#maybe the third one is a copout but the real answer is all of her coworkers (at least in the movie) if it came down to it

[starstruckodysseys]

Who has your OC made cry?

Who would your OC say is their best friend? (this is purely self indulgent😇 🫶)

Is there anyone who your OC would die for?

Which canon character annoys your OC?

How does your OC feel about everyone at the video store (this is an excuse for u to ramble. tell me all of it)

who has made your oc cry?

honestly? i think jenna (her sister. shoutout to the woodward sibling lore that i DO in fact have in my brain), mostly because there’s a whole pre-canon argument they get into and i don’t think lanie cries in front of her but i do think she does at some point afterwards. i feel like she definitely has at some point other than that — there’s a whole bit in ep9 where she goes on a mini breakdown (i have it mostly written in my head. i am so normal) but i don’t know if she really. cries. and also that’s more about like the concept of her friends abandoning her more than anyone actually making her cry. yknow?

FUCK WAIT i forgot about the tricycle conversation at lord’s. technically she does that to herself actually on account of getting blackout drunk but also it’s bc of the craps game/kiss bet/whatever the fuck else but ALSO it’s bc of the conversation with russell so? idk i wrote a full fic about it (or at least including it) though if ur curious lmao

who would your oc say is their best friend?

wow eli i wonder who it could possibly be. racking my brain. (love u love cassie <3)

is there anyone your oc would die for?

hey remember time loop au. yeah.

which canon character annoys your oc?

if we’re talking real world lanie has never listened to a word dave has said ever. if we’re talking in the movie it’s haldwell (one day ill write the ep7 insert fic where lanie gets arrested with liv + usha bc it Does exist in my brain. sort of) and possibly g13 but only for the brief moment he actually exists and really she’s more worried abt usha than anything

i promise im going to make the lanie relationship chart Eventually but putting it here would be a whole thing so i’ll just link it here when im done LMAO (it’s going to be a Very long post if i get into it. which i will. this is a threat)

[nightingaelic]

Heyo! I'm more of a lurker her but I was wondering if you still take requests?

If so mind if I request something? Okay here goes!

Fallout new vegas companions react to the courier who is alike to deadpool, not in them that way but they break the fourth wall constantly and their immortal, like one time during a fight with the legion they get decapitated only for their head to grow back in seconds, Plus they sometimes make their companions question reality from the things they say

Mind if it's gender-neutral? Thanks! Love your posts they are awesome!

Thank you, anon! As you may have noticed, I do most of my reactions with gender-neutral pronouns unless otherwise requested. Anyway, here's wasteland Deadpool

TW: Gore

"Yeah, no clue," the courier said happily as they trailed their companion through the sewer tunnels that led to the Thorn. "Did I have these abilities prior to my confrontation with Benny? Maybe, otherwise I probably wouldn't be here talking to you now, but that bullet he left in my head is long gone and I still can't remember a damn thing prior to that night in Goodsprings. Fate, I guess."

Arcade Gannon: "Fate's a copout answer and you know it," Arcade replied flatly, turning to give them a skeptical look. "If I had to guess, you ran afoul of some kind of pre-war experimentation at some point in your past, and now you're basically a walking tub of regenerative cells. You're a bit of a scientific anomaly."

The courier smiled sweetly back at him. "Dying to cut me open again, doctor? You lost your stomach for it the last time you tried, if I'm remembering correctly. And I lost mine, a bit more literally."

Arcade blushed. "You grabbed your own small intestine, started winding it around your arm like a feather boa, and said 'look at me, I'm Billie Holiday!' You're lucky I didn't throw up inside of you, Six."

"And I didn't even get through the first verse of 'Summertime,'" the courier replied mournfully, before brushing past him toward the sounds of the underground fighting arena. "Don't worry, I'll get a reprise in for the fans at some point. It'll be a real showstopper."

"The fans?" Arcade asked incredulously, hurrying to catch up. "What, the crowd at the Thorn? They're not big into music that isn't the screams of dying wildlife."

