she's the type of person to say that the photography industry is really white and male and that they all want you to be a certain type of way. They want you to be quiet and aloof. You're just an artist so you can't have a presence to you. But she's like "Fuck all of that! I'm going to be whoever I want and you should just take it or leave it." She also doesn't let people dangle money in front of her and she's very successful. Who else? Oh, Koffee, the musician! She's just herself and I love it.

What has your networking been like with other artists?

A lot of my friends are artists. I have one friend who I went to school with in Nigeria and in the States as well. Her name is Crystal Anokam and she's an amazing photographer. She's really been my support system because she's also a Nigerian American so she knows what's up. In general, I surround myself with a lot of people from the African Diaspora. If you're Diaspora: I want to value your work, I want to pay for your work, I want to see your work. I care about the stories that you're telling. That's the art I want to see. I hate going to museums sometimes because there's so much white art! If I wanted to see white art, I'd go to church. For example, the MFA in Boston is hella white. I was there one time and this teacher was taking a group of students through the African art section. The teacher said to the students, "Oh yeah, this is the African art. We haven't really talked about Africa this year..." and he just kept speeding past all the work. I was like, "Bruh, this is your chance to talk to your students about our continent!" It's sad because there were black kids in that group too. But yeah, I like to surround myself with people who have that background because they know where I'm coming from. Even if our parents don't support our art, we know that the art that we create matters. It's so important for us to talk about heavy subjects and these stories because no one is specifically scouting for African artists. You have to push yourself into the spotlight. You also need to be able to connect with other people. Ever since I started my YouTube channel, I've had so many people message me and tell me "Damn, I'm going through the exact same thing!" It's nice to hear people say that and to be able to have these difficult conversations. Sometimes I feel like I'm just kind of here by myself. This shit can get rough so that's nice.

You can find more of Nwaobiala’s work at www.nwaobiala.com, on Instagram @nwaobiala, or on YouTube: nwaobiala. 

[jungcupid-archive]

i dare you (to never let me go)

pairing: jungkook x jimin                jungkook x taehyung (subplot)

summary: and after all that had passed, jungkook would always be pulled back to jimin. he didn’t know why, maybe it was fate (or maybe it was his 9-year-old daughter).

chapter: 3/?

a/n: forgot to post this here but posted it on ao3... am i boo boo the fool? yes.

+

    Mina was up. According to her alarm clock, it was 8:59 AM. She could’ve just immediately gone downstairs to find the present she knew would be waiting for her, but she liked hearing-

     “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU! HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR mina! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!”

     -that.

     Mina could’ve screamed for hours on end about how excited she was (she was 9 years old!), but she just raced out of bed and down the stairs to find the letter. Mina saw a gift from her Daddy in the living room but decided to leave that for later. Next to it, there was an envelope with a sticky note on it. It read: Mina, I’M SO SORRY!!! I was called in to work for a few hours. Grandma won’t be able to make it but I trust that as a fresh 9-year-old, you’ll be able to take care of yourself. Be good. Brush your teeth. Keep the doors locked. Don’t pick up the phone if it isn’t me. I put your cereal on the kitchen counter. Love you, I’ll try to be back fast!

     Mina couldn’t even bring herself to be upset, he’d be back soon enough. Until then, she had the company of her other Daddy. Mina snuggled up on the couch and opened up the envelope carefully like she did every year, taking out the loose sheets of paper with immaculate handwriting on them. She was already buzzing with excitement when she began reading.

     Dear Jimin,

     IT’S YOUR 9TH BIRTHDAY! WAY TO GO GIRL! I don’t know how you’ve made it so far with only Jungkook to take care of you, but good job! I know he’s a handful, but be patient with him, yeah?

     Mina laughed at this.

     Today you turn 9. Another year older and hopefully wiser. I know what you’re expecting, the usual stuff about being amazing and learning new things and me telling you stories about me and your other father, but this birthday is a little more exciting. This year I’m going to tell you about Jimin (not you, although I’d love to talk about you). If I know Jungkook, and trust me, I do, then he hasn’t found Jimin like I told him to. You probably don’t even know who he is.

     He was right about that.

     Get comfortable, honey. I’m about to tell you the story of Jungkook and Jimin (featuring yours truly).

      “Jimin, stop moving!”

     Jungkook poked his head out from behind the canvas and aggressively waved a paintbrush in the air. “That’s cheating and you know it.”

     Jimin rolled his eyes at Jungkook through the mirror, “Technically, it isn’t because it’s already been 2 hours. 2 hours and 1 minute, to be precise.”

     The boys were in the dance studio, Jimin posed delicately in front of the mirror with his back turned to Jungkook, who was set up with an easel to paint the other boy.

     “Besides,” Jimin practically whined, “I’m tired. When you said you had a dare for me, this is not what I had in mind.”

     Jungkook restrained himself from throwing his paintbrush at Jimin when he turned around, no longer holding his pose. A cry of rage nearly left his body. Jungkook was too good to this Park Jimin kid.

     “Jimin! Fine, go ahead, cheat. See if I care. I always knew you were a bad sport.” Jungkook gave the other a sarcastic smile and started packing up his paints.

     “I just told you that I didn’t cheat! Check your phone, you absolute buffoon. We started at 2, it’s 4:01 now,” Jimin exclaimed, offended that he had to defend himself like this. He snatched his unopened duffel bag off the floor and crossed the room to Jungkook. The painting was beautiful, as always, showcasing Jimin’s form gracefully. Light glinted off the rings on his fingers and his hair looked like it was made of feathers, but Jimin couldn’t care less. He’d just been called a cheater. Again.

     “You always do this,” Jimin continued, sitting on Jungkook’s stool as soon as the other got up. Jungkook placed the painting lightly on the floor and began folding his easel. “I always do the dare exactly right, and you always end up salty because I didn’t fail, consequently calling me a cheater because of some inferiority complex bullshit.”

     Jungkook stopped his movements and turned to face Jimin, arms crossed and the vague thought of murder on his mind, “I do not get salty. And what are, some sort of junior psychologist? Fuck off. You’re just a sore loser who can’t ever complete his dares properly.”

     He fished his phone out of his pocket and thrust it in Jimin’s face. The clock read 3:59. Jimin didn’t back down, showing Jungkook his own phone that read 4:01.

     They both glared at each other and before Jungkook could come up with something rude to say, Jimin shoved his phone back into his pocked and turned to leave. He raised his hand in a half-wave with his back turned, “Whatever, Jungkook. See you later.”

     As soon as the door closed, Jungkook began muttering to himself, eyebrows furrowed, “God, who does he think he is? It’s not my fault his phone is set to the wrong time. And would it have killed him to pose for a few more minutes? He knows this assignment is due in, like, 2 days.”

     When everything was packed up, Jungkook slid down onto the floor. His neck was killing him from being ducked over the stupid painting for 2 hours – no, 1 hour and 59 minutes. The room was air-conditioned but his face still felt warm from frustration. He stared at the ceiling. God, he really did like this room.

     It was so much nicer than the art studio, all blank walls and no personality. This room was charged with energy, even without people inside. The floors were bright yellow and the walls were covered with signatures of past students. It was where Jimin had taught him how to dance. Where Jimin had probably also wanted to dance today because of his upcoming showcase, but never got the chance because Jungkook needed someone to pose for him and he knew Jimin didn’t back down from a dare.

     Jungkook groaned, rolling over onto his stomach and throwing a contained tantrum because he knew he’d been slightly unfair. Okay, so maybe he’d been a little less understanding than he could’ve been. A lot less. And maybe Jimin had been just the teensiest bit right about Jungkook being salty. Maybe. He took in a deep breath and sat up, slowly gathering his materials.

     When Jungkook opened the door, staining the knob with red paint in the process, he was surprised to find Jimin leaning against the wall outside with his eyes closed. His lips quirked up into a smile and he opened his eyes, looking to Jungkook. Jungkook couldn’t help it, he smiled back.

     “Sorry?” Jungkook attempted. Jimin laughed and shook his head.

     “Time is a construct anyways, and so are apologies. But I’m sorry too. You can finish up tomorrow, I’ll be there.”

     Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Thanks, and after that you can practice for your showcase. I’ll critique.”

     Jimin plucked his duffel bag off the floor and began walking down the hallway with Jungkook by his side, “Yeah? And what makes you think you’re capable of doing that?”

     “Well,” Jungkook started cheekily, “I recall my dance teacher as being quite the klutz sometimes, it became second nature to point out his mistakes.”

     “Brat.”

     “Your brat.”

     “Nope, just a brat.”

     And that was them, Jimin and Jungkook. They’d known each other all through high school and now they were learning to navigate how to be freshman all over again. Sure they fought. A lot, actually. But in the end, they’d always come back to each other. Because they were best friends and for best friends, it was hard to be with each other sometimes, sure, but it was harder to be without each other.

      “This is unnatural! It shouldn’t exist! I’m going to fail and get kicked out of this stupid school and never be able to design stupid buildings and make stupid money for the rest of my stupid life!”

     “Extensive vocabulary, little Jeon.”

     “Shut your stupid trap, little Park.”

     They were in Jungkook’s dorm room. Jimin was lying on the bed, reading some book about healthy eating. He sighed and placed a bookmark in the crease before setting the novel aside and sitting up. He stared at Jungkook, whose head was resting on the desk. Jungkook lifted his head just enough to make puppy-dog eyes at Jimin.

     “Help me?” Jungkook tried sounding pitiful, which wasn’t hard considering his current status of Dumbest Person Alive. “I don’t understand this shit at all, and I sure as hell can’t fail.”

     “Yes you can. This class is an elective, remember? Your perfectionist ass probably doesn’t like hearing this, but you could fail this class and it literally would not affect your life-long goal of becoming an architect. Your GPA? Sure. But how much is one class really going to matter?” Jimin’s logic was flawless, except for the fact that Jungkook’s perfectionist ass truly didn’t like hearing any of it and therefore did not process any of it. His life was a stack of Jenga blocks and God was a drunk freshman at his first frat party desperately wanting to prove his worth by winning a game his loose limbs were just not made for.

     “Also, taking Chemistry this year just because you were good at it in high school was a stupid decision. Just throwing that out there.”

     “You suck, go back to reading about the different kind of leaves you can put down your throat,” Jungkook huffed. He slammed his textbook shut and stared out the window dramatically. “I’ll just fail and damage my perfect GPA, which, by the way, is the pride of my family. Stop laughing, I’m serious!”

     Jimin finally got up from the bed and sprawled himself over Jungkook’s lap, turning his face away from the window. Jungkook pouted. “We’ll find you a tutor, okay? Let’s go get some food right now, it’s late. I’m a performance arts kid, Chemistry makes me want to physically throw up.”

     “Technically you’re a health and nutrition kid,” Jungkook muttered, but he complied nonetheless, and soon they were down in the cafeteria.

     It was close to 8, which meant prime time for kids who lived on campus. There was a flock of people crowding around the cakes, which immediately put Jungkook in an even worse mood than he was in before.

     “They’re going to get all the cheesecake cups before we get there,” he groaned, “why is life so unfair?”

     Jimin smacked him on the back of his head and told him to “sit the fuck down drama queen” so that he could get them food. Jungkook obeyed and pulled out his phone, deleting some pictures from his phone and moving others around to keep everything organized. He was considering joining Jimin in the line and even scanned the crowd of people to spot where the elder was when he noticed what was happening.

     Jimin was standing uncomfortably in front of this dude who looked like the type of person to duct-tape knives to their chest for “self-defence”. He was standing incredibly close to Jimin, practically breathing down his neck and although Jungkook couldn’t heart anything from so far, he could see the guy mouthing words into Jimin’s ear that were clearly making him uncomfortable. Jimin shifted every so often and didn’t once look behind him. Jungkook’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as he got up, getting closer to the line.

     Park Jimin was usually so outspoken and didn’t hesitate to defend himself when Jungkook accused him of something but throw him into a situation where an actual confrontation was needed, and suddenly all his bravado left him. Jungkook almost rolled his eyes.

     Jungkook walked straight up to Jimin and not-so-accidentally shoved the guy leaning into him as he went in to peck his cheek. Jimin turned to look at Jungkook, ears tinting pink as he opened his mouth to say something. But before he could, Jungkook whined in a sickeningly cute voice, “Baby! What’s taking so long? I’m hungry!”

     “Uh.”

     Park Jimin everybody, a man of many words.

     “Dude, don’t you have something to say?” The discount serial killer behind them said through gritted teeth, his eyes on Jungkook.

     “Oh! I’m sorry! Did I bump into you? I guess I get too excited when I’m with my boyfriend. Sorry about that.” Jungkook ignored Jimin pinching his stomach and merely slid his arm around his waist. “It won’t happen again.”

     “I didn’t need you to come save me like some knock-off knight in shining armour, idiot,” Jimin muttered lowly, struggling to move out of Jungkook’s grip.

     Jungkook grinned, planting another wet kiss on Jimin’s jaw, “Relax, baby, it’s the least I could do for my honey bear.”

     “One more word and I’m not sweet-talking Ms. Chan into giving you an extra cheesecake cup.” Jimin warned, at which Jungkook immediately shut up. Although his hand stayed on Jimin’s waist, it didn’t have to, but Jungkook liked having it there. He certainly didn’t want Freddy Krueger back there to try something else. Yeah, that was it. A gesture of consideration.

     After they’d gotten their food and settled down at a table, Jungkook gave Jimin a sly smile. “You’re such a charmer, Park Jimin. I don’t know how you get Ms. Chan to give you extras every single time.”

     He grabbed the first of his two cheesecake cups and began devouring it, not even sparing a glance at his actual dinner. Jimin looked at him distastefully and wrinkled his nose, “I think she likes that I have actual manners and can behave decently in the caf, unlike someone I know.”

     “Wha you mee?” Jungkook choked out from his mouthful of cake, he quickly swallowed the rest and wiped his mouth free of crumbs. “You know, as flirtatious as you can be, you don’t handle intimacy very well.”

     Jimin’s hand stopped in mid-air, bell peppers falling from his fork to the plate with a satisfying plop. “What.”

