#my university athletics department that I wasn’t supposed to know

[joshuaalbert]

ok so this is another thing I’ve never done a lore deep dive on bc I try not to spoil too much for myself so all I know is what I’ve seen onscreen, and other people have definitely talked about this concept way more and whatever, but like. i have to believe after some amount of time of people taking the kobayashi maru it becomes pretty common consensus that it’s a no-win kind of deal. i feel like they kinda try to imply that people go in not knowing but there’s no fucking way everyone keeps their mouth shut about that. and i think to keep trying at that point even knowing this requires a certain amount of...“rip to everyone before me but im different” energy, to the point where the legacy best of the best (kirk) will alter the test to make that possible. like yes I think it’s ultimately a humbling experience for a lot of people to find out that they (who have probably been exemplary their whole lives) cannot win, but the conditions of the test still require you to have the type of confidence that will allow you to go into a scenario you know is supposed to be unbeatable and still think that maybe you’ll be the one to handle it right.

so this energy is, to a degree, encouraged among cadets. if you are going to command, you need to learn to make challenging decisions even in the face of impossible scenarios without losing your crew’s faith in you, so that kind of confidence and belief in oneself is necessary, but then we also see how easy it is for it to tip over that line. surprise surprise im talking about the first duty again but the nova squadron crash is such a front and center examination of that determination turning into hubris. they LITERALLY go “rip to them but we’re different” about the five people who died doing the kolvoord starburst last time, and they pay for that dearly, even if it’s not on the exact same level of catastrophe. and it’s easy to judge them more harshly because this was a demonstration and one of them died because they wanted to show off, but when your organization operates to some degree off your commitment to believing you can be the person to succeed where everyone before you fails, i think you’re inevitably gonna get things like this sometimes. in the grand scheme of things it’s a small example, but I still think it’s a really interesting examination of how one of starfleet’s greatest strengths that’s encouraged in its trainees is also so easily capable of being ruinous the second you step over a line that’s NOT always clearly defined, and in fact is often defined in retrospect by the outcome.

[specsforwoo]

Son of Bia | Demigod!Nakamoto Yuta

Parent Deity: Bia (Goddess of Power, Anger, and Raw Energy)

Allegiance: Zeus

“My power is no fucking illusion.”

Easily Yuta’s favorite quote

He has been in and out of different martial arts programs since he was able to stand

Everything from Judo to Aikido

He’s done it

Right now he is currently working on boxing because he got to see Daigo Higa live (at one of his KOs) and he instantly fell in love with the art

So Yuta is one of the few kids to have known that he was a demigod since he was really young

The only others are Jaemin and Jisung

His dad was a martial artist and he had grown up in and out of gyms since he was 3 years old

And his mom was actually around until he was about 15

So from about 5 years old on, he was aware that he had a goddess as a mother

His parents never tried to hide it from him

But he wasn’t claimed until he was 15

It’s a long story

To shorten it up

His mother was forced to return to Olympus to carry out orders given by Zeus

But like a week later he had this huge aikido competition

And boy was just in a slump

Like he almost got KO’ed with a kick to the head

Which NEVER happens

It hurt his pride

As a martial artist and as his mother’s son

His father was with him, telling him his mother was looking down and cheering him on

But Yuta just couldn’t feel it

But this warmth of home just surrounded him

And in the metal of the locker door, he caught sight of a shimmering chain and feather above his head

His father gave him a huge smile

And he could feel his mother with him again

That last match of the day was the best he has ever performed

So

Yes, he has been aware of his godly heritage for a long time

But he had never been to camp before

But once you are claimed your scent becomes like 20x stronger

So at the age of 19 his parents decided to send him to the camp for the summer

Yuta was realllllyyyyy against this

His whole argument was

I’ve known who I was for so long, why the hell are you making me go to some group therapy session 14 years later.

His mind changed the 3rd day at camp

Okay the first day he was just in a pissy mood and almost punched the Camp Medic but that almost got him into a brawl with some son of Zelus, who just happened to be his cousin

The second day he was still in a pissy mood but now he also had a black eye so he was even more grouchy

But the third day was life changing

Some Ares kid who was like 12 years old ran up to him and begged him to come join him and his cabin in the training rink

And Yuta followed because, an octagon? Hell yes

The Ares camp leader agreed to work on some aikido moves with the kids and Yuta agreed to be his opponent

He suddenly remembered why he loved martial arts

And why he loved his parents

So soon he made up with Sicheng and actually became really close to that Zelus kid, Xuxi

And after that he was considered the best fighter in camp

He had led a few missions, once accompanied by Xuxi’s girlfriend and they almost got into another brawl but it’s cool. Xuxi is just overprotective

He was also co-captain for the Ares house during competitions

So after his 4th year back at camp

This time he started up a makeshift boxing gym in the training facility and was helping some of the more academically inclined demigods train

And by academically inclined he means nerds but Taeyong yelled at him for that so

You just happened to be one of those academically inclined individuals

But you weren’t horrible in the athletic department either

As a daughter of Hermes you were quite mischievous

Which meant you needed to know how to get out of tight situations fast

So your stamina was incredible

But as for strength

You were screwed if you had to put up a fight for some reason

So you decided to seek help in Yuta

The lessons that the camp allowed him to teach weren’t as rigorous as he would like to be

But at the same time he was so amazed at how many people were actually interested in the sport that he loved so much

So you were basically the quiet girl in the back of the room unless one of your friends was in the class with you

Then you became the life of the party

But Yuta honestly wanted to see you be the life of the party all the time

Like you made classes so much more brighter

And he was learning that with a little bit more practice you could have quite the heavy hand on you

To say you didn’t admire Yuta would be a lie

A HUGE lie

As Jisung (a young camper you had taken under your wing) would say it

“You are so whipped.”

Like whipped to the point that

You would go to the gym more often to workout and watch him work out

Stop your half-siblings from pulling dangerous pranks on the Bia cabin

Work with Sicheng and Xuxi more, along with Jaehyun

And Yuta was doing the exact same thing

Silently moving closer to you in the gym while he was working out

Hanging out with the Hermes kids more in attempts to pull pranks on other houses

Hanging out in the med center and courtyard more often

Honestly Sicheng was at another screaming point that if the two of you didn’t kiss soon he was going to force it.

Thankfully Jaehyun already had that under control

Today was one of your off days from helping Sicheng in the Med Center but you were also really close with his girlfriend so you offered to help while you were waiting for her to finish up

Yuta on the other hand was outside the camp in a taekwondo tournament with Jaehyun for ‘moral support’ (someone to help his beat ass home)

He won but he had multiple lacerations on his face and what appeared to be a dislocated shoulder

Hobbling in with the help of Jaehyun was no surprise to Sicheng or his girlfriend, who both just put down whatever they were doing and Sicheng gliding across the floor on his wheely chair (Sicheng loves his wheely chair) while she just went to work gathering saline solution, gauze and other things

But for you

This was a BIG surprise

Sure you were used to seeing Yuta with the constant bandage on his jaw and gauze around his ankle or wrist

But this was the first time that you had seen what had come before the clean up

It was actually something Yuta tried to hide from you

He didn’t want to make you feel like he led a violent life, it was just that as the type of athlete he was, he just had to roll with the punches… and kicks… and slams

And you were just there standing in the middle of the Med Center with your jaw tight to stop from tears welling while Sicheng and everyone else acted like this was a normal day’s occurrence

You were also used to seeing the constant smirk or resting bitch face plastered across his stoic features

But he was wincing every time his shoulder moved and looked ready to yell at Sicheng for pouring Saline into a cut

Yet when he looked up at you

He gave a small smile

Something about that brought you back to reality

You rushed over and began examining his shoulder, and relocated after making sure his collarbone wasn’t broken or anything

After Sicheng finished he called his girlfriend over and they walked out with Jaehyun following close behind

You weren’t supposed to see that.

The statement caught you off guard.

Why?

I don’t want you to see the pain I deal with and to think I live a violent life because of it.

His head dropped just low enough for his overgrown bangs to hide the expression melting onto his features

I don’t think you live a violent life.

You don’t?

I think you live your life to the fullest, I think you go after what your heart desires, I think you want to push your mind and body to their very limits. I don’t think that’s violent.

For some reason after that conversion you two just knew that you were together

It was very unspoken but it was there

He still hated you show you his wounds

But he begged you to show him yours

He still acted shy in the gym

But smiled a million times brighter when you were in the ring with him

He lived for the moments of adrenaline rush inside an octagon

But prayed for the moments he stepped out the ring and into your arms

He was still the same old Yuta

He was still constantly fighting

He was still constantly on missions

He was still everything that you fell in love with

But there was something different

He wanted to show you off to everyone

He made you meet his parents (mortal and deity – at the same dinner table)

He wanted to talk about apartments and universities

He was in for the long haul

Like one night you had snuck into the Bia cabin since Hermes had just gotten 3 new campers who couldn’t sleep

And you were sitting on opposite sides of the bed, legs tangled together just talking

He was in his oversized white t-shirt and cookie monster pajama shorts

You were in a jacket of his and leggings

And it felt right to him

Gods he would never admit it to anyone else

But he found the piece of him that was missing when his mother had to leave

He just blurted it out

25379 Songjam-ro gil, Seongbuk-dong, Seoul

What?

It’s an apartment, it’s really nice, really close to camp, close to campus, big enough, I placed first year’s rent yesterday.

OH MY GODS YUTA DO YOU EVEN HAVE THAT KIND OF MONEY?

I’ve been saving for a while.

What are you even going to do with it?

I got it for the both of us. We’ve been talking about moving in together and I don’t see why we can’t now. I really want this.

He seemed so excited telling you about it

How could you say no?

Everyone gets together for a small house warming party and it’s a disaster

Sicheng is drunk screaming about how it fucking took long enough

Mark is crying in the corner because his hyung is leaving him

Taeyong his about to pull his hair out

Doyoung is force feeding Jaehyun wine???

Taeil is trying to make Mark stop crying

Johnny and Ten are dancing on your new couch

But Yuta and you are in your own world

And everything just feels right…

[bubmyg]

hoodies and mail - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: college!au, f2l, so much fluff, tiny alcohol mention, part of my “ps i love you” series linked on my masterlist (takes place roughly between the parts titled “that’d suck” and “thunder” but this can be read completely independent of the series), random svt members appear again

word count: 1,554

summary: based off a request i got months ago that said “getting ready for a date, the date cancels, so yoongi takes you instead”

There was a fingerprint sized space on the surface of your eye slowly drying the longer you stared at your open phone, the recent calls list mocking you until it dimmed and then shut off completely, leaving you to stare at the odd angle that was your expression in the reflection of the screen. That’s what you were going to blame the involuntary drop of liquid that suddenly dripped down the slope of your nose, anyway. 

Perhaps it was the faint imprint of Jeonghan’s contact name behind your eyelid every time you blinked that made the rustling outside your door startle you so badly. Either way, it gave you an excuse to stumble out of your trance when the grunts and banging didn’t cease after a few seconds, letting your phone clatter to your tiny kitchen table as the chair you pushed back narrowly avoided the same fate in it’s teetering. You barely thought to what it could be as you fiddled at the lock and peered into the hallway. 

The culprit wasn’t at eye level, instead crouched in front of your door with a cardboard box and a stack of two hoodies in hand. Slowly, rounded eyes peered up at you through messy fringe flattened beneath a black baseball cap while pink lips parted into a tiny circle. One hoodie fell to the floor, unfurling from it’s meticulously folded position when Yoongi stood, lips continuing to press into a pout and then round once more like a fish deprived of its habitat. 

“Sorry, I was just bringing some of your clothes that I found in my laundry and then Chan sent me with a package of yours when I checked in. I was just going to leave them out here…” Yoongi trailed off, squinting at your face and he nearly dropped the box and remaining hoodie as his hand reached for your cheek, stopping inches from your skin to frown, “...angel? Are you—”

You jerked away from him, crouching to collect the warmth of his hoodie against your chest, hugging it in folded arms as you straightened to say stiffly, “Come on. Come inside.”

“I didn’t know Chan had the authority to hand out my mail now,” You tried to punctuate the dry sentence with a laugh to show you were kidding, rounding your kitchen table to adjust where your chair had been left ajar. You draped the fabric in your embrace across the back of the chair, squeezing it as you squinted at Yoongi, “This is your hoodie, not mine.”

He’d frozen in the doorway, foot still half in his athletic slide. Softly, he chided, “I haven’t worn that hoodie since you got your grubby fingers on it. It might as well be yours.”

You continued to drag gentle fingers over the fabric, smoothing it over the back of the chair until Yoongi’s voice broke into your consciousness again. He’d stepped several paces closer, enough to set the box and remaining hoodie down on the table. 

“Are you leaving for your date soon?”

“He canceled.”

Yoongi let the reasoning marinate for a second, saying simply, “Oh.”

“Did he say why?”

Something about his lab files freezing in a university computer lab and leaving him with thirty pages to redo by midnight. You believed Jeonghan. There was no reason not to. You shared mutual friends. You’d studied with him in the singular STEM class you’d been forced to take as a humanities major. There was no obligation for him to tell you any sooner than thirty minutes before he was supposed to pick you up. There was no obligation for him to make it up to you either. It’d been a partial joke when you’d matched on a dating app anyway, something for Namjoon to tease that you’d taken back your swearing off of anyone in the pre-med department. 

Maybe it was more so the disappointment of it being the first date you’d been looking forward to in a while. One canceled date with a stranger and it was no big deal. A second date that happened yet you’d rather forget the disaster of was a slight question mark. The third after months of nothing with someone you could comfortably speak to without worrying about their driving ability or political affiliation was a welcome distraction to the miniscule yearning that slowly worked its way into a golf ball sized hole in your heart. 

You didn’t like Jeonghan, not enough for the hole to double in size at a valid date cancellation. It was the principle of the thing. 

“You didn’t come over here just to bring me hoodies, did you?” You spoke the inquiry quietly at the conclusion of your answer to his question. 

Yoongi smiled gently, touching the back of his neck. Pink had started to gather on the apples of his cheeks. “You hadn’t shared your location with me yet. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Best friend intuition...”

“I’m fine,” You said it with conviction to try to convince the rest of you that it was the case. Your fingers gripped a bit tighter to the Yoongi-hoodie covered furniture piece below you, adding, “Safe and sound at home.”

“Would you like to go somewhere? I bet I could still get a reservation for that Italian place you like,” Yoongi spoke carefully, giving you the chance to decline. 

You did, quietly, letting your chin drop as you shook your head, “No, that’s okay.” Your fingers picked at the hem of the skirt you’d picked out, considering the chill that now spread across your bare skin, “I think I’m going to go change and just hang out here—”

Yoongi didn’t hear the end of your sentence, turning on his heel to stalk into your kitchen. You stood, dumbfounded, while the grunt of Yoongi stretching and the clatter of pots and pans could be heard. He only reappeared again, eyes shadowed under the bill of his cap while a fluffy cheek pressed into the door frame, to ask, “Do you have any heavy cream?” 

You gave vague directions to the contents in your fridge before shuffling for him, “What are you doing?”

He held out a hand, stopping you a few paces from him. Lips pressed in on the dimples in his cheeks as he tilted his head, “Thought you were going to go change?”

“I…” You frowned, “I asked you a question first.”

The hovering hand jerked, a hesitation, before it touched you this time, settling on the side of your neck while his thumb stroked underneath your jaw. 

“I’m making you dinner,” Yoongi said like it was the simplest thing in the world, “Go get comfy, if you want. Shouldn’t take too long.”

“I...I’m okay,” You had to physically restrain yourself from leaning after him when he retracted his hand, “I’ll help you—”

“No. I’m making you dinner,” He beamed, gums and all, “Your order will be right out.”

You shook your head, a lingering smile exchanged between the two of you as he took backward steps into the depth of your kitchen. Only when you turned, fingers fist in the fabric of your skirt did Yoongi speak again. 

“Hey, angel?”

You turned, chin on your shoulder with a raised eyebrow. 

More pink curled into his skin, shadowed a hue darker from his cap that he shoved tighter to his head. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Admittedly, there was a bit of wine in your system, but your thought process was wholly sober, just as the tight snuggle against Yoongi’s side was. You’d shrugged on one of his, your, hoodies after dinner and he’d shrugged a fuzzy throw blanket from your hall closet over your figures. Nothing, however, warmed you quite like the steady pattern of his breaths to his heartbeat at close proximity. 

You felt Yoongi shift next to you but his thumb didn’t stop skimming the sensitive skin underneath your knee. The program on the television was the least of your worries, volume two notches up and the subtitles forgotten but Yoongi murmured anyway, “For what?”

“For a wonderful date,” Part of you froze when the word came out of your mouth and you tried to play it off by freezing the latter half of your being. You didn’t move until he laughed breathily above you, shoulders shaking. 

“A date, huh?”

“Mmhm,” You hoarded his arm a bit closer to set your cheek against his chest, “You didn’t have to stay.”

“I wanted to,” He’d forgotten his cap on the opposite couch cushion, fluffy fringe tickling your skin when he bent to let his lips touch your forehead. In the ambiance, you heard him swallow, and his voice dropped a tender octave, “I’d take you on a million more dates, if you wanted.”

Your heart stuttered into your throat, jostled with the weight of that golf ball sized hole being filled in with the weight of a realization that wasn’t quite so new to you. You let yourself lift your gaze, dislodging his lips from your skin, and he instead settled the tip of his nose to the space between your eyebrows, wrinkling the skin around the bridge comically until you laughed. 

“Careful,” You hushed when Yoongi’s smile finally settled into something fond down at you, “I might take you up on that offer.”

[everydayanth]

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years. 

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time. 

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall. 

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite. 

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week. 

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement). 

We were expendable. 

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short. 

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives. 

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.” 

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and  week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.  

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick. 

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry. 

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not. 

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge. 

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

[ren1327]

Sweater Weather Ch.7

Ben sipped the caldo slowly, enjoying the slight spiciness that seemed to warm him from inside out.

“This is really good.” He said and Carmen smiled.

Bumpy barked from beside him, eating some dogfood mixed with shredded chicken and broth from their soup.

“Kenji, I had no idea you could cook so well.” He praised.

Kenji blushed and smiled.

“I’m so glad you’re not actually sick!” Carmen said. “Now I can be as loud as I want!”

“Carm…”

“It’s fine, Kenji. Let her hang lose before we meet at the hotel.” Ben said, sipping his atole.

“You really like that.” Kenji remarked.

“It’s a corn drink. A corn drink.” Ben said. “With chocolate.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never had a real tamale.” Carmen said. “Mama is gonna freak. We always make a bunch for New Year’s.”

“Like an assembly line.” Kenji said.

“Dad. Hates it.” Carmen said. “Doesn’t like sticky things, but he’s always on masa duty since his spreads are always so even.”

“He gotta work for his food.” Kenji said. “He eats the most aside from your truly.”

“How are you not overweight?” Ben asked, raising a brow.

“Fast metabolism plus weights and swimming.”

“Perfect body.” Ben scoffed. “Even have the perfect shape for a swimmer.”

Kenji blushed. “So, yeah! I can eat like, a dozen tamales myself!”

“I wish I could see it.” Ben said.

“Y’know Ben…” Carmen said with a smile. “You could stay past New Year’s.”

“I mean, I could, I don’t have much to do but stay on top of classes.” He said with a blush.

“So it’s settled!”

“What’s settled?” Ben asked.

“Carmen.” Kenji started before she hopped up and took hers and Bumpy’s empty bowels.

“Gonna walk Bumpy and go shower!” She called and Kenji sighed as Ben finished his rice.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I really like her and…” Ben shrugged. “I could stay.”

“Ben, you don’t have to feel—”

“I like it. I like your family and I like yo—” He snapped his mouth close. “I…”

Kenji walked around the table to kiss Ben’s cheek. “I like you too.”

“This doesn’t fix anything.” He said coyly, gently pushing him back as he stood.

“No, of course not.” Kenji said and hugged him close. “Sorry!”

He pulled away.

“I…”

“I’m not fragile, Kenji.” Ben said.

“But still, I use to shove you and your ex…”

“Is long gone.” Ben said. “But on the subject of exes?”

Kenji sighed. “Let me clean the dishes fist, okay?”

“Alright. Want me to wait in the living room?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there soon.” Kenji said and left him at the table.

 *

 Ben was poking at the fireplace when Kenji came in, the flames high and warming the room.

“Nice.” Kenji said. “I can never get it going.”

Ben smiled and sat on the sofa; Kenji next to him.

“So?” Ben asked.

“Right to it.” Kenji said with a grimace. “Okay. So…what do you want to know?”

“Brooklynn. What happened between you two?”

“Nothing.” Kenji said. “And I mean it how I say it. There was nothing.”

Ben blinked up at him.

“I really liked her, at first. We were more popular and well liked and we both thought we were attractive and…I did like her. We went out and for me…I just wanted a girlfriend to say I wasn’t single. Birthdays, holidays and just little anniversaries were fine and cute. And I liked things like kissing and being held but then, on our one year…she said I love you.” He stared at the fire. “And I couldn’t say it back.”

He closed his eyes and say her. Young and smiling, her green eyes widening as she realized he wasn’t answering.

“It’s okay.” She said. “You don’t have to say it yet.”

“And then we had sex. We were each other’s first and to me it was like ticking a box of things I had done and she said it again and I…I lied to her.” Kenji whispered. “I think she could tell. But she couldn’t handle it. She kept smiling and hugging and kissing me. She would tell me everything and we would talk but I never really…I never opened myself like she did.”

 “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“…okay. What do you want for dinner?”

 “Our second anniversary came up and she wanted us to get our own place together and go to the same university…I didn’t.”

 “Why don’t you want to go with me? They have an athletics department. Or engineering…whatever you chose, I’m sure they would have something for you to work on your career.”

“I don’t want to leave Carmen.”

“Okay. But if we go t Hammond U together, we could get our own place a-and maybe—”

“Brooklynn, I don’t want to go to Hammond U.” Kenji snapped. “Please stop asking me.”

“Kenji, I want to go!”

“Then go!” He yelled. “We have cell phones, and I can go visit! Why is this such a big deal?”

“…We’ve been a couple for two years. Don’t you want to be with me?” She asked. “Don’t you want to get married and have a family after all this?”

Kenji bit his lip and swallowed.

“Oh my god…You…you settled with me. You don’t love me; you love having a girlfriend!” She yelled, face red, too red around the cheeks. “I can’t believe…”

“Brooklynn, I do care about you—”

“Do you want to marry me?” She asked, eyes filling with tears. “Because I want to marry you.”

“I…I don’t know…”

“Kenji, why are you with me if you don’t want a future with me?” She asked and he couldn’t answer.

“I’m sorry…” He said, feeling like she was the wrong height, her face too sharp, her eyes too green. She wasn’t who he wanted to wake up next to. And she could see it in his face.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was so desperate to be with you, I never cared about myself. Well, I know better. You will never love me. Not how I love you.”

She sobbed and took off her rings, the necklace he got her for her birthday and her charm bracelet.

“No, keep them—” Kenji begged.

“I don’t need things!” She yelled. “I needed…I needed a boyfriend. Get out of my apartment.”

Kenji took them with shaking hands.

“I’m sorry—”

“Get out!!” She yelled.

 “And I left…” Kenji said. “I grabbed my things and drove to the airport. I was going to go back to Seattle and settle in the cabin for a bit, but I just chose the next flight out of Cali. And I ended up in India. Took out as much cash as I could carry safely and found one of those spiritual retreats all those people with mid life crisis take. I didn’t take it seriously enough and so I bummed around a community of hipsters from the US. Did some work there, ran out of money, used the last to get home after four months of ignoring everything around me.”

“And now?” Ben asked.

“I…” Kenji’s voice cracked, and he chuckled, tears gathering as he licked his lips and looked into the flames. “I don’t like…me.”

Ben turned to him as Kenji used his shirt collar to wipe his face.

“I don’t like who I was, who I am. I just…I hurt everyone. I hurt you, I hurt Brooklyn and being away from Carmen hurt her too and I…” He sniffed. “I don’t know how to fix me, so I don’t hurt anyone again.”

“I think you’re doing pretty great right now.” Ben said and Kenji scoffed.

“It took balls to come back and come see your family and admit what you did.” Ben said. “Being honest is one of the bravest first steps someone can take with themselves.”

“So says the fake boyfriend.”

“So says the real friend.” Ben retorted and took Kenji’s jaw in his hands. “I am your friend Kenji. And I hated who you were, but…I really like who you’re becoming.”

“And who am I becoming?” Kenji whispered.

“Real.” Ben said and hugged him tightly. “Now cry it out.”

Kenji sniffed. “I’m gonna snot up your shirt.”

“I can steal one of yours.” Ben said and Kenji laughed.

“It’s okay, Kenji.” Ben said. “You can become better.”

“Thank you.” Kenji whispered and sobbed.  “Thank you.”

 *

 Kenji drank down the last of his water, his eyes puffy and red as Ben came back in one of his old sweaters.

“How are you feeling?” Ben asked.

“Like my head is full of buzzing bees.”

“You cried a lot. Food can help.” Ben said.

“Dessert is in the fridge. The chocolate in the ceramic bowls.”

“Okay.” Ben said and left, only to return with two bowls and two spoons, both with a heavy amount of whipped cream on top.

“Carmen must have gotten to them earlier.” Kenji said, noting how stiff the whipped cream looked.

“Pudding?”

“More of a chocolate custard. Pots de Crème. Made with Mexican chocolate.” Kenji said.

“How are you not a chef?” Ben asked.

“Don’t like being told what to do.” Kenji said.

“Not true. I boss you around plenty.” Ben joked. “But for now, I suppose I can cater to you. What do you want right now?”

“Feed me chocolate and tell me I’m pretty?” Kenji asked and Ben burst out laughing.

Kenji sat up and took a bowl.

“What would you do, if you could do anything?” Ben asked with a smile.

“Anything?” Kenji asked. “Geeze…um…I don’t know. What could I do with my limited repertoire?”

“Model.” Ben said with a shrug. “Cook. Um, maybe be an interpreter. Or even an actor.”

“Really settling in my looks.” Kenji teased.

“They’re good looks.” Ben said.

“Thank you, but these are only for my fake boyfriend—”

“Oh my gosh, this is so good!” Ben exclaimed around a mouth of custard.

“Uh…it is?” Kenji asked. “I mean, of course it is!”

“Kenji, you have a gift.” Ben said as he took another bite.

“Well, if your bookstore has a café, I can…can always help out there.” Kenji said with a blush.

Ben looked up at him with wide eyes and Kenji felt his heart hit his ribs.

“You would…you would be okay working with me?” Ben asked.

“Yeah. I could observe too. Maybe we could make the back area a café and have the study rooms and computer lab area around there too.” Kenji said.

“Y-Yeah!” Ben said. “The front desk could be a resource area too.”

“Lots of pamphlets!”

“Yeah, and if possible, we can have an open area in the back. Like a community garden.”

“I think maybe a small area with benches and a fountain?” Kenji asked. “We could get another  area or build a small kitchen and indoor dining area. I was thinking two stories, but I think I saw a building with some land near downtown San Antonio—”

“San Antonio?” Ben asked.

“Unless you want to stay in Cali.”

“No, it’s just…I thought you’d be more okay with being in Cali.” Ben said.

“You want San Antonio.” Kenji said. “So I can settle there since we have a little place there too. The downtown area would be best anyway. And I know there’s more kids who need help there.”

Ben smiled and took another bite. “Settle?”

“Settle with the house. I want to work with you, Ben. I want to help the kids who are hurting. Maybe we could help the ones who hurt them too.” Kenji said.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Ben said and put his empty bowl on the side table.

Kenji put his own bowl down and smiled, pulling the other close, Ben resting his head on Kenji’s shoulder.