Craig Boone: Boone frowned. "Fate put me and Carla in Novac. It might have been what I deserved, but... never mind."

"You sure?" The courier's lips began to curl up at the edges. "Nearly pulled it out of you, that time. It's okay, you can tell me about how you had to kill your own wife when you're ready."

They tried to walk around him, but Boone grabbed them by the front of their shirt and slammed them into the concave wall of the sewer. "You can't know that," he growled. "Not unless you had something to do with... with..."

"Easy." The courier held their hands up. "How many times have you seen me take a Legion spear to the shoulder and get back up again? They're no fans of mine. I wouldn't sell someone to them, even if they deserved it. And Carla-"

Boone jerked them back against the concrete again. "Get her name out of your mouth, courier. I don't know what you are, or why you get up again when something lops off your limbs, but if you want me to watch your back, you can damn well leave what's dead to lie."

Lily Bowen: "Watch your language, dearie," Lily warned them. "We have to be on our best behavior for Miss Red Lucy, or she'll throw us out again."

"She threw us out because she realized that I was breaking her betting system," the courier said bitterly, pausing to make their point with gusto. "I can't die. Ergo, I can't lose, and all her regulars were starting to realize that."

"And we are going to sit quietly in the third row and watch the critters in the ring fight each other," Lily went on. "What do you think, pumpkin? Should we bet on the giant mantises this time?"

"Radscorpions," the courier muttered, resuming the forward pace. "Giant mantises can kiss my ass."

"Language!"

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Well, I can't say I'm not pleased that I'll get to know you for longer than I know most people, nowadays," Raul replied with a grin. "But neither can I say I envy you. If a deathclaw manages to take off my head, I'll be glad to die, rather than wait for a brand new one to grow. Parece doloroso."

"It would've been less painful if you'd managed to recover my old head and hold it next to my neck," the courier said. "And less time-consuming. I was down for three whole minutes."

"What did you want me to do, boss, chase it down the deathclaw's gullet?" Raul chuckled. "Ya no soy un hombre joven, Six. Maybe when I was still a vaquero, I would've tried it, but no more."

"Viejo." The courier elbowed him affectionately. "What say we show the Thorn the vaquero skills you still have left? I'd love to see you lasso a cazadore."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Cass was still white as a ghost. "I'm pretty sure this is a dream," she moaned, stopping to lean against the wall. "All that blood, those broken bones, and your arm was just..."

"You're beat all to hell on a regular basis, Cass," the courier replied, stopping as well. "Can't handle a little rough and tumble, all of a sudden?"

"Rough and tumble I can handle no problem," Cass admitted. "But that... that thing... it was all shriveled up like a baby mole rat's, and it just ballooned out like some kind of parasite, and its fingers got big first, then the joint cracked into place and... Six, you grew a new goddamn arm like it was a silt bean sprout, in eight seconds flat!"

"Hey." The courier held their offending appendage up and waved it around a bit. "It's just an arm. Brand new and better in every way. Until this one tangles with the wrong pack of night stalkers, I suppose. Sure, it's a little gross watching it do its thing, but I-"

"I'm gonna be sick," Cass said, covering her mouth.

"Watch the boots," the courier said, patting her on the back as she ducked down to empty her stomach.

Veronica Santangelo: "What do you think caused it?" Veronica pressed them. "I mean, I know you don't have the memory anymore, but you have to have some kind of guess, in the back of your head."

The courier started ticking options off on their fingers. "Well, there's everyone's favorite bogeyman, the Enclave, but that's the obvious answer and the NCR and Brotherhood buried any chances I'd have of finding out. Second most likely would be the lunatics in the Big Empty, but I feel like I would've found some kind of evidence of experimentation from all the time I spent bopping around among the lobotomites, and I didn't. Then there's the Master, but honestly I think he would've thrown all his super mutants in the garbage if he managed to make a regenerating human that, you know, still looked human."

"I don't know. Can you have kids?" Veronica asked shyly.

"Ummm..." The courier stopped walking. "Unsure."