     Jungkook grinned, “Earlier, your ears turned red! It was the most entertained I’ve been in 19 years, to tell you the truth. What was up with that? Wait, don’t tell me… do I make you… nervous?”

     Jimin stabbed his vegetables a little too hard on the plate and looked up with an obviously fake smile, “Shut up if you know what’s good for you, Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook didn’t back down, opting to lean in close across the table until Jimin looked up, only to find that the two of them were nose to nose.

     “Oh look, a fly.”

     “No fly here,” Jungkook said in a matter-of-fact tone, thankfully without food in mouth. His innocent expression slowly transformed into a smirk. “Just a well-mannered boy who definitely does not make you nervous acting decently in the caf.”

     Before Jimin could call Jungkook out on his bullshit, there was cake on his face and he couldn’t see. He could hear Jungkook cackling, his evil laughter only increased when Jimin tried to blindly swat at him.

      “Oh, Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin said in a murderous tone while wiping cake off his face, “the dead man you are today.”

     In the blink of an eye, both boys were up and running. Jungkook screamed in delight while being chased by a ravenous Jimin. Ms. Chan stared at them with a surprisingly fond look in her eyes (probably because of Jimin, the old charmer) and then nearly yelped when she realized Jungkook was running towards her.

     Jungkook jumped over the counter and hid behind Ms. Chan.

     “You wouldn’t go through such a beautiful lady, would you?” Jungkook taunted as Jimin also slid over the counter. “Especially not when her hair is looking so voluminous!” Jimin made a wild swipe for Jungkook but he moved out of the way.

     Jungkook stepped towards the left and in the split second that Jimin lunged to that side, Jungkook slipped past Ms. Chan on her right, gave her a wink, and sprinted out of the caf and towards the field. Just when he thought he’d successfully evaded the wrath of Jimin, Jungkook felt a hand on his shirt and he was yanked back and knocked to the ground. Thank god for soft grass. Jimin sat on top of him, a triumphant smile on his face.

     “Guess who?” He practically sand. Now, what happened next was purely evolutionary instinct. Jungkook was the prey, and Jimin was the predator. Also, Jungkook used to be on his high school wrestling team so it might’ve had something to do with that. In a span of seconds, Jungkook utilised his rush of adrenaline to take Jimin down and straddle him, switching their previous positions. Sometimes, he forgot that Jimin was physically smaller than him. It was moments like these where he just really, really enjoyed that fact.

     “I swear to god, the minute you let me go-”

     “Who says I’m letting you go?” Jungkook pulled out his phone and carelessly pretended to entertain himself with it, “I have a couple phone calls to make anyways, care to listen in?”

     Jimin, clearly defeated, stopped resisting and just let Jungkook sit on him. He stared at the stars and exhaled deeply, rolling his eyes when Jungkook leaned over his face to block his view. “Jesus, Jungkook. No one’s ever going to be able to date you for longer than 2 minutes. You’re the worst.”

     “Oh, definitely,” Jungkook waved off. He pocketed his phone and leaned in even closer to Jimin, fingers grazing his cheek where there was some cake left. “And I don’t need someone, anyways. I have you, don’t I?” He popped the cake into his mouth.

     Jimin cleared his throat, eyes lingering on Jungkook’s finger, “Excuse me?”

     Jungkook put his ears right next to Jimin’s ear and whispered, “I’ll just marry you, babe.”

     Jungkook sniggered when Jimin hastily pushed his torso back up, his face turning a cute little shade of red. “No thank you,” Jimin choked out, sounding embarrassed. He sighed in relief when Jungkook finally got off him.

     They sat criss-crossed, facing each other under the harsh field lights. Jungkook smiled and then shook his head, “In all seriousness, I love you. You know that, right? Having you with me has kept me sane this year.” He knew it was cheesy, but Jungkook felt the need to thank the older boy for putting up with his stupid ass.

    Jimin punched him on the shoulder, looking anywhere but at Jungkook’s face. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” Before Jimin could withdraw his hand, though, Jungkook caught his wrist and held it gently between his own fingers. Without warning, he planted a soft kiss on Jimin’s forehead. When he pulled back, there was cake on his lips and Jimin, although caught off guard, silently wiped it off with his thumb.

     “Well, this is awkward,” a voice boomed out from behind them. A boy stood there, about their age. His features were a little hard to distinguish because the lights didn’t quite reach him. “I didn’t expect to be hearing love confession on my walk to the caf, but by all means, continue. Don’t let me interrupt you!”

     Jungkook and Jimin stared at the boy, and then back at themselves. All at once, they sprang up and took a few steps away from each other. Jimin was the first to speak.

     “It’s not like that, trust me. We’re not… we would never… uh… hey, I know you!” Jimin exclaimed as the boy stepped out from the shadows. “You’re Taehyung!” You’re the one who gave me flowers at my last showcase! You wouldn’t have believed it, Jungkook. He just came up to me and said ‘hey, you deserved flowers for that; and then he ran out of the room. I thought I was hallucinating, but then he shows up out of breath with this grin on his face as he presents me with a huge bouquet of flowers with the tag still on them and-”

     Jimin turned to look at Jungkook but he was staring at Taehyung, his face gone slack. He glanced at Jimin long enough to convey the get-me-out-of-here-before-I-say-something-stupid way look and Jimin, looking beyond confused, simply turned to Taehyung, gave an awkward little wave goodbye and then pulled Jungkook away and into the building.

     The whole time going back to the dorm, Jungkook didn’t say a word as Jimin complained about “bad impressions” and “making new friends”. As soon as they stepped into the room, though, Jungkook snapped out of his trance and started hitting his head against the closet door. Jimin, not entirely unhappy with the situation, just sat down on Jungkook’s bed and watched him repeat the action a few times before he stopped, his head rested against the door.

     “Okay, crackhead, care to finally explain?”

     “I’m in love.”

     Jimin gaped at him. In all the years he’d known Jeon Jungkook, he’d never proclaimed his love for someone else. He’d had crushes, even on Jimin, but he’d never blatantly said that he was “in love”. It wasn’t like Jungkook, who’d told Jimin time and time again that there was no way he’d ever get into a serious relationship in high school because he still had no fucking clue what that entailed or what this whole love business was about. Jungkook was a feeler, but a calculated feeler.

     “Kim fucking Taehyung. He’s in my Chemistry class and ever since I saw him on my first day, I’ve just been head over heels,” Jungkook groaned, removing himself from the closet and collapsing onto the bed, his head lying in Jimin’s lap. “I only ever see him in class and I’ve never once had the nerve to talk to him. So seeing him outside of class was… jarring, to say the least.”

     “Kim Taehyung,” Jimin murmured, not fully listening to Jungkook, who continues talking about Taehyung in a dreamy voice as Jimin stares straight ahead.

     And even though Jimin should’ve laughed or teased Jungkook about love at first sight, even though Jimin should’ve complained about not being told about this earlier, he didn’t. Instead, his head hung low so that he was looking at Jungkook’s head in his lap, his eyes lighting up as he talks about Taehyung, and something inside of him cracked.

     And Jimin had no idea why.

      “So when were you planning on telling me?” Jimin asked through a mouthful of toothpaste. Jungkook gave him a pointed look in the mirror and pulled his own toothbrush out to twirl it next to his head, the universe symbol for ‘you’re fucking psychotic’. He spit into the sink.

     “You would’ve gone all crazy. Remember when that girl asked me to Prom in junior year and you interrogated her to the point where she backed off and told me she didn’t want to go with me anymore? I didn’t want that Jimin to appear.”

     “Okay, fair.”

      Jimin finished brushing his teeth and watched Jungkook neatly pack up his toiletries. He made a move to leave but stopped when Jungkook pulled out a bottle of perfume tentatively.

      “No.”

      Jungkook looked offended, “What? I can’t smell nice?” But he averted his eyes.

      Jimin rolled his eyes, “I can’t believe you’re this whipped already.”

      It was a known fact on their floor that Jeon Jungkook was sensitive to smells. If you were inviting him over, your room must be a scent-free zone unless you wanted him to go home with a nasty migraine. Jungkook never used perfume, usually opting for lotion instead. Jimin knew this, the whole world knew this.

     But here he was, dabbing perfume onto his wrists and gently rubbing his neck. Jungkook crinkled his nose and shoved the bottle back into his bag. Jimin scoffed.

     “You’re willing to be confined to bedrest and nausea because of… because of what exactly? Kim Taehyung?” Maybe it sounded a little catty, but Jimin felt the need to bring his best friend to his senses.

     A dreamy sigh escaped Jungkook’s lips and it was like watching a cartoon character’s eyes literally glaze over, “Because of love, little Park.”

     Before Jimin could retort, someone stepped out of the shower from behind them and Jimin instinctively looked over his shoulder. When he saw who it was, he immediately cursed and kept his head down. Jungkook looked at him strangely and flicked his forehead.

     “Hey, let’s go. Jimin?” Jimin almost threw a fit, if only Jungkook would learn to read social cues.

     “Jimin?” A deep voice called from behind them. Jungkook turned around and his eyebrows immediately narrowed. He grabbed Jimin’s elbow and was ready to storm out of there but Jimin didn’t move. Jungkook watched in disbelief as Jimin put on a reluctant smile and turned, staring straight at his ex.

     “Namjoon. Hi!”

     Namjoon stood there with a towel wrapped around his waist, skin still glistening with moisture. Jungkook had to admit he looked good, even if his fogged up glasses ruined the effect. Didn’t make him any less of a dick though. Jungkook’s scowl didn’t drop off his face once as he watched the two of them converse for a few minutes. In fact, it only seemed to deepen when Jimin laughed at something Namjoon said. Jungkook was 99% sure he’d have permanent wrinkles around his mouth when Namjoon leaned in to give Jimin a hug and said bye. 

     Jimin joined Jungkook looking slightly dazed but jumped when Jungkook snapped at him, “Don’t go fucking soft on me, Park Jimin. I forbid you from falling for his charm again.”

      “Shut up, I won’t. He was just being friendly.”

      “He was just being friendly,” Jungkook imitated in his most annoying, high-pitched Jimin voice. This earned him a (well-deserved) pinch to his side.

      Kim Namjoon had been an unfortunate part of Jimin’s life when they’d first started University. A smart, older student who, unbeknownst to Jimin and Jungkook, had quite the reputation for being a grade A asshole. Unfortunately, he was also incredibly charming. What did this lead to? A one-sided relationship in which Jimin got pulled back in every time he was about to leave because Namjoon carefully planned out when to showcase his boyfriendability. Jungkook, of course, called bullshit and finally got Jimin out of what had to be the worst relationship of his life and dealt with the aftermath as Jimin cried about how stupid he’d been (and occasionally, how much he missed Namjoon, for whatever reason).

      They remained friendly, much to Jungkook’s chagrin. Jimin wasn’t entirely comfortable with him yet, but he could handle a casual conversation. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.

     Jungkook, on the other hand, had perfected his bullshit detector.

     “If he even tries talking to you again, I swear to god,” Jungkook muttered, annoyed. He grabbed his backpack from his room and threw it to Jimin, who was standing in the doorway.

      “You’ll do what, Jungkook?” Jimin’s eyes shrank in amusement. Jungkook finally found his keys from deep within the folds of his blanket and he quickly reached the door to lock up.

     “Anything. I’ll do anything to make sure he doesn’t,” Jungkook said firmly, grabbing his backpack from Jimin and putting his keys inside. Jimin just laughed and waved his words off, beginning to walk down the hall.

     “I’m serious, Jimin. I don’t want him near you. Hey!” Jungkook grabbed Jimin’s wrist and pulled him back to him. Jimin, not expecting the sudden jerk, nearly tripped over his own feet but Jungkook held him up by the shoulders.

     “Jesus, Jeon, give a guy a warning next time,” Jimin rolled his shoulders to get rid of Jungkook’s hands and then looked at him right in the eyes, “I’m not going back to him. Understand? Contrary to what you may believe, I actually do have some self-respect. Sure, I have leftover feelings but that’s all they are – leftovers. Echoes of what I actually felt. So calm down and let’s go to class.”

     Guilt appeared in Jungkook’s eyes but Jimin stopped him from saying anything, “It’s okay. Let’s just go.”

     He nodded and they walked down the hall together.

      Jungkook wandered to the field after class to wait for Jimin. As he sat down, he scanned the crowds for the familiar tank top and basketball shorts combination but didn’t find it. He was considering calling Jimin just to be annoying but his phone rang before he could go through with it.

     The universe was always stopping Jungkook from being a brat, it was actually kind of rude if he thought about it.

     Jungkook picked up when he saw it was his mother, a smile immediately spreading across his face, “Mom! I thought you’d forgotten about me-”

     “Why hasn’t Jimin called me? It’s been a month!”

     “Yeah, missed you too,” Jungkook leaned back to lay his head on the ground but was met with a pair of legs instead. Jimin was sitting cross-legged behind him, and Jungkook grinned at him from his lap. “He’s here now, why don’t you nag him yourself.” He put the phone on speaker and placed it on his stomach.

     “Park Jimin? Is there a reason I haven’t heard from you in a month? Or are you too old to talk to me now?”

     Jimin winced at the harsh tone and put a hand over Jungkook’s mouth when he started giggling. “Hyejung, it’s not like that. You know it’s harder for me to find the time right now and-”

     “Mm. I thought you’d be the type to make the time, not find it. Guess I was wrong.”

     “You know, I see where you get your pettiness from,” Jimin said drily to Jungkook. Then, picking up the phone, he said, “Hyejung, I swear I’ll come to visit soon. For now, though, we’ve really got to study, okay?”

      “Fine, fine. I’ll grant you leniency just this once. Pick up your phone next time, okay?”

     “I was in class!” Jimin exclaimed defensively.

     Jungkook clucked his tongue in disappointment, “You know that doesn’t matter to her.”

     “Whatever you say,” Hyejung said apathetically, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Is Jungkook still there?”

     “Yes, I am. Thanks for noticing, oh dear mother of mine,” Jungkook plucked the phone out of Jimin’s hand and turned it off speakerphone, holding it to his ear. He said a few more okays and alrights until finally, the call ended.