“And would you settle with someone?”

“No. I’d date someone I know I could love.”

“And how could you tell?” Ben asked.

“Can’t you?” He asked and Ben blushed when he placed a hand on Kenji’s chest, feeling the thud of his heart.

Ben looked up at him and Kenji’s eyes met his. He pulled Ben into another kiss, the smaller man climbing onto his lap and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Kenji pulled away and rested his forehead against Ben’s before chuckling.

“What?” Ben asked.

“You taste like chocolate.” Kenji said and kissed him quickly.

Ben laughed and laid his head on Kenji’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be angry anymore.”

“I don’t either.” Kenji said. “Hey, Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“I like you, date me?” Kenji asked.

Ben pulled away, face pink with his blush. “I... you…”

He laughed and covered his mouth.

“Okay. Okay.” He said. “I like you too, Kenji. Let’s do it. Let’s date.”

“And?” Kenji asked.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Maybe we can be boyfriends.”

“Yes!” Kenji said, pumping his fist.

“You’re such a dork.”

“You like this dork.”

“I do.” Ben said with a laugh and kissed Kenji again.

[missjosie27]

Prompt Response #40- Ethren Whitecross

“Would it really be a crime to let yourself have some fun once in a while?”

The first in the responses for the prompts. I will say in advance that not all of this may make sense or appear ‘canon’. It’s also a sequel to ‘The Other World’ a story I wrote awhile back in honor of Ethren Whitecross. What first started out as a fun concept between two MCs, I turned into this for better or worse. And it was tough at times emotionally. But I poured my heart and soul into it. It is also non-canon and completely AU. That being said, I do love the multiverse and this was a great way to explore that.

@hogwartsmysterystory​ My friend. This is for you. And for Ethren. I hope you like it.

It had taken many moons for David Grant to achieve what was previously thought to impossible: the ability to hop dimensions at will. Since the end of the war and his mind blowing foray into the universe that housed another curse breaker, the twenty five year old not only joined the Department of Mysteries part time in addition to being reinstated as an Auror but began exploring the power of the veil for more timelines.

It was partially due to self interest, which his boss Croaker didn’t need to know about. Happy to further the Department’s investigations of the unknown magical branches, the experience of visiting another world had touched him so deeply David resolved to do more investigating: specifically if there were any other scenarios involving Ethren Whitecross in which he did not die. Despite technically never meeting the American, he already felt a sense of kinship with him, a kind of surreal connection one couldn’t explain in so many words.

He deserved better...so much better

Many months passed, but at last David was able to tinker with the magical properties of the veil so that it revealed a wondrous discovery: the cosmos was damn well infinite. Billions of people making billions of choices creating infinite earths. And it didn’t take long for him to discover a timeline in which Ethren was still alive and in Hogwarts.

“Hang on, mate. I’m coming,” he said as he stepped through, making sure his protections were sufficient to protect him from the other realm the veil lead to: death.

Of course, David had never actually met Ethren for obvious reasons and so had no idea what to expect from him. The only aspects of his life he knew for certain were that he was American, died in the war, engaged in a relationship with Merula and unknowingly had a son in the process. The other timeline’s Merula had given him more grisly details, but nothing so specific as to his personality, likes, dislikes, or anything else.

As it turned out, much to his chagrin, Ethren Whitecross was a bit sour to say the least.

He was short for a male, only 5’6 but with intense, clear blue eyes to go along with caramel brown hair and conventionally attractive features. He wasn’t terribly athletic but could swing a beater’s bat well enough. Similar to himself however, Ethren was a top notch dueler and excelled in the subjects he genuinely enjoyed, but struggling in those he did not care for. However, his less than sunny disposition was certainly off putting and it didn’t take long to figure out why.

“So let me get this straight,” Ethren said skeptically as they lay on the shores of the lake at Hogwarts. “You’re from another universe where my family never existed and in my universe your family never existed. Like me, you’re an amateur cursebreaker, date Merula, and apparently need to warn me about my impending death? Do I have everything correctly?”

“Uh, yeah that pretty much sums it up,” came the response.

Unfortunately for David, he had stumbled into a timeline where Ethren was completing his 7th year at Hogwarts as opposed to being a full grown adult. But it was just as well, finding Ethren was easy given his reputation. Getting him to believe his story was quite another debacle altogether.

“Well, guess what, you’re a bit too late. I already know I’m dying from my blood malediction and that R still wants to kill me. By the way, thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. A paper cut with lemon juice would have sufficed.”

He got up to leave but David moved to stop him.

“Wait, wait, hear me out. I can explain everything in a bit more detail.”

“Or I could go back to the library and read.”

David scoffed.

“More like you would brood all day.”

Ethren flushed from indignation.

“And how would you know that?”

“Believe me, I know enough...look I’m just trying to help.”

“My cranky on and off girlfriend is a bigger help than you’re being right now and that’s saying something.”

David took a breath of the evening Scotland air and breathed out. He should have known it wouldn’t be this easy, but that last statement left an uneasy sensation in his stomach. He remembered vividly a drunken twenty six year old Merula wanted by the law while drowning herself in vodka tonics and narcissistic self loathing. He was beginning to see just how much of an emotional toll she was taking on the poor lad. So he decided to switch gears.

“Look, I have an idea. Classes are done for the day right, you’re a legal wizarding adult...come hang out with me for a couple hours.”

“I can’t leave Hogwarts,” Ethren shot back.

“Right, since when did Dumbledore’s rules ever stop us from leaving whenever we wanted?”

“Point taken but still no.”

“By God, Would it really be a crime to let yourself have fun once in a while?” David half laughed in amazement. “Trust me, let’s go have a good time and I’ll explain everything afterwards, alright?”

He didn’t think it would work given the clear suspicion still lurking in those blue eyes but to his surprise, Ethren relented and nodded.

“Fine.”

“You can apparate right?”

“Yes and I can also blow you to smithereens if you try anything funny.”

“You know part of me does want to know what would happen if we ever dueled,” David grinned. “However, I went through a war mate. Got a bit of a head start on ya.”

“Fantastic.”

“And here I thought we Brits were the uptight and sarcastic ones. Aren’t Yanks supposed to be expressive?”

Ethren simply snorted and walked past him into the open field.

“Be thankful I’m saying anything at all.”

The two young men walked until they reached the boundaries of the school just beyond the entrance, David leading the way.

“Follow my lead,” he said. “Unless you can’t keep up,” he added teasingly.

“Just go,” came the grumpy response.

Bollocks, this is going to be harder than I thought David mused to himself with exasperation

And with a loud *pop they apparated into the sunset.

--------------------------------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for the two to land in random cobblestone street with Ethren keeling over, grimacing severely.

“Yeah I hate apparation too,” David said, pulling out a flask and taking a sip. “You get used to it.”

“I only recently passed.”

“Fair. Which is why where I’m taking you next will simultaneously relieve that discomfort and get you to loosen up.”

Ethren looked up and saw a wooden sign in maroon lettering which read the words ‘The Mayfair.’

“A bar?”

“Never underestimate the value of a pub,” David told him sagely. And before the younger lad could object he pushed him inside the door.

Inside was a setting not altogether spectacular. There was a small dining area, a large bar that spanned about fifty feet with two bulky TVs that currently were playing the latest football matches. However there was also a small staging area that contained a microphone with another TV sitting overhead. A sizable crowd graced its floors- a hodgepodge of young professionals, crusty regulars, football fans, and those who were just looking for a good time. Which was precisely why they were there.

In his time after Hogwarts and during the war David found that muggle bars offered a lot more in terms of entertainment and alcohol: a primary factor in why he chose a casual London pub as opposed to a place like the Leaky Cauldron. Muggles also tended to write better music which was also key to this night.

“It’s a good thing we aren’t in robes,” Ethren said above the general chatter of the pub.

“I made sure your classes were over before we came here,” David replied. His own dress was unremarkable: brown leather boots, jeans, jacket, and a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt (they were the most popular band in the world in the late eighties/early nineties after all). They fit right in.

David dragged Ethren over to the counter and caught the attention of the barkeep, knowing full well that in England you never got carded for ID as they did in America.

“Two Guinnesses please.”

“You got it.”

He flipped a couple of pounds and soon enough was presented with two full tankards of the dark stout.

“Cheers, mate,” David told him, clinking his glass with Ethren’s.

The twenty five year old relished the taste but clearly his counterpart did not, grimacing as though he had swallowed stinksap.

“Dear God that’s awful. Why do you drink this stuff?”

“Keep sipping and you’ll find out,” came the cheeky reply.

Ethren merely shrugged and did his best to keep drinking. David peered around and saw the exact person he wanted to see: the DJ.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

For his part, Ethren Whitecross was highly confused by this whole affair. He still wasn’t sure he believed that this person, whoever they were, was supposedly a dimension traveler who’d apparently met another version of himself by accident. It was just too insane to believe. And yet somehow he knew details about his life that no one else popping up like that could know.

And now he wants to just drink our night away at a bar? What is this guy about?

Indeed, that appeared to be the most intriguing aspect of this. David Grant apparently not only came back to warn him but to spend time together as if they were old friends. Ethren wasn’t sure how he felt about that just yet given that R was still after him however this fellow didn’t appear to be unseemly...yet anyway. For now, he decided to keep drinking the beer, which oddly enough began to make him feel a bit warm and fuzzy in the head.

Soon enough David returned a big grin on his face.

“Finish that up soon. We’re on next.”

“Next for what?” Ethren asked, utterly nonplussed.

“My friend you are about to experience the wonders of karaoke.”

“Kara-what?”

David laughed, deep and true then drained his beer in one gulp.

“You’re about to find out.”

Ethren found himself dragged away to the staging area where they were handed two microphones and a pair of spotlights shone down on them.

“Should have asked this beforehand but how familiar are you with muggle music?”

“Umm not very?” came the unenthusiastic answer.

“Do you know ‘Piano Man’ by Billy Joel?”

Ethren nodded. His father kept a collection of old muggle records at home and that was a song played quite frequently sometimes to his chagrin.

“Yeah, I know that one.”

“Smashing. We’ll be just fine.”

The crowd started to cheer as the opening piano chords began to play. Ethren squirmed uncomfortably but David put a strong hand around his shoulder and began to sing in earnest. There was no backing out now.

“It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday

The regular crowd shuffles in

There’s an old man sitting next to me

Making love to his tonic and gin”

Ethren had to admit that this stranger sang well, but he wasn’t so much of a musician himself. But he had no choice as the microphone was pressed into his face.

“He said son can you play me a melody

I’m not really sure how it goes

But it’s sad and it’s sweet and I knew it complete

When I wore a younger man’s clothes”

The young Gryffindor understood better why the beer was necessary. One drink already had him buzzing but it sure loosened inhibitions. Slowly he began to enjoy himself as he belted the chorus alongside David.

“Sing us the the song, you’re the piano man

Sing us the song, tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

To Ethren’s amazement the crowd began cheering despite the fact his pitch was probably way off. Apparently it didn't matter how good or bad you were at actualling singing, enthusiasm for the song and the camaraderie of the patrons was enough to send everyone into a frenzy. Feeding off that energy, the two young men sang into the Scotland night, following the lyrics with gusto.

“Sing us the song, you’re the piano man

Sing us the song, tonight

Well we’re all in the mood for a melody

And you got us feeling alright”

The last of the harmonica sounded off into the exit riff of the piano and the song was over. Ethren could hardly believe it ended so fast, but the cheers of the crowd were practically deafening. Indeed the feeling was so exhilarating, he almost didn’t notice the shadowed face of his counterpart, lines of worry practically melting off his face.

Perhaps he wasn’t the only cursebreaker that had problems.

Afterwards, the two sat down and drank a few more beers, which were on the house due to their riveting performance. Several regulars gave them cheers and pats on the back. The two chatted about a number of things, but it wasn’t until they stepped outside for a breath of fresh air that the conversation turned honest and even somber.

David lit a cigarette and took a long inhale before issuing smoke.

“Told ya I knew how to have fun.”

“Maybe I wasn’t the only one in need of it,” Ethren observed astutely.

The older man shrugged but tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been through…a lot,” he said simply. “Moments like the one in the bar are the kind that kept me going over the years. It’s what makes life so wonderful even when it’s not.”

Ethren paused before asking.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty five to be exact. Twenty six in four months.”

“You look five years beyond that.”

It was blunt but David knew by now Ethren didn’t pull punches. He could relate to that. Neither did he.

“I didn’t come back merely to warn you about your malediction, Ethren,” he said quietly. “You beat that.”

“So...I die another way?”

David swallowed, feeling a lump pop up in his throat. Now was not the time to get super emotional. He needed to tell the truth.

“You have a relationship with Merula just as I do, yeah?”

“I do. Though I can’t say it’s always a happy one. We either bicker or just end up making out half the time.”

The older man chuckled sardonically, knowing full well what his wife was like when she was sixteen.

“Sounds about right. Believe me, I know how she is sometimes.”

“You’re at least eight years older than I am right now….what happened with you and her?”

David knew this was the moment he came back for. The essence of his visit.

“We married after Hogwarts. During the war, she was kidnapped by her parents and placed under the imperius curse. I was able to free her during the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Ethren’s eyes were practically popping out of their sockets.

“Wait, wait back up. There’s a war? Merula becomes a Death Eater?”

“Let me explain,” David said, raising his hands in the air whilst also flicking his cigarette. “Yes, You Know Who will return in four years time and begin a new war against the Ministry. And no, my wife did not become a Death Eater. She was shanghaied against her will. At that point in her life, she wanted nothing to do with her parents. Can you say the same for yours?”

Ethren’s head was practically spinning at this newfound revelation. He felt a desperate need to sit down but remained standing, running a hand through his caramel locks.

“She...she would never.”

“If you believe that, you’re wrong. If Merula doesn’t break off her toxic relationship with her parents, she’ll go right back to them once they’re freed from Azkaban.”

Denial morphed into pain as the younger man shook his head.

“Why...why would she do that?”

“You know as well as I do how badly she wants their approval and how it affects her judgement. My Merula made the right choice, but I also helped her to see what kind of path she was heading in. You must do the same.”

“And what happens if I don’t?”

In a reversal of moods, David’s hazel blue eyes bore into Ethren’s crystal blue ones, hardening with each passing second, though there was still tremendous sympathy.

“I will not lie, however the answer will be difficult for you to hear. You will each find yourself on the opposite side of the coming conflict and Merula will realize her error far too late. In the end, you will sacrifice your life for hers during a great battle. And as a result, a son will never know his father.”

Tears were forming into Ethren’s eyes and David was trying his best not to do the same though it was becoming increasingly difficult.

“W-what...what should I do?”

“Guide her,” David responded softly. “Show her that there is a better way to happiness than simply attaining power. Help her to see that she can trust people unconditionally and that those people are not her parents….especially her mother,” he added with a heavy hint of disgust.

“I don’t know if I can,” the teenage Gryffindor said, his voice still wavering. “She won’t listen to me. She never has.”

“She will. I guarantee it.”

David stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Ethren, embracing him in a hug while silent tears fell from his eyes.

“You can do it, Ethren. I’ve seen war, I’ve seen death, and I’ve seen a world where a family was ended before it began. Trust me when I say this, you and Merula Snyde are meant for each other for better or worse. And if I can do my part to ensure you end up happy instead of six feet under, I damn well won’t hesitate.”

They broke apart with both men wiping their eyes.

“Bloody alcohol,” David joked.

“I think I’ll hold off on any more beers.”

The older man placed a hand on Ethren’s shoulder though this time he did not hug him but instead gave a final guiding message.

“I made a promise to thank you for what you did for my wife and to honor your memory. This way, I can do both. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Now go break your malediction, defeat R, and live the life you deserve.”

Ethren nodded, finally gaining back control of his emotions but also feeling a deeper sense of purpose as well as gratitude to this stranger.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said somewhat lamely, cursing his lack of ability to express his feelings properly.

“You’ll never have to,” David responded kindly. “Consider it a favor from one friend to another.”

He released Ethren’s shoulder and nodded with a smile.

“Now let’s get you back to Hogwarts. If memory serves, I believe curfew should be soon. Don’t want Snape catching you out of bed.”

Ethren gave a smile of his own.

“Since when has Dumbledore’s rules stopped us?”

David laughed one more time before they disapparated with a small *pop.

“Never.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Merula Snyde did not like feeling guilty. It was a useless emotion better left for fools who believed in sentimentality and other such nonsense. But when it came to one special boy, her heart could not help serve as a constant reminder of how much she mistreated him. Such as their fight from earlier that morning.

Working late into the night in the library, the ambitious Slytherin had poured through book after book and page after page in order to see if there was anything about maledictions they hadn’t already discovered or knew about thus far. In a sense, it was her attachment to Whitecross and their past experiences together that drove her to do as she did. There was no need to say that you cared, that’s what saving him from his blood curse was for. Even so, the young Slytherin couldn’t avoid the guilt or her memories.

“Why do you do this?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific, Whitecross. Spit it out.”

The Gryffindor clenched his fists but then let out a sigh and then unclenched them as they stood outside in the corridor near Charms.

“You claim you’re on my side but not once do you ever take responsibility for your own shortcomings. Nothing is ever your fault or a bad idea. Is it your job in life to torture me?”

Merula snorted as she dismissed him yet again.

“You torture yourself enough all on your own. If there was a shred of common sense in that empty head of yours, you’d acknowledge that you don’t have the bollocks to take out R same as it was with Rakepick. I’m not going to apologize for speaking the truth.”

Ethren usually swept aside her barbs no problem but this one appeared to hit home in a way her usual ones did not. He took her hand in his.

“Merula, I don’t know that I can call you my girlfriend anymore...I’m not sure what we are. But...those feelings we have won’t just go away. Why can’t you just at least pretend you care about me?”

But his appeal to her better senses fell flat as she withdrew her hand and gave a hard stare with her vivid, violet eyes.

“If you want a hug, Whitecross go to Haywood. Don’t waste my time.”

And without another word, she spun around in her combat boots and walked off not bothering to see the pained reaction on his face.

Merula clenched her jaw as the remorse became almost overwhelming. Why? Why was she like this? It wouldn’t kill her to throw the poor blighter a bone now and then, right?

“What’s wrong with me?” she whispered aloud.

A second voice entered her mind, one that was hauntingly familiar.

You should know better. There are no such things as happy endings. The only person anyone can rely on is themselves….

The voice became disturbingly soothing.

You’re special my little blackbird. I will always love you

Merula resisted the urge to cry as she planted her face on one of the many books layed out in front of her. She did not care if Madam Pince yelled at her for staying too late. Wallowing within her inner demons outweighed any potential punishment.

“I never realized the true depth of your self loathing narcissism until much later in life,” spoke a voice. It frightened her so much, that she jumped at least a foot in the air and wheeled around, wand in hand.

Standing by the window of the library was a young man, light beard, longish brown hair, tall, wearing a Guns N’ Roses t-shirt, brown boots, and a dark cloak. He wore his hoodie up and so could not see the face clearly. Nevertheless, she kept her wand trained on him.

“Who are you and what do you want? I promise I’m the last witch you want to mess with,” she snarled.

“My identity is inconsequential. As for what I want, I only wish to impart a gift.”

Merula did not believe a word of what this stranger said and had half a mind to hex him if it wasn’t for the fact that damaging the library in such a manner was a bannable offense.

“Whatever the intentions, you picked a really bad spot. Don’t you know where you are? Madam Pince will disembowel anyone who mucks about in here...of course she won’t have the honor of doing so before I do.”

A condescending chuckle emanated from underneath the hood.

“I have a silencing charm and a protective ward around this area. We won’t be interrupted I assure you. In any case, what I have planned isn’t going to take long.”

The teenage Slytherin silently checked the magical energies around her and realized he was right. Those kinds of wards were only the kind powerful Aurors knew or worse. All of a sudden, real fear entered Merula’s bones though she did her best to hide it.

“W-What are you going to do? What is this?”

The figure did not move, only uttering a single sentence.

“The day you finally understand.”

He was too quick for her to react properly, so fast was the draw of his wand. There was an incantation she didn’t recognize and a jet of white light that struck her in the forehead.

A swarm of images flashed through Merula’s mind and she was forced to witness every single one of them: two teenagers triumphing over an evil organization, an emotional breakup, darkness arising in the British wizarding world, an escape from Azkaban, a young woman kneeling before the Dark Lord, a night of raw passion, the birth of a child, and finally the scene of a young man with an arrow lodged in his chest, a despondent woman in Death Eater robes sobbing over the lifeless body.

‘Ethren! Ethren! ETHREN! PLEASE! DON’T GO!!!’

Then just as quickly as they came the images were gone and so was the unknown figure. Only a reeling and emotionally fragile young woman who had only one thought on her mind.

“Ethren,” she breathed out.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The young Gryffindor teen was slightly annoyed as Jae told him someone was waiting outside the tower for him. Who on earth was so desperate to talk to him this late at night? Did they not have the password or some other such nonsense? He wasn’t in the mood for a prank.

As he stepped past the portrait of the Fat Lady, however, his questions were answered right away as a mess of brown hair with an orange tuft slammed into him.

“What the- Merula?”

“Ethren,” she whispered as she clung to him for dear life. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

Utterly shocked, Ethren separated himself ever so slightly, still holding her in arms and looked into beautiful, violet eyes; eyes that were swimming with tears.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For everything...I didn’t realize...I didn’t know…”

Words failed her as she pressed her lips against his. Ethren didn’t hold back, returning the passionate kiss, long and deep. Fireworks were exploding in his mind.

When they broke apart, he saw she was still crying but there was also the same determination that sparkled in the orbs he’d come to love for better or worse.

“Things are going to be different from now on...I promise. I love you,” she said.

Ethren traced a finger along her soft, porcelain cheek, taking in the small freckles that dotted her adorable nose. He’d never felt so amazing, so enamored with the girl in front of him.

“I love you, too.”

As they embraced once more, Ethren Whitecross couldn’t help but think of the man who’d changed his life in one fell swoop. The one who’d gotten him to simultaneously sing karaoke and drink Guinness on the most memorable night of his young life. He smiled as he took in the scent of cloves, nail polish...and something elusive.

Thank you, David Grant

[therachelperspective]

BOOK | Unqualified by Anna Faris

Remind me to pay more attention.

When I was about to begin this book, I was blindsided by the subtitle that I have never seen and only found on the official title page once I opened it. This is not just Unqualified by Anna "Rhymes with Donna” Faris; this is Unqualified: Love and Relationship Advice from a Celebrity Who Just Wants to Help. Excuse me WHAT?! Turns out, I’ve been under a rock and this is the gist of both her podcast and her book. And here I thought I knew things. *facepalm*

While she may not necessarily be qualified in the love department, she is actually qualified to write a book. Or at least a little more qualified than some other celebrities. Our lovely Anna actually has a degree in English from the University of Washington, and that honestly gave me so much hope going into Unqualified. One thing I always struggle with is when celebrities are given book deals seeming to only sprout from their fame; most are horrible writers, but I suppose that’s what gives those books their charm, proving even in the slightest that yes, celebrities are just as flawed as we are, except with more money. ANYWHO, finding out that Anna knows her stuff was such a promising fact. ‘Cause let me tell you, if I based reading a book on it’s Foreword, I would have put this one down and walked far away. (That’s not entirely true, but you know what I mean).

Let’s start by talking about the Foreword by her then-husband Chris Pratt.

First and foremost, I want to say that, knowing that Anna and Chris announced/got divorced shortly after the publishing of this book in 2017 kind of puts a damper on the whole thing. Not because it may insinuate to some readers that she should not be giving advice on love and relationships, but rather because they were such a cute couple and, as many fans said once it was announced, makes it feel like love is dead if these two couldn’t make it. So the dedication, the foreword, and the plethora of times she discussed her relationship with Chris throughout the book were all so sad. And the way she talks about him and the anecdotes of what he’s done for her... it really is so difficult to believe that these two didn’t last.

Secondly, Chris Pratt should not be writing. This foreword was so painfully awkward that, like I said, if I were basing my continuation of a book on that first introduction, I would not have read it. And if you Google the topic, you will find numerous online articles with this same connotation; we all agree it is baaaad. Not only did he spend more time talking about himself and how he doesn’t know what a “foreword” is, he also made it sound like it was just an obligation with a word count. “I love her and respect her and told her I would” was his reasoning. Not once did I feel like he set the mood for the book from a more personal perspective, as a person who was her family for a decade, but rather he was giving us a short biography of Anna – things like how they both grew up in Washington, how they’re both actors that play idiots (his Andy Dwyer to her Cindy Campbell), how acting is her passion, various traits of her personality (how she is kind and what he calls an “information collector”). There was one line that made me believe that he was writing this foreword as a way to convince us to give Anna a book deal as if we were the publishers. He says “Anna deserves this book. I can promise you it will be a great and interesting read.” Yes, Chris, it was. But your foreword could have provided so much more than a grade-school style report on your ex-wife. I’m so glad Anna also wrote her own introduction. If you do end up reading this book, please just skip right to her intro.

In the first handful of chapters of Unqualified, I wasn’t entirely convinced that this book was worth reading.  Especially during those times where she straight up admitted that she was giving advice based on speculation instead of actual experience. I’m not saying that Anna has to have experienced everything experience-able in order to talk to people about it, but saying that she didn’t actually have a relationship related to a certain topic just puts a damper on what she’s trying to help with. Like the list of men she says to not date; it includes musicians, doctors, athletes, chefs, therapists, and actors. (It also includes magicians, but I think most women steer clear of them anyways lol). With the exception of actors, none of those are based on her own personal experiences with anyone in those professions. She even says to us “I have zero experience.” So who should you date, as per Anna Faris? Woodworkers. Or a guy who makes boats, because they brood. *shakes head* Girl, I can’t even.

While I’m indifferent to the portions of Unqualified regarding her childhood through most of her young adult life (college shenanigans don’t really pique my interest), there is a passage that has stuck with me long after finishing this book. Anna’s childhood crush/ “boyfriend” (she was 8 years old here, call it what you will) had just dumped her. So she goes home, grabs an orange from the fridge, writes this horrible boy’s name on it in marker, and then proceeds to chuck said orange into the forest behind her family’s home as a means to get over him. Anna dubs this the “orange ceremony,” which she says she must have felt it symbolic, wherein casting fruit into the “abyss” would rid her of the emotions of the situation. She may have been a child at the time, but as an adult, I absolutely love this concept. This sort of symbology is very reminiscent of various practices in paganism. Obviously not her intent as I highly doubt she was a practicing pagan at eight-years-old, but the truth is, things like this can actually work. Some of us older individuals would just need a lot of oranges.

The reason it has taken me soooo much longer to write a review for Unqualified (I finished it months ago, yikes!), is because I honestly just don’t know how I feel about it. My notebook is filled with pull-quotes and excerpts that stirred me in some way, shape, or form – and many of them, very good! – but as an overall novel, I can’t decide if I should keep it for a future reread, or donate it.  The only thing I feel that really sticks out in my mind about this book was how much I hated Chris Pratt’s introduction. And that is sad and depressing.

I did like that Unqualified was not just purely about love and relationships advice, and that it was intermixed with her personal memoir. I say that because there were plenty of times where her advice was not even advice at all. Like, for example, when she moved to Los Angeles with/for her then boyfriend. It’s reminiscent of an action many women take in tales of love. However, Anna also followed a career venture. This wasn’t solely about following her boyfriend out of sheer infatuation; if the relationship didn’t work out, she still had something there to fall back on, and that’s not something typical of an experience like this. Granted, yes, it’s kudos on her part for going for her own reasons, as well as for a guy, and it plays into her discussion of feminism at the beginning of the chapter. But in this of many parts of the book that was supposedly advice-driven, I made the note that maybe one sentence or one small paragraph at the end could have passed for guidance. At least, in most cases, she’s aware it’s not helpful.