"Hmm." Veronica rubbed her chin. "Are you up for-"

"No."

"But for scientific-"

"No."

ED-E: ED-E traced lazy circles in the air around the courier's torso as they rambled on, their voice echoing through the sewer system. Regeneration wasn't something it was familiar with, but the concept of continued life beyond losing parts of oneself was a robotic standard. It ran through its own repair catalogue, checking off every new part it had acquired since its initial bootup and every replacement part it was still in need of.

"Hey." The courier stopped walking suddenly, and ED-E hung in the air in front of them. They reached out to grab it and pull it in close, up against their chest. "You're a good listener, ED-E," they said as they hugged it.

ED-E beeped its affection as well.

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side and whined. He reached up to sniff the courier's knee, where only hours before their leg had been severed. The smell of blood was still there, the grease of the chainsaw blade, but the limb remained.

The courier knelt down. "It's okay, boy. I'm trying to say that I won't abandon you. No matter what, I'll always get up again. Do you understand?"

Rex barked once. It echoed down the sewer pipe on either side of them, and the courier smiled.

[purpli-writes]

Makoto Naegi's Normal School Life

Summary:

Makoto Naegi had always wanted to go to Hope's Peak Academy but when he was informed he'd be one of a kind in his class?

He wasn't so sure.

Day One of My Naeishi Week: Monster AU

You can read it on AO3 here

“Are you paying attention, Naegi-kun?” Nanami asked, staring at Makoto a little worried. “This is important information, I think.”

“Y-yes, I am Nanami-senpai,” Makoto replied quickly. “It’s… a lot to take in, though.”

“That’s normal, probably,” Nanami responded, pulling out her Gamegirl. “It was with me, anyway…”

“But, I think the golden rule is just to treat them as you would anyone else,” Nanami added. “They’re after all still your classmates, Naegi-kun.”

Makoto nodded. If Nanami could handle her class he would probably be fine.

Assuming his luck didn’t go against him, of course.

Entering his class for the first time was going to be the hardest, that Nanami had promised.

Makoto had always thought of himself as a somewhat sociable person but now all he wished is that he could go hide away in his dorm.

They might buy that I’m sick, right? Makoto thought desperately as he stared at the classroom door.

Still, despite his nerves, Makoto reached for the handle.

He was sure he had never been more nervous in his life.

That was sad, wasn’t it?

Makoto slowly opened the door, ignoring the beating of his heart.

“Ah, Naegi-kun,” a mature voice greeted, startling Makoto. “I see you’ve made it here in one piece.”

Makoto dumbly nodded, staring at his teacher.

“Would you like to introduce yourself?” the teacher prodded, smiling softly.

Slowly but surely, Makoto made his way to the front of the classroom, ignoring the stares he felt on his back.

“My name is Makoto Naegi,” Makoto began, staring straight ahead. “I’m the Ultimate Lucky Student and I’m pleased to make your acquaintances.”

“If you could find your seat, Naegi-kun,” the teacher said. “We could start a more formal meeting.”

So far, Makoto thought as he made his way to the one empty desk, school seems pretty normal…

Maybe it won’t be so bad after all!

Makoto found that his classes for the most part passed smoothly, however it was a bit awkward not knowing anyone at first.

Luckily, Maizono, Ikusaba, and Hagakure were quick to talk to Makoto, claiming that he had seemed interesting.

“Naegi-chi,” Hagakure had said, beginning a question he had already asked several times before. “Do you have any magic?”

“No,” Makoto answered, getting a bit annoyed. “Up until a few weeks ago, I had no clue that magic was even real.”

“Huh…?” Maizono had said. “Humansssssss really have no clue?”

“It would make sense,” Ikusaba said. “They have explanations for everything, why would magical instances be any different?”

“I mean little kids believe in magic,” Makoto said. “But as we get older we just stop believing…”

“That’sssssssss horrible!” Maizono gasped, tail shaking slightly.

“Perhaps it’s just part of their lives,” Ikusaba said calmly.