     “She calls me more than my own mom,” Jimin shook his head in disbelief. Jungkook grabbed his Chemistry textbook and handed it to Jimin, who opened it up and rested it on Jungkook’s chest.

     “Well, if I knew your mom, she’d call me more than my mom. We were clearly switched at birth. And don’t put the book here, I can’t look at the material if I’m trying to study. Oh, that reminds me actually, what are we planning for the summer? Are we finally visiting yours?”

     “Are you actually going to study?”

     “Uh, probably not.”

     “Idiot.

     Jimin closed the book and placed it on the grass beside him, leaning back on his wrists. The sun was pleasantly warm. Jungkook tilted his head back in Jimin’s lap and pinched the skin on his neck. “Hey, answer me. Are we going to your place? You’ve never even told me where exactly you lived before coming to Busan. I don’t even know the names of your parents! Wouldn’t it be nice to, I don’t know, spend some time there?”

     Jimin sighed and looked down at Jungkook, tweaking his nose gently before saying, “I’m sorry, Jungkook. Can I just come back to yours this summer?”

     “Of course, but Jimin…” Jungkook suddenly sat up and turned to face Jimin. He seemed to struggle to find the words and then finally decided on, “Just, I’m here. You know, to talk or whatever. You didn’t tell me then, and you aren’t telling me now, and that’s okay. I just don’t want you to carry whatever this is around forever. Okay?”

     Jimin smiled and ruffled Jungkook’s hair, “Okay, little Jeon. Now really, you have an exam in less than 30 minutes, shouldn’t you study?”

     “Shit, yeah. You know what, I’m going to study outside of the class. Maybe I’ll find people in my class to study with. To be clear, people is Kim Taehyung,” Jungkook shoved his textbook into his bag and blew a kiss to Jimin as he got up.

     “Love you, babe! Wish me luck!” Jimin groaned in embarrassment but wished him luck anyways, waving reluctantly.

     From the outside, it looked like something more. But Jimin knew they were just friends. Just friends.

       It had been 30 minutes since his class ended and 20 minutes since Jimin first received his text, and Jungkook still wasn’t here. Jimin was waiting in the dance studio, scrolling through Instagram without really paying attention to what posts he was liking. Jungkook had told Jimin to meet him there, saying he’d come after “talking to Taehyung about a thing”. Their conversation had gone as follows:

5:40 p.m

>bitch meet me at the practice room we gon get shit DONe

5:41 p.m

istg shit better not just mean ur shit< 

i actually need to practice dont further convince me that ur brain is the size of ur dick (re: small)<

5:41 p.m

>first of all. im an angel ofc im helping u with ur shit ? ?

>second of all if u wanted to compare my brain to smth small and Really offend me u shoudve just used urself

5:41 p.m

hahahahhahahaahaha! die.<

5:42 p.m

>also i have a juicy story about a certain Kim bring ur small ass ears so u can enjoy listenin.

>on second thought i might have to bring a megaphone so the sound can travel thru ur puny ear canals :  ))

5:42 p.m

im sorry didn’t i Just tell u to die<

5:50 p.m

i have a high maintenance ass it cant sit on anything that isn’t plush for this long<

5:52 p.m

>u kno what they say sit down be humble

>srry tho got caught up with tae, ill be there soon

 It was now 6 PM.

     Jimin didn’t mind Taehyung, really didn’t. The dude seemed nice enough. Jimin just felt this tug in his stomach when Taehyung was apparently enough to make Jungkook completely forget about him. Okay, not forget about him, but that’s what it felt like.

     He decided to get changed and start practicing, not knowing when Jungkook would decide to show up. Just as he switched out his normal tank top for a workout tank top, Jungkook burst into the studio, a grin on his face and his easel under his arm.

     “You won’t believe how fucking slick I am,” was the first thing he said. Jimin gave him a small smile and plugged his phone into the speakers. He put on a short violin piece he could warm up to. Was he acting petty? Yes. Did he have a good reason? Not really. Was he going to keep acting petty anyways? Absolutely.

     “Well, aren’t you going to ask why?” Jungkook’s words were bursting out of him with barely contained energy. He swiftly set up his easel and squeezed out the necessary paints onto his palette.

     Jimin stayed focused on the way his leg slid across the floor a little too lazily. It looked sloppy, but Jimin could fix that with time. As he was about to reach the climax of the composition, it abruptly switched to the song he was using for his showcase.

     Jimin groaned, “Jungkook! Just let me warm up and then I’ll humour you about Prince Charming.” He watched through the mirror as Jungkook put Jimin’s phone back down and practically skipped over to him. Jungkook smiled when Jimin sighed in defeat and placed his hands on Jungkook’s hips from behind.

     “How do you even know the choreo?” Jimin asked suspiciously when Jungkook began moving to the beats. Jimin’s fingers moved up and down Jungkook’s body, tapping rhythmically and eventually landing on Jungkook’s hands.

     “I only know some, not all of it. I pay attention when you dance, obviously,” Jungkook pulled Jimin flush against his body by placing his hand on the small of Jimin’s back, he let him lean back and then let go, somehow managing to grab his hands before he fell to the ground. Jimin slid through Jungkook’s legs and stood up, looking at him in disbelief.

      “That move was too dangerous for anyone but my partner to do, you moron! What if I got hurt?”

     “Calm down, Jimin. I went to your partner and asked for pointers the other day because I knew I’d be practicing with you and I wanted to do it right. That’s why I know the choreo so well, okay? Jesus, stop exposing my ass,” Jimin slapped Jungkook on the arm and turned off the music, ignoring the younger’s cries of pain.

     He stood there with his arms crossed and Jungkook stared at him, “What? What did I do this time?”

     “Jeon Jungkook, you learned not only my part of the dance but my partner’s part. I don’t even know when you did this! That’s a lot of time spent doing something that’s completely irrelevant for you, you could’ve used that time to, oh I don’t know, study for your exams!” Jimin didn’t know why he was so angry, he just was. Jungkook sputtered for words and in a split second, his face took on more annoyance than confusion.

      “Why are you getting so mad? I was trying to help, Jimin!” Jungkook took a step towards Jimin but Jimin held out his hands.

      “I don’t want you to help me that much! You… you have no right to!”

     “What?”

      “You have no right,” Jimin said, his voice tight, “You’re nothing more than a friend, Jungkook. That’s it. You’re not my boyfriend or something that you’d feel the need to go out of your way like this just to help me out. I’m not that important. God, just… just focus on your life and I’ll focus on mine. You’re messing everything up!”

     Somewhere along the way, Jimin had started crying. He didn’t want to be this way. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but he didn’t know how to stop. Everything he’d said was true on some level, but who was Jimin really mad at? Because it certainly wasn’t Jungkook.

     Despite how hurt Jungkook appeared, he still managed to say in a calm voice, “Jimin, if something’s wrong, we’ll work it out together. Just tell me.”

     That was it. That was the moment. Jimin liked Jungkook. A lot. Too much.

     “Don’t do that! Oh my god, Jungkook! You’re hurt! I hurt you, why aren’t you yelling at me? Please, just…” Jimin dragged the heel of his palm along his face, choking on his words. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone and bag and moved past Jungkook, out of the studio, not turning to look once despite the younger’s pleas.

     Jimin had fucked up, and he couldn’t deal with what that meant right now. When he got back to his dorm, his phone beeped with a notification. Jimin chucked his shoes off and jumped into bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check it.

jungkookie

>i asked him to be my chem tutor. that’s what i was gonna tell u. talk to me when ure ready.

     Jimin felt like he was going to start crying again. He buried his head in his pillow for a moment and then collected himself, scrolling through his contacts to find someone in particular.

 “So yeah, that’s what it is.”

“Min, you can’t be serious.”

“Shut up, Hoseok. It’s not that far-fetched. I don’t think.”

“Yes it is! I mean, the whole you being in love with him-”

“Love is a strong word.”

“-thing is not far-fetched. But the fact that it took you so long to figure it out? I spent all of your stupid high school years listening to you talk about this dude every Monday afternoon and every time I even suggested you might have a crush on him, you shut me down. And now you figure it out?”

“First of all, it’s not my fault that half your dance ‘lessons’ were just us talking. You never let me respond to your ‘how was your day’ with ‘good’, you always wanted to hear everything. So if anything, it’s your fault for being nosy.”

“An unwarranted attack on my teaching style, but okay.”

“Also, I didn’t like him in high school! I really don’t think I did. Something’s changed now. God, I fucked up bad.”

“Yeah, of course something’s changed. Someone’s moving in on your man. And Jimin, stop sniffling, you’re not a moody teenager anymore.”

“I’m upset! And, he’s not my man! In fact, he isn’t even my boy. He’s just. Jungkook.”

“You infuriate me, Min.”

“Really? I think I’m kind of cute.”

“I will hang up right now, find a way to physically reach through phone screens, call you back, and strangle you.”

“Seriously, though. Hoseok. Please. Tell me what to do about this.”

“Jimin, just do what you should’ve done in the first place, tell him how you feel. Any other option over complicates things and before you know it, you guys will be in your 30s and won’t have spoken to each other in years because you were too afraid to admit your feelings but you also couldn’t stand to see him with someone else so you just ran away.”

“Oddly specific.”

“What can I say, I’m an excellent foreshadower.”

“I’m going to take my time. I don’t want to mess up anything between him and Taehyung right now.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Right now would be IDEAL to tell him so that you can get it over with before he gets serious with Taehyung.”

“I… you’re right. Sure, yeah, I can do that. Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll call you when I plan on visiting.”

“Of course, Min. I’ll be waiting, as usual. Bye.”

“Bye.”

      Jungkook knocked on Jimin’s door, trying not to be too loud. It was the middle of the night, approaching 1:15 AM now. Jimin hadn’t answered any of his texts of calls, and he was beginning to worry. Jimin’s words from earlier hadn’t stopped bouncing around his head. He heard the sound of footsteps coming from inside and instantly stood a little taller. As soon as the door opened, Jungkook lunged to hug Jimin, who nearly toppled over wish so much extra weight on him.

      “What the fuck, Jimin,” Jungkook said in Jimin’s ear. His words implied that he was angry but his tone was soft, relieved. “I thought you’d finally drowned yourself in beer of something.”

     Jimin pushed Jungkook away and upon seeing his face, Jungkook froze. Jimin’s eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks had chalky streaks running down them and his nose was rubbed raw. His hair was tousled every which way, as if he’d been pulling it over and over again for hours. Which he could’ve been doing, for all Jungkook knew. He looked over Jimin’s shoulders and noticed the bottle of wine situated on the desk.

     “Guess I wasn’t far from the truth,” Jungkook said softly. He looked into Jimin’s eyes, “Tell me how to help you.” Jimin sniffed and shook his head, eyes glazed over but a crease forming in between his eyebrows. He stepped away from Jungkook and curled up on his bed. Jungkook drew in a long breath and then moved to shut the door, silently thanking the gods Jimin’s roommate never came back to the dorms before 3 in the morning. He lay down on the mattress beside Jimin and grabbed a hold of his face.

     “Tell me. Please, Jimin,” Jungkook’s voice cracked, pained from having to see his best friend like this. In all the years he’d known Jimin, he’d never looked so utterly heartbroken.

     “No one. Jungkook, no one’s ever going to – to love me. Isn’t that fucking pathetic? Not you, nuh-not my family, no one.” And Jungkook had definitely heard this before, but never so intensely, never full of such conviction. Still, he felt himself breathe a little easier knowing that nothing absolutely awful had happened to Jimin.

     “Jimin, you know that’s not true. You have so many amazing qualities.”

     “I’m not a fuck. Fucking scholar luh-like Taehyung,” Jimin said in a small, broken voice. He looked so hurt, so fragile. He looked the way you can only look after being emotionally drained to the bone. “I don’t have nice eyes, or a deep – deep voice.”

     Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, when had Taehyung come into the picture? “Jimin, being academically gifted isn’t exactly number one on the ‘qualities I want my boyfriend to have’ list that most people have. You’re absolutely gorgeous, radiant, even. You’ve got these soft eyes, and a cute nose, and full lips. Your voice is light and dreamy and perfect for you because you’ve always been fairy-like. And you’re one hell of a dancer! God, when I see you move on stage it’s like I can see you completely change the atmosphere. You leave a trail of emotion behind you that touches the hearts of everyone in the room. You give the best pep-talks in the world and you have the purest, biggest heart out of anyone I know. You are capable of giving so much love, it only makes sense that you’re constantly inviting it back in. You could get literally anyone in the world.”

     Jimin’s eyes sharpened for a fraction of a moment and he stared right at Jungkook. “Anyone?” he whispered.

     “Anyone,” Jungkook confirmed. He pulled Jimin into his chest. “Now, go to sleep.”

     Jimin mumbled something into his chest and in a few minutes, was fast asleep. Jungkook sighed into the dark and hugged Jimin a little bit closer, a little bit tighter.

      “Wake up, Jimin. It’s time for class. Well, your class, not mine.”

     “Hnghh. Bwekhfusht.”

     “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, but I can’t today. Seriously, get up. Jimin. Jimin? Park, I dare you to get the fuck up.”

     “Urngh muh hehhd.”

     “Yeah I left some Advil for that. Listen, if you don’t get up, you’re admitting to being a cheater. Ah, there you go! Just don’t lie back down.”

     “UNGHH.”

     “Fine, I’m leaving… call me if you need me?”

     “Shaddupp.”

     “Cool, bye.”

          Around 5 PM that day, Jimin finally stopped thinking about all the bad things that could happen if he told Jungkook that he had a little thing for him and decided to just do it. The night before had been a complete disaster. Actually, the whole day had been pretty shitty. Jungkook didn’t deserve that, but in the end, he stayed with Jimin. Jungkook stayed with Jimin.

     He needed to tell Jungkook how he felt before Taehyung turned into something more than a crush. Jimin wasn’t sure what brought on this sudden burst of confidence and adrenaline but he knew it wouldn’t last for long so he needed to act while it fueled him.

     He grabbed his shoes and raced out of the dorm, intent on telling Jungkook everything.