Despite my typical qualms with books like Unqualified, at least for the time being I think it will remain on my shelves with my other keepers. Although her counsel is indeed questionable at times, it’s hard to deny how much I relate to Anna Faris and agreed with a good handful of the statements she makes in the book. And instead of doing all the talking herself, portions of Unqualified found basis from her podcast listeners through "Listener Responses,” as well as discussions and interviews with some people in her life (like Sim Sarna, her podcast partner in crime, and then husband Chris Pratt), and I like that aspect about it. It’s not just Anna retelling information from her perspective; it’s letting those people she has learned from have a voice as well.

I jotted a final note that I think sums up my thoughts on this book pretty well: Unqualified probably could have just remained a podcast. But for those of us not necessarily interested in listening to hours upon hours of content, the book is a good alternative, especially since Anna mentions in the beginning that the book is based on what she learned through two years of the podcast. A lot of Unqualified contained thoughts and experiences I personally could relate to and has happened to me, so, to quote myself “I suppose her book did what she wanted it to do.”

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

Turns Out Being a Super Hero Is Actually Really Gay! - Chapter 2

Yo, yo, yo! Y’all ready for the second chapter of this bullshit? Cuz I sure as hell ain’t because that means I have to now start writing chapter three and I have no idea where this story is going! Aaaaaahhhhhhh! But I’m excited though! Again, thank you to @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil for their lovely AU! Without further ado please ENJOY!!!!

Master Post

Beginning

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Swirls of colors and sounds filled their head like passing movie commentary you skip over. Small glimpses in and out of consciousness that made no sense by themselves but when put together you get some sort of visual on the puzzle you’re trying to put together.

“…food poising…?”

“…stress maybe…”

“…flu…should rest…”

“…24 hour bug…”

They all made sense when you thought about it but the reality of it was that they weren’t just “sick” they had been poisoned. Not on purpose, though who could say for sure. Who knows what kind of DNA splicing was done on that spider?

Wait, when did they get poisoned?

What spider?

The spider we let out the window?

No, it’s in our room!

We don’t like spiders! They’re icky!

They aren’t so bad.

A soft chuckle. Of course, we’d think that. You’d think that? I’d think that?

Wait, what?

---

Logan woke up with a start, heart pounding and lungs burning. He clutched onto something solid next to him so as to steady himself. He blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room in was in, his room? When did he get here? Logan carefully turned to take in his surroundings; he was in bed, dressed in pajamas, right hand having latched itself onto his head board. He glanced at the alarm clock near his desk it read 5am which would explain why everything was so dark.

Logan’s throat felt dry, like every time he swallowed it was like a cheese grater scraping against his vocal cords. He also fest extremely hungry despite the events that had happened previously. Logan carefully got up to go get some water and maybe an early breakfast only to be pulled back into bed.

“What the…?” Logan looked around to see what had happened and found that his had was still on his head board. His brow frowned as he tried to pull it off but it continued to stick as if it had been glued on. He pulled again, a bit harder, but only managed bend over a section of the metal bed frame. Logan’s eyes widen in shock and awe as he pushed back against the bended area and effortlessly straightened it. Now Logan wasn’t weak by any means necessary but he never considered himself athletic material either, let alone able to bend thick metal bed frames!

A soft tap on the door, “Logan, love, are you awake?”

“Uh, yes Ummi,” He replied hoarsely before clearing his throat “what did you need?”

“What are you doing up so early?” She questioned “The doctor said you should be resting?”

When did he go to the doctor?

“When did I go to the doctor?” Logan asked lamely, seriously all these blanks in his memories were going to drive him insane.

“We didn’t, we had called Dr. Smith next door,” Mrs. Quinn explained “unfortunately the Storms had called him as well. It seems Virgil had gotten sick too, very similar to how you did last night.”

Her voice sounded distant, like the memory of it brought her immense pain and that hurt Logan more then he thought it would. Also, Virgil had gotten sick as well, has he also been bitten? He asked, “Is he okay? What happened?”

“He’s fine but I’m not quite sure what was going on with you two,” She sighed “you seemed to be in a lot of pain, both mentally and physically. It was…very unpleasant to say the least.”

That was an understatement.

“Dr. Smith said it was probably a seasonal bug going around as well as stress,” There was a beat of silence “Logan, have you been doing alright in your studies?”

“Yes Ummi,” Logan reassured “everything is fine.”

“And you haven’t been harassed by other students like that boy from yesterday?” She asked anxiously.

“No Ummi, I haven’t,” Logan said seriously “I’m alright, I promise.”

More silence filled the room, unsureness thick in the air because honestly Logan had no idea if he was really fine or not. There was definitely something different about him that’s for sure and it had to do with that spider. He saw it on his desk, siting in the jar he placed it in earlier as if it hadn’t caused all this trouble.

“Can I come in?” Mrs. Quinn’s voice snapped Logan out of his train of thought and in a brilliant moment of word association he said “N-no, I’m…no dressed.”

It was cleat that this wasn’t something Mrs. Quinn expected, “Why are you undressed?”

“I’m getting ready for school,” He replied quickly “this is my normal routine, is it not?”

“Yes, but I would hope you would stay home today,” She said “especially after yesterday’s events.”

“I feel better now,” Logan assured, which was true, he actually felt great just really, really hungry and thirsty.

“Well, you don’t have to be in school until 8am so maybe you should rest a little bit more,” She suggested “and if you’re still feeling up to it then maybe you can go to school.”

“Of course, Ummi.” He nodded, even though no one was there to see it.

“But if I find out that you’re even slightly ill, you’re staying home,” Mrs. Quinn said firmly “understood?”

“Understood.” Logan agreed, best not to argue least she come in her and find Logan in his sticky situation.

“Good,” She sighed “go back to sleep love, I’ll be by to check on you soon. Babá and me have to leave to work a little early today so I want you to make sure you’re completely fine to go to school, okay?”

“Yes Ummi,” Logan sighed and with one last get well his mother departed down the hall. Finally. Logan’s muscles relaxed, not realizing how tense he had been, and he felt his hand slip from the metal bars it was attached to.

Logan blinked in confusion, standing up carefully and walking to a nearby wall. He decided to experiment a little, placing his hand on the wall and tensing the muscles in his fingers, just a bit. Like he predicted it stuck solidly onto the wall, he relaxed and his hand slipped free. He did this a few times more, first with one hand, then with two then with his feet before deciding to see what would happen if he pulled himself up. Logan was able to lift himself a few inches off the floor with nothing but his hands and feet holding him in place somehow.

“Holy shit.” He whispered to himself.

Logan looked to the little spider scuttling around in it’s jar as it effortlessly crawled up and down the sides. He wondered…he detached one hand and lifted it further up, same with the other hand, right foot, left foot, and soon enough he was hanging upside down from his ceiling.

“Something is definitely not right.” Logan breathed out anxiously, wondering how the hell the others were taking to this.

---

Something was definitely not right with Patton. First of all, he woke up tangled in his bed sheets which wasn’t unusual for the most part but it was much more difficult to get out of this morning since everything kept sticking to him. By the time he was able to detach himself from everything he was standing (hanging???) sideways on the besides his bed. Needless to say, he freaked out and spent half an hour trying to get unstuck only to drop back down on his bed and get tangled in his sheets again.

Defeated, Patton settled starfish style on his carpet floor, half the sheet clinging onto his leg as well as other thing such as papers and markers and socks sticking to other parts of his body. Patton really wanted to cry, he had no idea what was going on or what to do about it. But he knew crying wouldn’t do him any good so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

In for four…hold for seven…out for eight…

“I wonder why no one has come into my room yet?” Patton wondered aloud, especially with all the ruckus he was causing.

He lifted himself off the floor, not noticing the things he had stuck too start to slowly slip off, reaching over on his night stand for his phone. He clicked it on and found a few messages from his brother Georgie but aside from that he looked to the date and found that it was Wednesday. It explained a lot, Wednesdays were the busiest for his family with his parents’ bakery always filling up, Alex is having the morning shift at his part time job before heading to university, and Georgie opening up at the dinner he worked at. He quickly opened up his text messages.

Georgeous: ma said shed get off work early if ur still sick

Georgeous: theres soup & crackers at your desk if ur hungry

Georgeous: also water

Georgeous: ma also said u dont have to go to school today if u dont wanna

Georgeous: doc said u should take it easy

Ever the doting older brother Georgie was, always looking out for Alex and Patton even if they could get on his nerves sometimes. He should bake him a cake as a “thank you for dealing with all my oopsies”. Patton sent him a reply along with a few questions.

Baby Shark: thanks but i feel better now

Baby Shark: when did i go to the doctor?

Georgeous: dr. ortega from down the street was alredy coming by to check on romen

Georgeous: turns out he was sick as well

Georgeous: ma asked her to come over when she was done checking him out

Baby Shark: is Ro ok?

Georgeous: yeah doc said it was probably the flu going around an it just got to u 2 realy hard

Georgeous: why didnt u tell us u were feeling sick?

Patton thought for a moment, how could he explain that he hadn’t been feeling sick at all up until yesterday afternoon after…after he got that bug bite. Then that weird dream he had just before he woke up stuck to the wall and tangled in his sheets. How was he supposed to explain that things kept sticking to him and that the world seemed much more sharp now?

Baby Shark: i didnt notice it much

Baby Shark: and when i did i just thought it would pass with a good nights sleep

Baby Shark: i didnt want to bother anyone if it was nothing

Patton didn’t like lying to people but he just had no idea what was going on and he doubt anyone else did either. This would just cause them to freak out and then what? More doctors? Would the government get involve? Were they gunna make him a science experiment now that he’s a freak?

Georgeous: still next time tell us even if its just a stomach ache

Baby Shark: ok

Baby Shark: i g2g and get ready for school

Georgeous: r u sure?

Baby Shark: yeah i feel a lot better now promise <3

Georgeous: ok but if u feel sick just call me an i’ll pick u up ok?

Baby Shark: ok bye love u <3

Georgeous: love u too

Patton sighed, flopping back on the floor. He felt sick again but not like before, this was a different kind of sick. A guilty pit in his stomach kind of sick that probably won’t go away any time soon. Oh well, he couldn’t change anything now, might as well move on with his day. First things first, he had some thank you cookies to make.

He lifted his phone to check the time, 7am, plenty of time to do a quick batch of peanut butter cookies and scones. He should hurry so he could go check on Roman afterwards, he did look a little down when they were walking home yesterday.

“I wonder…” Patton said aloud again as he stood up to get dress. He placed his phone back down on his night stand and noticed his glasses sitting beside his lamp. Patton blinked as he felt his face and found he indeed was not wearing his glasses and yet the world looked crystal clear as if he was.

“Oh geez…”

---

Virgil was very thankful that it was Wednesday, everyone always goes to work early on Wednesday since it was the middle of the week and for some reason Manhattan decided to be a world of chaos. He was also thankful that he grandmother was a heavy sleeper because he had no idea how he was going to explain this!

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Virgil cursed as he desperately tried to unstick his feet and left hand from the ceiling. He had no idea how this happened or why it was happening he just knew that he wanted to get unstuck now!

Knock! Knock!

“Piglet, are you awake?” His grandmother called from behind the door.

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil squeaked “b-but, um, don’t come in I-I don’t have a shirt on!”

It was true, during his earlier struggle to get unstuck from his bed, which he at first thought was sleep paralysis, his hands got stuck to his shirt and tore it open when he was trying to unstick them.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted breakfast,” She said “I could make you a warm broth so as not to upset your stomach.”

“N-no thanks Mama,” Virgil said quickly, finally able to get his hand free “I’ll just have something at Logan’s house before I go to school.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” His grandmother questioned sternly “You were very sick yesterday and the doctor said to take it easy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” He fibbed as he wondered when he had gone to the doctor.

“If you’re sure,” She said skeptically “just make sure you two don’t eat anything too heavy. I heard Logan got sick last night as well, the doctor said it was a passing seasonal bug.”

“Okay, sure thing,” Virgil gulped “I’m gunna get ready now, don’t worry about me.”

“We will always worry about you, Piglet,” His grandmother said gently “it’s what families do.”

And with that she was gone and Virgil was beyond relieved. Then he fell off the ceiling. He was thankful for the dirty clothes pile in the middle of his room that softened his fall but he also cursed it because that means more stuff got stuck to him.

He groaned, “Come on, come on! Unstick, unstick!”

He hopped around the room like a lunatic and was only able to shake off a few articles of clothes before he tripped. The fall wasn’t as soft this time but at least the floor was carpeted at least so he didn’t knock his head that badly. He had landed near his dresser drawer where JD’s tank rested on, the tarantula in question was practically pressed up against the glass and hissing worriedly at his owner’s misfortune.

“Hey buddy,” Virgil groaned as he pulled himself up to be eye level with the tank and all who inhabit it “I’m okay, don’t worry. Though I’ll be honest, I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Hurt! Master hurt!” JD chittered as he paced anxiously in his tank.

“I’m good really, you hungry?” Virgil asked before he paused to process what just happened. Did…did his tarantula just talk to him? No, no, it couldn’t be, he just hit his head too hard. Right?

“Food!” JD cheered excitingly as he scurried around his food bowl patiently waiting for something to drop.

Virgil’s eyes widen in shock, completely frozen in place as he stared at his pet tarantula who was excitingly chanting “Food, food, food!”. He noticed that there were little waves of colors radiated off JD like a sort of technicolor halo. It was all getting to be a bit too much.

JD scuttled back to the front of the tank, a confused look in his eyes, “No food?”

Virgil yelped, accidently launching himself backwards towards his desk where he got stuck again. God damn it! Papers flew around were everywhere and Virgil couldn’t see, he stubbled around not knowing where he was going as he tried to desperately to get things to stop sticking to him.

“Stop sticking god damn it!” He growled as he finally got the last piece of paper off of his face. His relief was short lived because to his horror he was not in his bedroom anymore but on the standing perpendicular to the side of his building. “Keep sticking! Keep sticking!”

He was about a foot away from the fire escape near Logan’s window and Virgil contemplated weather or not he had enough courage to jump over or if his stupid sticky body would even allow that to happen. Still, he tried, carefully shifting one foot in front of the other until he had inched his way over the fire escape. Thankfully, it was only then that his stickiness decided to abandon him as he fell onto hard metal. Virgil groaned, it surprisingly didn’t hurt as bad as he thought it would but it still hurt pretty fucking bad.

He heard the window above him open up and his head tingled when he saw Logan poke his head out, looking around before finally spotting him below. The waves of color were back but this time they were brighter and loud like some sort of signal. Logan was a mesh of blue and cool grey and by the look he was giving him Virgil was just as colorful.

Logan seemed to think deeply for a moment, his mouth a straight line of concentration, “I can assume my theory was correct.”

“What theory?” Virgil groaned as he slowly sat up, rubbing his sore head. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get a concussion after all of this.

Ignoring his question, Logan grabbed Virgil’s arm before he could warn him and pulled, “Come inside.”

“Wait!” Virgil was pulled into the room quite effortlessly as if he weighed nothing to Logan. Which wasn’t all that hard to believe, Virgil had always been a thin guy plus he was a dancer so that wasn’t helping with anything. But not to say Logan was weak but seeing as the most physical activity this guy does is walk to and from school, he should have had at least a little trouble getting Virgil inside.

“You’re not gunna believe this but JD talked to me and I fell from side of the building because I got stuck!” Virgil blurted out in one breath.

“Yes, I know,” Logan said coolly “I need you to relax.”

“How the hell do you want me to relax?!” Virgil screeched “I just fell from the wall and I’m sticking to everything!” To emphasize his point, he shook his hand which was now stuck on too Logan’s arm.

“I know,” Logan repeated “it’s been happening to me too but you need to calm down if you want to get unstuck.”

“How do you know?” Virgil cried, thoroughly done with this whole day and it hadn’t even started.

“Because I’ve been testing myself since 5am ever since I woke up stuck to the head board of my bed frame then proceeded to fold it and unfold it like it was paper!” Logan shot back, seemingly frustrated as well “Now breath!”

Virgil finally shut up and listened, breathing in for four…hold for seven…out for eight…then again, a few more times until he was able to unstick himself from Logan’s arm. He leaned back against Logan’s desk, wrapping his arms around himself as he anxiously looked towards Logan for answers. “What’s going on?”

Logan looked tired, his hair was messy and he had bags under his eyes but he looked determined, “I have few theories, mainly surrounding the spider that bit us.”

“Spider?” Virgil said, it couldn’t possibly be the same one from yesterday could it?

“Yes,” Logan said, grabbing a jar from behind Virgil and thrusting it in his face. Inside was the same spider from yesterday scurrying around the now web filled jar. “It’s from the same spiders we saw at the lab at Oscorp. Most likely the one that escaped.”

Virgil tilted his head curiously, “I thought the tour guide said it was back in the lab?”

“Obviously not,” Logan said deadpan.

“Trapped! Free!” The spider hissed causing Vigil to jerk back, kicking his leg up at the jar as Logan fumbled to grab it again.

“It fucking talked!” Virgil shrieked.

“Yeah, no shit!” Logan snapped, placing the jar near one of the shelves furthest from the panicking teen “I thought we established that with your spider!”

“Why is it talking?” Virgil snapped back.

“It’s not,” Logan sighed, straightening himself out as he reached to adjust his glasses only to realize he wasn’t wearing them “our sense have been enhanced to see and hear things better which in turn means we can hear certain frequencies better. It has been theorized that insects have their own language but the frequency at which it’s at it too high for normal human ears to pick up. What we’re hearing is a weak and choppy frequency so we’re only able to make out a few words.”

“Ah-huh,” Virgil nodded, still slightly freaking out “so what does this have to do with, mmh, everything else!”

“Don’t you see?” Logan said “We’ve been enhanced with artificial spider DNA! The venom injected into us was supposed to kill us but it instead latched on to our genetic coding and mutated us!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil rubbed his face anxiously “so, what your saying is we have spider-based superpowers like…like Rainbow Weaver?”

“Basically,” Logan shrugged ��though all I’ve been able to find now is our abnormal adhesiveness, above average strength, slight sensitivity to radio waves, slightly larger range in frequency, faster reflexes, acute awareness and, as you’ve noticed, perfect eye vision.” He gestures towards his glassless face as evidence.

Virgil ran a trembling hand over the left side of his head, “This is crazy, this is impossible, this…this…” He tugged at his hair and realized “my hand is stuck.”

“Relax,” Logan soothed “you were able to get it unstuck before, you can do it again.”

“And if I can’t?” Virgil squeaked, panic beginning to rise once more.

Logan bit his lip nervously, “We’ll think of something.”

---

There was a note on Roman’s dresser from his mother when he woke, he tried to read it but he was stuck to his sheets and as well as a few other things when he came tumbling out of bed. Notebooks, scrap papers filled with important theater notes, dirty clothes, make up, and any other thing his body made contact with. At first, he thought it was a prank done by the twins but it seemed a bit excessive and a little to advanced. Plus, how would they even do that? Getting Roman to stick to everything without using some sort of glue?

Roman was able to rip most of the things off of him and finally walk over to the dresser. He didn’t risk touching it though, much too scared he’ll get stuck again, so he merely peered down at the note filled with his mother’s careful handwriting.

Descansa un poco, mi amor, el doctor dijo que tenías una enfermedad que había estado dando vueltas. Patton también lo tiene, pero he oído que ahora está bien, solo necesita descansar. No vayas a la escuela si no te apetece. Hay un caldo en el refrigerador para calentar si tienes hambre.

-Mamá

Roman squinted at the not confused, when had he gone to the doctor? When did Patton get sick? What the hell was going on? Billions of questions swirled in his head causing Roman a painful headache or maybe it was because he was super hungry? Either way he needed to get out of his room. Roman marched to the door and yanked it open but found that he was now stuck to the door knob.

“Pinche manos pegajosas!” Roman cursed as he tried to yank he’s hand off the door knob only to pull it off with him. He sucked a painful breath through his teeth though it wasn’t because he was hurt, more it had to do with the landlord finding out and charging them for the damage later. Roman fixed it the best he could for now before carefully side stepping around the door into the hall. He breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back against a wall contemplating what was going on with him and how he was going to pay back the broken door knob.

How had he even done that? Sure, Roman liked to brag that he was athletic and junk, which he was, but even he wasn’t that strong to tear a door knob off it’s wooden frame. Also, he was really jittery, like there was a constant buzz at the back of his head that made him super aware of everything around him. Was this how his mother felt with four kids running around the house?

His stomach rumbled, train of thought gone and replaced with the want of food. So, Roman moved to stand from the wall, well, he tried, he was stuck again. A loud groan left his lips as he made the mistake to use his hands to push himself off. No surprise they stuck to so he used his feet…you see where this is going? Long story short he did end up making it to the kitchen but for some reason he ended up stuck to the ceiling, dangling by only his left foot. Which is how Patton found him.

“Roman?” Patton entered into the apartment dressed and ready for school with two bags of cookies neatly wrapped in clear plastic. There were swirls of baby pinks and blues radiating around him like a sort of weird halo of light. It buzzed and sang with in a weird yet familiar tune that was just…all Patton. Patton must have been able to see it too because he had this sort of curious looked as he continued to stare at Roman for a long time. Then Roman remembered the situation he was in, “Help!”

“Oh dear.” Patton sighed, snapping out of his trance and placing his cookies on the coffee table near the living room before heading over to inspect the situation. He grabbed onto his friends dangling arms and looked him straight in the eyes, “Roman, I need you to calm down.”

“How do you expect me to be calm right now?” Roman shrieked “I’m hanging upside down by my foot! From the ceiling! What even is going on?!”

“I’m not sure,” Patton replied calmly “but all I know is as soon as I started to calm down things started unsticking. So, I assume it’s going to be the same for you.”

“W-what? You too?” Roman asked a bit less panicked, it was good to know he wasn’t alone in this strange situation.

“Yes,” Patton soothed “then when I started stress baking everything stopped sticking. I’m guessing if you’re too anxious or tense it just gets out of control. So, I need you to try and calm yourself, deep breaths, you can sing a little bit if it helps.”

Roman took a few deep breath, trying to qualm his shaking nerves before starting to hum a little tune, “Isn't it lovely, all alone?/ Heart made of glass, my mind of stone/ Tear me to pieces, skin and bone/ Hello, welcome home.”

Finally, he unstuck and flopped right into Patton’s arms who, surprisingly, was able to carry him without any trouble. After being carefully set back on his feet once more Roman began to freak out again, “What the fuck is happening?!”

“I’m not sure,” Patton said, anxiously rubbing his hands “I just woke up sticking to everything and the world seems like it’s moving in slow motion and I can see without my glasses and none of my cute clothes fit me anymore!” He pouted, gesturing down towards his favorite jeans that had flowers embroidered at the cuffs and up the sides which used to fit Patton perfectly but now land few inches above his ankles.

Roman gazed sympathetically at his friend, had been ready to assure him that he still looked very cute only to be cut off by his rumbling stomach. “Dear God I’m starving.”

“I know what you mean,” Patton replied as his own stomach rumbled “I ate the soup my mom made me plus all the left overs plus the first batch of cookies I made and I’m still hungry!”

“I’ll be willing to share my soup and left over with you if you make me cookies later,” Roman bargained “I’d ask for those you brought over but I know those are special.”

Paton flushed red, quickly changing the conversation, “D-deal, we’ll eat then head off to school and…maybe find someone who can help us afterwards.”

“Like who?” Roman questioned “What other person has been going through the same shit we’ve been going through this morning?”

---

Virgil’s stomach rumbled as he and Logan made their way down the school halls, “For the love of god! We practically cleaned out all the left overs and snacks from both of our apartments and I’m still starving!”

“I’m guessing high metabolism should be added to the list,” Logan said, stopping by a nearby vending machine “Or maybe it’s the fact that our bodies are still going through puberty and the spider DNA has enhanced that as well, or maybe it’s a mixture of both.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Virgil grumbled, carefully pulling down the sides of his beanie “by the way, you couldn’t of thought of anything better to get me unstuck then mutilating my hair?”

Logan rolled his eyes, bending down to retrieve the various treats he had purchased “We tried to get you to calm down for thirty minutes but you still remained tense. What were you gunna do? Stay stuck and let someone find out?”

“You could have at least done a better job!” Virgil snarked, taking the chips and candy bars handed to him.

“I’m not hairdresser,” Logan stated plainly, stuffing half a chocolate bar in his mouth “I did the best I could.”

“Well if this is your best, I don’t want to see your worst,” Virgil grumbled, stuffing a hand full of chips in his mouth “what are we even gunna do after this? Can we do anything? Who can we even tell?”

“Calm,” Logan soothed, a careful hand placed on his friend shoulder “we’ll figure something out. Right now we need to focus on finding Patton and Roman, they must be having just as difficult a time adjusting to their new found abilities.”

“Are you sure they were bitten?” Virgil asked skeptically “What are the odds of the same spider biting all four of us?”

“Patton’s bug bite from yesterday looked similar to ours and I can only assume since Roman was in close proximity to us, he was bitten as well,” Logan explain, readjusting his glasses which now had no lenses “my theory is that he got bitten during detention yesterday, then Patton outside, then you when you arrived home and found the spider, and finally me after I finished talking to my parents. Tell me, when did you start feeling the effects of the venom after you were bitten?”

Virgil thought a moment, “I took a nap and scrolled through Tumblr, my mom called me out for dinner and I was talking to my grandma and then…nothing. It’s all fuzzy after that.”

“Interesting,” Logan hummed “I remember being called out too after I caught the spider, then I sat down and…it’s all a blur from there. From what my parents told me I assume I was somewhat coherent enough to eat and talk, although it was somewhat slurred, then I began to malfunction.”

Virgil snorted, “You’re talking as if you were a computer.”

“It seems the spider is learning with each victim and increasing it’s dosage,” Logan continued, ignoring Virgil’s comment “which would explain why the effects happened faster for me then for you. And I can only assume the same can be said with Roman and Patton seeing as when they were bitten earlier on. But like I said, it is only a theory.”

“A game theory!” Virgil quoted with a laugh causing Logan to quirk and eyebrow “This isn’t a game Virgil.”

“Yeah, I know but I cope with sarcasm and memes,” Virgil grumbled, stuffing more chips in his mouth “sue me…”

Logan sighed, unwrapping another candy bar, “This is going to be a long day.”

---

Down the hall on the opposite side of the school Patton and Roman were having their own conflict. Still hungry after downing all the left overs and munchies they bought at the corner store before coming to school they were currently emptying out the vending machine. They were discussing their current predicament while spitting their purchase.

“How we were able to get here in time I will never know,” Roman grumbled, struggling to stuff his food in his backpack “are you still sticking to thing?”

“Not as much as this morning,” Patton said, finally able to zip his bag before sling it over his shoulder “you?”

“A little, I guess, I don’t know,” Roman sighed, opening a bag of Skittles “it’s just I feel like everybody is staring at us.”

“But there barely anybody in the halls,” Patton said “but I know what you mean. It’s like you can feel them from the inside of the class.”

“Yes!” Roman exclaimed softly “It’s fucking weird!”

The first period warning bell rings and the two friends make the journey down the hall to their class as did the rest of the remaining students in the hall. This whole situation was like some weird fever dream they couldn’t wake from. Their skin buzzed, their ears rang, their senses were just all over the place, it was all very overwhelming. Roman usually reveled in being under the spotlight but at the moment it seemed like there were too many eyes watching him and all he really wanted was to curl up into the nearest dark corner and sleep. He hadn’t had the time or ability to get dressed properly or do his make up and he was still in shock from everything that happened this morning. Patton, the usually cheery social butterfly, didn’t feel so cheery or social at all today. None of his clothes fit him right, everything was either too slow or too fast, and he had to take out the lenses of his glasses which really upset him because they were cute round rose gold glasses with rose tinted lenses and now, they’re ruined!