Makoto nodded at that, not knowing what else to say.

“Well, Naegi-chi,” Hagakure began. “If you ever want to learn magic, learn it from me!”

Glancing at Maizono and Ikusaba told him that he might not want to take Hagakure up on his offer, yet Hagakure had looked so excited. Saying no outright would be like kicking a puppy...

“Thanks, Hagakure-kun,” Makoto said. “I’ll… think about it?”

Hagakure smiled brightly, and slowly the conversation turned to more normal things.

chiaki nanami:

nanami: naegi, how was your first day?

naegi: it was… interesting but not bad.

nanami: see? i told you it wouldnt be that bad

nanami: probably

naegi: i mean i havent really talked to most of them yet

nanami: you might do it eventually, naegi! i believe in you

nanami: maybe…

naegi: ...thanks?

nanami: no problem!

Makoto slowly tried to introduce himself to the rest of his class, some more successful than others.

But there was someone who kept gaining Makoto’s interest despite Makoto not talking to him.

Ishimaru Kiyotaka.

It seemed his small friend group had noticed his interest although Maizono and Ikusaba didn’t seem exactly eager to mention it.

Makoto didn’t know whether to be thankful or worried.

“Naegi-chi,” Hagakure said as they walked to lunch. “Are you ever going to talk to Ishimaru-chi?”

“Huh…?” Makoto said, scratching at his cheek. “I do talk to him, Hagakure-kun.”

“That’s not what I mean, man,” Hagakure whined out. “Since it’s obvious you have a crush on him why don’t you talk to him?”

“What…?” Makoto asked. “I don’t-”

“It’s obvious, man,” Hagakure said. “I could predict your future with him for a measly 100,000 yen!”

“...I’ll pass, Hagakure-kun,” Makoto said.

As Hagakure and Makoto made their way to the lunch table Makoto couldn’t help but ponder Hagakure’s words.

I can’t have a crush on Ishimaru, I haven’t even really spoken to him…! Makoto thought. ...Right?

Makoto went through the rest of his day, trying not to think of Ishimaru.

If anything, it’s a bit creepy, right? Makoto thought to himself. I mean, we don’t even know each other!

“Naegi-kun,” Maizono began, slithering up to Makoto at the end of their final class. “Did ssssssssomething happen?”

“Huh?” Makoto asked, looking at Maizono. “I don’t think so, why?”

“You ssssssssssseemed a bit out of it,” Maizono explained. “Thissssssssss doesn’t have anything to do with Ishimaru-kun, doessssssssss it?”

“W-wha…?” Makoto said. “How did you-”

“I’m pssssssssssychic, ssssssssssssillly!” Maizono smiled. “Jusssssssssst kidding, I jussssssssssst have good intuition!”

Makoto stared at Maizono in a bit of a shock.

“Maizono-san,” Makoto began. “I think I might have a bit of a problem…”

“And you have a crush on him?” Ikusaba asked plainly. “Despite not interacting with him other than superficial moments?”

“When you say it like that…” Makoto said, scratching at his cheek.

“Hey! Humans have short life spans!” Hagakure said. “So of course he’d fall in love quickly!”

I didn’t think my lifespan was that short… Makoto thought.

“I think it’sssssssssssss ssssssssssssweet,” Maizono added. “Love at firsssssssssssst ssssssssssssight, right?”

“It isn’t love!” Makoto protested. “I… just… I don’t know.”

“Well you won’t find out if you don’t talk to him,” Hagakure said.

“Hagakure-kun is right, for once,” Ikusaba said. “You’re going to have to talk to Ishimaru-kun to confirm your feelings.”

“It won’t be sssssssssssso bad, Naegi-kun,” Maizono said. “Ishimaru-kun can’t be that bad to talk to.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Makoto said. “Well, wish me luck.”

“Hopefully we don’t have to man,” Hagakure said. “You are the Ultimate Lucky Student aren’t you?”

Finding Ishimaru wasn’t hard. From the little interaction Makoto had with him he knew the guy liked to study.