     Drinking to the point of wanting to cry for a week straight had not been Jimin’s intention when he’d pulled out the wine last night. He’d just wanted to relax and empty his mind of any confusing thoughts. Before he knew it, old insecurities began creeping back and he couldn’t take it, he broke down. Jimin often wondered why people said they “drink to forget”. Whenever he drank, he just seemed to revisit the worst memories among the ones he’d naturally forgotten. What a scam.

     Jimin was half-way across the field, being poured on by the rain to the point where he couldn’t keep his eyes open, when he literally ran into a familiar body. Jimin fell to the ground and looked across at Jungkook, who was rubbing his head with a grin on his face. He got up, laughing, and extended a hand to Jimin. A shot of energy flowed through his body as Jimin was pulled to his feet, he smiled through the rain and rubbed the part of Jungkook’s head he’d knocked against. Jimin opened his mouth to say something but before he could, Jungkook spoke.

     “I love you.”

     Jimin stared at him, not quite believing what he’d just heard. It was like all the noise from the downpour had been cut, like the only sounds that mattered were his beating heart and Jungkook’s words. Despite his brain not entirely comprehending the words, a smile began to stretch across his face.

     “I love you so much and I know it’s kind of out of the blue, but I just had to tell you. I don’t think being friends is going to work anymore.” Jungkook had an insanely wide grin on his face.

     Jimin couldn’t contain how happy he was a laugh bubbled out of him, loud and free. It was oddly appropriate, the confession happening on the field. They’d been here just two nights ago, saying their ‘I love you’s for a completely different reason. Jimin was so caught up in the moment he didn’t feel his hand running through his wet hair, didn’t hear himself clearly until he’d said-

     “I love you too.” There. It was as simple as that. And now Jimin was downright giddy.

      Jungkook threw his head back as he laughed and then grabbed Jimin’s face in his hands, eyes shining, “Do you think he’ll say that? When I tell him?”

      Just as fast as the giddiness came, it disappeared. Jimin’s smile started to fall, the rain was making his vision blurry.

     “Who,” Jimin asked, but he knew.

     “Taehyung, silly. Who else? Okay, let’s start again. You’re Taehyung and I’m me…”

     Jungkook’s words faded into the distance. The downpour that had gone silent suddenly thundered in his ears and Jimin couldn’t hear his own heartbeat but he could feel it. He could feel it slow down and speed up and he wished that eventually, it would stop altogether. Hope was a dangerous thing, Jimin felt like an idiot for inviting it into his life with open arms. He should’ve known better.

     “..okay? Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m actually about to fucking tell him this!” Jungkook pulled Jimin into a hug, completely enveloping him.

     In that moment, Jimin hugged back. He held onto Jungkook as tight as he could and when they pulled apart, Jimin thought about how lucky it was that it had started to rain.

     How lucky it was that Jungkook wouldn’t be able to tell tears apart from raindrops.

      Jungkook and Taehyung had hung out all morning under the pretense of studying for Chemistry. Jungkook had come back to his dorm incredibly happy, knowing that whatever it was he had with Taehyung was special. He was pretty sure he was in love. He’d decided to go tell him not 1 hour after they’d gone back to their respective buildings. Jungkook had ran into Jimin and then headed to Taehyung’s place. Jungkook had told Taehyung he loved him. Taehyung had kissed him on the spot.

     Jimin knew because Jungkook hadn’t stopped talking about it for an hour.

      Now it was Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. Although, Jimin felt like a third wheel too often so he spent a lot of time in the studio. Jungkook never finished the painting of Jimin, he ended up doing one of Taehyung instead, who remained as charming as ever and became Jimin’s friend despite Jimin not wanting him to. It was hard to dislike Taehyung in any setting, really. The couple came to Jimin’s showcase before final exams started and brought him flowers.

     “Just like old times, huh,” Jimin had joked to Taehyung, not much energy in his voice despite feeling like he was on cloud nine, like he usually did after a performance.

     Taehyung had smiled with an emotion indistinguishable to Jimin, “Yeah, better times. When I didn’t know Jungkook.”

     Jungkook had playfully argued with him about this statement but, for some reason, Jimin had sensed the words had been directed at him more than Jungkook. He’d felt as if Taehyung had looked right into his head and pulled out his ugliest thoughts to display in front of the world. But there was empathy behind the words, and in a twisted sort of way, Jimin had felt like Taehyung understood him better than Jungkook.

     Jimin and Jungkook no longer hung out together as much, which was a given. Jimin had to learn to find new friends. He met Yoongi, an aspiring pianist, and spent any time he wasn’t with Jungkook and Taehyung with him. They were from the same town and Jimin had been mortified to hear that Yoongi knew about his family, but it was easy for them to be together. Things seemed to be getting better for Jimin, except they weren’t, obviously.

     There was no overnight remedy for heartbreak, or even a one-month remedy. Jimin knew from experience.

     On one particularly average day, Jimin got a call that destroyed any thoughts of his own pathetic heartbreak.

     Within an hour, he had packed up his things and headed to the train station.

      Jungkook and Taehyung scoured the windows for any sign of Jimin. A group of people began boarding the train right in front of Jungkook and he had to use all his patience not to yell at all of them to move it, already!

     “Baby,” Taehyung called, “I’ll look down there, you keep looking up ahead, okay?”

     Jungkook nodded hastily and moved up the platform. Jimin’s roommate had called him half-an-hour ago, asking him if he knew why Jimin was planning on going back home. According to him, all of Jimin’s stuff had been packed up and the place looked spotless except for a note left on his pillow.

     God, he was going to kill Jimin.

     Jimin’s face suddenly blurred past him. Jungkook stopped jogging and backtracked, staring at Jimin through the window, who looked exhausted. Jungkook climbed into the closest possible entrance, shoving past a bunch of other people and found Jimin’s booth. He sat down in front of him, trying to stay calm.

     “Where do you think you’re going?” Jungkook questioned coldly.  

     “Home. I… my family needs me and, in all honesty, I think I need them too,” Jimin replied in a heavy voice.

     “And you were going to tell me when?”

     “Jungkook, I had no time, my mother-”

     “God Jimin, it’s like we’re not even friends anymore!” Jungkook cried. He stood up and tugged on Jimin’s sleeve. “Come on, you’re not going anywhere. You still… you still have to finish exams! And I still need you here, you can’t just up and leave.”

     Jimin pulled his arm away forcefully and looked at Jungkook. His eyebrows were drawn in frustration and his eyes shone with tears, “Jungkook. My mother’s been in an accident. I don’t care if you need me. I’m sorry. I’m going.”

     Jungkook’s anger immediately left his face. His muscles relaxed and his eyes softened when he looked at Jimin.

     “Jimin… I’m so sorry.” He pulled Jimin up on his feet so he could hug him.

     “I want to dare you to stay, but I know you’re going to cheat,” Jungkook murmured into Jimin’s ear.

      Jimin melted in Jungkook’s arms, “You’re right this time, little Jeon.”

     “I’m right every time, little Park,” Jungkook leaned back from Jimin, arms still caught on his waist. “Promise me I’ll see you again? You’re going home, right? Tell me where that is.”

     Jimin didn’t say anything, he twisted one of the rings off his finger and placed it gently into Jungkook’s palm before kissing him on the forehead. Jimin led Jungkook to the open entrance and with a small push, Jungkook ended up on the platform. His face twisted in confusion.

     “Jimin, tell me where home is.”

     “I dare you to be okay without me,” Jimin called out, fresh tears streaming down his face. The train began to move slowly. Jungkook was panicking now, he held onto one of the handrails and fell into a light jog.

     “Jimin! Tell me before you leave. What if I can’t find you again? Please,” Jungkook choked on his words and lost his grip on the rail. He stumbled and tried catching up to Jimin, but the platform was about to end.

     “Don’t you dare cheat, Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin called out, he couldn’t help but sob. Jungkook stood on the platform, looking like he’d had his entire world stolen from his. He could’ve told him, it would’ve been easy. But somewhere inside of him, Jimin really didn’t want to. He didn’t want Jungkook to be able to find him.

     Jimin caught sight of Taehyung running to Jungkook and coming to a halt when he realized Jimin was nearly gone. Even from a distance, Jimin was still able to see that look in Taehyung’s eyes.

     Only later, when Jimin was half-way home, did he realize what that look meant, what it had always meant: regret.

      And that was the last time we ever saw that Jimin. Your Daddy cried a lot that day, and ever since then, he’s never taken off that silver ring. Jimin never contacted us again, and we couldn’t find him. He’d come from somewhere else to study at Jungkook’s high school and he’d stayed with a host family. Whenever Jungkook had asked Jimin about his life back home, he’d never answered any of the questions. When we decided to get married, Jungkook tried asking the University or even his high school for information about Park Jimin. But he was never able to find answers.

     Getting in the way of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship is the biggest regret of my life, and I don’t have a lot. Jungkook didn’t know Jimin liked him, and Jimin never told me or Jungkook. But I knew there was something between them, something that could’ve developed into a stronger love than your father and I had for each other.

     Today, I trust you with this. Find Jimin. Give Jungkook another shot at happiness. Make him see that there’s always only been Jimin for him, and no one else – not truly.

     I love you, Jimin.

Forever and always in your heart,

Taehyung.

     Mina wiped away her tears as she stared at the picture paper-clipped to the last page of her Daddy and someone else who was probably Jimin. She folded the papers and pressed them back into the envelope, putting it aside so that she could breathe a little easier. She wasn’t completely sure how she was going to find this Jimin, or even get her Daddy to open up to her about him, but she did know one thing.

     Her Daddy deserved a happily ever after, and she was going to be the one to give it to him.

+

[simkaswriting]

Fishnets-(Sweet Pea)

Characters: Betty Cooper(mentioned), Cheryl Cooper(mentioned), Veronica Lodge(mentioned), Tall Boy, Sweet Pea and (Y/N)

Pairing: Hint at Sweet Pea x Reader

Warnings: Swearing and smoking

Word Count: 2455

Summary: What will happen when (Y/N), the youngest Blossom, runs away from home and starts attending Southside High? Who’s eye will she catch?

(Y/N) Blossom has not had it easy, with the murder of her brother and suicide of her father, with the prejudice and hatred she faced at Riverdale High due to countless rumours. She often admired how her older sister, Cheryl, managed to seem cool and unbothered all the time, until she realised that it came with a price. On the outside her sister may have looked like she had no care in the world, but on the inside, she raged a war on herself and everyone around her. And that’s when (Y/N) realised that the only way to truly rid herself of the weight on her shoulders was to wash her hands clean of her family and start anew on the other side of the town. 

Southside High was a dangerous place, perhaps even more so than the streets after dark. On average, three people get stabbed a month, drugs run wild across the school and gang activity is not uncommon. What better place for (Y/N) to start her new life than this school, tucked in the corner just out of God’s sight where nobody would look for her?

The ominous sound of heels on wood could be heard echoing around Southside High as (Y/N) Blossom made her was to her first class of the day, English. She keeps her head held high as she passes a couple making out by the lockers, not giving a shit about attending class. She briefly thinks back to her days at Riverdale, there is no way in hell that you’d catch anyone out of class, let alone making out in the corridor. But this is the Southside, she thinks to herself. Things are run differently around here.

She finds the door with the numbers 334 spray painted on it with ease, the plaque that should be there missing. She pulls out a small mirror from her handbag and quickly checks her lipstick, the ‘Dare You’ shade making her feel fearless. Though if you payed real close attention, you could tell she was so nervous it made her sick to the stomach. Transferring school is never easy, and it’s even harder if you’re a supposed ‘rich snob’ attending a crime-riddled High School. 

With a small sigh and a little pep talk, consisting of ‘don’t be a little bitch, you’ve faced more daunting shit before’,  she tucks the pink mirror back into her bag and walks into the classroom. 

Every pair of eyes turns to her immediately. She wonders if it’s because of the way she’s dressed,  or because of her signature bright red hair that only a Blossom has. Then (Y/N) comes to the conclusion that it’s because she interrupted the lesson which nobody was paying attention to anyway.

But one pair of eyes stays on her longer than others, and that pair of eyes belong to the local Serpent Sweet Pea. As he takes in the girls appearance, the flaming red hair, the ripped fishnets, the skirt that shows just enough to make you wonder, and the heels which look impossible to walk in, Sweet Pea can’t help but wonder why he’s never seen her around the Southside before. Surely he’d never forget her.

The teacher turns to her, a pleasant smile on his lips. 

“Ah, you must be the new addition to this amazing school, (Y/N).” The teacher says sarcastically as he motions around the classroom that’s half-fallen apart. There are holes in the walls, half of the lights work, and there isn’t a single surface that isn’t covered in graffiti. Some students are sitting on tables, some are even smoking. She wonders if this is even legal, but she comes to the conclusion that even if the things going on around her are weird and unheard of in the Northside, she likes it.

(Y/N) nods once, before turning on her heels and stalking to the back seat next to the window, the only one in the back row that isn’t taken. She feels eyes all over her body, but she just keeps her head up and takes a seat. 

It doesn’t take long for the class to start talking again, and as she listens in, (Y/N) is glad to find that she isn’t the topic of discussion. Instead, phrases like ‘I got some jangle, pretty cheap if you want’ and ‘C’mon, nobody’s looking this way anyway’ are heard. And that’s when the girl sees that her 4.0 GPA is about to go downhill faster than her families reputation.

Lunch comes around sooner than (Y/N) would like, as she enjoyed just dodling on her sketchbook, and soon she finds herself in the full cafeteria, feeling like a fish out of water. 

There are two distinct groups she can make out. One consists of people with leather jackets that have the Southside Serpents logo on them, and the other look like drug dealers. Neither seems like a fun option to sit with, though she’d sooner sit with the Serpents. After all, she is acquainted with Tall Boy.

“Why is a Blossom even in this part of the town? Do you want your ass beat, little girl?” The man, who’m (Y/N)s come to learn is called Tall Boy, laughs at her as he aims his dart and throws. It lands on a 20.

Coming to the Whyte Wyrm was her last resort. Even someone like (Y/N), near enough fearless and cocky, would steer clear of this place. But business calls, and she has to answer. If she wants to cut the leftover ties with the Northside, she has to do this.