So busy moping were the two friends that if it weren’t for the tingly sensation at the back of their head, they would have missed Virgil and Logan passing them by. Granted they were distracted by their own conversation as well and were basically snapped into attention by the weird and colorful tingly sensation pulling them towards Patton and Roman. They were all a melting pot of technicolor waves, blending and buzzing with each other in some weird kind of dance. Virgil was a foggy storm of blacks and purples and white lighting which in theory should be dark and hard to see but was for some reason bright and beautiful. Roman was a swirl of bright white with streaks of red and gold dramatically singing a beautiful melody. Logan was a cool blend of dark blues and greys, a normally dull combination but it structured itself with such formality and care it was an exquisite display of stars. Patton was a pop of cotton candy pinks and soft blues bursting with life and richness, they bloomed like flowers in the spring time.

“You’re like me!” They said in unison.

It was then that they noticed they were still in the hall and even though there weren’t that many people around there were still people. Logan, with his quick thinking, ushered them all into the nearby boy’s bathroom and corralled them into the large stall near the back. Everyone was freaking out.

“You’re all colorful!” Patton said in awe.

“What’s going on?” Roman hissed.

“Why the fuck would I know?!” Virgil snapped.

“Shut up!” Logan demanded and the room was silent “I have a few theories, first off-”

The sound of a toilet flushing caught their attention, finally realizing they weren’t as alone as they thought. They tensely waited for whoever was out there to finish washing up and exit. The sound of boots echoed throughout the bathroom as the faucet opened and close multiple times. The hand drier blazed to life and for a moment the four teens thought they’d finally be safe until a familiar slimy voice said: “I know you nerds are in here!”

“God fucking damn it!” Virgil mouthed furiously, Dolion messing with them again is the last thing they need right now.

“Don’t think I couldn’t here your whispering,” Dolion hissed “what, are you here to fuck me over again? I already have another detention because of you assholes!”

The bang of a nearby stall door was heard then another and another each getting closer and closer towards them. Dolion growled, “Come out, come out, where every you are! Fucking cowards!”

The group didn’t know what they were so nervous for, what would Dolion do? Take them all on? And even if he did, they would just tell Mr. Larry and he would get in trouble again. Maybe it was the fact that they were all kind of lowkey scarred of Dolion, dude was a big guy, or maybe, just maybe, it was because they had weird mutant spider powers that they didn’t know what to do with and wouldn’t know the outcome of what would happen if Dolion tried to fight them now. But just as Dolion was nearing the last stall door the tingly sensation in the back of their heads told them to jump and so they did without hesitation.

The last stall door was kicked open, Dolion entered with a sneer and saw that it was completely empty. He did a double take, looking around confused, so certain he had heard people come in, that he had heard them come in. Shaking his head in irritation Dolion left the stall and marched out of the bathroom with a huff.

Meanwhile, clustered up on the ceiling, right above where Dolion had stood, were Patton, Roman, Virgil, and Logan who all let out a sigh of relief. “That was close.”

Then there was a loud creek and Virgil gulped, “Oh no.”

They all came crashing down along with the flimsy white ceiling tile that held them up their in the first place. They landed on the filthy bathroom floor with a thwap while the ceiling tile crumbled in half.

Roman groaned, “This is the fucking worst.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Logan grumbled as he lifted himself from the floor “we shall further discuss the matter after school.”

“What do you mean after school?” Roman balked “I want to know what’s going on now!”

“Hey, genius, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I don’t think a public restroom in a high school is the best place to discuss our…condition.” Virgil snapped.

“They’re right Roman,” Patton butted in before his friend could reply “who knows what will happen if someone were to find out. Especially, Dolion.”

“Ugh, fine,” Roman sighed, he couldn’t say no to Patton’s puppy dog eyes “where shall we meet then?”

“On the roof.” Logan said.

“Why the roof?” Virgil and Roman asked simultaneously.

“It’ll be empty and secluded once clubs are over everyone has gone home,” Logan replied coolly “which I’m assuming all of you have, right? A club to attend, I mean.”

“Yes, I have culinary club,” Patton said “we’re working on the bake sale for Friday night’s game.”

“Shit, yeah, I have dance,” Virgil said then groaned “Ms. Green is gunna make me work double time for missing yesterday.”

“You dance?” Roman asked surprised.

“Uh…yeah,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment before snapping to the defensive “Is there a problem with that?”

Roman raised his hands up in surrender, “You think I, the theater geek, would be one to judge?”

“Well, you have with a lot of other things so excuse us if we’re a little surprised.” Logan chimed in.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Roman snapped.

“Exactly what I just said,” Logan said nonchalantly “anyways, I myself have debate club so we all should finish up at around the same time.”

“Hey, don’t just brush me off!” Roman said, frustration evident on his face.

“What use is there to continue on that topic?” Logan asked “It’s not important to our current situation.”

Ignoring Logan’s statement Roman continued his rant, “Are you saying that I judge people based on how they look and what they like to do?”

“Yes,” Logan said bluntly “now can we please move on?”

“It’s not true!” Roman cried.

“Speaking from past experiences talking to you that’s highly unlikely,” Logan huffed “especially with Virgil.”

Roman glared at the bespectacled teen, “I don’t-”

“Hey, now,” Patton stepped in once more “I know Roman can be a bit eccentric and talk a big game at times but that doesn’t mean he out right judges’ people without getting to know their character a little bit. You assuming that he does is a bit judgy of you now, isn’t it?”

Logan gulped nervously at the glare? Pout? Patton was giving him and he immediately felt guilty, “I…guess so.”

“And Roman,” Patton turned to his best friend with the exact same look “maybe sometimes you’re a bit too quick to assume certain things about people. Speaking your mind is one thing but sometimes you can be kind of rude.”

“You’re right, Pat,” Roman sighed, rubbing his tired eyes “I don’t mean to pick fights it’s just…I’ve had a long morning.”

“I know,” Patton said, eyes softening once more “so have the rest of us but that doesn’t mean we should start turning against each other. We need to stick together, we’re probably the only people on earth that know what each of us is going through right now. So, weather we like it or not we’re a team and we have to have each other’s backs.”

“Falsehood.” Logan said suddenly.

Virgil sighed, irritably, “Lo, don’t start up again…”

“No, I mean that we aren’t the only ones alone in this.” Logan corrected, all eyes were on him again, curious and anticipating.

The last warning bell rung and the four teens were uncertain if they should stay hidden and listen to what Logan had to say or start booking it to class. Thankfully, Logan decided for them, “After school, on the roof, don’t be late. Come on Virgil.”

And with that they all scurried out of the bathroom and raced to their first period.

---

It was almost comedic how none of them ever noticed how many classes they had together. Like aside from their electives they all basically had the same classes together. Roman and Patton usually sit in the back of the class near the window, easier to get away with napping and passing notes, while Logan and Virgil sat near the center where they could easily blend into the crowed and not be called on as often by the teacher. Though that still wouldn’t stop Logan from raising his hand and blurting out answers and corrections. Point being they’ve never noticed each other before, they were in their own world doing their own thing with other students filling in for background noise. But now with their new freakish mutant powers they couldn’t not notice each other, especially with their weird colored auras buzzing and lighting them up like a fucking beckon.

It was like that all day, in every class, they tried to play it off like it was nothing, like nothing has changed and they’re in their own world but it didn’t work. They just kept fucking staring at each other and it didn’t matter if they were subtle about it or not because that stupid zing at the back of their heads would go off every time, they would feel eyes on them, and they knew! They all knew but they kept doing it anyway! Why? Because what else could they do?

Lunch came and went, an internal struggle within each of them debating weather on not they should sit with each other. They had no reason to do so other wise unless they used the excuse of that school field trip project but even then, that was flimsy and suspicious. They did not need anyone else suspecting them of hiding something when Dolion was already on their case.

Speaking of which, Dolion had been keeping an especially close eye on all of them all day. He wasn’t in all of their classes but he was in most and aside from each other they could practically feel his eyes burrowing in to the back of their heads. It did not help that this mutant power made them feel ten times more aware of themselves and the things around them. Their skin crawled when someone would accidently brush against them, they’d flinch when the bell rang, they’d race to their next class to get out of the crowed halls because it was so jam packed with people and noise and smells and they just couldn’t breathe.

Virgil was having the worst time out of all of them. His anxiety got bad sometimes and even on good days it could sneak up on him and leave him with a shitty day but this…this was the fucking worst! He kept accidently sticking to things and Logan had to say behind and help him out and that just made him feel even worse and caused them to be even more late for class.

Roman and Patton watched them from the sidelines, out of sight but never out of range. They weren’t too sure if they should intervene or mind their own business so they just lurked around like creeps. They figured if Logan or Virgil needed help, they would ask them and in turn they would do the same. Still, the day passed and none of them said a word to each other. Not even Logan and Patton who were stuck as lab partners. What would they even say?

“Yeah, nice weather we’re having, also do you think we’ll grow extra limbs now that we have mutant bug powers?”

Electives were the only classes they had by themselves and some how that was an even worse distraction. At least with four other people flashing like beckons you knew someone was right there when you needed them because they would understand your situation. But being alone, surrounded by other students, trying to act normal when you know that is far from the truth, is just horrible. How the hell were they going to get through their club meetings?

---

Patton never thought he would dread going to culinary club but here he was hiding behind the nearby lockers debating weather or not he should just bail and wait on the roof by himself. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending how you look at it, he didn’t have to decided because one of the girls from his club spotted him.

“Hey Patton, it’s good to see you,” Her name was Valerie and she was the sweetest person Patton has ever met “we missed you yesterday, where’d you go?”

“Oh, uh, hi Valerie,” Patton fiddled bashfully with the end of his shirt “I-I got detention.”

“What? Why?” Valerie asked, quite shocked “Out of everyone in this school you’d be the last I’d ever expect to get detention.”

Patton became red with embarrassment, “Well…Dolion played a prank on me and I kind of freaked out. A friend of mine named Logan stood up for me and kind of scolded him but then Dolion got mad and wanted to fight him. Then me and my other two friends, Roman and Virgil, were trying to break them up but then Mr. Larry came in and saw. So, he gave us all detention but it didn’t go on our records and Dolion got extra detention this weekend.”

“Gosh, that must have really sucked,” Valerie said sympathetically.

Patton shrugged, “I just feel bad that I got all my friends in trouble because of something so dumb.”

“Hey now,” Valerie said sternly “it’s not your fault that Dolion was being a jerk and picking on you. Plus, your friends really care about you Patton, they don’t want to see you in distress.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could have done something more then just stand there,” Patton said glumly “if it hadn’t been for them I probably would of ran off crying.”

“Aw Patton,” Valarie sighed “sometimes you’re much too sweet for your own good. And sometimes that sweetness can cause you trouble but you have to remember, you’re worth standing up for.” she reached over and gently grasped his hand, “It’s okay not to feel happy all the time too.”

“Yeah I know,” Patton sighed “it’s just…”

“I know, I know, you don’t want to worry anyone,” She smiled sadly “you must have had a really bad morning to be able to rant to me.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized.

“No, don’t be,” She assured “it’s good to talk about your problems, it’s a good way to help air out your feelings.”

“Well, thanks for letting me rant.” Patton chuckled.

“Any time,” Valarie replied “now we should get going, the meeting is going to start soon. Also, you never got around to teaching me that lemon square recipe.”

“Oh gosh, that’s right,” Patton said “I am so sorry, I was going to teach you yesterday but then detention and-”

“It’s fine, Patton,” Valarie soothed before he could continue “you have plenty of time to teach me to day if the meeting doesn’t run too long.”

“Absolutely.” Patton beamed, though it wasn’t totally genuine. He was still very stressed and anxious to be in a room full of people alone. Though out in the empty halls talking with Valarie had been nice so it gave Patton a little bit of hope he could do this. But that had just been them alone, what would he do when he was in room full of students and loud baking utensils? Patton gulped as he followed Valarie into the culinary class room and for once hoped for a short meeting.

---

“One, two, three! One, two, three! Virgil, you’re off again!” Ms. Green sighed as she turned off the stereo. The entire class groaned, this was the third time they had to start the routine over because Virgil kept missing a step or getting off beat or something. It was seriously starting to stress him out more then he already was. Usually doing ballet helped calm his anxiety but right now with all the weird shit happening to his body it’s doing the exact opposite.

“Take five!” Ms. Green announced and the class disbursed into mindless chatter.

Virgil sighed tiredly as he began to trudge back to his bag near the back of the dance studio only to be stopped by Ms. Green. “Mr. Storm, please come here a moment.”

Virgil whined pathetically as he slowly made his way over to his dance instructor who looked very frustrated, “Yes, Ms. Green?”

“What’s going on with you today?” Her frustrated frown morphed into one of concern once she saw Virgil’s distressed face.

“Uh,” Virgil tugged at once side of his beanie nervously “I’m just not…feeling too great. I-I mean, I didn’t feel great last night so it’s kind of…lingering?”

“Is it because of your detention yesterday?” Ms. Green asked, she didn’t look mad or disappointed as Virgil previously thought, just curious.

“Kind of,” Virgil fibbed “there was a bug, I mean, there is a bug going around the school. Not a real bug, of course, like a cold and flu bug. Yeah, like that. Uh, I was sick and the doctor said it was a bug.”

Nailed it.

Ms. Green corked an eye brow suspiciously, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Virgil said a little too quickly before sighing “I’m fine, just…gotta find my rhythm again. It’s still getting out of my system…the bug.”

“Ah-huh,” Ms. Green nodded slowly “you’re lucky you don’t compete in anything. Although you really should.”

Virgil gave her a weary smile, having had this conversation too many times before and not wanting it to have it today of all days. Ms. Green kept on insisting that Vigil enter in dance competitions or audition for the production of Swan Lake they’d be doing in the spring. But Virgil kept rebutting that if he could barely get through a simple dance recital without vomiting on stage there was no why he’d be able to last through a four-act performance.

“Still not my thing Ms. Green.” He replied with a tight smile.

Ms. Green sighed, quickly dropping the subject, “Alright, go take five. Stretch out and be ready to go again. Start getting focused.”

“You got it.” Virgil gave her a thumbs up as he began to walk backwards towards his bag. He heard his stomach rumble for the fifth time and groaned as he searched through his backpack for any more chips.

“Skip out on lunch?” A voice asked from behind.

Virgil turned to find Terrance smiling at him with an extra water bottle shoved near his face. He quickly took it before addressing his question, “No, why do you ask?”

“That is a lot of wrappers,” Terrance pointed towards Virgil’s bag which was overflowing with candy and chip wrappers like some sort of volcano “I’m guessing you’re the one that emptied out the vending machine near hall B?

Virgil flushed, embarrassed as he stuffed the wrappers back in his backpack, “N-no, this was breakfast.”

Terrence frowned disapprovingly, “That’s pretty unhealthy.”

“Don’t worry, that’s not the worst thing that’s happened today.” Virgil assured as he finally found one last candy bar and stuffed it in his mouth. Before Terrence could ask what Virgil meant by that Ms. Green was already calling everyone back.

---

Roman loved play rehearsal, seeing things get slowly piece together as the day of the play got closer and closer. And when you finally go on stage its even more amazing then you could ever imagen because you’ve spent months building this from the ground up, costumes, props, lighting, hours and hours of practice. It was all just great and amazing and Roman loved every minute of it!

“Is this a dagger which I see before me,/ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.” Roman recited.

“Cut!” His director, Mr. Bell, called out “Roman, your blockings off again.”

Just not today…

Roman groaned, “Sorry, sorry, sorry, let’s- can we do it again?”

“It’s okay,” Mr. Bell sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose “let’s all just…take five.”

And with that the house lights went on and the students disbursed to go do their own thing. Actors huddled together to recite lines, techs came down for their box for fresh air and socializing, crew fiddled around with stage and props, and Roman exited stage left towards the dressing rooms.

Roman hated this, his new abilities were throwing him why off balance in both the physical and mental sense. The stage lights burned his eyes, he could here the whispering backstage, the creaking from the catwalk, and all eyes on him. For once in his life Roman did NOT want to be the center of attention.

“Hey girl!” Roman paused to see Remy waving at him as he came down the latter one of the catwalks.

“Hey Remy.” Roman smiled tiredly, he was in no mood to put up a charming persona and thankfully Remy was the type of person that could care less about keeping up appearances. He liked to “keep it real” like that.

“Oh god, you look like shit,” Remy replied once he was on the ground, sipping on a Starbucks cup that he always seems to have with him “what happened?”

Roman inhaled deeply, “So many things that I can even begin to comprehend myself. But I’m fine, really.”

“Woof,” Remy said “must have been some bad shit that went down because you’re usually a one hit wonder out there. But five takes? You sure you okay, boo? I heard what happened yesterday with that dick Dolion.”

“Yeah, it’s all fine now,” Roman sighed as he stretched his arms “just got to shake it off and get centered again.”

“Mmh, okay,” Remy shrugged nonchalantly “but if you ever need me to beat a hoe just ask. I don’t mind dirtying up my new Doc Martens.”

Roman chuckled, “Thanks but no thanks, I’ll keep that in mind though.”

“No prob babe,” Then Remy smirked “also, I saw you and Virgil Storm getting along quite nicely yesterday. Anything going on there?”

Remy laughed as Roman groaned again, flushing a deep scarlet before scurrying away “I’m gunna go practice my lines elsewhere.”

---

“Ethan Zuckerman, Associate Professor and Director of the Center of Civic Media, stated that ‘Social media is critically important in giving voice to communities who’ve been systemically excluded from media – people of color, woman, LGBTQIA people, poor people. By giving people a chance to share their under-covered perspectives with broadcast media, social media has a possible role in making the media ecosystem more inclusive and fair’,” Emile Picani stated proudly “we are in an era where word gets around faster and problems can be caught early on to help fix them. We can share information and opinion that everybody can see and sort out issues much faster because of it.”

“Falsehood,” Logan said as soon as Emile finished “what about the manipulation of public opinion over social media platforms which can eventually lead to a critical threat to public life? Samantha Bradshaw, Researcher on the Computational Propaganda project at Oxford University, wrote a paper about how government agencies and political parties are exploiting the use of social media platforms to spread misinformation, exercise censorship and undermine trust in media, public institution, and science. Science Picani!”

“Yes, but where would we have learned any of this without social media,” Emile rebutted “not a lot of people are too keen on the idea of going to the library and reading research papers. Sometimes, small articles online talking about the issue can help spread awareness to others.”

“Yes, but can’t those same articles spread lies and slander at the same time?” Logan countered “Misleading people once more when they could have easily gotten the information from the source.”

“Who says there aren’t articles and groups dedicated to these ideas?” Emile said “In a hilarious state of irony, these groups came together because of social media, they made connections and helped raise awareness towards a common goal. Now, I’m not saying that social media is perfect but it is an important part of our culture. We should be working forward to improve it instead of tearing it down.”

Silence.

Logan chewed at the end of his thumb nail, absolutely stumped on what he should say. He hasn’t been able to think clearly all day. Everything was too loud and too quiet, to fast and too slow, it was driving him crazy.

The buzzer went off and the sound of Mr. Shelton’s voice boomed throughout the room, “Time. Picani wins. Brake time everybody, then we’ll choose teams for the next topic.”

Logan groaned, letting his head drop against the desk with a loud thud. A shadow loomed over him and he turned his head to the side and came face to stomach with Emile Picani’s yellow sweater. He lazily looked up to see the nervous yet concerned smile on Emile’s face.

“May I help you?” Logan mumbled.

Emile shook his head, “No, I was just wondering…are you feeling okay Logan? You were kind of…struggling to keep up back there.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Logan quickly defended, sitting up straight “I just…have a bit of a cold.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Emile quickly backtrack nervously “but, um, are you sure there’s not something else wrong?”

Curse Emile and his advanced human psychology classes. The kid was already super empathetic as it was as well as the second smartest student at the school. Logan being the first of course.

“What ever do you mean?” Logan said blankly, though inside he was panicking.

“You just seem kind of distracted by…” Emile made a vague gesture with his hands “Everything. Like, you’ve just suddenly realized the world is moving around you. Does that make sense?”

Yes, it did but Logan was not about to admit it because if he did Emile would be able to use that little amount of information to pull everything out of him. Emile wasn’t malicious by any means, next to Patton he was the kindest person you’d ever meet. He just had a way of making people feel comfortable enough to open up about their stress and (ugh) feelings.

So, he lied. “No, it does not make sense.”

Emile stared at him for a minute and Logan tried his best not to squirm under his intense gaze. It felt as if he was trying to search through the inner mechanisms of Logan’s brain just by scanning over his physical form. Finally, he blinked, sighing as he gave Logan a half-hearted smile. “You can be a tough cookie to read sometimes. Then there are other times where you’re an open book. It’s all very confusing.”

Logan didn’t know if he liked that metaphor or not so he just said what he thought was appropriate. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, no, you have nothing to be sorry about Logan,” Emile assured anxiously “I’m just being nosy and weird.”

“I don’t think you’re weird.” Logan said honestly. Yes, Emile was childish and liked cartoon but he was also extremally smart and one of the few people Logan can properly debate with without having to dumb down his vocabulary.

Emile blushed but gave a wide genuine smile, “Thanks for thinking so. Um, I’ll get out of your hair now.”

Logan nodded as he watched Emile walk away to socialize with the other members. His head returned to the desk, cheek pressed against the cool plastic wood, as he stared at the clock counting down the minutes left until he could meet the others.

---

They all bumped into each other on the third floor, literally, they were so jittery with nerves and excitement they were practically sprinting towards the roof. They were quick to collect themselves before silently making their way up the fourth floor towards the stairs leading to the roof. They didn’t have to stay silent but just as it’s been all day, they had no idea what to say to each other, plus the paranoia that someone could be listening in like in the bathroom this morning.

They quickly filed out onto the wide-open space of the roof top, each standing about five feet apart from each other, not moving just, not talking, just listening. They hear the construction happening down the street but not just the noise of the machine scraping against the pavement but the conversations between coworkers about getting a beer after work. They could sense the movement of scurrying students beneath them as they all hurried to catch up with friends and walk home. They looked into the distant skyline where the city clustered together and they could make out every detail of every building, tree, person, and sidewalk. They could smell the warm pretzels being sold down town, cigarette smoke in cafes, and cheap perfume from the boys locker room. They could taste the bile building in their throats, the world around them becoming too much, it frightened them.

“What’s happening to us.” Virgil whimpered, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

“I-I have a theory,” Logan stuttered out, taking a deep breath to calm himself “we were all bitten by the same enhanced super spider which had previously gone missing during our field trip to Oscorp yesterday.”

“I thought the guide said it was back in the lab.” Patton squeaked out, frantically looking around for more spiders.

“Yeah, how can you be so sure it’s the same spider?” Roman said skeptically.

Logan slid off his back pack and began rummaging through it until he pulled out a jar full of webbing and a familiar little spider inside. Virgil gawked at his best friend, “You brought it to school?”

“I didn’t trust leaving it at home alone,” Logan stated simply “I feared it would escape.”

“Escape…” the spider hissed “Freedom…”

“It talked!” Roman and Patton shrieked, scrambling backwards a few steps.

“Technically, it didn’t,” Logan said coolly, readjusting his glasses “it’s just that we can now hear at a higher frequency and can now get bits and pieces of conversations from-”

“That’s great Einstein but what does that…thing have to do with how we are now!” Roman cut in, getting more and more frustrated as time went on.

Logan glared at him but decided he was ultimately right and should get to the point, not that he would ever tell Roman that. “If we compare our bug bites, I can assure you that they will all look similar. Assuming that we all suffered the same symptoms afterward, nausea, dizziness, vomiting, memory laps, and/or fainting, then woke up like…this, my hypothesis is that the spider’s venom caused a mutated our DNA.”

“How can you be so sure?” Roman asked, taking a step forward with Patton clinging to the back of his shirt like a koala. Roman was ninety percent sure Patton had gotten himself stuck but that was something to worry about later.

“I mean, the evidence is irrefutable,” Logan said “but to be truly sure I’d have to do a blood test but I currently do not have the equipment for that and neither does the school.”

“Of course, you checked for that,” Virgil sighed, wanting to rub his face but worried his hand would get stuck again “So, what now? Are we gunna take it back to Oscorp or something? Because I’m pretty sure it’ll be mighty suspicious when four teenagers walk up to the front desk carrying a multimillion-dollar spider inside a Crofters jam jar.”

“Cookies!” Patton announced loudly, startling everyone, especially Roman since it was right next to his ear. Patton whispered an apology to his friend before detaching, with a bit of difficulty, from his back and searching through his back pack. He pulled out two clear colorful baggies, one filled with scones and another filled with peanut butter cookies.

Patton stepped forward to gift his friends the cookies only to suddenly stop short, “Um, can you…” he gestured towards the jar in Logan’s hands “p-put it away?”

Logan blinked owlishly before suddenly realizing what he meant and quickly tucked away the creature in his back pack, “Oh, yes, right, your, um, arachnophobia. I apologize for my ignorance.”

“Wow, Logan apologizing,” Virgil gasped in fake awe “that’s a first.”

Logan glared at his best friend but was soon faced to face with a smiling Patton, “I hope you like them. I was going to make them last night but then…ya know, that happened and I was a bit…frazzled this morning. So, tell me if they turn out okay, okay?”

“I’m sure they’ll be quite…adequate.” Logan gulped nervously, Patton was way too close but this wasn’t anything new. Patton seemed to have very little personal space with people he deemed his friends but right now with their newfound abilities he was just a burst of color and energy.

“Let’s hope your right.” Patton giggled before moving towards Virgil who took about two large steps back.

“J-just…put ‘em- on the…the…I’ll get them on the ground.” Virgil stuttered out, his hands moving along with his words as if it would help convey his feelings in the situation at hand.

Thankfully Patton got the hint and smiled warmly as he carefully placed the cookies on the ground before stepping back towards Roman. With a relieved sigh Virgil returned to his spot and picked up the bag, wordlessly nodding his thanks towards Patton.

“So, what are we gunna do?” Roman said, suddenly bursting the friendly atmosphere. He was really on edge right now and it was an overwhelming crushing feeling that just kept growing with every passing minute. “You said earlier this morning that there was someone similar to our situation, who?”

Logan cleared his throat, pulling out his phone and tapping a few things, “Right, well, who is someone that is well known to the public who climbs walls, has super strength, and has sort of spider like tendencies.”

It was silent, the three other teens looked clueless and Logan was just a bit disappointed. He turned to Virgil with a look and said, “Seriously, Virgil?”

“Dude, I can’t remember half the things I’ve done today, okay, everything is just like…” Virgil groaned, waving his arms around “and if I’m honest I’m still kind of freaking out, like, internally and maybe a little bit externally too. I don’t know, give it time.”

“Rainbow Weaver,” Logan said blankly “Rainbow Weaver has these same abilities.”

“Rainbow Weaver?” The trio replied, the wheels finally turning in their head.

“Yes.” Logan nodded.

“Okay, wait,” Roman said “two questions: 1) What makes you think Rainbow Weaver will even consider helping us? And 2) Even if he did, where would we find him?”

Logan continued to tap on his phone before flipping it over to show the other, “According to his fan page on Twitter: on 5th street near main.”

“That’s ten blocks away,” Patton said glumly “we’ll never make it on time.”

“Even if we run that’s at least thirty minutes tops.” Virgil added.

“Anymore bright ideas, pocket protector?” Roman snarked.

“Just about,” Logan said coolly, as he began to collect his things before slinging his backpack securely on himself. He turned a whole 360 degrees before stopping in place and making his way towards the left side of the building. The other’s followed, curious as to what he was looking for, they peered over at a few smaller buildings next door clustered together with signs obscuring the view of the roof tops as they reached higher and higher the deeper you went into the city.