Religiously.

Makoto went to the library and unsurprisingly Ishimaru was there. At least his intuition wasn’t wrong.

“Ishimaru-kun?” Makoto said, walking up to Ishimaru. “Could we talk?”

“Of course, Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru said in his usual loud voice. “Students communicating is fundamental for a working school environment!”

“It’s more of a personal matter,” Makoto said, looking away.

“Oh? Please do share, Naegi-kun!”

“I realized I don’t really know a lot of my classmates that well,” Makoto said. “So I wanted to get to know you better, Ishimaru-kun.”

What a copout… Makoto thought sullenly to himself.

“I would also be interested in furthering our relationship, Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru responded, smiling with his arms out.

chiaki nanami:

naegi: ...i need your help, nanami

nanami: huh…? what do you need naegi?

naegi: i dont know how to flirt with one of my classmates

nanami: oh? youre already flirting with one of your classmates?

nanami: um… thats… a problem

naegi: i know

nanami: just flirt with them like you would a normal person, probably

naegi: i dont know how to flirt with people

nanami: im not good at dating sims, naegi…

Slowly but surely Makoto was sure he was making progress with befriending Ishimaru. His friends offered him tips on what they had learned about Ishimaru but he wasn’t exactly sure he could accept all of their help.

“I could have one of my minions follow him, man,” Hagakure offered during lunch.

“There’s probably a love spell I could cast on him,” Ikusaba said during the middle of their third period. “Although I would have to go to the dragon realm…”

“You could alwayssssssss trap him, Naegi-kun!” Maizono had said cheerfully at the end of the day.

Yeah, his friends were probably not the best people to consult on this matter.

“Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru yelled after Maizono had left him for the day. “I think it would be pertinent for us to study!”

“Huh…?” Makoto said. “Study…?”

“Yes!” Ishimaru said. “It would help us better understand each other while still keeping on top of our school work!”

“We could… just hang out?” Makoto offered. “That would also help us better our friendship…”

“But what about our studies?!”

“Studying isn’t everything in a friendship…” Makoto said. “I mean it’s also important for friends to relax with each other.”

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-what?!” Ishimaru cried out, looking shocked.

Did Makoto… break him?

Did I really say something that weird…? Makoto thought.

“I understand, Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru said, starting to cry. “Thank you for teaching me, Naegi-kun!”

“You’re… welcome?” Makoto said, scratching at his cheek.

“Naegi-kun! You can decide the place we relax!”

As Makoto led Ishimaru to a park he had discovered nearby he noticed Ishimaru’s tail wagging.

Huh, I didn’t know that he could do that… Makoto thought. It’s kind of cute…

The routine of hanging out with Ishimaru continued for a few weeks and Makoto found himself happy with how things were going thus far.

Too scared to make a move, Makoto had accepted that he was resigned to only being friends with Ishimaru.

Not that that was a bad thing, despite how his friends had teased him.

Yet today, Ishimaru had been acting a bit weird to Makoto. More red-faced and loud, almost as if he was annoyed.

Did Makoto do something?

“Are you really that dense, Naegi-kun?” Ikusaba asked, blinking at Makoto. “I wonder how you’ve made it this far.”

“Huh…? What do you mean?” Makoto asked, tilting his head.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, man,” Hagakure answered unhelpfully. “Are you going to eat that, Naegi-chi?”

Makoto pushed his tray towards Hagakure who accepted it wordlessly.

“I think Ishimaru-kun might be reciprocating your feelingssssssssss, Naegi-kun,” Maizono explained. “It would explain his recent behavior.”

“H-huh…? You think?” Makoto asked.

“It’s obvious,” Ikusaba said. “Even Hagakure gets it.”

“Mhm!” Hagakure agreed, muffled by food.

“Don’t worry too much, Naegi-kun,” Maizono said. “It’sssssssssss going to work out perfectly!”

chiaki nanami:

nanami: heard from one of my classmates that you have some good news incoming

nanami: ….probably

nanami: it’s probably pointless to wish you good luck, naegi, but i told you it’d be fine.

nanami: ...maybe

“Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru yelled at the end of the school day, startling Makoto.