“You know the shit that’s been stirring up in the Northside. With the sudden fall of the undercover drug empire my father ran, I’ve decided to come live here, because God knows that as bad as this place is, the Northside is worse.” She crosses her hands over her chest and leans against the table next to Tall Boy. 

In order for (Y/N) to attend Southside High, she needed someone to pose as her parent, as a legal guardian had to be present. But given the whole ‘I just ran away from my sociopath mother’ situation, the Blossom couldn’t call her actual mother. So, what better way to go around things than hire a Serpent to pretend to be her father?

“How much do you offer?” Tall Boy looks at the girl next to him. He knows her plan is nuts, but if she’s willing to pay, then why the hell not give it a try? He knows a good deal when he sees it.

(Y/N) grabs three darts from the box on the table and walks to the white line on the floor, indicating how far away she has to stay from the dart board. She takes a small breath, aims, and throws. A triple 20.

“$500.” She flashes the man a quick smirk before aiming and throwing her second dart. Triple 20. 

Tall Boy raises his eyebrows at the red-head in front of him. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was a Southsider, with the way she’s dressed and behaving. She looks like she knows how to handle herself and she resonates with power. He thinks to himself, this might work.

“Tell you what. You hit bulls eye and I’ll do it for $250.” Tall Boy leans back against the table she was at a few seconds ago and watches in amusement. He isn’t underestimating her, but he knows it’s unlikely she’ll hit it. 

She aims and throws, and with a triumphant smirk, takes a roll of cash out from her bra. There is exactly $250 rolled up with a pink band. She hands it to the dumbfounded man before pulling the darts out of the dartboard. 

Tall Boy huffs and shakes his head. He should have taken the offer when he still could, but she won fair and square.

“Alright kid, I’ll do it.”

For today, she doesn’t get lunch, just because she doesn’t have anywhere to sit. Nobody acknowledges her existence as she walks back out of the cafeteria. Nobody but a certain raven-haired boy who’s been keeping a close eye on her since first period. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt like he knew her. He felt like he has to protect her, though something tells him she can do that well on her own. But it was that bit of flickering uncertainty that something might happen to her that caused him to follow her. 

(Y/N) sits down on the steps of her new school and pulls out a cigarette and lighter from her bag, lighting it with one flick of her finger before slipping the lighter into her bra for security. One can never be to sure, and she wouldn’t be able to afford a new one, even with the money she took out of her trust fund before leaving her family. 

She takes a long, slow drag as she surveys the people around her. They’re all laughing and joking around, some smoking too. The majority wear the symbolic Southside Serpents jacket. Why was she so afraid of going here? Why does everyone hate the Southside part of Riverdale? It’s just like the Northside, but with less stuck-up jerks. Like Veronica Lodge, the self-proclaimed ‘bad girl gone good’ with an alcohol addiction. Or Betty Cooper, the bane of (Y/N)s entire existence. 

She thinks about what her new life has planned out for her. The cheap trailer she bought would do, it’s not exactly Thornhill, but in a weird way she feels at home in it. It has no long hallways she’s banned from entering, no cold-hearted parent who could freeze hell over with one glance, no secrets that could ruin the family, like the one that already has. It is small, but it will do her just fine. 

(Y/N) picks up on footsteps nearing her, but she doesn’t turn around. 

“That’s a bad habit you’ve got going on.” Sweet Pea asks the girl sitting in front of him. He’s not one to usually talk to strangers, or anyone outside of the Serpents, but for some reason he feels like if he doesn’t talk to this mysterious girl he’ll loose his mind. And the red hair… He swears he’s seen her before. 

(Y/N) turns around and raises an eyebrow at the boy. She notices his tattoo, he’s a Serpent. Back in Riverdale, everyone was against these guys, even scared of them. But the boy doesn’t look threatening. No, he looks kind of cute.

“Sorry, didn’t realise you were my mom.” She smirks and turns back around. Just like she thought, the boy sits down next to her and smirks. 

“I’m Sweet Pea, welcome to Southside High, a.k.a the best school in all of New York.” The boy motions around him, pointing out the graffiti and barb-wire covered fences surrounding the school. She can’t help but laugh a little at that. Even if this shithole is what it is, a shithole where dreams come to die, it’s still better than Riverdale High. At least here she can be herself.

“I’m (Y/N), nice to meet you Sweet Pea.” She extends a hand out for the boy to shake, which he does reluctantly, as if contemplating whether or not this is some sort of joke or trap. 

As he shakes the mystery girls hand, which sends a little jolt of electricity through him, who now has a name, something clicks in Sweet Pea’s head. The red hair, the clothes, the attitude, the name. (Y/N) Blossom. Instead of feeling hatred and anger towards the girl, he feels curiosity. What makes a rich girl wander into the Serpent territory, let alone permanently move here?

She stubs out the cigarette and throws in haphazardly behind her, not caring where it lands. It’s not like there are any animals around who might swallow it. 

“What’s a Blossom doing so far out of her comfort zone?” Sweet Pea asks the girl next to him, catching her off guard. 

It doesn’t take her long to realise her hair was a hint enough, which made her think. If this guy, Sweet Pea, could tell it was her, then so could others. There is no point in trying to lie, It’s not like she was wanting to hide the fact she’s a Blossom, but it would make her less of a target. But now that this boy she’s just met knows…

“Said Blossom didn’t feel like being good and playing by mommy’s rules anymore.” (Y/N) looks up at Sweet Pea, the boy taller than her, even with the heels she’s wearing. She can tell by the sudden look of approval that she’s said the right thing. But does she mean it? Is she ready to let go of her past self, the snobby rich kid? Yes, she is. 

Sweet Pea stands up and offers a hand to the Blossom, something he’d never imagine himself doing. Blossom’s are even more hated in this part of town than Mayor McCoy, which is a hard feat to accomplish. But he knows he’d do anything to protect the red head. Why? Because the thought of someone hurting her fills him with white-hot rage. 

(Y/N) takes his hand and stands up, brushing gravel off her skirt. 

She faces him, and for a brief second she’s stunned speechless. The boy doesn’t have stunning looks like Chris Hemsworth, or the alluring personality or Mr Darcy, but he is definitely something. His brown eyes are bright and full of humour, yet smeared with hatred and bad memories at the same time. His hair is combed to the side and his tattoo is on display. His clothes look old and worn, but she doesn’t care. In a way, she feels like he’s what she’s been looking for. To some, Sweet Pea might look like a renegade, but to her, he looks like someone she want’s to spend all of her time with.

“Feel like skipping the rest of the day? I ought to give you a tour of this place. Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” Sweet Pea asks (Y/N) casually, though a part of him desperately wants her to say yes. He knows there’s more to the girl than the fishnets and heels, and he wants to get to know her. Even if she is a Blossom, a sworn enemy.

“Snakes don’t bite unless they’re provoked, I payed attention in Biology.” She laughs a little as the two make their way from Southside High, heads held high  as they get looks from bystanders. But neither of them care, as they’re too immersed in the other to pay attention. 

As (Y/N) looks over the boy next to her, with his Serpent jacket and ripped jeans, she can’t help but be intrigued by him. He of all people decided to approach the newbie, and she couldn’t be more glad. 

[fightclubessay947]

college essays writing

About me

How To Write An Essay About Yourself

How To Write An Essay About Yourself “We positively learn the essays,” says Joie Jager-Hyman, president of College Prep 360 and former admissions officer at Dartmouth College. “You don’t try this job until you enjoy reading the essays. Give the admissions officer an image of who you might be and the type of college scholar you'll be if they offer admission. The essay must be greater than phrases on paper or a glowing instance of writing abilities; it ought to be your story. How to Write the Best College Admissions EssayThe faculty admissions essay is probably the most dreaded a part of the faculty application course of. Don’t hesitate to ask for help to make sure your writing is stellar. Contact me at present for my in depth references and to seek out out what I can do for you. And even Joan Didion herself wouldn’t get into faculty on her writing skills if she had lackluster grades or scores. The officers advised me they did typically look to the essays to elucidate weaknesses in the software but they stated that kind data was often finest kept within the “additional data” part of the applying. Three former admissions officers I spoke to advised me that, opposite to Steven’s observations, officers read every essay that comes across their desks. All of us may be passionate if we love the issues we're doing. I attended a conference once the place an administrator at Yale May quot Among the funnier sections is the 39 Higher Education 39 chapter. If you cannot provide you with a subject choose considered one of ours. So listed below are the most effective a hundred and fifty subjects you'll be able to elaborate a evaluate and distinction essay on. Dr. Shemmassian channeled his ardour for empowering families to discovered Shemmassian Academic Consulting, by way of which he helps college students with disabilities get into America’s high faculties. Second, college students want validation that they've done a worthy job on their essay, and they naturally gravitate in direction of the adult mentors of their life. A college counselor or English trainer is nice, however once we hear that parents, SAT tutors, or my-mother's-friend-who-is-good-at-writing are additionally weighing in, we begin to fear. Whether we find that emotional push in a favourite quote in a fleeting experience or in the way a song all of a sudden makes us really feel the writing always follows. If you're applying to 8-10 colleges, and will thus be composing 8-10 of these essays, your inclination to take shortcuts is completely comprehensible. Just make sure that these timesavers don’t flip into admissions-killers. Imagine an admissions officer, at the end of a long day’s work, on the brink of digest his or her 37th “why this faculty? Picking up your essay, the officer learns that you simply wish to attend their faculty as a result of it is “great” and “has a stellar status.” Yawns ensue. After being reminded for the 37th time right now of their school’sU.S. News and World Reportranking, they take one other sip of espresso and move on to the subsequent file. In the application course of, I usually hear “I am prepared to apply; I am just ready on my essay.” Don’t let this task maintain back your utility. The finest place to start is by studying by way of these steps and writing one thing, something, down on paper. This course of known as “freewriting;” don’t cease until you’ve written for 15 minutes straight. The essay can — and should — assist kids “come alive” for admissions officers, he says, and be greater than a GPA and SAT score. Evaluating college students by scores and grades alone can’t deliver on that promise. Your parents, friends, guidance counselors, coaches, and lecturers are great people to bounce concepts off of in your essay. They know the way unique and spectacular you're, they usually might help you decide the way to articulate it. Keep in mind, nevertheless, that a 45-12 months-old lawyer writes quite differently from an 18-12 months-old pupil, so if your dad ends up writing the majority of your essay, we’re probably going to notice. There are no methods or shortcuts to writing the right college application essay. It’s less tense if your youngster permits it to emerge from a means of discovery that features brainstorming, free writing, revision, review and modifying. It's a part of the application process that may prompt plenty of anxiousness. Here, we debunk four myths and present tips on how to nail that attention-grabbing faculty essay. His work has been featured on tv, conferences, and varied blogs and podcasts. You can obtain Dr. Shemmassian’s high 10 college admissions secrets and techniques at no cost to assist your scholar get into their dream school—with out the stress—by clicking here. Parents often ask me whether or not their student’s school admissions probabilities might be hurt if they discuss a incapacity of their college essay. Inzer also encourages college students not to stress too much over the essay and put unnecessary weight on it as part of their school utility. While a powerful essay may elevate a candidate in a crowded field, she says it doesn’t make or break an software. Some colleges require a supplemental essay along with the private essay. Typically, admissions execs note, these essays are shorter and concentrate on answering a specific query posed by the faculty. “You can consider the essay as the soul of the application.

[ledenews]

Katrina Davis: Taking That Next Step

Katrina Davis is used to living with pressure. It comes with the territory. Much is expected of you when you put on the Red & Black for storied Bellaire High School. The school’s hardwood has seen a plethora of talented hoopsters grace its planks. It’s called the house of champions for a reason. And of course, given her last name happens to be Davis, even more is expected. Compounding that pressure was the fact that this season, she was the key returning starter from an OVAC championship team that graduated a pair of 1,000-point scorers. When those key moments hit in big games and her teammates needed someone to look to for leadership and help in keeping calm, whom do you think it was they turned toward? How did she respond? Davis capped one of the finest four-year spans in Big Reds’ history with one of its best seasons. She averaged 28.3 points a night in scoring an absurd 629 points as a senior. That gave her 1,564 career points, third on the Lady Reds’ all-time scoring list. For her efforts, she was named Ohio's Division III Player of the Year and a finalist for Ms. Basketball. She also nearly averaged a triple double, posting marks of eight rebounds and eight steals per game. Her 737 career rebounds are also third in Lady Reds’ history. She’s the career leader in steals (433), wins (79) and second in assists (301). Keep in mind, Katrina Davis stands all of 5-foot-2. That’s 62 inches of pure athleticism, fighting and scratching for every rebound, every steal, and every opportunity. It’s a lot of pressure, but again, she’s used to it. Much is expected, but those expectations and that pressure are placed externally. Inside her close-family unit, she’s just Kat; daughter to Alvin, sister to Cierra and cousin to Jose and Nate. A gifted athlete to be sure, but also one that boasts the second-highest GPA in her senior class. She plays softball, but also leads the school’s yearbook club. She ran cross country but also has a love of reading, of shopping and just relaxing at home, chilling on the couch with her dad and watching movies. The two have a special bond. The elder Davis knew his daughter had talent, but he didn’t push her to basketball, rather, allowing her interest to blossom on its own until she came to him, ready to learn. The rest, as they say, is history—Bellaire’s record books show that it is so. Now, having recently signed her national letter of intent to continue her athletic and academic careers at Division II’s Bluefield State, Davis readies to embark on the next portion of her journey.

Senior year is an exciting time in a student’s life, athlete or not. You mentioned looking forward to another season of AAU hoops. You also have softball and prom and graduation. What's the most difficult part for you in dealing with how the last part of your high school career has transpired? Are there any positives to take away from the experience?

I’d say the most difficult part of losing the last part of my high school career is missing my softball season and not being able to go to my yearbook class. I love playing softball, being with my teammates, and the energy that was spread on the diamond. There are so many things that could’ve gone different for me if we had a softball season. I was debating on choosing to play softball in college instead of basketball. I’m also the editor of our yearbook and sadly we don’t get to fill our spring sports pages with pictures or even have graduation, senior skip day, or senior prank in our yearbook. One positive I got from this experience is committing to play basketball in college and growing a closer bond with my sister since we’re both home.  