“This’ll do.” Logan said as he began to walk back.

“This’ll do for what?” Virgil asked but he wasn’t answered because Logan was now sprinting back towards them and he wasn’t slowing down.

The others, panicked, blocked his path screaming and begging for him to stop and explain what the hell was going on. But even that did nothing to deter the bespectacled teen because he simply jumped, high. It surprised everyone, including Logan himself, when he was able to leap clear over not only all of them but all the way to the next building. He stumbled on his landing, legs tripping his forward before he was able to finally find his footing. Stunted silence and open mouths were left in his wake before Logan snapped out of his stupor and laughed with all the giddy glee of a child who just met his favorite super hero.

“Oh my god, that was exhilarating!” Logan cheered, waving his arms over at his friends “Come on! Come on! You gotta – you gotta do this!”

“You’re fucking crazy!” Virgil wheezed out, gripping onto the side of the building for dear life.

Roman chewed at his bottom lip before finally sighing and running back, “Fuck it.”

“W-wait, Roman, kiddo!” Patton squeaked “Shouldn’t we think this over first?”

“I did think it over,” Roman said, setting himself up for a running start “and I’m not gunna let iDork get ahead of me.”

“You’re both crazy!” Vigil shrieked.

Roman didn’t answer, instead he charged forward, wind whipping his hair and adrenaline pumping throughout his body. He got to the ledge and quickly used it as leverage to leap up, floating in mid air for just a moment before he came rocketing down towards the roof. He didn’t land as far as Logan but he had a much better landing, legs bent as he shakily straightened himself out. Roman looked towards Logan who was smiling like a mad man and Roman couldn’t help but join in his excitement.

“Holy shit you guys!” Roman exclaimed, jumping up and down “You have to try it! It’s amazing!”

Patton gulped nervously before looking towards Virgil, who was just about ready to have an aneurysm. He extended a nervous hand towards the emo boy and asked begged, “Jump with me.”

“What?” Virgil’s voice cracked as he took a step back “Are you serious?”

“Yes, no, kind of…” Patton whimpered “I don’t wanna do this alone! I’m scared a-and you’re scared too. B-but Logan and Roman were able to do it and more then likely we’ll be able to do it too, s-so with both of us pushing us off we’ll have a better chance of landing safer. Right?”

Virgil looked at Patton like he was insane (which he was!) staring between his face and the hand extended towards him. Finally, after a long silence, Virgil sighed, “Screw it.” And firmly took Patton’s hand as they made there way back towards the center of the building.

“If we fall I’m using you as a cushion,” Virgil threatened, hand squeezing Patton’s tightly “I’m just joking, I’m just…really fucking scared right now.”

“It’s okay,” Patton said warmly, squeezing back just as tight “I am too but you don’t need to jump with me if you don’t want to. I’m sure we can figure another thing out.”

“N-no, no, it’s fine,” Virgil assured quickly “it’s just we gotta do it now before I psych myself out.”

Patton nodded firmly, looking ahead as he and Virgil prepared to sprint forward. They heard shouts of encouragement from Logan and Roman, who were still riding on their adrenaline high, as they began their charge. Blood pumped loudly in their ears, legs picking up traction much faster then they were expecting, and just when Virgil thought he was going to freeze up at the last-minute Patton boosted forward giving him a strong tug before they were finally soaring through the sky. They looked to the sky line, at the busy city and its scurrying people and for a moment it was as if they were flying.

They collapsed into a heaping pile on the roof next door, groaning as Logan and Roman rushed over to help them. Virgil was quick to dust himself off, laughing like a lunatic as he did. “That was awesome!”

“Yeah!” Patton chimed in, jumping to engulf Roman in an excited hug.

“We should be able to reach him if we head this way!” Logan cut in through the excitement, pointing towards the building roof tops heading towards the heart of Manhattan.

The boys looked at each other, momentarily questioning weather this was a good idea, before a sly determined grin spread across their faces and they began to sprint, throwing caution to the wind.

---

“Whooohooo!” Patton screamed joyously as he and his friends ran and jumped across the roof tops at a speed, they did not think was possible for a normal human.

They forgotten the map on Logan’s phone long ago and had no idea where they were going but somehow, they just knew they were going the right way. The tingling sensation at the back of their heads tugged them towards their destination as they enjoyed the rush of wind in their ears and adrenaline in their veins.

They reached their destination in no time but since they did not see their intended target anywhere, they decided to circle around a little to see if they could catch him. Though mainly the boys just wanted to see what they could do with their new-found powers. Climbing up the side of buildings, walking across utility wires, and using abandon construction sights as their own personal jungle gym. Somehow, they ended up on the roof of a pretty tall office building and decided to take a rest.

“Jesus Christ!” Virgil laughed hysterically “We’re so high up!”

“Are you okay?” Logan asked, he was concerned, really, he was, but Virgil’s laughter was contagious and the adrenaline was still buzzing in his system.

“No,” Virgil giggled as he laid down on his back “but give me a minute.”

“Deep breaths, kiddo,” Patton said as he flopped down next Virgil “this is a lot of excitement for one day, even for me.”

“I’ll second that.” Roman agreed as he too joined them on the ground.

Logan shrugged and settled himself between Virgil and Roman, all of them star-fished out in a circle watching the clouds roll by. Silence fell upon them once more as they began to soak in all that had happened to them that day. They weren’t as overwhelmed as they had been that morning, maybe running and jumping across buildings let them take out some of that jittery energy they had stored inside. Don’t get them wrong, they were still kind of freaking out but they were a little more calm about it. Especially since they knew that they weren’t alone in their endeavor. Sure, they might not be able to get Rainbow Weaver to help them but at least they had each other and that was a comfort that they were all truly grateful for.

“Do you think we can shoot spider webs like Rainbow Weaver can?” Roman asked, braking the peaceful silence.

“I’m not quite sure,” Logan said honestly “I tried at home but I just can’t seem to produce anything. Then again, not all spiders can make webs.”

“Hmm, true.” Virgil murmured, eyes closed as he practiced some deep breathing exercises.

Roman sat up, a determined look on his face, “I’m gunna try it.”

“How you gunna do that?” Patton asked, sitting up to face his friend with a slightly worried look in his eyes. Roman had that look again, he always got that look when he had a dangerous idea that would either get him in trouble or injured. It was the same look he had before he jumped off the school roof to chase after Logan.

“Well,” Roman began, hopping up to his feet “first I need to do a test shot. Uh, how does Rainbow Weaver do his…thing?” He began to flex his hand into various positions and poses.

Virgil, who was still on the ground, raised his arm up and did a sort of punk rock gesture, “Like this.”

Thwhip!

Virgil’s eyes snapped open when he heard the sound and felt a sliver of something eject itself from his wrist. He was surrounded by three pairs of shocked eyes as he slowly stood up, looking down at his hand with awe and slight concern.

“Do it again!” Logan said excitedly.

Virgil aimed towards a small utility shed near the other side of the roof and thwiped! A long string of…something shot out from Virgil’s wrist and stuck to one end of the utility shed while Virgil held the other end. “Holy shit!”

“Fascinating,” Logan gasped in awe as he tugged on the silk string “you’re able to create your own webbing and by the feel of it it’s exactly as the guide described it, like steel cables.”

“It feels weird.” Virgil murmured as he detached the end of the string near his wrist.

“I’ll bet.” Roman said, looking over Virgil’s shoulder to get a better look at the webbing.

Patton, meanwhile, was trying to test out if he could do it too, he couldn’t. “Aw, I don’t think it works on me. What about you Roman?”

“Uh, let’s see.” He replied, taking a stance next to Virgil and aiming his arm towards the same shed. He pressed down on his palm with his two middle fingers and…thwip! “Holy shit…that felt weird!”

“I know right!” Virgil chimed in as they all now began to look over Roman’s web string.

“It would seem that me and Patton are incapable of producing web,” Logan deduced “but I’m fairly certain we may be able to produce some sort of silk, as all spiders do. It’s just the means of figuring it out…”

“I’m gunna swing across the other building!” Roman announced suddenly, causing everyone to jump and stare as he raced towards the edge of the building.

They were quickly snapped out of their surprise as they realized what Roman had said and went to chase him down before he did something stupid. Unfortunately, they were not quick enough because Roman had already launched another string of web and was getting ready to jump.

“Roman, wait!” Patton cried.

“It might not be safe!” Logan warned.

“Get down from there you idiot!” Virgil shouted.

“Tally ho!” Roman hollered as he pushed himself off the building and swung through the air.

Roman seemed fine at first, swinging through the air above the busy streets like some sort of extreme swing set. But then he realized, as the building he attached himself to got closer and closer, he had no idea what he was doing or how to stop. The only thing he could do at the moment was shut his eyes, curl up into a ball, and wait for impact. He vaguely recalled hearing the others scream before he was suddenly wooshed up into the air again.

When Roman opened his eyes to see what he had collided with on his way to his impending doom all he could see was rainbow. A rainbow arm holding him tight against a rainbow clad body and when he looked up to see a rainbow masked, white eyed figure a familiar buzzing was felt at the back of his head and he then noticed that the masked figure’s aura was a multi colored light show.

“You’re just like me!” Was all Roman could think to blurt out.

The figure looked down at him, slightly confused, until his eyes widen in sudden realization and he said, “Holy shit, you’re right.”

Once safely back on top of the building Roman was promptly tackled down by a sobbing Patton, “Don’t ever, ever do that again!”

“Yeah, not my brightest moment.” Roman admitted sheepishly.

The reunion was cut short due to a very furious looking Virgil who came stomping over, separated the two friends, then proceeded to punch Roman’s shoulder, hard. The theater geek cried out in protest, taking a few steps back before Virgil could get another swing in, “Ow, what the fuck!”

“You could have gotten yourself fucking killed you moron!” Virgil growled.

“That was very reckless of you, Roman,” Logan added crossly “even for your standards.”

“Oh, sez the one that convinced us to jump off a building,” Roman snapped back “excuse me for trying to follow the ‘smart ones’ lead and thinking this was a good idea.”

“The buildings were closer together and I calculated the right momentum needed to get across!” Logan countered, taking a step towards Roman “Given our new-found abilities it was obvious to be an easy jump!”

“Yeah, for you! How could you have been so certain for the rest of us, smartass?” Roman rebutted, getting up in Logan’s face as well.

“Simple physics really, something that a half wit like you could never understand!” Logan growled.

“Was it really physics or one of your scientific guesses?” Roman sneered.

“It’s called a theory you brainless Neanderthal!” Logan replied.

“Erlenmeyer trash!”

“Drama turd!”

“Cotton headed ninny muggings!”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Jesus Christ there are four of you!” The masked figure said as he got in between the two fighting teens.

Silence overtook the group as they stared up and finally realized who was talking to them. Clad in a rainbow spider themed suit with a sort of glider/cape mesh between his arms, his aura a burst of bright colors, it was the one, the only…

“R-R-Rainbow Weaver!” Virgil squeaked out, completely star structed.

“Yeah, and who might you guys be? Also, what’s going on with…” Rainbow Weaver gestured towards the group as if pointing out the colorful aura he could also see around them “…everything?”

“R-Rainbow Weaver…” Was apparently all Virgil could say now.

“Is everything okay?” Rainbow Weaver said worriedly as he scanned over the group of teens frozen in awe. Not that he wasn’t use to this but he just kind of figured out that these boys might have super powers like him so he really needed answers like now.

“Um, m-mister Rainbow Weaver, sir, uh…” Logan stuttered out, uncharacteristically shy at the moment, “w-we were actually looking for you but we couldn’t – uh, we were searching the city and someone on Twitter said they saw you here – around here and, uh, we kind of, um, wanted to talk…to you…”

“Take your time kid.” Rainbow Weaver soothed gently, the teen looked like he was getting ready to have a stroke.

“We got bit by a spider!” Patton blurted out before covering his mouth shut.

“Okay, go on.” Rainbow Weaver said with an encouraging nod.

Patton bashfully removed his hands from his mouth, fidgeting in place as all eyes were on him now, “Uh, well, we went on a field trip to a science lab thing in Oscorp where they had these creepy, crawly mutant spiders and one of them had escaped but the tour guide said not to worry because it was probably back in the lab, but it wasn’t, so it escaped and some how bit all of us and then we woke up with weird powers like: we can stick to the wall and jump really high and everything is really loud and bright and we have these weird color auras and I couldn’t fit into any of my cute clothes and we didn’t know what to do so Logan said we should find you and ask cause you have similar powers to us so we jumped off the school building and ran around the city to find you but we couldn’t, then Virgil found out he can shoot web but me and Logan can’t so Roman tried to swing to the next building over and almost died and then you came and I’m really scared right now so can you please tell us what’s going on!”

Patton finally stopped to suck in a big gulp of air having been so nervous he said everything in one breath. Roman went over to rub soothing circles on his distressed friend’s back as Patton regained the ability to breath. Rainbow Weaver, meanwhile, was trying to process all that had been said but also make sure that Patton was doing okay.

“Okay, first, I need you to calm down for me,” Rainbow Weaver cooed, a firm hand on Patton’s shoulder “breath in for four…hold for seven…out for eight…good.”

Once Patton was calmed down some Rainbow Weaver continued, “Second order of business, how old are you guys and what are your names?”

“I’m Roman Marigold and I’ll be seventeen in a month,” Roman answered as he hugged Patton close “this is my best friend Patton Foster and he’s seventeen.”

“I’m Logan Quinn,” Logan pipped up, finally pulling himself together “I’m seventeen as well as my friend Virgil Storm here.”

Virgil gave a shy wave, somewhat hiding behind his taller friend, Rainbow Weaver waved back, a kind smile visible through his mask. It seemed odd how quick the boys were to trust him, even if he was a famous super hero, he was still a stranger. But be it because of their weird aura or the kindness in Rainbow Weaver’s voice the boys knew he could be trusted.

“Okay, third order of business, is the spider that bit you guys dead or still crawling around the city?” Rainbow Weaver asked.

“Oh no, I have it in my backpack!” Logan said, quickly removing his backpack and rummaging around for the jar he had it in earlier.

“Excuse me?” Rainbow Weaver said confused before a jar with a colorful, weird looking spider was shoved in his direction. He took a step back to get a better look at it and vaguely heard Patton whimpering fearfully in the background. He sighed, scratching the back of his head, “Well, that’s just great, Oscorp didn’t learn after the first time it happen.”

“First time?” Logan asked curiously, pulling the jar back towards his chest, the spider skittering nervously.

“How do you think I got like this?” Rainbow Weaver chuckled, hollow and devoid of enthusiasm “But, yeah, this has happened before. A few years back, when I was in high school actually, god only knows what they’ve been able to do now with all the technological advances throughout the years.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked, curiosity finally letting him find his voice.

“Well, I-” Rainbow Weaver began but was cut off by four loud rumbling stomachs. His eyes widen with surprise at the blushing teens before bursting out into laughter. “God, you kids must be hungry. Having mutant powers will take a lot out of you, I’ll tell you that, especially if you’re still a growing teenager. How ‘bout we go out and get something to eat and I’ll try to explain everything as best as I can?”

“But don’t you have to watch the city?” Roman asked.

Rainbow Weaver shrugged, “It ain’t going nowhere, besides I have my ways of figuring out if I’m needed or not.”

“Um, are you sure?” Virgil asked timidly “We don’t want to keep you from, you know, important things.”

“Kid, right now this is the most important thing on my list,” Rainbow Weaver assured “I know for sure I would have liked someone to talk to when I was going through all this mess.”

“Um, mister Rainbow Weaver,” Patton chirped “not that we aren’t thankful that you’ll help but wouldn’t we look suspicious walking together on the street or jumping across buildings with you?”

“Not if I’m in civilian clothes, which by the way, I should have a pack here somewhere.” Rainbow Weaver wandered off towards the utility shed across the building and opened it to reveal a plain black backpack squished under an electrical control panel.

“Civilian?” Roman said aloud before realizing what was happening “Wait, isn’t revealing your true identity against some sort of hero’s code or something? I mean, unless you’re the Avengers but-”

“It’s fine,” Rainbow Weaver cut in having already finished changed, they hadn’t even turned away for a full minute! He was wearing some worn, baggy clothes that had probably come from a thrift store and was now stuffing his Rainbow Weaver costume into his bag, all was left was the mask he still had on. “I mean you can’t expect us to have an open honest conversation with each other if I’m hiding behind a mask, right?”

Casually, as if he wasn’t just entrusting four teenagers with his biggest secrete, Rainbow Weaver removed his mask to reveal a familiar face that had Roman and Patton silently squealing, Virgil to be even more star struck, and caused Logan’s jaw to hit the floor. The man before them ruffled his peppered brown hair nervously as he gave a lopsided smile, “Uh, hi, my name is Thomas Sanders…we have a lot to talk about.”

Spanish Spoken:

“Rest a little, my love, the doctor said you had a sickness that had been going around. Patton has it too, but I've heard that he's fine now, he just needs to rest. Do not go to school if you do not feel like it. There is a broth in the refrigerator to heat up if you are hungry.”

“Stupid sticky hands!”

 Song mentioned:

Lovely by Billie Eillish

Tag:

@immortaldystopia @metaphoricalpluto2 @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @misunderstood-shadow @fairytailtwists @0callmevirge0

[mizu-writes-kumo]

Qb shiro, geeky nerd Lance, biker kuro. College.

This was admittedly harder to do than I expected. I wrote with a gen sort of pairing in mind, since I wasn’t give a ship exactly. But I suppose it could be read in whatever way you wish.

I hope you enjoy it!

You can also read it here on AO3

–

“Oh, oh okay, I think I get it!”  Shiro said excited as he looked at his notebook.  

His pencil at the ready as he started at the work on the page.  He moved to start for second before hesitating a fraction of a second later with a look of puzzlement on his face.  And each time his confidence deflating more and more. Until…

”No, no I don’t have it.”  He groaned miserably as he dropped his head down on the table.

“Careful, brother, your head already gets hit enough every game.”  The voice of Kuro, Shiro’s younger twin brother said in a teasing tone.  And he laughed loudly as Shiro growled at the words.  “Hey, I am just looking out for you. You’re going to need all the brain function you can get for your rocket science degree.”

“It’s atroscience. ”  Shiro corrected, head still on the table.

Kuro chuckled lightly at the comeback.  Causing Shiro to lift his head just enough to glare at his brother on the other side of the booth.  Which only made Kuro chuckle more as he slouched back as he took a drink from his shake. Sticking his tongue out behind the straw as Shiro continued to look at him.

Before Shiro kicked his brother’s shin.

A gentle chuckle beside Shiro cut off Kuro before he could curse and retaliate.  Shiro turned to the sound to find Lance half rolling his eyes behind the frames of his glasses.  Shaking his head at them, in the oversized Star Wars hoodie Shiro and Kuro had gotten him when they visited Japan like three years ago.

“Play nice you two.”  Lance huffed lightly, as he moved to reach for Shiro’s notebook.  To place it more in the middle of Shiro and him. “We’re in public. And Kuro’s already getting us a few stares as it is.”  Kuro gasped loudly like he took a offense to comment. “What you look like Biker extra from a movie set?”

Shiro chuckled as Kuro grumbled into his shake.  Stating all he was doing was wearing a moto jacket, his nice one with no patches.  And like ripped black jean with a white shirt and combat boots. He looked biker inspired not…full on biker.  Not mention he was sipping a cookie dough milkshake, he was like no level of threatening about it.

Lance shook his head beside Shiro before he turned to look at the notebook.

“Okay, why don’t you tell me what your not getting?”  Lance asked softly.

“All of it.”  Shiro explained dramatically as he flopped against the table.

“And that is why I took Japanese for my language credit.  Easy A.” Kuro stated with a hum.

“Which is totally cheating.”  Shiro countered back with a sharp glare and pointed finger.

“How?”

“We’re Japanese , Ryou.  It was literally our first language, and we lived in Japan for like five years.  You can’t take a class for a language you already know. That’s cheating and a waste of like everyone’s time.”

Kuro rolled his eyes as he shrugged.

But he doesn’t say anything back.  They’ve have this argument like once a week since Shiro started taking Spanish 1.  Because Shiro didn’t want easy, despite…well like everyone in the athletics department wanting him to take easy courses.  Can’t have the school’s star quarterback flunking out of any sort of class.

Shiro doesn’t care though.  He figured Spanish should be enough of a challenge to not feel like a walk in the park.  As well as have the Athletics Department relaxing because that was standard and easy.

“Plus, he wouldn’t have the best Spanish tutor in the whole universe.”  Lance stated proudly.

“Shiro corrected your spelling like ten minutes ago.”  Kuro pointed out lazily.

Lance gasped in dramatic fashion at the words.  Like how dare Kuro say something like that to his face.  “It’s was a common mistake native speakers make all the time.”  Lance returned with a pointed huff.

“Yeah, Kuro.”  Shiro said supportively.

“Fine then,”  Kuro said as he turned back to his own notebook.  “I won’t proof either of your papers for grammatical errors next time you ask.”

“You won’t dare!”  Lance hissed.

Kuro hummed thoughtfully.

In a way, Shiro knows is a lie.  Well at least for towards Lance. Kuro can never really tell Lance no.  Nor would he ever willingly let Lance turn in a paper that without at least a friendly glance over and proof.  He wanted Lance to have the best shot at a good grade. With Shiro…he would probably follow through until Shiro was begging and offering to do some chores for a week.  And even then he would still probably resist.

“Help me with Spanish please.”  Shiro pleased lightly and dramatically.  Pulling Lance’s attention from his brother.  “Please, I’ll owe you forever and ever.”

“You already owe me forever, so I’ll take the additional ever.”  Lance said with a warm smile.

Before he launched into explaining conjugations for Shiro again.  As well as when and how to use each one correctly, with a few helpful examples.  Then carefully walked to Shiro through a set of his units vocab words. Then Shiro had a go with Lance watching closely to make sure he was getting the hang of it.

Kuro would interject a comment here and there.  But also started work on his own homework and study he needed to for his classes.

“Hey, you’re coming to the game next week right Lance?”  Kuro asked once he finished the work he needed to get done…or he was just bored of doing.  “You’re not leaving me to cheer my idiot smart brother alone again are you.”

“Keith, Matt, and Hunk went where there with you last time.”  Shiro shot back.

“They’re not as fun.”  Kuro returned.

“Yeah, I’ll be there, so you can relax, Kuro.”  Lance stated as turned his attention to the plate of fries in the middle of their table.  “I cleared the whole day. Especially since we lost last game, and Shiro took that nasty hit.  Because apparently I am a good luck charm or something.”

“Well more like a pre-game ritual,”  Kuro huffed playfully, and Lance laughed.  “Shiro is a superstitious maniac on game day.  You know I can’t do laundry the day before, on, or after game day.  And Shiro has to eat a hard boiled egg for breakfast, as well as shine his helmet while–”

“No, Kuro, shut up , you loser.  Lance, don’t listen to him, you the best good luck charm anyone could ask for.”  Shiro said as he glanced up from his work.

Lance laughed lightly in reply.  “Oh, I know.” Lance said smugly.

Shiro felt his cheeks heat up a bit at the words.

He turned back quickly to his Spanish homework.  He ignored the way Kuro chuckled knowingly at the action.  Or mostly he ignored Kuro. Shiro did after all kick his brother in the shin again.

And Kuro returned the action quickly.

Lance just rolled his eyes on them as he proceeded to pick at the fries.

–

AN: I hope you enjoyed this! 

Also again, tumblr took out my italics and I am just too lazy to put it back int.

[minteagalaxea]

the devil’s angel | song mingi

mingi and raehyun

genre: fluff, sporadic steamy bits

word count: 4.1k

inspiration: mingi during the damn say my name photoshoot, a compilation of things at high school. i was just the person that heard it, and “hell’s kitchen angel” by max schneider.

note: i’m back, if anyone actually wanted to know. 

If there was a universal truth in the world of KQ High School, it was that Song Mingi loathed cheerleaders as if his life depended on it; nobody understood its origins or the reasoning, simultaneously never interrogating him over it, either, given his notorious reputation. He personified danger, with his lip piercing, sleek motorcycle, baritone voice, and a myriad of ever-constantly-changing colors of hair. While it earned him a group of admirers, he appraised his attention on a girl that defied the principle he lived by—Park Raehyun.

She wasn't loud like her fellow counterparts, opting to remain independent from their antics, more thoughtful in regards to her actions, placing her academic record above her extracurriculars as an object of adoration for the athletes. The girl carried herself with silent fortitude, confident in her ability to remain relatively unknown amongst those in her circuit, yet immediately noticeable with her ombre purple hair, styled to perfection. Whereas he could hear whatever Top Forty song the other girls played, Raehyun settled on classic R&B and underrated albums, her movements to the music rhythmic in comparison to the attention-seeking gimmicks of flips and tumbles. 

Perhaps, Mingi decided, her style of dress outside of her traditional cheerleader uniform was why he remained so enamored with her—described by her adoptive elder brother, Seonghwa, as, quote-unquote, preppy baddie (consisting of plaid skirts, cropped turtlenecks, boots, and ever-so-constant fishnet stockings) Park Raehyun's sense of style starkly paralleled the pastel miniskirts and blazers of her teammates.

Raehyun observed his predatory eyes preying on her, a seductive wink in his agenda, her skintight uniform and ponytailed hair providing an incentive to defy all concepts of public decency—her instinctive reaction was to cower away from the scrutinizing attention, yet she resolved to deliver him a sarcastic roll of her eyes trademark to her taciturn persona. As she averted her attention away from the boy with the freshly-dyed brown hair and lip piercing, Raehyun detected the message he wished to convey to her—good luck tonight—her onyx eyes relaying one of her own, departing with her teammates—thank you, I love you.

Advanced Astrology proved a bustling affair as students mingled with each other to analyze one another's natal charts while simultaneously speaking of whatever romantic drivel was occurring during the school week. Silence her ally, Raehyun deftly transmitted a text message to Mingi, bewildering him as he received questions regarding his birth, of which he attempted to answer to the best of his ability, intrigued and excited at the prospect of having a proper natal chart. A classroom on the opposing end of campus, Mingi's only solace in his class of boisterous students was recalling his first encounter with Park Raehyun, an incident that remained ingrained in his cognizance due to the ironic humor. 

Raehyun once sold brownies in her freshman year to fund the junior varsity team for their preliminary competition travel; however, on a particular occasion in their shared chemistry class, a swarm of teenagers barricaded her, demanding for something along the lines of weed-laced brownies, startling the cheerleader. A moment of contemplation later, and she realized the culprit behind her newfound semi-notoriety: Kim Hongjoong had made a sarcastic comment to Lee Minho regarding her brownies—"these brownies taste reminiscent to one with marijuana"—and Minho, a publicly known recreational user of the drug, released the word out to his fellow student body. 

A pair of long fingers assisted her in the silent distribution, handing out the pastries as Raehyun managed the monetary portion of her temporary business, a sigh breathing past her violet mauve lips as she held the final bag of her supposedly weed-laced treats, her fingers briefly grasping his as the cheerleader inserted the gift into his hands. She evaded any form of eye contact with the taller male, Mingi's leather coat, threaded blue hair, and lip piercing intimidated her, regardless of how well she associated with him, or his like.

"Apologies," he started, baritone voice startling her in kind, positioning himself in the seat next to Raehyun's as the girl proceeded to review the test information, "Hongjoong's deadpanned comment led to this, I presume."

"Regardless, I sold all of my brownies, even if it required your friend to state that it contained tetrahydrocannabinol in them," her voice responded, a gentle timbre as her eyes maintained its attention on the assignment directly in front of her, "Tetrahydrocannabinol is the predominant active ingredient in marijuana," she supplied, eliciting a brief chortle likened to billowing windchimes. 