“Ishimaru-kun…?” Makoto asked, trying to ignore what his friends had told him during lunch. “What’s up?”

“I have something to tell you, Naegi-kun!” Ishimaru said, continuing to yell.

“I don’t think you have to be so loud, Ishimaru-kun…” Makoto said. “Unless you want to tell everyone in the school…”

“I know these feelings are not exactly wholesome but I can no longer deny my attraction to you, Naegi Makoto-kun!”

“Huh…?!” Makoto said, feeling his face redden rapidly.

“I understand that you may not reciprocate these feelings….!” Ishimaru said, trailing off as Makoto stared blankly at Ishimaru.

Before Ishimaru could say anymore Makoto closed the gap between the two of them connecting their lips.

“Ishimaru-san, I think I might like you too.”

naegi phan klub:

Soldier Girl: Looks like they finally got together.

Snake Songstress: Finally! I’m happy for them!

speak to the dead: ...maybe we should add him to the group chat now?

Snake Songstress: No…! Think about how embarrassed he’ll be.

Soldier Girl: Adding him now.

Naegi Makoto was added to the group chat

[khelinski]

That Day

I was a naïve 16-year-old when it happened on that day. That day that changed my life. It changed a lot of people's lives. Perceptions were altered. This belief everyone had that life is just so gosh darn dandy became lifeless with just a few last remaining gasps of breath. All that was left that day was tear-stained faces staring at a television screen. Everyone, regardless of his or her age, had that same puzzled look. Not many conversations flowed that day. What was there to say, really? It was like having a conversation of the previous weekend's party during a relative's funeral.

           Days and weeks after that day, everyone reflected on what was happening. Everyone who was everyone could not get those images out of their head from the TV. Ten years later, it was still permanently burned into my memories. As the cliché goes, I remember that day like it was yesterday…

           I was in 11th grade at Stevenson High School. It was a typical September day. The weather was to be expected for the fall in Michigan. Was not too warm. Was not too cold. The leaves were just starting to fall from the trees.

 I woke up around 6 in the morning, getting ready for another glorious day at school. Boy, did I hate school!

           It was a Tuesday morning, and I was already counting down the week's remaining days I had to go to school. I was also counting down the days till I get to work at Showcase again. At that time in my young life, I already felt like I was on top of the world, working at a movie theater.

           Pathetic, I know!

           I waited there at the end of my street for the bus, got on, and already started cringing over what I was about to endure during the day. It was amazing the emotions a person went through before real tragedy would hit. In my naïve sensibility, I was dreading high school; being around the kids that hated me (and the feeling was mutual), the endless boring lessons teachers preached, and the lonely feeling of not having a girlfriend. I was a teenager, caught up with my own dramas in life that I rarely looked around me. And beyond that, I was a typical American; entitled with the feeling that I was all-important in this mad, mad, world. I, like many people, was in for a very rude awakening before the end of the day.

           That day.

 I got off the bus, and walked slowly, dreading every moment of it. Through the hallways, my peers flooded every which-way with their self-important lives. Some were talking about their boyfriends/girlfriends. Some were talking about how the school's football team, the Titans, was doing. And some were just in their own little world: like me. I walked to my locker, got my Sociology book, and headed to my first hour class. For the life of me, I do not recall that class that day.

           Second hour, I had Earth Science. Mr. M taught it. He looked like a combination of Stone Cold Steve Austin and Bill Goldberg. He had a sense of humor too. While Mr. M was teaching (and for the life of me, I also do not remember), a tragedy occurred elsewhere…

 It was not until third hour, Geometry, that I got a shock of my lifetime. The TV was on, which was very rare in that class. Ms. C was hysterical, saying over and over:

           "This was no accident, this was deliberate."