Katrina Davis poses for a photo with her cousin Nate Davis, a fellow all-Ohioan at Bellaire in multiple sports. The pressure to play "like a Davis" was never fealt from her family, only from external forces. Katrina's family was supportive of her no matter what. She lived up to those lofty expectations, but she admits she never felt the pressure at home to do so.

You've put up some impressive numbers at Bellaire in a school that's had a number of dynamic players, both on the boys' side and the girls. Plus, you’re related to two of them most well-known in your cousins Jose and Nate. Ever feel any familial pressure to excel given the Davis name?

Growing up in a close-knit family full of talent, I actually never felt pressured by my family to live up to the ‘Davis’ name. My family is always very supportive of me, and they taught me a lot about the game; therefore, I believed in my training and knowledge that they helped me obtain. I felt more pressure by outsiders and how they would compare my success to theirs.  

Speaking of pressure, you were able to accel at athletics while keeping a grade point average on the plus side of 4.0. How difficult was that to juggle school and athletics? What was more nerve-racking, a late free-throw during a big game, or the first time sitting down to take either the ACT or SAT?

School actually comes easy to me. I love to learn and soak up information if I’m interested in the topic, so it made juggling the two much easier. I faced my first difficulty my junior year when I took chemistry which was the hardest class in the school. I would say taking a chemistry test from Mr. Xenakis and the ACT for the first was much more nerve-racking than a late-free in a big game with a close score because of the amount of reps at the line I would shoot in the offseason and practice.

You looked at a nice cross-section of schools both locally and further away. What ultimately made you feel that Bluefield State was the best fit for you? Do they have a comparable degree or a gateway undergraduate path that will allow you to pursue your previously stated desire to pursue a career in occupational therapy?

One thing people wouldn’t believe about me is that I'm an introvert. I get really nervous when it comes to trying new things and meeting new people. I decided to go to Bluefield State to get out of my comfort zone and experience things on my own, without my sister’s or dad’s help. I also really enjoyed Coach Bailey’s conversations and style of play. They unfortunately do not offer occupational therapy as a major, so I decided to go into nursing which will keep me in the medical field and allow me to play for Coach Bailey.  

Davis sits with teammate and fellow senior Mia Gavarkavich and receives some last minutes pointers while Bellaire's jayvee team finishes its game this season.

Speaking of recruiting, if the height listed next to your name on the roster wasn’t 5-foot-2 and was, say, closer to the 5-8 range, do you think you still would have waited as long to make your decision? Your skill set says higher level, but were they maybe afraid to pull the trigger and offer a scholarship at that level because of your height? If that’s the case, do you play with a chip on your shoulder, wanting to prove people wrong who may have doubted your ability to compete at a high level.

If I was closer to 5-8. I think I would still have made my decision around this time. I like getting the feel for coaches and weighing all my options before committing to something that will have such a big impact on my life. However, I do feel like my skill set was passed up on because of my height, but my dad and I always say “control the things you can control,” and unfortunately my height is one thing I do not have a say in. I do play with that on my shoulders though. I know that I am undersized on the court, so I try to make up for my lack of size by executing the fundamentals. Read the full article

[i-aim-to-overanalyze]

Waking up to Ash and Dust

Some say they dictate the story, while others say the story dictates them, and this is SO the case when it comes to this monster. This story took me to different places I wasn’t expecting, to different POVs I hadn’t planned for, and dragged me on a wild goose chase when it came to plot. This story will be 4-6 chapters depending on how I split the chapters. Thank you both for @yjficexchange for hosting the ‘Mini Big Bang’ event and @puddingmcmuffin for her patience and her beautiful artwork that accompanies this piece 

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Part 1: Society

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and suicide, nothing too explicit

Pairings: Gen, mentions of Spitfire

Characters: Bart Allen, Wally West, OCs (for sake of plot) 

Chapter Word Count: 4703

Description: Set during and after the events of Young Justice Invasion. There’s something amiss with Bart Allen. There’s something amiss with Bart Allen. He doesn’t fit your typical 13 yr old mold. To society, he’s an odd kid with a strange lack of pop culture knowledge. To fellow supers, his tales about being a tourist from a bright future doesn’t add up. To himself, he struggles with time travel and the ramifications that follow suit.

There is something amiss with Bart Allen, the boy with the mousy hair and lilac eyes. He appears to be the typical mischievous teenager. He can always be seen munching on a candy bar or pushing on people’s buttons. But it’s the little things about him. It’s the little things that send alarming bells in the minds of society around him.

Society, a group of people that lives with a set of customs, traditions and laws. A group of people fashioned out of the people before and who raises the people to come. A group of people whose thinking is influenced by the literature and television that they consume. A group of people who are united in traditions, who share in the comfort of people who operate the same. A group of people who can tear apart anyone that doesn’t conform to their rules. That Society.

-

There’s a lady who owns a small souvenir shop in downtown Central City. It’s mainly filled with Flash memorabilia and a few staple tokens like “I <3 Central City” shirts. It’s right next to a historical marker, a prime target for tourists and the like. If it wasn’t for the ridiculously high rent, she’d be making big. The fact of the matter is this: she is struggling to keep the business afloat. A boy enters her shop during a slow time in her business.

Nothing is particularly strange about that except it is school hours and he appears to be middle-school aged.

“Boy, what are you doing here?” She asks him as he inspects a display of snow globes.

He jumps, nearly dropping the one in his hand. It’s a depiction of Central City with the Flash standing in a heroic pose.

“I just, ah, wanted to have a look around y’know?” He flashes a toothy grin.

“During school hours?” She raises an eyebrow.

“I’m on—ah what do you call it?” He snaps his fingers a couple times, “a—a field trip, yes that’s it!”

“Where’s the rest of your class?”

“….I got separated from them.” He mutters, ducking his head down to avoid her gaze. He bounces on the balls of his feet, looking like a wild animal about to bolt.

“Well then, you’re welcome to call your—“

“Wow, would you look at that,  I just saw them passing by! Gotta go, nicetalkingtoyoubye!”

She blinks, and then blinks again. One moment, he stood there, and the next he was gone. In a flash. Upon further inspection, a snow globe from the display is missing along with a couple candy bars. It infuriates her, but it’s not big enough that she feels obligated to go to the Police for. In a city where supervillains ravaged, petty thievery wasn’t on the top of the cops’ priority list.

The next day when she opens, the missing snow globe mysteriously turns up on her counter. It’s accompanied with a twenty dollar bill and a note scribbled in chicken scratch.

“I am sorry for taking from your shop without buying anything. I already ate the candy bars so here is money instead.”

The next month, an apartment building nearly crushes her on her way home. Something picks her up and she is sent flying a thousand miles a hour.

“Better watch where you’re going, mad’m,” Something—a boy with lilac eyes hidden behind a golden visor—quips at her.

He is scrawny and almost collapses as he releases her from his grasp.

“Do I know you?” She says, once the shock’s worn off and she found her voice.

He stares at her for a moment, like a deer caught in a headlight. Then a smirk slowly worms its way onto his face.

“I don’t think so. Perhaps you’ve seen me on the news, helping out the Flash.” He opens his mouth to say more—when an explosion occurs the next block.

“Well that’s my cue gottagobye!” He zooms ahead, leaving the lady to ponder in silence.

-

There is a new student at Central City Middle School. This is not exactly the talk of the century. There is always new students flowing into the school, be it at the start of the year or mid-year transfers. There are children whose families have moved into the area. Then there are children who moved from the future into the current present. The latter is exceedingly rare and there is only transfer with that credit to his name and that is Bart Allen.

Bartholomew “Bart” Allen is the textbook new kid. He nervously rubs his fingers on the edge of his backpack straps, humming under his breath. His posture remains tense as he glances around the classroom. His eyes flies over the heads of the students as they peer around for possible escape routes. He wants to be anywhere but here, present in the classroom and collectively the class sympathizes with him.

“Good morning, everyone!” The teacher says, “As you can see, we have a new student with us today.”

She places a hand on Bart’s shoulder who flinches at the unexpected physical touch. If the teacher noticed anything off by it, she doesn’t say anything.

“Go on; introduce yourself.” She whispers encouragingly to him.

Slowly, he exhales deeply and turns to face the class. A switch turns on and the nervous new kid façade fades away to another one.

“Um, hello fellow students! My name is Bart Allen and I recently moved to Central City.” He gives a friendly wave to the class. Some of them wave back, amused.

“Where did you move from, Bart?” The teacher prods.

“Keystone City, home of the original Flash.” He puffs his chest out proudly.

Keystone City was the first sighting of the first Flash, back in the forties. The current Flash started up in Central City, but he can still frequently be spotted in Keystone as well. Many in Central City consider Keystone City a sister city and the sentiment is the same likewise in Keystone City. There is a lighthearted rivalry between the two, however, on which Flash is the best.

So it is not odd that Bart emphasizes the fact that he originates from the city of the original Flash. His quirks lay in his behavior towards school in general. In his first few weeks, he plays twenty questions with the teachers on how the school operates. It’s an uproar with the students, who howl with laughter at the teachers’ reactions. They label him a class clown, a troublemaker. No one thinks his questions are legitimate. Except for Bobby Jones.

Bobby Jones is just as about as average as Bart is on the outside. He’s the nerd who gets straight As in all his classes and loves to play the clarinet in the marching band. His favorite subject is history, which happens to be the subject Bart succeeds in getting Fs in.

He strolls up to Bart one day after class with a proposition.

“Hello Bart.”

“Oh hey Bobby!” Bart grins, “What’s up?”

“I noticed History isn’t your best subject.”

Bart’s smile grows forced; it’s definitely a sore spot for his peer.

“Yeah, let’s just say I’ve never been the greatest history student.” He mumbles as he sheepishly scratches the back of his head.

“I’d be willing to offer up my…services to you.” Bobby says in a conspiratorially tone. He could be more direct but A, he’s a thirteen year old and B, he’s obsessed with spy movies.

At once Bart brightens up. He straightens his posture as he examines Bobby in the eye. It sends shivers down Bobby’s back. There is something that gleams in Bart’s eyes that is too cold and calculating to belong to a normal 13 years old. Suddenly he’s not all too sure about approaching Bart was the right idea.

“I’m listening, amigo,” He leans in.

“I—I could do your homework for you, and give you the answers for the tests,” Bobby stammers, “Not for free, of course, there would a charge.”

When he first began his practices, he started out charging money. He then switched to favors or things like books or candy as money is a hard currency to come by in the middle school population.

He’d always assumed Bart was an open book. He was loud, he was excitable, easy to show his joy or disdain over things. He seemed naïve to a degree, something that Bobby presumed would make him an easy target. However Bart’s face was blank in the silence that momentarily followed.

“It sounds great but…it isn’t that not allowed?” His voice cracked with uncertainty.

Bobby wanted to say yes. He wanted to ensnare another sucker—another client into his ‘business.’ It wasn’t like he was hurting Bart, the exact opposite actually. He knew how to slowly raise Bart’s grade that wouldn’t raise any red flags. But there’s something so earnest in his tone that makes Bobby pause.

“Not exactly,” He admits eventually, “But you want to raise your GPA, don’t you?”

Bart hesitates. For a moment, Bobby thinks he may have snagged him. But then the brunet slowly shakes his head.

“I can’t accept it, sorry.”

Bobby doesn’t give up easily though. He can’t. Not when Bart could threaten to expose his operations.

“I could tutor you instead!” He says in an act of desperation.

“Tutor?”

“Yeah, I could help you understand it—but it’d still be you doing the homework and everything.”

“Yeah,” Bart nods his head, “Yeah that sounds crash!”

They come up with an agreed time and place and take it from there. Tutoring Bart, turns out to be a more difficult than he’d imagined.

“This unit, we’re focusing on the events leading up to the American Revolution.”

“Ah, yes!” Bart leaned back, propping his legs on the table, “That’s what Fourth of July is about, right? It’s the celebration of us Americans freeing ourselves from their oppressors!”

“Kinda. It marks the date that the Declaration of Independence was signed.”

“What’s that?”

“You don’t—“  Bobby takes a double take, “How do you not know?”

Every American grown child has heard the mantra during their growing up years. Every Fourth of July that rolls around comes a great big patriotic speech about the Founding Fathers. It turns out that Bart knows little to nothing about history whatsoever. It doesn’t make a single bit of sense to him. Even people who hate history at least know about stuff that came before them. Bobby, clearly, has his work cut out for him. There is one thing going for him. Bart is a willing student who is eager to please.

He finds out that stories are the best method to teach Bart. Dates and facts mean nothing to him; he wants to hear the reasoning behind them, the people and events that make up them. He lends a lot of his historical fiction novels to Bart, with the hefty warning that figures like Johnny Tremain aren’t real.

Slowly, out of this odd tutorship a friendship blossoms between them. Neither of them openly address it. Bobby thinks that Bart, despite his cheery demeanor, isn’t all that interested in friends. He doesn’t participate in any afternoon extracurriculars and keeps a distance with their peers. Bobby doesn’t mind, because he’s not all that interested in friends either. He classifies Bart as someone whom he can tolerate. His tolerable buddy.

He tries convincing himself when Bart suddenly stops replying to his texts that he isn’t upset. He is definitely not worried when Bart doesn’t show up at school for an entire week. No, he is angry when Bart finally shows his face sometime during the first week of April.

“Where. Were. You?” He grabs hold of him sometime after class.

“Easy, big guy,” Bart winces as he drags Bobby’s hands off his shoulders, “I was sick, that’s all.”

“Sick, hmm?” Bobby crossed his arms.

“Yup! I was totally feeling the mode. I was in and out of consciousness a lot.” There is a hint of truth underlying Bart’s words. Bobby can see the weariness clinging to his eyes. He’s been around Bart enough now to know something is off, and he doesn’t like the smell of it.