"Song Mingi," the taller boy introduced, enough for the petite young lady to peer up at him, appearing less imposing as his eyes softened and lips parted into a gummy smile, fortunate their classmates failed to observe it, preoccupied with the addicting brownies.

"Legally, it's Park Raehyun; however, it was previously Lexington Marie Park," she mused, shaming herself due to her delayed knowledge that he knew who she was, considering her relationship with her elder brother, one of Mingi's closest and most loyal friends.

Despite her shying away from him in partial embarrassment, the warm, baritone chuckle directly in her ear as he mused, "Raehyun is stunning," sufficient for the brunette's cheeks to bloom a rosy fuschia.

Long strides alongside a devilish smirk greeted Raehyun's peripheral vision as her teacher returned her designed natal chart to the student, praises overflowing from his lips at her diligence, the cheerleader only bidding farewell after a gentle "thank you" of kindness, traipsing outside to have the imposing young man snake his arm around her waist. 

"According to your natal chart, your Ascendant Scorpio sign indicates that the presentation of your character is intimidating, bordering on malicious, yet your Cancer Moon details that you're simultaneously an emotional wreck that holds grudges," Raehyun explained. "Your Venus-Mars combination states that you carry a subtle allure, which naturally coincides with the knowledge that you embody an unusually romantic sexual energy," she mused, attempting to stifle a bout of amusement, "From my personal experience, I would agree with that sentiment—perhaps it describes you overly so."

Seonghwa had once entrusted Raehyun to manage their apartment while he accompanied his friends as the designated driver in their outing to a football afterparty his junior and her sophomore year, as their parents had business affairs to attend to, and the younger sister held an aversion to large social gatherings that involved alcohol and drugs.

Her voice reverberated throughout the pristine white walls of her apartment bedroom, an ability she suppressed from the general populace to spare her from garnering mass attention from unwanted others. Raehyun's singing reached a note that bewildered a young man as he ascended the terrain of fire escapes, body aching when he reached his desired destination; "Raehyun?" he called, gentle undertones painting his tone as said girl's expression contorted from confusion to fretful, exerting her entire might into heaving the taller boy past the narrow window. Rushing out of the haven of her bedroom to retrieve a first aid kit stowed away in the depths of the adopted siblings' shared bathroom (a futile attempt to cover the knowledge that their adopted daughter was consistently tending to an unruly group of high school students that may or may include their son). 

The purple-haired girl silently, deftly, treated the wounds of the boy with the now caramel brown hair, disregarding his winces and hisses haplessly as the antiseptic-soaked cotton ball made way to his cheek. "Relax," Raehyun informed, resonance atypically harsher than her usual gentle mannerisms, "You were willing to sustain the injuries when you hurled yourself into this situation; I suppose you can endure some rubbing alcohol and antiseptic." Obedient to her instructions, Mingi maintained silence despite his desire to press his lips onto her with an intense fervor, never overlooking the sight of pink hue on Raehyun's complexion, especially following her statement of, "Remove your shirt." 

"Pardon?" he replied instantaneously, incredulously even, at the abrupt request; in his astonished daze, the exasperated cheerleader shrugged off the inky black coat, followed promptly by his turtleneck, exposing a mismatched array of bruises that hadn't healed properly, and fresh scars from whatever incident Mingi stumbled himself into that he refused to explain to Raehyun. Her sharp fingernails grazed against the boy's waist, cheeks dyed a rosy tint upon the sight of a shirtless young man, contrary to her upbringing as a Barbadian, applying pressure to the myriad of wounds against the surface of his skin with a fresh cotton ball.

"Would you mind providing me an explanation as to how you managed to acquire these bruises?" Raehyun surmised, Mingi immediately detecting a delicately quirked eyebrow directed at his countenance, attempting to shroud the growing desire to scream in agony with the athletic tape replacing the sting of the antiseptic when her clawlike nails swept against his abdomen. 

"A student thought it would be amusing to try his hand at making some...sexual comments intended for you, which pissed me off enough to get into a fight after school," Mingi recanted in brief, her warm eyes freezing into a glare as biting as puncturing icicles, and the boy refrained from recoiling in surprise.

"Mingi, I'm from the Carribean"—Raehyun tore the athletic tape to seal her wrappings—"It would be scandalous had someone not make such a comment at least once; you shouldn't have lost your temper from such jargon."

The boy shook his head vehemently, vexation overcoming him as he growled, "The words were vile, Lex, Yunho had to restrain Seonghwa from attacking him; I protected your reputation, considering you could lose everything."

"Don't preach to me about upholding whatever reputation I have"—the violet-haired girl propelled herself off of the comfort of her bed, inching precariously close to the recently-dyed brunette with an uncharacteristic fire burning in her eyes—"Whatever statements and accusations they choose to say about me is none of your concern." The warmth of the candlelight allowed Mingi to see her features with more clarity, from her sharp cheekbones and almond eyes (the only similarity between her and her adoptive brother) to the birthmark located next to her left eye and her heart-shaped lips, currently parted as Raehyun elicited a huff of frustration directed at the taller male.

She gasped as he abruptly tugged her into him via her waist, her arms latching onto his biceps as she peered up at him, whatever hostility previously prevent evaporating as the young boy in front of her caressed her waist with a gentle, uncharacteristically so, fervor. "It becomes my motherfucking concern when they speak about my girl with that type of vulgar language," Mingi growled, roughly slamming his lips onto hers with an assertive ardor that it nearly paralyzed Raehyun into a state of nonreaction. 

Parting away from the kiss, Raehyun slammed his figure towards her bedroom door, the prospect of its integrity falling apart at the corner of her mind as she retorted, "Who said that I was your girl, Song Mingi?"

Recuperating from the surprising amount of force Raehyun exerted against him, he towered above her sitting posture, her eyes narrowed into serpent-like slits, unwavering as he leaned down with his hands propped against either side of her frame, her legs and arms crossed once more—"Me, Park Raehyun."

"Liar," Raehyun seethed, a chill overcoming her as a devilish smirk etched itself onto his countenance, subconsciously grateful her stockings were removed a while earlier; pressing featherlight kisses on the crook of her neck, progressing into obscure nips and bites around her ear, knowing full well that her turtleneck sweater irritated the young man in front of her. 

"With pleasure, babygirl," he whispered in kind, returning to paint a nebula of purple across her flesh, Raehyun's eyes fluttering shut as her head tilted upwards, a hitched whimper easing its way past her vocal cords, a sound that Mingi discovered was his absolute favorite sound, determined to derive the mellifluous tune out of her throughout the evening.

The violet-haired cheerleader twirled her pen between the grip of her fingers, organizing her system of ideas as she articulated them into her exam paper, ignoring the look her fellow teammate bored into her skull during the silent testing session and not privy of the glare directed at the other cheerleader from her boyfriend. Raehyun applied her attention to concluding her paper, strutting forward to the front of the classroom, the final student to finish her exam paper with meticulous consideration, submitting her essay to her teacher, a furtive nod approving her entry, her classmates heaving sighs of relief upon the notion they could finally speak to each other. 

"Why do you like him so much?" the girl, Kwon Jisoo, interrogated Raehyun, shuddering fear as her fretful eyes widened at having Mingi pierce his unyielding gaze at her; from his peripheral line of vision, said boy detected Raehyun's biting stare.

"Pardon?" Raehyun wondered, her center of attention now a technological conversation with the boy with the lip piercing and swept blue hair, exchanging a relay of flirtatious, bordering suggestive, messages that previously would leave the cheerleading captain flustered, yet now relatively desensitized in reaction, progressively mustering more courage to counter his darker thoughts with feisty rebuttals of her own. 

"Song Mingi isn't like us," Jisoo interjected, "His reputation is starkly different from ours, especially yours—you have absolute stellar grades, a prestigious spot on the KQ social hierarchy, and virtually every boy on campus at your beck and call—why would you settle for less than your worth and risk your entire reputation for a troublemaker like him?"

"I never realized the term 'us' existed until now," Raehyun responded coolly, swerving her figure to face her teammate with an unreadable expression, "I also had the realization that my romantic life is none of yours to be privy about." Receiving the note of excuse from a member of the ASB crew, Raehyun exited the premises with a wry grin on her face, Mingi sending Jisoo an assertive, bordering cocky, grin in her vicinity, the other cheerleader eliciting a groan in vexation from her captain's frustrating companion.

The pep rally permeated with people, almost compact as the lights dimmed and the notary introduction of "Partition" by Beyoncé indicated the opening performance of the rally, displaying the intricate movements and stunts that Raehyun had spent weeks choreographing, teaching, and reviewing with her teammates. Seonghwa and Yunho, both athletes for the football team, identified the former's sister with ease, her golden complexion her most distinguishing attribute amidst the clique of pallor. Her movements reflected her natural demeanor, highlighting the acquired combination of aggressive precision, sultry gazes, and poised winks that the cheer captain knew would anger Mingi into oblivion, and Seonghwa could only watch as his younger sister and best friends, San and Wooyoung,  incorporated a series of seductive steps in time with the French in the song.

Following their ending poses, the student body president began their rhetoric in thanking the students for attending the rally, placing acknowledgment on Raehyun for her bombastic choreography as she bashfully bowed in thanks as the cheers roared before fleeing the scene, immediately meandering over to the tall-limbed bad boy. Mingi pulled her in close to him, Raehyun standing in between his legs as he sat on the concrete benches sequestered away from their fellow peers; as her two male cheerleader friends arrived, the captain couldn't resist the urge to stick her tongue out at their impishness, a perfunctory smirk on the girl's lips. 

"Your comment surprised me earlier, babygirl," Mingi commented, noting her perplexed expression, "Whatever you said to Jisoo in history class before leaving for the rally—did she always think that way?"

"Don't mind her, Mingi," Raehyun concluded, tilting his chin upward to have her large brown eyes inspect into his own, the scent of his cologne (Allure by Chanel: the girl spent months saving up money to procure him the gift), "Her high school ideology differs from ours, especially when you consider her family's legacy attending this high school." Following her statement, she leaned down to peck his lips briefly, only for it to deepen as he tugged the small of her back towards his tight embrace, the lack of discretion much to her personal entertainment and his satisfaction. 

The stadium lights illuminated the cheerleaders' beaming grins and upbeat as they led chants for their audience to follow, ranging from spoken cheers to rhythmical feet-thumping that felt like an earworm more than an actual song. Seonghwa, on the field, preparing to catch Yunho's throw, jolted slightly at the sight of his younger sister and her pompoms enthusiastically providing him support, voice carrying louder than intended, the quarterback amused at her antics. 

"I have never heard her cheer as passionately as she does," Seonghwa remarked following their touchdown, admiring his younger sister as her teammates held the girl steady as the touchdown song resonated from the marching band, exciting their audience with the opening lead, "Perhaps if Mingi played football, Raehyun would cheer even louder."

Said boy caught the whiff of her trademark perfume during the halftime, her hair matted with sweat as she performed her routine, displaying her most well-rounded stunts and tricks with an enthused swagger that made her movements seem effortless—at that moment, he supposed, he became her own cheerleader, with resounding cries of support for her. It naturally was a  far parallel from the traditional narrowed slit for eyes and aggressive frown, but the cheerleading captain appreciated the gesture nonetheless, briefly delivering him a smile before continuing her routine, and Raehyun properly kissed him following their victory, anticipating the impish growls from their friends, particularly their youngest and second-eldest in their circle, Jongho and Hongjoong.

"Care accompanying me to the afterparty tonight, my devil?" she mused against his lips, the sultry smirk intentionally provoking the leather-clad boy to a less-than innocuous reaction, and the girl understood his hidden, impure intentions. Mingi returned the gesture with a sensual grin of his own, parting with her to allow photography, either of the two of them, Raehyun's cheer team, her brother (who thought it amusing to lift her in midair), and her immediate friend circle, childlike expressions and antics that reminded her of her first encounter with them:

Seonghwa, the more lively Park sibling, invited her to a group outing with his group of friends, the only people of which she had a personal rapport with being Wooyoung and San, the male freshmen cheerleaders that she captained in their junior varsity division, and even with their relationship as teammates, Raehyun never engaged in anything aside from professional matters. Thus, it felt more like a surprise to her that her two male teammates were consuming alcohol until obscurity, yet, she was unable to complain, as the girl herself was holding a glass of pinot noir, the stem between her middle and ring finger as she spectated the festivities in front of her vision with a detached observance. 

Her two teammates and Yunho, the energetic quarterback, were dancing to some voracious song playing on the vinyl player, Wooyoung already experiencing whiplash from bobbing his head back and forth too intensely, the other two not too far behind. 

Yeosang, a classmate in her Introduction to Comparative Literature class, revealed himself to be a quite clingy drunk, expressing his love to his company to the point of near-suffocation, in Raehyun's perspective, noting several instances in which he engaged in displays of affection that she visibly stiffened at. 

Jongho, a middle schooler that was supposedly related to San in some shape or form, proved to be unusually combative, nearly punching Yeosang under the duress of his bourbon-induced stupor, while Hongjoong from her chemistry class spouted expletives that made her wonder how exactly did he manage to maintain his creative brain, despite his fifth bottle of Dos Equis Amber. 

Yet, the real question of the evening was how exactly did Seonghwa, the reliable, mature, calm, and more level-headed sibling between the Park duo, decide at the moment to perform a strip-tease performance, mortifying his younger sister as she aggressively flung the articles of clothing back to her brother, unsuccessfully shielding her eyes from the display of skin.

Raehyun's only solace happened to be the only other relatively sober person—the tall, lanky-limbed boy with acne on his cheekbones spectated the affairs with an air of indifference, taking a sip of his Bohemia before slamming it down onto the glass table, inverse to the wisp-like motions of the girl resting her wine glass against the glass surface.

"Should I offer an apology to you now for their idiocy, or should I abstain until they have warring hangovers tomorrow?" Mingi proposed, a scoff escaping the cheerleader's lips in amusement.

"Don't offer me one, then," she acknowledged airily, "They were the ones that suggested this outing; therefore, they should handle the repercussions of their actions without our assistance." Concluding her statement, Raehyun maneuvered her figure so that her left arm clung onto the head of the chair, her legs crossed right over left on the chair's arm, flaunting her form-fitting romper and stockings to the boy in interest, the mesh fabric exposing the navel piercing from years prior; "Is there something you like, Mr. Song?" she inquired.

"Something I like quite much," he responded, intentionally neutral—it dawned upon Mingi that the seductive smirk was an expression Raehyun trained to perfection, perhaps during her period in Barbados, during a time where her unchecked behavior allowed her to reap benefits far too mature for her legal age.

Desire was a local hotspot heavily driven by their teenage audience, as established by the purple-haired cheerleader when she witnessed a litany of her fellow classmates inhabit the club; yet, she heeded them no mind as she resided on Mingi's lap, allowing him to nuzzle his nose into the crook of her neck. The traditional, casual wear of her cropped sweater, plaid skirt, fishnets, and stiletto boots presented the illusion that she was a gangster's girl (which she indeed partially was), not privy to her squeaky-clean facade as the head of KQ's Varsity Cheerleading. Raehyun basked in the sensation of Mingi kissing and suckling on the spot behind her ear that he knew would make her elicit his favorite whimper, a product of becoming highly attuned to her, with all their restless nights at his apartment and her own when her parents and brother left her to her independent activities in the nighttime.

Yet, the girl felt her evening of intentional peace ruined, as an angry Jisoo stormed over towards the small clique of friends, Mingi halting his actions temporarily to deliver a preemptive glare at his girlfriend's fellow cheerleader. "You seriously think that you're able to get away with everything because your boyfriend happens to be the most notorious person on campus?" Jisoo spat, her captain resting her empty on Mingi's thigh, placating him temporarily as she rose from her seating arrangement, her posture upright with an air of sophisticated and refined confidence (much like her image, of which she was forced to cultivate), starkly differing from her teammate's brazen recklessness, hair disheveled and sweat permeating her features.

"Isn't there something more entertaining than attempting to poke a peaceful bear, Jisoo?" Raehyun questioned dryly, the boredom in her voice noticeable to her close friends, all of whom stifled a chuckle at her straightlaced humor.

"That bear is not peaceful, Raehyun—he's already manipulated you into becoming somebody you aren't," Jisoo reasoned, "You began attending nightclubs the more you interacted with him, wearing revealing outfits because of him, and I caught you smoking an electronic cigarette the other evening with him."

"How bold of you to make the assumption that I didn't perform this exact shit before I even moved to South Korea, Kwon Jisoo," she deadpanned icily, Wooyoung cackling at the barbed humor that earned himself a warning glance from Mingi, "Besides, you are not my parents, and you certainly do not carry my interests in mind."

A frustrated whine escaped Jisoo's lips, storming off angrily while Raehyun breathed a sigh of relief, retreating to the soothing embrace of her boyfriend, who allowed her to return his initial favor, raking both sets of her fingers through his fluffy, currently silver-turquoise hair, pressing featherlike kisses against the side of his angular jawline, maneuvering downwards towards his neck. 

Mingi hissed as she bit firmly on the tender spot marking the bridge between his ear and carotid artery, eyeing him with an innocuous gaze; he established that in their position, she genuinely appeared reminiscent of a gangster's girl, but Mingi didn't mind—he never did, to begin with. 

"Who would have ever thought that the angelic beauty would have a devilish side to her," he remarked, fingers skating from the nape of her neck to the bottom of her spine, Raehyun initially shuddering from the coolness of his fingers.

"Well," the girl mused, "It appears to me that every devil needs to have a guardian angel, and every angel needs to have a guardian devil to watch over each other." Pressing her lips to his, they allowed the dark, red, hazy glow to bask over them lightly, Mingi making a mental note to remember the current song that was playing over the loudspeakers.

Hell's Kitchen Angel—red, hot, and dangerous You broke the devil's poor heart with the way that you're loving me. I said, "Hell's Kitchen Angel—red, hot, and dangerous." You're a little too much for most, but you're just right for me.

[jackiforjustice]

hiya everyone! I’m dev ( use any pronouns, mine are up in the air rn ), and this is my social justice baby jacki! please hmu for plotting - I’d love to really develop something with each of you! bio below!

trigger warnings for racism, sexism, and police brutality.

✘ CHARACTER BASICS

Skeleton Title: The Cavalier Faceclaim: Laura Harrier Jacqueline “Jacki” Reynolds | Twenty-Two | Cis-Female | She/Her | May 18th

✘ CHARACTER BACKGROUND

The Gist: 

Jacqueline is the oldest daughter of Susan and Barry Reynolds. Born in 1969, just two years after the Supreme Court Case Loving v. Virginia legalized interracial marriage across the United States, Jacqueline was one of the first interracial children in her small Idaho hometown. 

A couple years and two younger brothers later, the Reynolds family decided to move to Graingerville to be closer to a big city. It was clear from a very young age that Jacqueline was smarter than her years - she exceeded in school from day one, and always preferred reading to the rowdy games at recess. 

Although she was incredibly intelligent for her age, Jacki always had trouble fitting in. The other black kids thought she wasn’t black enough because of her white mother; the white kids took one look at her rich dark skin and knew she wasn’t one of them. While she managed to find her own group of friends who didn’t care much either way in terms of her race, the underlying discrimination and confusion based on being from a mixed family stuck with her for a long time.

When Jacki entered middle school, her father started telling her stories of his own adolescence - while Jacki worried about math quizzes and essays, Barry was fighting for his rights every single day. He became a lawyer because of it, and after hearing about the Civil Rights Movement directly from him and her other relatives, Jacki decided she wanted to be a lawyer too.

As Jacki got older, her peers began partying more often, rebelling against their parents to make a statement, to be reckless and bold with no apologies. Jacki tried that phase for a minute (but quickly ended when she realized she cared more about what her parents thought of her than her friends from school). Instead of completely locking herself away from the other teenagers in Graingerville, she chose a more proactive route: everyone at her high school knew if they needed a designated driver, Jacki would be there to lend a helping hand. 

By the end of her sophomore year in high school, Jacki had a perfectly laid-out plan of how to get into either Harvard, Yale, or Stanford majoring in Political Science. Her parents were undoubtedly impressed, and worked to help her achieve her big dreams of getting into top notch schools. 

Needless to say, her plan worked. After graduating as valedictorian from her high school, Jacki was off to Yale majoring in Political Science with a minor in American History. Yale pushed Jacki to her absolute limits in the best way - she worked harder than ever, made lifelong friends, and even had her first boyfriend (his name was Liam, and they dated for one semester before she dumped him during finals week because he was distracting her). 

Although Jacki entered college with the hopes of becoming a lawyer, the more she learned about the Civil Rights Movement and the treatment of black people in American history, the more she wanted to immediately help those in need. She had been eyeing the possibility of Law School for a while, but it wasn’t until she moved back home to Graingerville post-college graduation that she changed her career path slightly.

The Big Freakout Event of 1990 threw her family for a loop. Her younger brothers were just about to start their sophomore and senior years of high school, her mother had just been promoted at the hospital, and her father had just won a huge case against the unjust arrest of two young black men. But when people with psionic powers and lizard deers terrorize the streets out of the blue, the world sort of pauses for a while. 

When the dust had settled from the craziness of the BFE, Jacki found herself wanting to help more directly. Being a lawyer helps those accused of a crime - she wanted to help protect the people of Portland from...whatever the crazy shit out there was. She was still torn between being a lawyer or moving to a different career choice when another event influenced her decision.

In March of 1991, Rodney King was horrendously beaten by police officers in Los Angeles. It was unjust, it was unfair, and it was entirely based on race. The trial for the police officers in question was scheduled for the following year, as these sorts of things take time, but it was that one event (and reading about other racist events prior to the Rodney King beating), that led Jacki to join the Portland Police Department.

She was the top of her class at the Police Academy (she’s always had a penchant for rules and regulations), and with marks like that, she was absolutely sure she’d start making tidal waves once she was officially on the force.

Unfortunately, they had her saving cats from trees, dealing with parking tickets, and lost elderly people roaming the streets. 

The Emerging Threats Unit looks better and better by the day. Jacki’s dreamed of helping people since she was little - why won’t the higher ups let her just do it? She’s starting to get sick of pushing papers around while she could be making the world a better place. Luckily, that Yale degree is coming in handy - she’s doing her best to study up on the supernatural stuff going on around town, and she’s determined to be the expert on all things crazy in this place if it kills her.

Jacqueline Reynolds has no supernatural powers unless you count her unnerving organization skills or her endless knowledge on the historical racism in America thus far (both of which cause her major exhaustion and/or frustration, which I would deem a consequence for her power).

✘ “STAY WEIRD PORTLAND”

One wall of her apartment bedroom looks like a conspiracy theory wall. She’s incredibly organized, yes, but her obsession with being the expert on all things supernatural in Portland has caused her to look a little bit like a nutcase. However, the conspiracy theory wall is prettier than other conspiracy theory walls in TV shows and movies because hers comes with color coordinated strings, index cards, and pens. Sometimes when she’s feeling frisky, she even manages to color coordinate the thumbtacks. 

While Jacki is a picture perfect student, she has no clue what it means to be good at maintaining a romantic relationship. Absolutely no idea what she’s doing. Flirting often goes right over her head. She can give you historical dates and supernatural factoids up the wazoo, but hit her with a one-liner and she just sort of stares...and then walks away.

✘ ASPECTS & SKILLS

Straight A Student: Jacki never earned less than an A- in her entire academic career (a fact that her parents remind her younger brothers of every single day). She excels in history and English, and performs well in math and sciences. Although art has never really been her thing, her ability to give it a try has always earned her at least an A- in class.

Strong, Smart, Underestimated Woman: It’s 1991. She’s a Yale graduate, incredibly intelligent, resilient as hell, and determined to serve justice and protect those around her. She is fierce by any definition of the word, but that doesn’t mean everyone sings her praises. Some men find her strength frightening. Some others find her intelligence to be overbearing, or too “know-it-all” for their liking. She’s underestimated, and often given the dirty work rather than the work she joined the police force for, and she knows it.

I Have to Do What’s Right: Even though Jacki loves rules, regulations, and the like, sometimes the rules are wrong. That’s why she started training with The Fighter. That’s why she’s studying up on supernatural occurrences. And that’s why she’s more than willing to protect people who aren’t in the wrong. I mean come on, it’s not anybody’s fault that some of these people have powers - just because people fear them for being different doesn’t excuse any harm that comes their way, and Jacki has made it her mission to protect people with powers as long as they don’t maliciously hurt others.

Great: Will Good: Notice, Academics Fair:    Investigate, Shoot, Lore Aver:   Athletics, Stealth, Drive, Fight

✘ AESTHETIC

A brand new pack of index cards. Happy family photos on the wall. Clean laundry. The same haircut every time. Highlighted textbooks. Annotated novels. Reading the newspaper thoroughly. Fresh scented candles. Conspiracy theory strings. Too much coffee. Waking up to sunlight peeking through the window. Horrible headaches. Extra poster boards for future rallies and marches. Sleeping alone. Speaking quickly for efficiency’s sake. Gin and tonics. Being overwhelmed by large social situations. Studying without being assigned to. Forgetting to sleep. Forgetting to eat. Forgetting to take a moment to just breathe. Justice. Family dinners on Thursdays. Bending the law for things that are right. Ironed clothes. A color-coded planner. Wearing a retainer every night to bed like you’re supposed to. Bob Dylan CDs. Perfectly polished badges. Quiet breakfasts. Practical clothes.

✘ SEASON 2, EPISODE 1

If anyone else were to see what Jacki’s apartment looked like, they’d think it was just as clean as ever. But by her standards? Her room was a mess. Textbooks on the history of time and space stacked high on her desk; questionably sourced papers on the existence of supernatural creatures in our universe highlighted, annotated, and in their own folders; four mugs of coffee, all of them empty and lined up on top of her dresser. She would get to the bottom of this case. If her boss didn’t want her on anything more important than parking tickets, she’d work the Emergency Threat Unit cases on her own time. Sure, Jacki was losing sleep by the minute, but it would be worth it when crisis inevitably hit Portland again and she was the best resource they had. Plus, now she had a friend to help her improve her combat skills! She’d be prepared for anything, with a twelve-step solution to the next Big Freakout Event to hit her town. Just like her dad always told her: “If you can’t be the boss, be better than them.”

Please feel free to message me for any plots! I have a wimpy ass plotting page here, so feel free to look at that for inspiration!

[theculturedmarxist]

Hi there, fellow leftypol dirtbag. Might I ask, what was your journey into leftism?

I grew up in a conservative household. My parents were (and still are I suppose) two Reaganite Republicans and I absorbed all that shit as a child. I supported George Bush 2 and Iraq War 2. I believed all that bullshit about hard work and boot straps, you know, the old fantasy about employers rewarding hard work with commensurate compensation, etc. I wasn’t very sympathetic for black people, the poor, queers, or any of the other people on the Rep’s shit list.

That began to change when I changed high schools. Instead of the upper-middle class, mostly White school I had been going to (and been miserable at), I transferred to an early college. It was a school for kids that, like me, didn’t fit into the regular school system for one reason or another. There were kids there like me who had various social or emotional dysfunctions, but also kids that were there because of who and where they were. It might shock you to find that queer kids and black kids didn’t have the easiest of times in the public school system of the Southern United States.

It was a slow transition, but my views changed. At first I had those idiotic, bigoted views, like that gay guys were a threat to me physically or sexually on account of their orientation. I thought it was morally wrong, blah blah blah, all that ridiculous rigamarole. Then I met some of these people and learned how foolish that kind of thinking was. These people were intelligent and kind, inventive, interesting, and not at all the kind of people that I felt I needed to be worried about. It wasn’t an immediate transformation, but it was the first step in my “deprogramming.”