           What I found out then, a plane hit one of the World Trade Center towers in New York while I was in Earth Science. A second plane hit the second tower right before Geometry started. I would never forget the first image of that tall building with smoke coming out of it. Everyone in that class was in disbelief. No one said a word. There was no lesson in that class that day. Just kids and a frantic woman, watching history unfold on TV.

           After third hour, I had lunch. By that time, the first tower collapsed to the ground. A smoke-covered New York City filled the television screen. Confusion invaded the cafeteria. Everyone was glued to the TV. Hardly anyone was talking to one another. It was such a weird vibe being in that lunchroom, stuffing my face, watching people die as if it was entertainment. Everyone felt it��that vibe: a vibe I hope I do not ever have to repeat in my lifetime again.

           I was glued to the TV once again in fifth hour. I had Theater Arts II with Ms. B. She hardly said a word. Her eyes were cemented to the TV as well. A few of my classmates filled me in with what was going on, since none of the teachers really had a clue (or really wanted to talk about it).

           I got the news that a third plane hit the Pentagon in Washington D.C. and a fourth plane crashed in Shanksville, Pennsylvania (days later, it was revealed that it was targeting the White House). America was under attack.

           The TV was off in my English class, sixth period. Mr. W was either in denial with what was going on, or did not want to increase the high anxiety everyone was feeling. That class was a blur, even then. My mind was not focused with what he was teaching. My mind was in-tune with the day's events.

           Seventh hour was the weirdest moment of the entire day (maybe my entire life). The TV was on, and the volume was high. I was sitting in Journalism. One of my favorite teachers, Ms. F, was very excited.

           Now, before you jump to conclusion right now: I do not want to say that she was excited that thousands of people were dying on the television screen.

           No.

           She was excited that the very subject of the class, journalism, was present. Ms. F hardly said anything, just wanted everyone to absorb what the journalists were doing on CNN that day.

 Days/weeks later, Ms. F was the only teacher I had that kept on talking about that day. She even brought in newspaper headlines of that day. One reason why Ms. F was one of my favorites was she’s real, raw, and never sugarcoated her teachings. She did not talk to her students like they were kids. She talked to her students like young adults, willing to learn. One prime example, she held one newspaper with BASTARDS as the headline. I cannot think of any other teacher that would be that bold.

 By eighth hour, I was in complete and utter distraught. I had Creative Writing with Ms. Z. I could not concentrate with the writing assignment.

           The assignment was to write a story, inspired by two pictures Ms. Z handed out to the class. The first picture was a room. I believe it was a living room. The second picture was the same room completely destroyed. Everything was on the ground. The assignment was to incorporate both pictures into a story of some sort. I cannot remember off hand what I had in mind before that day, but I am pretty sure it had something to do with Evil Dead. I think I even started writing it.

           But then, that day happened. What should be known as any other day became known as that day. I could not focus on writing. My eyes just stared at the TV screen mounted on the wall. And I felt guilty for that, using what was going on as a copout to get away from writing my assignment (though, that was not how I felt). Ms. Z understood. And a good majority of the student's in my class felt what I was feeling. At the end of the day, the school principal announced on the P.A. that all after school activities would be canceled.

           The bus ride home was surreal. The beginning of the day on that bus, I was dreading going to school. Now I was dreading going home. In a sense, I wanted to rewind that day to the beginning without going forward, feeling the way I did eight hours prior. But there was no going back. I, like many people on that bus ride home, was in pieces. There was so much promise with what we all thought life could be. And there was so much pride in our country. We had that cocky, "America: fuck yeah," attitude.

 I came home, finding my mom in front of the computer screen. She was on her popular online hangout at that time: the eBay boards. CNN was on in the background. I asked her just a simple question, if she knew what was going on? It was a stupid question, really. But what else was there to say? She looked at me, nodded her head, and went back to the computer screen. She really had nothing to say either. What can a parent say to a distraught kid regarding that day?

           "Guess what son? Thousands of people died today and the world is fucked up!"