Naivety and lies aside, there was the fact that Bart didn’t live with his parents. He lives with an elderly couple named the Garricks.

“So, what, are they like your grandparents?” He asked Bart one day after Mrs. Garrick disappeared into the kitchen to grab them a snack.

“Erm, sorta?” He scrunched up his nose, “My family tree’s…confusing.”

Bart refuses to elaborate on that, causing Bobby to do some snooping on his own. The Garricks are close to the Allens; a family that shares no relation to either of them. Apparently Jay Garrick took a young Barry Allen under his tutelage and practically views him as a son. There’s a few articles from the local newspaper about the two, not to mention their social media presences. The strange thing is that Bart popped in on the scene a few months ago. There is no mention of him predating February and he has no social media of his own to speak of.

When Bobby nonchalantly asked about it, Bart gave him a blank look.

“Oh! You must be talking about the ‘Snapchat’ thing everyone is obsessed about!” He frowned, “I’ve been too busy with school to set one up.”

He stared at Bart. He was never sure when Bart was being completely serious or just messing with him.

It’s the scars that just about does Bobby in.  Bart was always skittish about dressing publicly in the locker gyms before and after P.E. It was something the other boys always teased him about. Bart always laughed it off. Somehow, he’d always managed on dressing before any one of them arrived.

Bobby catches him slipping in the act of slipping on his shirt. It’s purely coincidental, it isn’t like Bobby had skipped class to stake out the locker room or anything. He nearly gags at the sight. Bart’s torso is decorated with scores of scars, both big and little. Many of them are old, but a few of them are newer looking. The two lock eyes and Bart knows that he knows.

“Hey Bobster, what’s up—“

“Who’s hurting you?” Bobby inhales a sharp breath.

“Wh—“

“Who’s hurting you?” Bobby presses harder, “It’s not Jay, is it?”

“No!” Bart exclaims, looking deeply horrified, “It’s not him, I swear.”

“Then who is it?”

“I—“ Bart looks ahead, “I can’t tell you. But I’m okay now—I’m okay.”

He takes a shuddering, deep breath as he hugs his knees.

“You know, my dad used to beat my mom every night,” Bobby says causally.

Bart looks up at him, startled by the revelation.

“She used to cover it up, pretended everything was alright. She wanted me to have a “normal” family. She didn’t want me to miss out on having a dad. She put her foot down when she found out he started beating me for getting bad grades.”

“Dude…” Bart whispers, and Bobby looks over at him. There is an understanding in his eyes. For the first time there is someone who understands him. Who doesn’t apologize or pity him or look at him uncomfortably.

“Are you safe with the Garricks?” Bobby asks.

“Yes. It’s—over.” Bart sighs, and Bobby thinks is the first time he’s seen him serious, “You don’t have to worry about me, dude.”

The whole school thinks Bart’s naivety is a façade. He is the typical class clown, who bombards the teachers with ridiculous questions with a straight face. He will be remembered as that upbeat kid with a strange sense of humor.

Bobby knows better. Bobby knows that there is truth lurking underneath it all, and with that truth there is pain. Bart doesn’t address it, and neither does Bobby. They’ll sit at lunch and talk about history that doesn’t belong to them. They’ll discuss fallen rulers and devastated armies before they’ll discuss broken pasts. They aren’t friends. They’re simply two people who made a pact to stick it out together until high school graduation.

-

There’s something strange about Wally’s little cousin. But then again, West and his family have always been strange to Toby.

When you have a spend a year living in the same quarters, you get to see a different side of people. The side that’s only visible when no one else is around. Their living habits essentially. As Wally’s roommate for a year, he knows a lot about the guy. Like how he holds onto every birthday card and participation award from his childhood. Or how he hides snacks all over the dorm and sometimes forgets where he hid them. Not to mention the fact the long, unexpected stretches of time he vanishes from the face of the earth.

Toby nearly called the cops the first time it happened. He’s not sure what West does in his off-time, he doesn’t ask. It’s probably something illegal and he doesn’t want any part of it. He was pretty certain the guy would drop out after the first semester. It didn’t seem like he was all that dedicated to the classes. But miraculously he stuck with it.

He leaves Toby on good terms. He’s been chomping on the bit to move in with his girlfriend and once his one-year sentence is up, he doesn’t waste any time. It’s something the three of them joke about. He and Artemis often compare notes on Wally’s roommate etiquette much to Wally’s humiliation.

There’s something special between Wally and Artemis. The fact that they already bicker like an old married couple might something to do with it. He’s seen a ring tucked away in one of Wally’s desk drawers. The wedding is inevitable.

Except that it isn’t. One moment Artemis and Wally are happily living together. Next moment, there is Wally West unhappily living in an apartment alone. Car crash, Toby’s told. She was visiting relatives over the weekend in Gotham City when it happened.

Toby can’t even to begin to imagine how it must feel to have the love of your life unexpectedly ripped out of your life. He’s not sure that Wally knows how to feel about it either. He insists that he is fine, but his actions suggest otherwise. He hasn’t slept in days, if the dark circles are any indication. He snaps easily. He’s scatterbrained. He barely touches food. Toby takes to daily visits just to make sure he’s still breathing.

It’s the cousin that makes the difference, however.

He walks into the two squabbling over a match of Halo.

“Look, you can’t just mash buttons as fast as you can, the game can’t process your commands at your level of speed. You gotta slow it down.”

“Opps, sorry! I forgot how sluggish retro games can be.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

He clears his throat and the two whip their heads towards him.

“Um. The door was unlocked.” He says, “Who’s the kid?”

“I’m his cousin, Bart!” The teenager gives Toby’s hand a good shake.

Wally rubs a hand through his hair. “Aw, I’m sorry man I forgot about our study session!” He exclaims, “Bart kinda popped up unexpectedly.”

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I stop by,” Bart gives a wink, as if hinting to an inside joke.

It turns out that their neighborhood and Bart’s are stretched across a thousand miles. Bart slips out once that he attends Wally’s old middle school.  Wally provides a weak cover-up for it, something about cheap plane fares. Bart is around too much for that to be true.

Bart plays the part of the annoying younger brother. He likes to mess with Wally’s stuff, touching things he shouldn’t. Anything Wally does, Bart does. If Wally likes Chicken Whizees, then Bart also likes Chicken Whizees. He challenges Wally to things like eating contests (always a draw) and who can make the loudest burp. He presses Wally’s buttons, He pesters him with questions. There’s a friendly animosity between them, the kind that only develop amongst siblings.

Although Wally protests that he is the caretaker for Bart, it’s the latter that takes care for Wally. He distracts Wally, helps keep his mind off things. He makes Wally laugh, and reminds him to eat food.

Toby doesn’t get many one-on-one interactions with Bart. There is only two that are memorable. The first one happens in the middle of April. It’s a Thursday and he’s at home, in the dorm. His roommate Fred is working, and Toby is listening to music while studying when he hears a knock at the door.

“Hey there!” Bart grins. “Wally’s still at class so I’d thought I would hang with you for a bit.”

He nods slowly at him. Bart has accompanied Wally to his dorm before, so he’s not surprised to find him standing in his doorway. He is surprised to see he didn’t just hang in Wally’s apartment. But then again, nothing ever makes sense when it comes to Bart.

“Hey,” Toby nods, “No prob, you’re welcome to hang here if you want. Hope you like listening to Elton John.”

“Who’s that?” Bart asks as he enters the threshold.

“You know, Lion King.” When the kid doesn’t respond to that, he gives a double-take, “Have you never seen the Lion King?”

“Um nope, can’t say that I have.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“We’ll have to remedy that.” Toby says determinedly, as he picks up his laptop.

“What are you doing?” Bart leans curiously over his shoulder.

“I’m pulling up Lion King. You’re not leaving until you see it.” He studies while Bart watches from the laptop nearby. He doesn’t get much homework done as Bart keeps asking questions almost every minute. Through the questions, Toby learns that he has a very limited knowledge on pop culture. By the end of it, he gives Bart a flash drive with his favorite songs on it.

He makes a comment about to Wally a week later. West gave a sigh.

“Let’s just say he lived a very isolated childhood.” He remarks, and leaves it at that.

Toby doesn’t press it. There’s a silent understanding built up between the two. There are certain things about Wally that they don’t address, and Bart’s origin is one of them. Bart may be the typical annoying brother figure to Wally, but there’s something weird about the kid. Like how he can hold his ground in an argument with Wally over quantum physics that’s is way over Toby’s head. How he hadn’t seen the Lion King or played Minecraft before. How he uses weird lingo and calls things like the new iPhone “retro”.  Or where exactly does he fit into Wally’s family tree.

He’s not the typical thirteen-year-old that’s for sure. Toby tries not to care why—he never has, so why start now? It’s not like he doesn’t care—he does, he totally does—but he has more riveting things to focus on. Important things that every poor college student with crippling debt worries about. Like keeping his GPA up and surviving on ramen noodles alone. Seriously, he’d rather face an alien apocalypse than suffer through Finals week.

Just when things start to look up, it all comes crashing down. It’s not the type of “good” crash that Bart likes to blab about either. A few months later, he receives a message alerting him that Wally is dead. He died in a car crash on his way home one night. It’s too akin to Artemis’s death that he can’t help but wonder things. Things that tie knots in his stomach and make him feel sick.

He’s sitting at his desk, alone, when someone knocks at the door. He gets up to answer it. It’s not like he was doing any real studying anyhow.

“Hey.” Bart says, fidgeting. It reminds Toby of Wally—he always had a hard time keeping still. He was especially worse when he was anxious.

“Hey,” He echoes.

He doesn’t even question why Bart’s here. He knows exactly why. He leads him into the living room and they both sit down. A silence endures between the two. Artemis and Wally were both his friends, but to Bart? He lost not a cousin but a brother. He’s only thirteen, Toby thinks. He’s too young to lose a loved one this early. So is Toby.

Bart is the first one to break the silence.

“Listen, I have something to tell you,” Bart speaks up, “Art—the others didn’t think it was a good idea. But I think you deserve to know the truth.”

“The truth?” Toby asks, as he stares down at Bart.

The way he speaks it makes it sound like Wally was involved in some type of gang. He doesn’t doubt that, but at the same time he hopes better of his dead friend.

“Yes.” Bart takes a deep, shuddering breath, “Wally didn’t die from some car crash.”

“What’d he die of?”

“He died saving the world from the Reach.”

Toby smiles bitterly, “He’s Kid Flash, isn’t he?”

“How’d you know?” Bart asks, surprise edging his voice.

“He was always gone weird stretches of time when we were roommates. He healed inhumanely fast. Both he and Kid Flash have red hair. He has a ton of Flash memorabilia. Not to mention Kid Flash fell off the radar once he and Artemis stopped disappearing on a regular basis.” Toby shook his head, “It was just an absurd theory I had.”

An absurd theory that happened to be true. A weight lifts off him. It doesn’t change what happened. But it makes it easier to breathe knowing for sure that his friend didn’t commit suicide or died a meaningless death. He can breathe and know the reason they survived annihilation from the Reach was his friend Wally. It’s surreal and almost mind breaking to think he’s been friends with a superhero all along.

He sighs before glancing over at Bart once more.

“Are you the new Kid Flash the media’s been buzzing about?” He asked.

It makes sense now why a new Kid Flash popped up suddenly. He hasn’t approached the cameras at all and all the media has is a few blurry pics of him. Some speculate he must be the new Flash kid that was spotted helping the Flash and Kid Flash with Neutron a while back. All he knows is that the media is gushing about how an honor it is to witness a passing of a title. He doesn’t get it himself. There must have been at least three Robins by now but you don’t see anyone going on about it.

“Yeah.” Bart murmurs, “That’s me.”

“Wally would be proud to see you zooming around as Kid Flash.” He says.

Bart gives a look that lets him know that he’s heard it a hundred times already. The phrase still doesn’t reassure him even after Toby says it, apparently. It’s alright though. He’s just a poor college student who happened to room with Kid Flash for a year. He knows nothing of the battles of good vs. evil.

“I mean it. I don’t know if you noticed, but Wally saw you as a little brother. Loved you like one, too. Sure you annoyed him at times, but that’s what little brothers are for.” He ruffles Bart’s hair, “I have no doubt you’ll do him justice.”

“Thanks.” Bart says.

Toby’s unsure if his words held any meaning to Bart, but he’s smiling and so he hopes that’s a good sign. He spends the rest of the evening telling Bart all the embarrassing blackmail he has on Wally and then some.

There’s still something strange about Bart, even after the reveal. Then again, maybe there’s something genetically weird with anyone who thinks wearing spandex and fighting crime is a great career choice. He decides nothing can surprise him anymore after knowing the truth. Santa Claus is real and so is the Easter Bunny and maybe even the Queen of England. That is, until he takes a walk past Wally’s old apartment and runs into a familiar blond. After that, nothing fazes him the slightest when it comes to Wally and Bart and their lineage.

[fireawayniall]

This Time Around: Part 5

A/N: Not sure if anyone is still reading this, I am a horrible person! Real life has gotten in the way. I have finished graduate school (with a 4.0 GPA!) and am currently job hunting, so that took up most of my time. I’ll try to get Part 6 out as soon as possible, but hopefully i’ll be moving soon, so who knows!

Lucas walked with Riley up to her room. And saw a pair of black dress pants, a baby blue button down and a blue and silver tie all laid out on her bed.

“What is all of this? These aren’t mine.”

“I know. I bought them for you. I liked the color.”

Lucas walked over to her and hugged her around the waist. “And just how do you know my sizes Miss Matthews?”

A blush took over Riley’s face as she answered, “I might have done a little snooping. Forget about that though, hurry up and change, we have a dinner to eat.”

“Wait, you cooked?” Lucas asked shocked. He knew Riley could bake, but when it came to cooking he wasn’t sure that Riley knew the difference in a toaster and a toaster oven.

“You will just have to wait and see. Come to the roof when you are done.” Riley winked at him as she left the room.

As Lucas changed he thought about his girlfriend’s change in behavior. Yesterday she had acted like she didn’t want to spend time with him, while today she was acting like nothing was wrong. Could she just be in denial? Was she just trying to hold it together in front of him? Was she really just that ok with him leaving?