Looking back, I’m not even sure I would describe my feelings towards these people as “hate” or “fear” so much as “resentment.” I was still trapped in the false mindset of the “just world” fallacy. I was miserable with myself and my place in life, and deluded into thinking that if there was a problem then it was either inherent in myself or because I wasn’t behaving in the right way. At the time I had at least some idea of the oppression and persecution homosexuals and Blacks (for example) experienced. I was starving myself with self restraint, and spiritually mutilating myself in trying to “fix” what I thought was wrong with me. If I was unhappy or unsuccessful or whatever, then it must have been my fault, and if that was the case then it was on me to change myself, “correct” my behavior, and get right with God (literally and in a manner of speaking). Applying that same logic, the problems Blacks and Gays were experiencing were their fault as well, for insisting on being Gay, “out and proud,” or “actin’ Black,” or whatever, instead of how they “should” have been acting. It felt like an insult. Here I was, drowning in my own suffering and misery, and trying like hell to purge whatever defect I imagined was the source. There they were, embracing what I imagined to be the source of their own oppression, and treating the world like it was what needed to change. At the time, there was no way I could comprehend all of this. Even if I could have understood it intellectually, I doubt I would have been able to see it through my ideological delusions.

My ideological development after high school was halting at best. I wasn’t in any shape to live and function on my own, and my first stab at university didn’t go very well. Eventually, I moved back home and got a job, which is what had the most significant effect on me I think. All the nonsense I’d been fed about the fairness of competition and workplace ideals quickly went out the fucking window. I had worked some while I was at university, when I naively thought that student employment at a school would emphasize the student over the employment part. Through the alchemy of Republican logic, it wasn’t the work or employer that was to blame, but the fact that the school effectively had a monopoly. If the Free Market™ was able to decide, no doubt I’d have had a fairer boss and better pay and so on.

But that job wasn’t an anomaly, and neither was the next one, or the next. I had been brought up being taught that hard, honest work would be rewarded with good, honest pay, but no matter how hard I worked or where, it was always the same shit: minimum wage, %2 pay raise, shitty schedules, worse managers, awful bosses, and customers that were just the worst. You didn’t matter. It didn’t matter how you were being treated or mistreated, the customer was your master and you better remember to smile while you’re licking their balls.

Still, even with all of this, I bought the lie that it was just the type of work that was the problem. Retail work is for kids, right? They aren’t serious jobs. I saved up some money while taking CC classes, and eventually went back to university. The second time things went better. Somewhere along the way I’d graduated from Republican to Libertarian™, but that was starting to lose its appeal as well as it became apparent that it was functioning on the same defective logic as its Republican counterpart. I didn’t have any faith in Obama or the Democrats, and being an ignorant American I thought the three were my only options.

My family was what would be described in American terms as “mid-to-lower-middle class,” or you could probably say “comfortable.” Both parents worked, and while we were never “rich” I don’t recall ever having to go without anything essential. My parents were both Baby Boomers, and their parents all more or less came from nothing. To their credit, my parents worked hard to provide the things for me which they didn’t have as children themselves. They did everything they could to help me succeed, but they could still only help.

Paying for school was something that fell mostly on me in the form of loans and grants. Classes were going well for the most part, but my expenses were outstripping my aid. I got a job, but it didn’t help matters much. The pay was lousy, and the hours were from six at night until two in the morning. It started killing my grades and ruining my health. The stress of school and work and financial concerns started to get to me physically.

All while this is going on is the backdrop of the financial crisis. The banks that were responsible got billions of dollars of taxpayer money, while those same taxpayers were getting foreclosed on by those same banks. State services were getting slashed to the bone left, right, and center. There was suddenly no money for unemployment insurance or health benefits for those that needed them, no money for teacher training, or grants for students. There was apparently virtually unlimited cash for the military and the two wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that dragged on and on. There was plenty to go around to these wealthy executives that created this financial crisis that lost regular people hundreds of millions of dollars in their life savings and retirement plans. This paralleled the situation at my school. The university was flush with cash. Tuition was higher than ever. They had just finished a multi-million dollar building that served no purpose other than to serve as a fancy amenity to lure in out of state students. They’d even invested millions of dollars into their football program and completely renovated the athletic stadium. The chancellor lived in a mansion on campus and drove a convertible sports car. They weren’t hurting for money.

I was, though. I came to the conclusion that I’d have to take classes in the morning and work in the afternoon, and so I went about withdrawing to make space in my schedule for it. Come to find however that you’re only allowed to drop three courses in your educational career, which no one had bothered to tell me. I was able to drop one class, but I had ignorantly spent my other two mulligans the previous semester. No problem, the Registrar tells me, just get your professor, chair, and dean to sign off and you can drop the class. Okay, swell. Professor signs off, department chair signs off, and then it takes a week for the dean to get back to me. Financial hardship isn’t a compelling reason to drop the class. Sorry! I try to explain to her my situation, that if I can’t start making money then I’ll be out on the street, and she tells me to go pound sand. I’d busted my ass working to “get my life back on track,” to go back to school, get an education and all that, like I was “supposed to.” The school didn’t give a shit. I was nothing to them. They had no interest in helping me out or seeing me stay. And why would they? Sixty percent of incoming Freshmen left after their first year, and that was their target demographic. Entice out-of-state students, get them to dump a bunch of money into the school, then kick them to the curb when they can’t for one reason or another hack it. There’s more and more desperate kids every year trying to get that diploma and the golden ticket it promises them. If they don’t like being farmed for revenue, then fuck ‘em.

It was around this time that I got involved with Occupy Wall Street. It was there that I met for the first time actual Communists, and was introduced however superficially to Marxism and Anarchism. It wouldn’t be until afterward that I would get my real education on them, though. I guess I kind of conform to the cliche of becoming a college Communist. A professor of mine knew about my difficulties and my developing political views, and asked if I’d be interested in borrowing his copy of the Manifesto. I did, not knowing what to expect. Then I read the words that changed my life forever:

“The history of all hitherto existing society is the history of class struggle.”

It struck me like a bolt out of the blue. I’d always been interested in history, but I treated it as just a long, interesting story. It had always puzzled me because there were innumerable instances of illogical or just plain stupid behavior in the people we studied in school. Things just happened the way they happened, because... well, that’s just how things were, or people are. Every war, injustice, and atrocity in history was because of faulty human nature. People struggle because of the inherent evil inside all men. You know, more ideological bullshit.

Suddenly, though, everything made sense. It was like all the pieces had been in place, but it wasn’t until that bit of context was added that it made anything like coherent sense. It wasn’t only history, but modern politics, too. I couldn’t understand what made Republicans do the objectively awful things that they were doing, or why, or the apparent idiocy of the Democrats, and why they couldn’t seem to do anything right however obvious it might have appeared to do so. Marx shined a light on everything for me. It was like the world suddenly shifted into focus.

After this, for various reasons I left school again, ended up moving back home and getting another job. During this time the political awakening I’d experienced lay dormant for quite a while as I dealt with other developments in my life. Actually, it was Gamergate that was the impetus to get deeper into Leftism. I was still frequently visiting 4chan at the time and watched as the drama developed. I didn’t like Moot banning the topic of Zoe Quinn etc, and ended up migrating to 8chan, which briefly exhibited a sort of Renaissance of the sort of board culture that had either been dead or dying on 4chan at the time. It didn’t take long for the nazis, racists, and other brands of /pol/cuck shithead to drive off anyone decent though, and every board just became a different flavor of /pol/. Complaining about it naturally elicited a chorus of “go back to /leftypol/.” I didn’t have any interest in /leftypol/ at the time and actually mostly avoided it. Online politics at the best of times is hardly enjoyable, and I wasn’t very interested in any kind of /Xpol/, using my impression of the original as a guide.

I had dabbled somewhat in online Leftism previously, exploring labor-related subs on Reddit, like r/iww, r/socialism, r/communism, etc. My experience with r/soc almost turned me entirely off of Leftism, though. I got banned for calling Hillary Clinton a cunt, which only seemed to confirm that SJW/Demcuck reputation that followed other self described “socialists.” I didn’t want any part of a group that would either defend Hillary, or try and control what I said or how I said it. I’d just about written off Socialism entirely when on a whim I decided to take a look at /leftypol/ just to see what all the fuss was about.

I can’t help but feel kind of silly attributing such a major, life-changing moment to going to an obscure image board on such a skeevy site, but it did. It had the rough-and-tumble atmosphere of 4chan in its day as well as a substantial number of posters that knew what the fuck they were about. For a while I was simply hooked. Every time I f5ed, I learned something new about Socialism and Communism. There were in depth discussions on Communist theory and its various theorists and proponents. Not only where there mainstream anarchists and marxists, but representatives of (or simply people knowledgeable of) different currents, traditions, and theories. Posters busied themselves making reading lists and sharing links to resources and ideas. Back when there was still a solid core of /lit/ refugees and philosophy majors, there were constantly discussions on Zizek and Chomsky, Stirner and Nietzsche, Proudhon and Marx, Lukacs, Baudrillard, Gramsci, Bordiga, and on and on. The notion that “socialist” just meant “hardcore Democrat” was instantly and totally obliterated, and I knew that I was a Socialist and would be until I died.

And here I am, still trying to learn and educate myself, and help others with what I’ve learned, for whatever it’s worth.

[wintaer-bear]

dancer!reader x dancer!jimin ----------------------------------------------------------

Jimin hates girls like you. Girls that look like they frolicked right out of the end of Pretty Woman without going through its whoresome beginning and were born for the sole purpose of upkeeping “what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?” He can’t stand a damsel in distress and he especially can’t stand to play a contributing part, so when he sees a pretty little thing like yourself in a leather miniskirt and jacket to match leaned up on his 711, he can’t help but turn and walk the other way. Cigarettes and alcohol would have to wait yet another day to unleash their wrath upon him.

“Hey, wait!” 

“Bus stop’s that way, princess.” He calls. The pink haired angel doesn’t even bother to turn back. Chances are, you’re someone else’s, and like hell was he going to get mixed up in that again. Jimin quite liked his life, although shitty and full of poor financial decisions, it was all his. He’d much rather cut off his left arm (not his right tho) before being scrutinized under a magnifying glass for helping one hot chick who waved him down at the local convenience store.

You wore a pretty jacket, tattered and grungy, but just one good look at you and Jimin could tell it was all designer - and the rich designer too, the one’s where the brandname was only on the inside lining rather than paraded on the outside like so alphabet vomit gone right. Your hair, he scoffed, was edgy, sure, but screamed high maintenance with it’s straight bangs and color. He guessed you went to your personalized stylist at least twice a month, maybe even weekly.

Jimin’s seen you before. Well, not you, exactly, but girls like you. Girls who winded up on the wrong side of town because mommy and daddy refused to get them a new nose for Christmas so now their looking for their next quick fix for a high or because the law gave them a slap on the wrist for bargaining with someone’s livelihood and now they have it out to use every poor man, woman, and child as a means to no end. Oh, yes, Jimin has seen you many times before, but most recently in the form of his just as rich ex named Bexs, which of course was short for Rebecca with two C’s because she’s proper like that.

“I wasn’t waiting for the bus,” you peep, jogging to keep up with Jimin’s pace.

“Good, because you missed it. Last one went out was ten minutes ago, guess you’re stuck in Poorville until morning miss.” Jimin emphasizes on the title and you let you slide.

“You would send me in the wrong direction for a bus that will never come?”

God, you even speak like them. You don’t conjugate your words and expel every syllable as if it were your last. Jimin rolls his eyes.

“Like you couldn’t afford a taxi to send you riding off into the sunset.” He says. “Besides if you knew it was the wrong direction, why’d you ask?”

“Jimin, right?”

The angel-boy pauses, dead in his tracks and takes a puff of fresh air. He does a small turn to meet his adversary eye to eye before regretting his next question. He hates to be at odds with a woman. 

“I was waiting for you.”

Jimin’s mind goes blank, from the rosiness that has just become apparent on your cheeks or from the anxiety your words bring him, he’s unsure, but what he does know is that he’s really hates girls like you.

“We had dance together last semester in high school? Then went to Brighton together the year after?”

Brighton. If ever there was hell on earth it would be at Brighton University. Jimin had gotten accepted off a whim, probably some demographics and status quo and diversity bullshit kind of whim. He rode his way through the rich kid’s high school off a dance scholarship and carried it over to the U, but the University was sure to drop him first upon academic investigation from the state. Turns out you’re only worth as much as your department and grades when you’re a pseudo-athlete and Jimin’s average 2.0 GPA wasn’t cutting it.

“Sounds like me.”

“What happened to you? I came back from my trip abroad and couldn’t find you anywhere. I thought surely you’d -”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin cuts you off. “But who are you?” He feels bad, really, he does, but not as bad as you’re making him feel rubbing all the accomplishments he should be living right now like salt on his wounds. Dance was supposed to be his ticket out of this hellhole, so hearing you living it up didn’t exactly set well with him, especially considering you were from the same dance troop from the exact same high school. He couldn’t say you both had been given the same opportunities, because obviously, he did not, but it didn’t leave too much room for imagination to envision how far he could have gone given the chance. If only one person had believed in him.

“Jimin,” you grab his arms, worried. “It’s me, ____.” 

Jimin takes a long hard look at you before erupting in a thunderous laugh. He laugh so hard you’re worried he’s bursted a blood vessel in his brain because his eyes look watery and his face is flushed. 

Not only did Jimin remember you, he remembered you. Yeah, you were rich. Yeah, you were talented. But damn were you... regular. And as far as rich prep schools go, that’s even worse off than being poor. You were a late bloomer and your parents were athletes, so they didn’t believe in enhancing bodies by unnatural means, the concept of body dysmorphia nonexistent, so poor little you had to grow up ugly, flat chested, and curveless. You were never tall enough to get the main role. Never thin enough to get her understudy. You simply just were. Until now apparently, Ms. Travel-the-world-for-dance.

Jimin distinctively remembers being partnered up with you for each duet. The outcasts. The scholarship boy and plain Jane. No one talked to you, no one noticed you and no one resented that more than Jimin. The two of you were good. Damn good. Put in more practice than the leads, but never allowed to outshine them.

Now here you were 23 and armed with all the artillery to break a man’s heart. 23, and finally allowed to shine. Your awkward bug eyes had grown into round, almond shapes framed by the longest lashes he has ever seen in his life. Thank God, you didn’t listen to your dance instructor in high school and starve your body from all the necessary nutrients to make your body what it is today - an athlete’s build, strong, and sturdy. You didn’t look like you were going to break in half when he huffed and puffed in your direction. 

It takes him a second to snap back into the moment. Unsure if he should return to you a smile or a glimpse of what he’s really feeling, a bit of uneasiness and jealousy. For the first time in Jimin’s life, he feels small. And it’s in front of you.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a dump like this?” He panics, but you don’t seem to notice if the immediate blush on your cheek is any indication.

“I - um,” you stutter. “I came to offer you a job.”

Jimin’s ear perk at the offer. 

“My coach is retiring and,” you hesitate and Jimin’s beam intensifies. 

“And you think I would be the man for the job?”

You silence is enough affirmation for Jimin. He gives you a final glare before bidding you farewell.

“Thanks but no thanks. If I wanted a hand out, I’d go back to Brighton and ask for a degree. I like my pain and suffering all things considered.”

He doesn’t know why he rejects it, rejects you. Maybe it’s the unresolved feelings he has for dance. The give and take that has always been a hell of a lot more giving that taking. Whatever the cause, Jimin refuses to spill his heart and soul into something... intangible. 

“Reconsider,” you say, reaching your arm out before Jimin can turn away. “Please.”

He shakes off your hand. “Sorry Princess, this isn’t something you can buy.”

His words cut deep like knives, like he knows they will. The unrelenting pits of him telling him this is the only way of getting you to back off. You were partners after all. Jimin knows all of you, the little weakness and inferiority complex of not being good enough, but he’d never imagine you’d do this. Change yourself to fit a role. God you were so pretty before.

Girls like you aren’t supposed to be tender. You’re supposed to be bitchy and throw a fit when you don’t get your way. Jimin was immune to it, so why did he have a sinking feeling of a hundred dreadful butterflies in his stomach when he sees the first drops of saline escape your thick lashes. God, he hated girls like you. 

[bygosscarmine]

W: Worlds Apart - Volume 2: Worlds Away

Kang Chul X Oh Yeon Joo - Fix-It Fic (T)

Sometimes bringing a boy home means finding him an appropriate wardrobe. Sometimes an appropriate wardrobe is more disturbing than you expected.

Chapter 40 - Shopping Can Be Emotionally Fraught  (845 words)

She found Kang Chul looking significantly less forlorn, though still dressed in someone else's clothes in the hotel restaurant, sipping black coffee and reading a newspaper. A traitorous spark seemed struck in her heart at the sight of him. It wasn't just that he was, without question, a very handsome man. It was the way he had the assurance to ask for a paper, the interest to read about a world he didn't belong to. To be sipping coffee after having finished breakfast, though she knew he didn't own any clothing but what was on his body, and certainly had no wallet. It took quite a lot of courage to venture out this way in a strange world--Yeon Joo hadn't done it. She had stayed right where she had been sure that at least people she knew from the manhwa would be dealing with her.

Then he looked up as she approached, and his face broke into a smile. His face lit up to see her, and she thought, This is not good.

But she continued to walk to him. "Should I sit down or are you finished here?" she asked.

He folded his paper efficiently, and stood. "I'm ready for whatever you have in mind."

So she paid his tab and they walked out into the mid-day light together.

What Yeon Joo had in mind was equipping him to live in her world, if he had to. Chul appreciated that. He also appreciated the contrast in the way she went about it, than he had. When he had brought her to stay at his place, he had commissioned his employees to take care of her needs. He had taken her shopping for clothes even before that because he had taken pity on someone he assumed was poor and disgraced in some way, as a returned favor for his life.

Yeon Joo pulled out her own credit card to pay for his hotel, standing beside him. Facing slightly askance looks from the staff but keeping her face neutral, her back straight. Walking in with him to a department store, and finding everything he needed--because he was useless as a shopper outside bespoke shops. An ineptitude he would fix soon. She was on her phone doing research while he was trying on slacks--first to find his measurements, which he didn't know. It seemed a strange gap in knowledge, except fake people possibly didn't have real slack sizes.

They couldn't afford to get him menswear. Instead, he chose a pair of jeans he thought were suitable for wearing in multiple situations, and added a few shirts. Some tees, some slightly fashion-style sweatshirts. A pair of shorts, either for athletics or pajamas, Chul wasn't sure which Yeon Joo had chosen them for. Perhaps both, or depending on his temperament.

As he'd been busy trying clothes on, she had researched what was needed to lease a phone short-term. Their next stop was a cellphone service store to do just that. Yeon Joo had to power past the clerk trying to talk her out of only leasing instead of buying, after first addressing Chul as if he were in charge of the transaction.

He felt strange. He felt strange in several ways, really, most related to being in a world where he was unexpectedly more real than he had ever been while also having no place in the world when he had always had one. One of the keenest points, however, was noting the strangeness of not knowing how to do anything. Of being dependent on Yeon Joo to know how contracts worked. He knew he had in his work looked over contracts--but he supposed that So Hee had been the one to really understand and guide him around them.

Did he know anything besides how to shoot straight and act like the center of the universe? It was like he was having an out-of-body-experience except he was very aware of his body, and being in it. It was instead that he didn't know how to fill his body with his spirit or personality. How did he exist when he was dependent on Yeon Joo?

It was oddly painful, though he didn't want it to be. He wanted to think he could let someone else take the lead on something where they were the more knowledgeable person. He was wholly unused to being helpless, however. Or at least, to knowing he was helpless.

The cellphone was a little bulky, a less flashy model than he was used to. Having it in his hands, though, with Yeon Joo's number in it, made him release some tension he didn't realize he was holding.

He smiled at her, as they left the store, the weight in his hand like a soothing anchor. She got an odd look on her face, as if she were listening to something he couldn't hear, even as she looked at him.

"Time for me to return the favor," she said, "and bring you to live in my house. Only...with a lot less media exposure."

Hey! It’s me. Sorry about the mishap posting last week. Tried to be prepared to do it at work but drafted to wrong account. Can’t promise it won’t happen again as my life has gotten significantly more full for the next few months. I can promise that I’m as excited about the developments coming up as you are, though!

[jordan202]

My Boys: Beyond the Horizon - Chapter 2

Link to the previous chapter is HERE

thank you @jia911 and @em-m-j for help proofreading and to my dearest @bluebelle18 for helping me out!

My Boys: Beyond the Horizon – Chapter Two  

 Dear Kate,

It kind of breaks my heart not to know how you are doing. I am writing this email in the hopes it reaches you before your next destination.

I have decided to take the spot at Grey Sloan. I suppose I might regret this decision at some point, but I just long to be with my family for the time being. Koracick called me from Hopkins yesterday and my ears still ache after his thirty-minute monologue about how I am screwing up my entire future. I came to LA before heading back home. You won’t believe this, but Lucas is also moving to Seattle. I spoke to my mom this morning and she told me the twins are flying in from West Point next week. I haven’t seen them since Christmas, so I am excited we’re all going to be together again.

I also saw Joey today. He is still working as Lucas’ assistant while juggling his career at the agency. I honestly don’t know how he does it. I think they might have to canonize him before we understand why he puts up with my brother.

I wish I could tell you all of this in person.

Love,

Thomas.

.

“Are you seriously contemplating leaving?” Thomas asked with a smile at the same time he pulled up his sunglasses, revealing his light blue eyes that matched the clear water inside the pool he was in. “I honestly don’t see a reason to.”

Lucas looked around and smiled with a mix of mischief, pride and satisfaction.

Because of the time zone difference his body was still in, Thomas had woken up at six on that Saturday morning. He’d gone into the kitchen to get something to eat but to his surprise, had found his brother outside surrounded by a group of people he’d never seen before. He’d noticed that, as a general rule, none of them had much to say, but they were pretty interesting to look at.

Especially the girls, Thomas realized.

“Welcome to LA,” Lucas raised his glass in an imaginary toast and crossed his legs at his ankles, leaning back on his chair.

“I should have visited you more often,” Thomas decided when two young women left the pool exhibiting their shapely bodies.

“You never listened to me,” Lucas gave him a wink of wisdom.

The older brother wanted to ask if that meant Thomas was single now, but it wasn’t the right time or place to have that conversation. Lucas knew that while his brother was a normal guy and like any other noticed attractive women, never had he ever shown real interest in anyone besides his girlfriend. And Thomas and Kate were the steadiest couple he knew, so it seemed illogical to even consider that.

“Hey, do your team mates know you’re moving to Seattle?” Thomas asked with curiosity. Some of Lucas’ friends who were there were also athletes in his team but so far, no one had touched the subject.

“No, I can’t tell anyone before the Sounders make the public announcement,” Lucas explained. He was bound by a contract and couldn’t disclose the information until the following week, when the marketing department at his new team decided on a new campaign to promote their big hire.

“Is that why you haven’t called mom and dad yet?”

“Precisely,” Lucas replied with a wink. He couldn’t wait to share the news with the rest of the family but he knew how easily information could spread around if the secret was out. “Joey is going to bring me some documents to sign tonight and then I am officially released from my team. Then we can fly back home.”

“Awesome,” Tom replied, looking forward to seeing his old time friend again, but mostly to go home.

“We gotta go out to celebrate it,” Lucas decided, getting his phone to send a message to Joey.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” Thomas noticed it was past ten am and his brother had been up and running since the previous evening. He knew Lucas had gone to a party the night before but judging by the mess on the terrace of his house, they had extended the fun to the afterhours. And now he was planning a new outing for that evening.

“I think I am just about to,” Lucas replied, struggling to contain a yawn. He was finally getting tired.

“Where is your… Your… Where is Rachel?” Thomas asked with curiosity, looking around in amidst of all the people.

“I don’t know,” Lucas answered with casualty, getting up from his chair in an obvious motion to leave.

“Wait, are you going to bed, just like that?” The young doctor looked over his shoulder, noticing there were at least a dozen friends of his brother still present. Judging by Lucas’ reaction, he planned to simply go inside and leave all the guests there. “What about all these people?”

“They can carry on with what they were doing,” Lucas shrugged, unaffected.

It wasn’t until a couple days of spending time with his brother that Thomas came to notice the situation wasn’t uncommon at Lucas’ place. The house felt pretty much like a summer camp, where a lot of people would come and go. Some would spend the night, some would stay during the day in a giant game room, playing videogames and pool, and others would simply spend the sunny afternoons inside his swimming pool. There was always someone to talk to, and Thomas found the situation quite unusual, but nonetheless entertaining.

When asked about it, Lucas had simply answered he liked having people around. But the shadow of sadness behind the playfulness of his brother’s eyes caught Thomas’ attention. He had no idea how much of that was involved in Lucas’ decision to move out. But Thomas only hoped that whatever it was that prevented his brother from being happy stayed in Los Angeles for good when they finally made it back home in a few days.

.

“I told you for the sixth time, already, Hunt. I am not going out with you tonight.”

“You know, there was a time in your life when you very much wanted me to take you out,” Lucas teased, sending a teasing flirtatious wink in Joey’s direction, misinterpreting his friend’s words on purpose.

Joey Avery rolled his eyes with playful impatience and followed his best friend to the terrace outside, holding a glass of expensive wine in one hand while carefully scanning his eyes through a long stack of documents.

“I wouldn’t go out with you if you were the last man left on Earth,” Joey replied, hiding his smile behind a sip of his drink. “You are way too straight.”

“That’s just mean,” Lucas said with pretend offense and sat down on the marble counter near the pool. “I liked you better when you were into me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, that ship has sailed long ago,” Joey couldn’t contain a chuckle. “You will always be the love of my life, but I haven’t been into you since the moment I experimented what was out there.”

“Still, I was the first guy you kissed,” Lucas gloated with a smile. He had spent the past seven years pestering Joey about it and probably would for the rest of his life. “I am going to tell Jonathan that,” he added, referring to Joey’s long time boyfriend.

“Yes, what was I thinking back then?” Joey replied with a look of self-criticism, not bothering to take his eyes off the document to deal with Lucas’ recurring jokes. “Jon already knows that story, by the way, smartass.”

The two remained in silence for long seconds while Joey carefully read through documents and Lucas played with the label of his wine bottle.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

It was the change of tone in Lucas’ voice rather than the question that made Joey finally look up to meet his friend’s eyes.

Joey Avery had known Lucas Hunt ever since they were little kids and they had always played soccer together but it wasn’t until adolescence that the two of them became best friends. Joey easily remembered the day when he, as a teenager confused by his sexuality, had misinterpreted Lucas’ words of encouragement and kissed the guy.

Back then, Joey had completely understood Lucas’ irritation with his impulsive move. And he’d sort of expected the guy to make fun of him or expose him to the rest of the soccer team. After all, in Joey’s opinion, despite having a crush on the boy, Lucas had always been a bit of an empty head that was way too popular and didn’t take anything seriously.

But instead, Lucas had offered him selfless support and been the first male friend Joey had come out to. During his senior year in school, Lucas had become one of Joey’s closest friends and the only one besides Kate Karev who knew about his struggle.

After Lucas had graduated and left school to go to University of Washington, Joey had only seen him in a few occasions. But then, when Joey had also moved out to go to UC Berkeley in Los Angeles, Lucas had dropped out of university to play for the LA Galaxy and before the two of them could even realize it, they were living in the same city and had become best friends.

And once inside a college campus and away from the judgment of everyone he knew and loved, Joey had been able to come out in public and embrace his sexuality, always leaning on Lucas’ full support. The youngest Avery kid had never dreamed of becoming a professional athlete, but he very much enjoyed sports and liked working with it. So while Lucas’ career skyrocketed, Joey finished his degree in college, only to slowly find himself being the one to represent his friend in his business deals and professional contracts, which later on became his own career.