           My sister came home an hour later (she was a few grades below me in jr. high), and was just as distraught (and even more confused). There were no answers given. And I felt really bad for her. I kind of knew the world was fucked up. That the great reality-check in life is: shit happens. I learned that a few years prior given the Columbine High school shooting, and the residue of bomb threats that followed.

           But my sister.

           She was still innocent, unknowing to the real world. She did not even cover the Holocaust in school yet. And she was witnessing tragic history with me. We both sat on the couch, confused, eyes glued to CNN. I think that was the first time I was watching CNN in this length before. After a while, I got up and went to my room.

 I lay in bed; just…I cannot even describe the words. I was in tears. I was crushed. I was confused. I was beat up. I was experiencing the reality TV version of the Die Hard series. The planes. The tall building. The terrorists. New York. Only thing missing was a smart-ass Bruce Willis, saving the day, one-liner at a time.

           But no one could save that day.

           No one.

           This was real.

 I could not even imagine what it would be like being on that plane as it collided into the towers.

           I could not even imagine what it would be like being in that tower and watching the plane approach and crash without warning.

           I could not even imagine what it would be like to be in the tenth level of hell where the only way to escape was to jump from the tower to my death.

           I could not even imagine what it would be like to be on the other two planes, learning the events that occurred in New York and knowing what my future entailed.

           My naïve 16-year-old mind could not fathom the hell others were going through. And the families of these victims and the pain they will go through for many, many years to come.

           It was all-unreal.

           Except, it was all-real.

 My dad came home, and my family had an uncomfortable quiet dinner together. CNN was on in the background. Aaron Brown was talking. By this point of that day, the second building collapsed.

           After a few more hours of distraught people sharing their personal tales that day, President George W. Bush made an announcement. It was one of those Captain Obvious moments, but a historical moment nonetheless. He soothed everyone's confusion with the inevitable truth. There were no left/right debacles. Just the plain truth.

           America was brutally attacked.          Thousands of people lost lives.

 There was this cocky unspoken feeling that no one could touch America. And I represented what American's stood for before that day. I thought I was the shit, an 11th grader with one of the greatest jobs ever! The embodiment of America sums up that simplistic thought process, in which the United States of America was top of the world, the best in the land; and that no one, could ever touch us.

           I guess the same could be said about religion. That people were safe within the confines of their own God's plan.

           Terrorists hijacking planes and crashing them into buildings were only thought of in action movies by unoriginal studio execs.

           Before that day, who knew, right?

           The why's/how's came into focus days/weeks/months/and years after. Before that day, I was not accustomed to the name, Osama bin Laden. Before that day, I was not aware of century’s worth of disagreements in the Middle East. Before that day, I never questioned faith. Before that day, I was just living my own naïve life with blinders on to the world. It never occurred to me until that day: this was the real world. All those years of hiding behind Steven Spielberg movies and dwelling over my trivial crushes with girls I had no chance with, seemed insignificant.

 Days after that day, I still had no idea what I was going to do with my Creative Writing assignment. Then it hit me that weekend. I was still glued to CNN, and watched a woman in tears, talking about her husband that was on one of the planes that crashed into the towers. I was so taken by her story, I felt compelled to write about it. So that night, I typed it out. I wrote it in script form (I was into writing short screenplays at the time).

           Monday came, almost a week after that day, and I turned in my assignment. In a sense, I felt that I needed to express myself about what happened that day. Once it was written, and once I turned it in, I felt a little at ease. To my surprise, Ms. Z loved it, and as a result, I received an A+. She even wrote a nice little comment before the red-ink A+:

 "Good plot-line, screenplays are a lot of work & you did a nice job with developing characters & setting."

 But I did not write it to score a good grade or impress the teacher in any way. Like any writer that proclaims themselves as writers: I wrote it, because I felt compelled to write it. It was itching inside of me. It was my own therapy over what was going on around me. It was my way of finally realizing the big reality check in life: there was so much more out there than me!

           That lady, for a good example, lost her husband. And it was not even for any justified cause or reason.

 In memory of the 2,996 lives lost that day.

 K.H.; August 2, 2011.