#nobody tell me he's too much chocolate to eat in one go. ill even pay for it myself i know its lindt but like its lindt. so i need it. pls

[thekingofchungus]

anyways uh. lindt bear

[queer-adhd]

So today I took rouke out to town while I was doing my weekend chores, because it hasn't had a proper trip outside in way too long.

Anyway we got all of our chores done, even managed to get some cheap squishmallows (they really help with rouke's back problems and tbh they're way cheaper than actual orthopaedic pillows lol) and were just on our way back home feeling vaguely accomplished when we ran into a guy we knew.

He was homeless, and we were used to seeing him sat around out neighborhood. He's a nice guy, always recognises rouke and the dog, even me, which is novel. I'm stupidly forgettable when I'm the guy pushing the wheelchair, so almost nobody ever recognises me if they've met us before as a trio. We said hi, I grabbed some change, and he started telling us how things were going and why he was so far from his usual stomping grounds.

Turns out my guy had been on a waiting list for govt housing for four years, and a couple weeks back he'd finally gotten housed. Which was great! Except his housing had processed, but his financial aid hadn't. So he was still stuck asking for money for his pay as you go electrical meter, because without it he couldn't get light, couldn't keep his food good, and couldn't cook anything to eat.

Anyway, thanks to y'all we actually managed to cover bills and rent and food and a few extras and still had some cash left over! Thank you all so much.

It meant that we could get £20 out for him so he could actually heat his house and eat, and sit him down for a hot chocolate and talk. The guy running the cafe was incredibly nice, and once he realised we were buying this dude a drink, he ran to the back and gave us a toasted sandwich somebody had left without collecting.

(the lady behind us in queue was quite obviously politely furious about all of this. Fuck her.)

Anyway my guy's apparently been waiting for universal credit for over a month now, and he's stuck on a pay as you go meter that charges him extra for the privilege of not being able to afford heat. It's only been getting worse as heating bills rise here, and it'll get worse yet soon enough.

He tried to refuse the hot chocolate at first btw until we made it clear that it was no strings and we would feel rude not getting him something if rouke was having something as we chatted.

All the UC stuff is online now, you see. He'd had to scrape together enough cash for a basic smartphone and sim, and he was still mostly lost because the website is absolutely useless and difficult to use. I am GOOD with computers. I still struggle with that hellsite, and with most gov.uk sites. They're designed to be confusing and to put you off as much as possible.

He'd been hospitalised recently for a serious respiratory illness. Had collapsed in the street. His lungs were permanently scarred. It was the fourth time so far. He's still going to have to do a million online job applications, because he's fit for work. If he can't figure out how to do that, they will cut off the benefits he's not even getting yet.

Rouke used to volunteer as an IT assistant at a library, and we managed to help him figure out what his phone number is. Gave him ours and I let him know that I'd be passing by that way a few times that week, so if he lost phone power or credit then he could find me walking the same route most days to get home and we'd help him sort it out.

We can't fix most of his problems, but we could share about the things we knew and how we'd gotten around them. That he could ignore the TV license people, instead of having to find hundreds of pounds for the crime of his apartment having come with a crappy old TV, because they can't legally enter your house to prove it without permission.

He agreed that I'm a carer for rouke despite being unpaid without even a blink btw lol. Thought it was great we'd managed to scam the hospital. Told us to avoid one of the local hospitals, because it's even worse than the one we were at.

I'm so fucking angry right now at the ways the system is still fucking him over. But I guess this is to remind you all that mutual aid, help and kindness between people who are struggling in their own ways, is so fucking important.

We can't solve much. But we can get him electricity soon enough that most of his food will still be good, and he can have light and warm food. We can make sure he has heat so he doesn't get pneumonia again in the week it's going to take UC to actually start giving him money.

Anyone who tells you not to give directly to homeless people is a fucking cop btw.

[whumpmatsus]

Heyo! 👋 hope you're doing well! If you are taking requests right now, maybe some Ichi hurt/comfort? Like maybe he's having a depressive episode one day (me? Projecting? It's more likely than you think 😂) unlike any he's ever had before, and he just doesn't have the strength to do anything, even make snippy remarks at any of his brothers. One (or all, you can pick!) of them notices this odd behavior, and makes it their mission to help him feel a little more like his old self, even if that just means "riding out the storm" with him.

Oof this was really long, lol sorry 😂 but thanks for taking the time to read, I love your writing style! Take care! 👋

eyyy don't be sorry! God I REALLY enjoyed writing this... I love how it turned out

sometimes these guys can be jerks, for sure, even when one of their own is in pain

but... when it's serious... THIS BEAUTIFUL SHIT HAPPENS

please enjoy Ichi being spoiled and surrounded by love from all his brothers because HE DESERVES IT and I love how this turned out <3

-

Ichimatsu’s first (and maybe only) mistake is that he assumes his brothers don’t pay that much attention to him one way or the other unless he speaks up.