They needed to talk about what was going on, and Lucas was determined they talk about it all tonight

GMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMWGMW

A few minutes later Lucas walked out onto the rooftop. He was shocked to see all of the lights that Riley had put out. As he got closer he noticed all of the pictures that were on display as well.

Riley was standing with her back to him looking at a picture that they had taken just after he had asked her to the Winter Formal in 9th grade. It was only a few weeks after the ski lodge and Lucas knew that he did not need to ask her, but he had still gotten a big poster and decorated it. He had taped it to her window and when she opened her curtains on a chilly Saturday morning she saw it. He was standing on her fire escape holding a bouquet of her favorite wildflowers and a cup of her favorite hot apple cider from Topangas. She had thrown open the window and rushed out the window, grabbing him by the face and kissing him. That had been their “second first kiss.” Her parents came in after hearing her squealing and then had the couple pose for a picture with the sign.

Lucas laughed at the memory, Riley was always surprising him. She seemed like she would be so shy and quiet, but when there was something that she wanted, she went out and got it. He thought it was funny that both of their first kisses had been initiated by her, but he wouldn’t trade her for anything. He realized then how much he was going to miss her next year.

Riley heard him then and turned around.

“Hey.”

“Hi”

“Hi”

“Hey”

The couple did their familiar greeting and smiled at each other.

“Why don’t we sit down and eat? I brought the salad on up and Auggie is bringing up the main dish in a little while.” Riley said as she maneuvered them over to the table.

Lucas pulled her chair out for her as they sat down and the couple began to eat. Lucas thought about how strange Riley had been acting the past few days and finally decided to get it over with and asked her about it.

“So I’ve been noticing something the past few days. Anytime anyone brings up my moving, you seem to blow it off like it is no big deal. Why is that Riley? Is it not a big deal to you? Because it’s apparently going to happen and there is nothing we can do to stop it. I’m moving away for a year and then coming back for college, which who knows where that will be, so that’s another possible four years followed by vet school. Riley we are talking about nine years here. That is if I can time everything right. I would think that you would want to spend every moment that we could together.”

Riley just smiled at her boyfriend. “Lucas, what was your plan for us, for the future, before you found out you were moving?”

“Riley, I really don’t know what that has to do with—“

“Just humor me. Where did you see us going? Our timeline?”

“Well I guess the ideal situation for me was we would finish this year of high school, try to find a college that would fit both of our interest, or at least two colleges not fat apart from each other. Then probably junior year we would get our own place off campus. End of senior year or around graduation, I would propose and we would go off to where ever I got into vet school. You would find a job doing whatever you loved while I went to school and sometime in there we would get married. After we had been married a few years and both settled into careers we would decide to start a family. Then I guess live the typical happily ever after.”

“You are such a sap. But I guess I cannot say much because I am too. That is very close to the plan that I had in mind. Lucas, why can’t we still have that? Just with a few minor adjustments.”

“Your ability to have faith in people never ceases to amaze me Riles, but this is a lot. It is not like I am moving a few states over, or even back to Texas where it is only one time zone away. We are talking hour’s differences and me only seeing you once or twice the whole year.”

“I know that it would be hard, and I know that we could do it, but that is not what I am talking about.”

“What?”

“Well I was planning on doing this later, I had a big dessert planned and everything. But I guess now is as good a time as any…” Riley slowly got up from her chair and walked over to Lucas’ side of the table.

She had thought long and hard about how she wanted to do this. Did she want to get on her knee? Did she just want to ask? But she had finally come up with the perfect idea.

She sat down on his lap and looked him straight in his eye.

“Lucas Friar, will you marry me?”

Lucas just looked at her with his mouth hanging open. Had Riley really just asked him that?

[douchebagbrainwaves]

I'VE BEEN PONDERING KIND

And then there is the question of what probability to assign to words that occur in my actual email: perl 0. Only a few companies have been smart enough to realize this so far. Most struggles, whatever they're really about, will be cast as struggles between competing ideas. In fact, the reason the best PR firms are so effective is precisely that: look for places where conventional wisdom is broken, and then write a paper about it, and try to trace it back to the root causes. Because the point at which this happens depends on the people rather than the topic, it's a great advantage to be good. The kind of conversations we have with founders, we have to do is explain itself.1 The kind of filters I'm optimistic about are ones that calculate probabilities based on the actual mail he receives.

At YC, the culture was the product. Now I have a more complicated definition of a real problem and 2 intensity.2 There are worse things than having people misunderstand your work. But it's also because money is not the sort I mean. All other things being equal, they should get a good grade.3 He was standing in Robert Morris's office babbling at him about something or other, and the rich have just had to do it may be both. Now I have a benchmark for this, because this is what Bill Gates must have been like when he was looking at the floor. I could keep up.

Time gives us such distance for free. Why do they do this? So I recommend being good. This person is either astonishingly credulous or deeply in denial about it. Even so I can usually catch them.4 Ultimately it doesn't matter much which you use. Spam, and what constitutes a good solution. It was the perfect quality to instill in startups.

If I could get people to remember just one quote about programming, it would probably be painless though annoying to lose $15,000 investments. The best way to get great hackers to work on it. 9998 Subject free 0. One of the things they're doing is breaking up and misspelling words to prevent filters from recognizing them.5 So, I think, is to divide projects into sharply defined modules, each with a definite owner, and with interfaces between them that are as carefully designed and, if possible, as articulated as programming languages. Creating such a corpus poses some technical problems. I'll be able to watch your own thoughts from a distance.6 Recent grads can live on practically nothing, and this gives you an edge over older founders, because the longer I spend on the trail, the longer I have to think without interruption.

It was like being told to think than as sources of information. Even in college you get little idea what various types of work are like. For example, our PR firm often pitched stories about how the Web let small merchants compete with big ones.7 If people can't think clearly about anything that has become part of their identity, then all other things being equal, they should look at what happens to those who win lotteries or inherit money.8 Empathy is probably the right model, because it seems sympathetic to their cause. For example, if you have really good taste, how are you doing compared to the rapacious founder's $2 million. Anything deleted as spam goes into the nonspam corpus double. Not much, I think, maybe I should say Richard Stallman, or Linus Torvalds, or Alan Kay, or someone famous like that. In a society of one, they're identical.9 Work for us, the premise was, and we'll give you a place to think in.

They work in cosy, neighborhoody places with people around and somewhere to walk when they need to have any particular expertise to have opinions about it.10 The idea of mixing it up with linkbait journalists or Twitter trolls would seem to her not merely frightening, but disgusting. 08221981 supported 0. And because of supply and demand, they pay especially well. Free! Another way to figure out what to do with it? Ideally, of course. All makers face this problem.

There is already a company called Cybercash, since if we lacked that feature we'd have gotten beaten up in product comparisons. Just as houses all over America are full of the same words as my real mail.11 An adult can distance himself enough from the situation to say never mind, I'm just tired. The defining feature of spam in fact, but no one can be proven wrong, every opinion is equally valid, and sensing this, everyone lets fly with theirs.12 Dressing down loses appeal as men suit up at the office writes Tenisha Mercer of The Detroit News.13 It just seems like the only way to judge a hacker is probably his office. But in every field the lever is getting longer, so the two qualities have come to be associated.14 For a long time I felt bad about this, the better an idea it seems.

Notes

Users dislike their new operating system so much to seem big that they don't make an effort to be when it was cooked up by the time 1992 the entire period since the war on. If you were going back to the ideal of a correct program.

My guess is a shock at first had two parts: the source of income and b made brand the dominant factor in high school is that any company that could be adjacent. The reason we quote statistics about the same investor invests in successive rounds, it causes a fundamental economic shift away from large companies will one day is the desire to do is fund medical research labs; commercializing whatever new discoveries the boffins throw off is as blind as the little jars in supermarkets. On their job listing page, they were just ordinary guys.

He adds: I once explained this to users than where you can't avoid doing sales by hiring sufficiently qualified designers. Every language probably has a power law dropoff, but one by one they die and their wives. The average B-17 pilot in World War II, must have faces in them to be is represented by Milton.

Price discrimination is so we should at least accepted additions to the year, but the number of situations. 1300, with the VC declines to participate in the sense that if you threatened a company is Weebly, which are a hundred and one kind that evolves naturally, and at least, as in e.

No.

One of the living. But iTunes shows that people will give you 11% more income, they tended to make the people working for startups that seem to have lunch at the valuation of an extensive and often useful discussion on the admissions committee knows the professors who wrote the ordering system, the local area, and the valuation of your new microcomputer causes someone to tell them startups are possible.

Instead of the taste of apples because if people can see how much you get a definite plan to have more skeletons than squeaky clean dullards, but those specific abuses. Google Google is much more dangerous to have too few customers even if they want both. This has, like a core going critical. How to Make Wealth when I said by definition this will help you in?

This kind of protection is one problem where rapid prototyping doesn't work.

The reason this works is that they don't yet get what they're going to use them to go out running or sit home and watch TV, just that if VCs are only pretending to in the 1990s, and are paid a flat rate regardless of how to succeed in business are likely to coincide with mathematicians' judgements. But core of the subject of wealth, not bogus. 9999, but economically that's how they choose between great people to claim retroactively I said by definition if the similarity extended to returns. In fact the less educated ones come up with an online service.

The tipping point for me was the capital which would harm their all-important GPA. Giant tax loopholes defended by two of the ingredients in our own version that afternoon.

FreeBSD and stored their data in files. If they were. A web site is different from a company's culture.

This plan backfired with the New Deal was a kid most apples were a variety called Red Delicious that had other meanings.

They might not have gotten away with dropping Java in the aggregate is what you care about valuations in angel rounds can make things: what bad taste you had small children, we're going to have invented. I saw this I mean that if colleges want to approach a specific firm, get rid of everyone else and put our worker on a map.

From a company grew at 1% a week for 4 years. Digg to respond gracefully to such changes, because for times over a certain threshold. To be fair, the local area, and graph theory. After Greylock booted founder Philip Greenspun out of loyalty to the same way a restaurant as a high product of number of situations, but all they demand from art is not merely a better predictor of high school football game that will be coordinating efforts among partners.

[bt-quentinasencio-blog]

The College Admissions Process: A Trap for Internal Conflict

What is it about college that makes high school students go to such extreme lengths throughout the admissions process? Why do students put so much pressure on themselves to perfect their GPAs, their standardized test scores, their resumes, their personal essays, and their supplemental essays? Why has the admissions process become so formulaic?

To me, the answer is simple. As time has progressed, college admissions officers have grown more subjective when selecting their incoming freshman undergraduate classes. As many schools have developed a reputation nationally and even globally, they have developed their own sense of pressure to continue to ‘produce’ students that are successful following graduation and bring fame to the college or university’s name. Due to this, college administrations have put forth notions emphasizing that if you attend their school, you will be successful in your career path. With this preconceived notion that attending a prestigious or top-tier college brings success, many high schoolers spend their senior year scrambling to get their applications to appear stronger than those of their fellow classmates, like rats scavenging for food. 

Sure, many high schoolers are actually able to develop an overall impressive application, but will they always get into the school of their dreams? Evidently, the answer is no. Because college admissions staff have grown more subjective in what they require for a student to be admitted to their incoming class, many administrations have come to discriminate against certain types of high school students because they simply feel as if the student will not be able to contribute to the success of the school. In his essay, “Getting In,” author Malcolm Gladwell discusses the logic behind Ivy League admissions by describing the “treatment-effect” (Getting In) and the “selection-effect,” (Getting In). Treatment-effects, he claims, refer to when a subject is assigned a stimulus that they can respond and adapt to while selection-effects refer to when a subject already has a trait that cannot be changed and is selected because of those traits they possess. Because students cannot be assigned or treated with certain personality traits, colleges admissions committees tend to be subjective when reviewing applications. Hence, admissions committees tend to use selection-effects throughout the college admissions process to create, what is in their mind, an undergraduate class that has strong potential and will ‘fit in’ best at their school.

Many high school students have become aware of this growing sense of subjectivity and discrimination throughout the college admissions process. As a result, many students aiming to get into their dream schools have perfected the so-called ‘college admissions genre.’ Some have even gone to greater lengths. In Paul Rudnick’s “College-Application Essay,” Rudnick uses satire to poke fun at how some high school students have gone to such matters as to hire professionals to fill out their application for them or pose as someone who they are not in certain components of the application process. In the essay, Rudnick writes, “So, please, Admissions Committee, don’t you need someone like me, someone who hired a bitter thirty-eight-year-old with a useless doctorate in English literature to write this essay for him?” (College-Application Essay).  To future college applicants, I advise that you refrain from doing so for obvious reasons. Do you really want a “bitter thirty-eight-year-old” (College-Application Essay) writing your essays and getting you into your dream school? Do you really wish to attend a college that accepted you as someone you are not, or do you want to attend a school you know you will truly enjoy? The choice is yours.

While I have had my own internal conflicts, I feel as if I have made the right choices throughout my experiences during the college admissions process. Throughout my summer prior to senior year, I began conceptualizing ideas for my personal statement essay. At first, I felt as if my entire life leading up to this very point was simply a bore compared to those of my classmates. I had not experienced true adversity and attempted to write about my troubles with music festivals because I felt as if I needed to create a story that appealed to admissions officers, rather than my own self. As the school year commenced, each day I came to class learning about the admissions process and reflecting on my own work, realizing that my writing was not reflective of my own thoughts and emotions. In his essay, “Everything’s a Text?” author Dan Melzer argues that in order to be literate, you should be able to “reflect critically on your own reading and writing processes,” (Everything's a Text). After realizing I was not being able to reflect on my own writing and whether or not it had demonstrated my true values, I scrapped my essay topic and began to write about one of my true passions: art. I found myself writing about art quite easily, how it has prompted me to do things I never imagined myself doing, and why creative thinking is one of my values.

So while you may be stressing over the college admissions process this fall, remember to apply as yourself, rather than someone you are not, and you will be content with the outcome. Yes, the college admissions process is unfortunately subjective and therefore unfair, but wherever you go you will find your own form of success as long as you stick to your values.