“Oh, Luke, you know I hate leaving you alone, especially when I know you couldn’t cook spaghetti if your life depended on it,” Joey mocked Lucas at the same time he felt genuinely sorry to see his friend go. “But I have a company to run and how the hell am I going to run an LA based enterprise if I go back to Seattle?”

“I know, I know…” Lucas sighed, trying to accept it. He perfectly understood why Joey couldn’t go with him, but it didn’t mean he hated it any less.

“But, for all that’s worth, and we know it’s worth a lot,” Joey said with a sad smile, “Tom is also going to be there and I am going to count on him to take care of you.”

“How amazing is that?” Lucas asked with his most boyish smile, leaving Joey touched by how genuine his friend’s love for his brother was. “I couldn’t believe it when Tommy told me.”

“I couldn’t either.”

Lucas noticed in Joey’s expression that he knew more than he was trying to show and furrowed a brown in question.

“Hey, Joe, where is Kate?” Lucas tried to sound casual and realized instantly the discreet change in Joey’s expression. “Is she going to a different hospital for her residency?”

“I don’t think she has decided that yet,” Joey replied and Lucas sensed he was telling the truth.

“What’s going on between Tommy and her?” he straightforwardly asked. Kate was very close to Joey and if there was anyone she would have shared that with, it was definitely him.

Joey took a deep breath, apparently pondering what to say.

“Look, I don’t know the details, okay?” he said, and once again Lucas felt like he was being genuine. “All I know is that they had a big disagreement about what to do after the graduation. Kate told me they had a big fight and I think that’s why she traveled to London, to be away from everything…” Joey confessed with a heavy frown. “I am not even sure if they’re together anymore.”

Lucas scoffed with incredulity.

“What are you talking about, of course they are,” Lucas affirmed, unable to believe any other possibility. “I am sure this is just a phase. Tom and Kate are meant to be together… They are like Carl and Ellie, ok? If they can’t work it out, no one can.”

“Except life isn’t a Pixar movie, Luke,” Joey gently reminded him.

“It can be,” Lucas stubbornly chided. “For some people, it can be.”

Joey was just wondering if Lucas needed to believe in that fairy tale love because of his brother or for himself when Thomas walked outside, warmly greeting Joey.

“Hey, dude, I didn’t know you were already here.” He threw a censoring glance in Lucas’ direction, condemning his brother for not letting him know.

“We were talking business,” Lucas justified with excessive dignity.

“Actually, we were talking about Up, the movie,” Joey corrected him.

“It’s my favorite movie,” Lucas defensively scowled at his friend.

“Oh, so your favorite movie is a cartoon?” Thomas raised one eyebrow. “I can’t really say I am surprised…”

“It’s called an animated film, thank you,” Lucas grumpily answered.

Thomas looked from one to the other, trying to understand why his brother was in a foul mood and Joey was so quiet but none of them said anything else, so the youngest guy gave up soon after.

“So… Are we going out tonight or what?” he asked, getting a positive grin from his brother in return at the same time Joey raised his arms in surrender, realizing he had just been outnumbered.

.

“By the way… how was your date last Friday?”

Megan lifted her eyes from the computer on her hands to meet her best friend’s mysterious expression. Claire was Maggie Pierce’s only daughter and had been Megan’s best friend since the day they were born. There was nothing they didn’t tell each other and now, Claire had the same kind of expectant/joyful face as her mother often did when they were excited about something.

“I was going to wait until Marianne got here to ask you that because we’re dying to hear it, but I have no idea where she is and I can’t wait any longer,” Claire confessed with a wide smile.

Megan noticed the curiosity mixed with excitement and was amused by her friend’s clear high expectations.

“It was okay.”

“Okay?!” Claire asked with disappointment. “That’s a not good enough answer. I want all the details.”

Megan gently closed her laptop screen and looked at her friend. They were sitting in the living room of her house simply hanging out together as they often did during school breaks.

“Claire, you’ve known Aaron for as long as I do,” the girl stated with conviction. “What could I possibly tell you about him that you don’t already know?”

Claire seemed to think for a second and then nodded her head in acceptance. After years of vouching for everyone else’s happiness and acting like a modern version of Jane Austen’s Emma trying to bring couples together, Megan had finally accepted to go out with someone. Claire knew her standards were high and just because she was admired and well liked in school, Megan didn’t take advantage of it. So if her friend had said yes to Aaron, Claire expected him to be special. She was very pleased with the girl’s choice, considering they all knew each other since their earliest school years.

And the fact that Aaron played in the school’s football team with her own boyfriend also wasn’t a bad detail. Claire longed for double dates and she wasn’t one bit sorry for pushing Megan towards the guy in such an obvious manner.

“So, how serious is it?” Claire didn’t give up. “Are you officially dating him? Are you two seeing each other again? Did he kiss you?”

“Oh my God, slow down on the questions…” Megan answered with a chuckle, too entertained by her best friend’s devotion. “And yes, he did,” the teenage girl added, unable to prevent the rush of blood to the cheeks that became obvious on her very fair skin.

Claire had just opened her mouth to ask for more details when the doorbell rang, interrupting her thoughts. Supposing it was their friend Marianne, who had been mysteriously absent for the past few days, Megan got up and fixed her shirt before distractedly opening the door.

But her eyes grew wide with shock and raw contentment when she spotted the two young men standing on the doorway with huge smiles on their faces.

“Megan, why are you squealing, I am trying to…”

Amelia’s words trailed off and her face transformed when she walked into the living room. Ignoring everything about the reprimand she was just about to give her daughter for disrupting the quietness when she was trying to focus on her reading, the neurosurgeon took large strides forward and immediately wrapped one arm around each of her son’s necks, nearly strangling them both.

“What are you guys doing here?” Megan asked with excitement, surrounding Thomas’s waist with her arms for another embrace.

“We wanted to surprise you,” Lucas said with mischief in his eyes, feeling his heart blissfully happy with the warm welcome. “Hey Claire girl,” he stepped inside the room while Amelia closed the door after them. “I haven’t seen you in a bit, how are you?”

Amelia watched as Tom dumped two duffel bags next to the couches and proceeded to greet Claire too.

“Where is dad?” her second son asked, looking around.

“He’s still at work. Does he know you were coming?” she asked with wide eyes, ready to murder her husband if he knew about it and hadn’t told her the news.

A few years before, Miranda Bailey had had to step down as Chief of Surgery and the position had been offered to Owen. At first, he’d been reluctant to take it back, but after an honest conversation with his wife, who’d wisely pointed out their kids were basically raised and he had more free time to pursue his own projects while she went further with her Harper Avery Award winning research, Owen had taken the position, ultimately finding pleasure again in it.

“Nope,” Lucas chuckled, reading the unsaid threat in his mother’s eyes. “He is in for a surprise just like you two.”

Amelia smiled and completely forgot about the paper she was planning to read, decided to focus on a much more pressing matter instead: her adored sons.

“But, wait, did you two set this up? Did you fly in at the same time…?” she asked with confusion.

“No, I actually went to LA a couple of days ago to meet Luke and then I was going to come here,” Thomas replied with a wide grin, anticipating his mother’s reaction with the news he was about to share. “I had no idea he planned to come too,” Thomas added with honesty. “But I had to be here in person to tell you about my news.”

Amelia knew her son had just graduated med school. A couple of weeks before she, Megan and Owen had flown to Boston to be there for the ceremony. Her other sons hadn’t been able to make it but they had been in touch during the entire week, catching up with Thomas’ remarkable achievement.

“What?” Amelia asked, excited and curious.

But as Thomas smiled grew wider by the second and he just kept staring into her eyes with the thrilling look of someone who had something amazing to share, Amelia had an epiphany.

“No way…!” she shouted with exhilaration, unable to believe. “Are you serious?! Are you…?”

When Thomas nodded yes with his head, Amelia let out a hysterical shout that Megan promptly classified as squealing and wrapped her son in a hug so tight that she left them both breathless.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re coming back home!” she added with sheer joy.

Thomas had been debating with his parents quite a lot in the past year about where he should apply and choose to go for his medical residency. Amelia knew her son wanted a career in neurosurgery and therefore he took into account everything she had to say about the matter. Unsurprisingly, Thomas had matched all the places he was interested in. And in the end, he’d narrowed down his choices to going to Hopkins to study under Tom Koracick, staying in Boston to go to Mas Gen where he knew everyone already or moving back to Seattle to work at Grey Sloan.

Amelia had been as impartial as possible while giving her son professional advice but in the end, she hadn’t been able to hide she favored Seattle as a choice, exactly because she wanted him near.

“I can’t believe this, I am the happiest I could be!” the surgeon proclaimed, unable to stop grinning like a child.

“Are you sure?” Lucas asked her with a teasing smile.

“Am I sure of what?” she looked in his direction, trying to interpret the meaning of his words and that smug smile on the corner of his lips.

“You couldn’t be happier than you are now?” he asked, looking her in the eyes with heartfelt joy.

“I don’t think that’s even possible,” Amelia answered with honesty.

“Well, what if I told you I am coming back to Seattle too?”

The silence that followed Lucas’ question let him know he had just left both his mother and sister in shock.

“I’d say you are kidding,” Amelia defensively looked at him, hesitant to believe it because it was too good to be true.

“I wouldn’t judge you on that,” Lucas playfully replied, knowing he had no credit whatsoever considering how often he was pranking people. “But yeah,” he looked into his mother’s eyes and saw how thrilled she got when he delivered the news. “This time it’s true. I am moving back to Seattle.”

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” she felt tears accumulating in her eyes and pulled Lucas in for a hug.

Amelia took a while to be convinced that those amazing moves were actually happening and sooner after, Owen returned home, proving to be just as surprised and pleased as she was. Together, they had dinner with Megan and the boys, eager to hear every single detail of the decisions.

When his parents inquired him about what Kate had decided for her residency, Thomas said that so far, she was still going for Mas Gen as her top choice but hadn’t fully made her up mind yet, only planning to do so when she returned from London in the following days.

Lucas kept staring at his brother, trying to pick up more than what Thomas was saying but he couldn’t achieve anything. When he looked sideways, he noticed Megan had been doing the same and the girl instantly met his eyes, silently agreeing that she was just as unconvinced as he was.

By the time dinner was over, the teenage girl had already decided the plans for the following days, unsurprisingly devoting most of her brothers’ time to her. Since Thomas and Lucas hadn’t yet made any living arrangements, they were very excited with the idea of moving back home temporarily.

And even though it had been a while since Amelia had had so many of her children together sharing a meal with her, when Lucas came with a horrible pun to tease his dad and Thomas made a sarcastic comment about it, it felt like nothing at all had changed.  

.

“Why do you have that sad look on your face?” Owen asked arranging the pillows near the bedframe as he looked at his wife. “I thought you would be smiling for days after the surprise the boys gave us tonight.”

“I know…” Amelia turned her head over the shoulder, standing near the window through which she’d been gazing outside, lost in her own thoughts. “It just kills me that Danny and Robbie aren’t here.”

Owen silently went in her direction and wrapped his arms around her from behind, giving his wife a kiss on the cheek before gently touching her shoulder with his chin. He didn’t say anything because there was nothing to be said. It took a toll on him too, but he knew that for Amelia, the twins’ departure had been especially worse. As she liked to say it herself, that day the twins had left for college, she’d “lost” two at once and that had it made it twice as hard to bear.

“They are okay,” Owen settled for saying, staring at the dark sky outside from behind her.

“I know they are,” Amelia intertwined her fingers with his and leaned backwards, putting the back of her head on his shoulder. “It’s me that is not.”

Owen chuckled lightly and gave her another kiss, settling for silently contemplating the quiet view outside. Sometimes, he couldn’t believe the amazing things he and his wife had built together and how far in their journey they’d come.

But all it took was one happy evening like the one they’d just had to remind him that, despite the absences and the time apart that their kids’ education demanded, he felt absolutely accomplished and proud of all five amazing people he and Amelia had raised together.

.

Thomas took large strides through the well-known halls of Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital. On his way to the education department, he passed by a lot of friendly acquaintances and had to make several stops to catch up with people he’d known all his life.

The soon to be intern knew that having his father as his boss and his mother as his direct mentor weren’t details that would exactly make his life easier, but all things considered, Thomas was up for the challenge. He supposed that, like his brother, he longed to be near his family after so many years living away from home.

He’d expected to see a lot of familiar faces during his time there, even on the first day he set foot inside the hospital. But there was one person Thomas had absolutely not imagined crossing paths with him that afternoon.

“Emily?” he frowned, confused, and hurried to catch up with the girl who walked in the same corridor, just a few yards ahead of him. “Emily Spencer?”

A short, petite woman with auburn hair turned around at the sound of her name. She had dark circles around her eyes but they were every bit as hazel as they’d ever been. And judging by the look on her face, Thomas supposed she was just as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“Tommy?” she hesitated at first but after a second, a genuine smile lit up her entire face. “You’re… You’re… You’re so grown!” She chuckled, noticing the differences that time had invariably caused. Thomas looked just as friendly and angelical as ever, but his facial features were more evident and masculine. “Is that an attempt to a beard?” she teased, watching him laugh with delight.

“Is it really so bad?” he asked with consternation, running his hand through his own face trying to find almost inexistent facial hair. “When I asked my sister about it, she said that I aimed for Ryan Gosling and hit Mrs. Elliott,” Thomas confessed, making Emily crack up laughing at the mention of their high school chemistry teacher who now taught Megan too. The woman was a nightmare and students mercilessly made fun of her rough appearance as a way to rebel against her tyranny. “I suppose she didn’t mean it as a compliment to me,” he added with good humor.

“Or to Mrs Elliott,” Emily stated, trying to be serious but failing. Once she was finally able to stop laughing, she breathed in and added with genuine longing. “How is Megan?”

“She is great,” Thomas answered, happy that Emily had asked. “She is starting her senior year soon and she is determined to beat all my school records,” he added, unable to hide how proud he was of his sister.

“Sounds kind of impossible,” Emily teased him. Thomas had an outstanding school record. Even though Emily had graduated a year before him, everything Thomas had achieved before she left had already been remarkable.

“Nah, she is making me look like a dud,” Tom exaggerated, smiling with modesty. Megan was just as good as he’d been but she was a lot more organized and assertive going after what she wanted than he had been as a teenager.

“And how are you, Tommy?” Emily gave him a fraternal smile. She hadn’t seen him in five years and none of them were exactly active on social media to stay in touch through that time. “You look good.”

“I feel good,” Thomas said a bit quickly, hurrying to change the subject. “I’m actually here to hand in some documents,” he smiled, happy to share the news with Emily. “I got into the surgical program.”

“Oh, wow, really?” Her eyes got wide with amazement. “That’s great, Tommy, I’ve always known you’d achieve everything you set out for yourself…” she smiled, but the shadow beneath her eyes caught Thomas’ attention.

“Thanks, Emily…” he studied her further, unable to define her expression. “And what about you?” Thomas blinked to focus again on the conversation and stop seeing too much into things. The girl seemed hesitant to reply, even a bit uncomfortable, so he tried to make it easier for her to talk. “Are you back to visit your folks?”

The insistent hesitation from the girl alarmed him and it was then that Thomas realized the full extent of the context they were in.

As far as he knew, Emily Spencer lived in New York and had been doing so for the past years. He hadn’t heard much about her because she was a forbidden subject whenever Lucas was around and there was no one else Thomas could ask. But now, she was standing in the middle of a hospital corridor, back in her hometown, looking paler and more drained than Thomas ever remembering seeing her.

Almost instantly, a red flag rose in his mind and even though he knew he was being nosy, Thomas cared too much not to ask. Trying to be as gentle as possible and hoping to somehow be able to help her, the young doctor looked deeply into her eyes before asking.

“Emily… Are you sick?”

 --

[ninolitebrown]

NO CAP

In this modern world you are supposed to have a perfect image for the net. Come off as if you do not have any flaws are issues. Everyone here are either  rich, can cook, or have straight pearly white teeth. That is what wrong with this shit. People do not believe that there is beauty in the struggle. Mfr’s edit out their blemishes and stretch marks just so that you can think they are perfect. Now all of a sudden the natural wave is commercial. 

For me natural is organically embracing who you are without any distractions. But how can you do that if your intentions were aligned with what someone else is doing - do you really believe that you are beautiful and love yourself?

I am driven by the  chip on my shoulders while being consciously straightforward. Not that I care what people think. But it’s easier to be yourself than Appeasing to this fake image that is driven by social media

THE STORM

In 2018 I lost multiple investment properties between St Louis and Atlanta. Squandered over a half of million in cash while destroying my credit 800 to low 500’s over night. That’s coming off mourning my mom and one of my best friends Drew passing. The issue is that I was trying to move too damn fast. I set a goal to buy 3 properties in 2019 - that goal turned into wanting to buy 10+. 

I was getting money way too fast to be honest. buying and flipping taking in boat loads of cash without a hint of education of the business. I was moving on street knowledge.   Same year I found out that I was having my first born. 

 just think of the stress i should of been in? 

I was broke AF with a 6 figure income - and a baby on the way in Los Angeles.

To be completely honest; I was *relieved, from the stress of holding  all the projects together without proper knowledge of the real estate business. If you ever need help on what not to do. I am your guy!!

But how can you be stressed with such a face. My baby boy saved my life in so many ways. Anyone can attest, your kid relieve you of boredom and stress of the outside world. 

2 years later, i scraped myself together and made everything i lost in investments back. How did i do it?? (You MFR’s will need to buy my book in the future)

The biggest fight was not getting my investments in order. Anyone will tell you who make money - once you had it. It is easy to get it back. Making money is an natural instinct - the shit just happen. 

Making money after losing everything is like painting with new brushes. Everything is cleaner and sharper with precision. Your strokes are more careful but you move freely because of the experience. 

HOWEVER

The real fight is the CURRENT battle to hold on to the relationship with my son who I love so much. My now ex and I separated after a tumultuous relationship molded By social media images and no substance.

Let me rewind for a moment

I met her 7 or so years ago in STL after finishing up college. We met in a club or lounge. I was just coming off a relationship a week or so prior. Honestly, i was probably still in love with the thought of that ex who i was with for a few years. While in the lounge my radar was completely off, i was only thinking about vibing with my boys. So this girl comes alone with her friend who was making eye contact with me. I saw her but did not see my current ex, i did not know they were together. To my surprise my ex was interested in me and asked for my information. I was like cool here ya go no intentions.  The interest in her stemmed from traveling. As she was a flight attendant for a commuter carrier and i had just so happened to work for a major airline. 

Within a few months of us kicking it, i accepted a job in promotion with my company to Minneapolis 

 No surprise it was cold AF up north. 

I did not know this girl I was seeing That well. But the fact that we could travel and see each other anytime because of flight perks made things interesting. Weird side note; she suggested quitting her job to move to Minnesota with me to work at Hooters. I did not think it was smart at all. 

She loved the company I worked for so I recommended her for a job. Crazy how the universe work. My then company hired her the same day she got fired from the company she worked at. Just for taking time off to  participate in a Missouri Pageant. Well that’s what she told me 

She accepted the job with my then company, which eventually moved her to ATL from STL.  

Year pass and I accepted a new job with my current job in Denver. You guessed it - long distance dating made things challenging. To be completely honest i didn’t much faith in the relationship, as I started hanging out with other girls in Denver.  I knew she was kicking it with guys in ATL but i didn’t care much, whenever we would get together it would be cool. Not to mention that on random occasions we would travel and create new experiences.

She even moved to Denver for a few months and commuted back in forth to ATL. Just to see if things would work out. The commute was challenging for her and stressful on our relationship. But it was interesting that whenever she was not working she would travel to LA to hang out with this BFF. I was obv curious because i wanted that time when she was available. She then hacked my computer found some girls that I would talk to before she moved To Denver. Got upset and moved to ATL. But in reality i always felt that she wanted to be in ATL anyway. We also “broke up “ For a week. 

Within that week i found out about a guy she was hanging out with in ATL that apparently she met during an brand ambassador photo shoot. She told me they made out. No biggie - but it was also 2 other guys, 1 she met while traveling allegedly some old rich guy with a jet - the other was a guy that was not her BFF in LA when she would take off from Denver to visit while we were together. It also came across my mind of all the athletes she seems to know from doing charter flights. I got word from a few internal sources that she was the runner/groupie for celeb athletes.

SHE MET ALL THESE GUYS WHILE  WE WERE SEPARATED FOR A WEEK *ALLEGEDLY 

I knew something was weird while we were together in Denver. We would go extended time without having sex. Which means she would be tight right? MFR be loose as a goose and I’d be like huh? How is that possible lol.

I later found out that the guy from the Jet and LA were the same person. She also admitted to having sex with him once. 

“within the week we were separated”

As a non confrontational person I typically don’t ask questions. Hell I typically don’t GAF about much or check for lies. You can tell me the sky is 14k gold, i wont’ look and would be like *Kool. 

Anyway I patched things up in ATL with her and we were back dating. 

But that didn’t mean I would ditch the female friends in Denver i was hanging out with. Why? I didn’t trust that we had a real situation - it was long distance.

LA is on my mind:

I alway considered moving to LA. My best friend Spincer moved to Cali 15 yrs ago. I was supposed to move with him. I GOT SCARED

But I was interviewing with companies in LA prior to my current gig while living in Minneapolis. I was between working with USC in their Athletic Department and 3M. My ex joined me for one of those interviews in LA. She had an idea of what i was worth. So 3M was an absolute no in her mind. She believed it wasn’t right for me. But i knew  she was hating because i was on the verge of moving to LA. So after the 3M interview i told her i was really considering taking the position. Noticed that she was not happy at all - I clearly remember telling  her that “you don’t control me” and she literally swung and hit me in my mouth while i was driving. I pulled over and told her to get the hell out of this car. All of a sudden she had an “anxiety attack”. Crazy because this happened in the city i currently live in of Manhattan Beach. 

The MFR wanted me to take her to the hospital but my lip was bleeding. I let it go, because that was my first time experiencing such an episode. Super traumatizing. 

The second time she hit me in the face was again driving in LA to meet up with my friend Shanell at Fat Sal’s after church. She got mad at me for something and hit me in the face again. *Trend (when ever you are driving and focused on something else she may swing)

*correction whenever you are not paying attention she will pull off the fake shit

I pulled over this time and was clear. “That’s the second time and the last time you put your fucking hands on me, the next time you will never see me again”

The Cali move finally happens:

So my ex moved to LBC, I finally join her in the same city for literally the first time of our relationship approximately 8-9 months after her. We have gone about 5 years without even really knowing each other or committing to a relationship.

She’s still traveling often for work, which was cool because that’s how we alway knew each other (from traveling). I still had loose ends from Denver that I had to clear up. My ex had a habit of hacking my accounts just to see who i was talking to. Guilty Conscious? Perhaps.  

5-6 months later i convinced her to boss up and take on a bigger role with the company which required office work. So at this point we are home smelling each other’s breath daily for the first time of our relationship. NOT SO FAST we get pregnant. 

Which means we don’t really know each other. However, the person i am going to get to know is in the emotional state of a pregnacy. Add that to the fact that whenever the MFR get caught in her shit she seems to have an “Anxiety Attack”

FAIRYTALE? NOT BUT NINJA WE GOT A BABY

This Ex of mine, live for that image of the net i was talking about. But in the background we are talking about one of the most toxic individuals i have ever met in my life. I got a car for her to drive that was nice, considering she had this busted honda with an awful payment plan. when we split i asked her to give me the car back in 48 hrs.  Stemming from this text that was sent to my sister 

My sis in blue - ex in white 

Even though it was in my name there’s a California loophole with registration that allows a person to trade in a car if they are listed on the car a certain way. So yea; at the 24hr mark of me requesting the car back. Guess what this toxic individual did?

While celebrating as if she made a whopping accomplishment of buying a car alone. Smh That’s on the back heels of not answering calls, text, vm or emails of me requesting my kid daily.  Not only am i still paying for Daycare weekly but the toxic individual stopped taking him so that i can’t see him there. All out of *spite Legally i am in the process of establishing paternity. even though i am on the birth certificate it’s more steps to the fuckery to have another layer of protection. FATHERS establish paternity with your kids i don’t care if things are going well right now. But also trying to get her the mental help that she deserve as her family and cronies are clueless that she is  *In Fucking Sane*

EX.  One day we were driving on the 405 leaving the valley. My EX  and me were having a conversation about her cousin. The cousin had just lost her mom to breast cancer. So i suggested to my EX to invite the cousin to LA to  visit for a while just to clear her head. She advised me that she did not like her cousin very much and would only allow her to visit for a weekend. It pissed me off because that same cousin was pivotal in helping me plan for her 30th bday/baby shower a few months prior including another friend. So i called her selfish for treating her cousin like shit. I did not like it at all. She gets mad for me calling her selfish (because i think of everyone except for her) and asked me to pull over on the 405 so that she could walk home. I said your are crazy - you are 8mths pregnant. You would not believe what happened next?  This girl opened the door and tried to jump out the car. I grabbed her arm in the process. Forced her to shut the door, i closed the window and put the child safety locks on. Shook me to the core.

Check this - that was only another level of confirmation of what TF i was dealing with. Besides the suicidal thoughts expressed to me and my 16 year old niece, the attempts to kill our son while she was preg (intentionally falling on the belly twice). The multiple times she has punched me in the face and assualts while our son was present. I had nightmares that she would stab herself in the belly I called her mom pleading to help me - help her.  She declined - later found out the mom was also bat shit crazy. 

I plead with the judge in my DVRO to protect me and my relationship with my son. After the judge read the verdict calling my ex a liar and non credible (i wish her friends would realize) for accusing me of threatening to kidsnap my son. The judge dismissed my case while advising me that the harm she has done  did not disturb my emotional peace.  BIAS as Fuck - I guess the girl will need to shoot me in the head before they determine that she’s a threat to me, herself and our son. I can go on and on about this nut from the multiple hacks into my social media - blocking all of my female friends while talking shit to them. Throwing my suits off our balcony.  Shading her female friends and the next day smiling in their faces. Accusing me of being Gay because I did not like her at all and deciding to sleep on the couch for months to avoid the toxic lunatic behavior. 

Oh the big one, the MFR had people thinking that we were getting Married in September. Anyone recall the specific date, time, location, invite list, budget, colors or perhaps marriage license? MFR I can’t either. I didn’t know shit about a September wedding. I was just as surprised as ya’ll when i was laying on the couch watching the Last Dance one Monday morning. 

she wrote a scathing Facebook message about us being broken up. And her clown ass friend rushed over to support as if we had just gotten into a fight.

 I guess it was the friend showing support after the ex rushed over to that same friend house a while back because her current BF supposedly beat her ass. *Chics do the most

Poor thing did he really beat your ass or was it a lie? I never checked back to see if you were ok 

  The Liar forgot to inform her friend that we been done. Sooner or later her cronies will finally understand how fake she is. The shit will eventually come out!!! Here’s a nugget, I specifically advised that same friend to stop posting work shit on the gram.  You don’t want them to come after you. You know THEM? One of THEM is my EX. She’s known for doing fucked up shit at work. How do i know? MFR I used to live with her. Not to mention i used to be an executive with her current company. I know plenty of people within the system. Oh the so called GOD MOTHER!! Never mind I’ll wait on this one. She’s an innocent bystander. She don’t know what she don’t know. I guarantee that she will get burnt by my ex sooner or later. The other is my old messy friend from elementary. You don’t deserve a mention. Just know that you are a snake. I have known that for years. 

My ex don’t like being a black woman, the last thing we want is all the black woman cutting her off. If she doesn’t love herself and who she is - the likelihood of her genuinely loving black women in her circle are slim to none. 

This isn’t an attempt to expose this bat shit crazy MFR.  This is what it really looks like to go natural and strip away the fake shit and be real As Fuck!!! 

*NOCAP 

PUBLIC RECORD