Or, maybe it’s that he often hopes they don’t.

Because he knows they care; there are little things they all do that remind him that no matter what, they love him. But they all have their own things to do, and most of the time he finds that best. They should be able to do whatever they like instead of wasting their lives making him feel better. He has a bad day or hates himself so much of the time, if they paid him attention whenever he wasn’t doing well, they’d never get to enjoy themselves with other things.

He cares about them, too. So usually he’d rather they occupy themselves with their own interests whenever he’s not feeling well. He can bury things deep inside and pretend those shitty feelings don’t exist and act almost normal. As normal as someone like him can act, anyway. For their sake. They don’t deserve to worry about him.

Today, he’s too tired for whatever reason. His scathing barbs and negative attitude on most days aren’t really fake… on the bad days, though, he can force his typical demeanor so nobody suspects he’s not fine. All they see is sour-faced, ill-tempered fourth brother Ichimatsu.

He can’t even do that much right now. It’s as if the weight of existence and his own mind is pulling him down, further and further, until he’s drowning in his thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Things telling him he’s worthless, a failure, a burden, good for nothing, should probably be dead… too many things to keep track of.

If he were trying not to get his brothers’ attention by being quiet and listless, it isn’t working. In fact, his current behavior has actually done the opposite.

While he’s lying in the corner of the room, curled around himself and wishing he could fall asleep to avoid dealing with these thoughts and feelings, the others are around their table muttering among themselves.

“You guys noticed he barely touched breakfast, right?” Osomatsu is the first to speak up, and he’s doing his best not to look at Ichimatsu too much, simply because he doesn’t want his younger brother to feel everyone’s eyes on him. He’s pretty sure that would just make matters worse.

Choromatsu hums in agreement. “Yeah, no, he just kind of stared into his tea… he might have taken a sip or two, but that’s about it. I don’t think he even ate any rice.��

“Did he even brush his teeth this morning?” Totty speaks up. “Or his hair? It looks messier than usual, and I was the last one in the bathroom before breakfast, and it didn’t look like his toothbrush had been used.”

“Also,” Karamatsu chimes in, “I believe that is the same outfit he wore yesterday. He didn’t sleep in it, but he put it back on when he got up even though it hasn’t been washed.”

Choromatsu frowns and steals a quick glance at the fourth eldest. “Like he… didn’t wanna think about picking something different out, huh? And… it’s kind of worrying that he didn’t brush his teeth or hair. I mean, that’s basic hygiene. It’s like he’s depressed or… some… thing…”

Suddenly a light bulb goes off, and the rest of the brothers exchange a concerned look with each other.

“Oh,” is all Osomatsu says for a moment. Then, “Fuck.”

Before anyone else can breathe a word, Jyushimatsu leans back away from the table and collapses with his head in Ichimatsu’s lap. “Aaaah, Ichimatsu-nii-chan! Baseball practice today? We can do it at the beach!”

Ichimatsu hardly flinches at the abrupt contact, but really it’s because he doesn’t even have the strength to be startled. He doesn’t move to push Jyushimatsu off or bounce his leg to dissuade the him from staying or anything. It’s a moment until he actually says anything, like a delayed reaction from a computer. “Uh. Not today, Jyushi. I’m probably gonna take a nap.”

“Hmmmmmmm… oh, I know! I’ll nap with you! Maybe we’ll dream about baseball!”

All the others watch closely, waiting to see if he gives an average Ichimatsu reaction. Instead, he doesn’t even shrug. “Yeah, if you want.”

Obviously, that’s not what they would be expecting from any other day. They all look at each other again, minus Jyushimatsu who just curls up against his big brother’s side.

Ichimatsu, on the other hand, is so out of it in his own head that he doesn’t realize that he’s done anything to worry his brothers. They should all be paying attention to their own shit, right?

He just feels so exhausted despite that he knows he slept okay last night. All he did this morning was wake up and get out of bed and already he’s… drained.

You’re so lazy. You can’t even put together the energy it takes to read a fucking magazine or something? To do nothing like you usually do? What kind of loser doesn’t have enough energy to do something like watch TV?

What the hell is wrong with you?

He cringes at the sound of his own inner voice berating him, and ducks his head down between his knees. Shit. Everything hurts. Isn’t that right, though? He’s useless. It doesn’t take any effort to just sit somewhere watching TV or reading and yet he’s not even willing to do something like that.

Even though he expects that Jyushimatsu might want to hang out with him, because the two of them are close, he doesn’t anticipate it when Osomatsu comes over and sits himself down across from Ichimatsu. At least, he thinks it’s Osomatsu. He doesn’t really feel like lifting his head fully; it looks like a red hoodie, though.

“Uh, hey, Ichimacchan.” Osomatsu feels a little awkward at first, mainly due to the fact that he’s never sure what to do when Ichimatsu is in one of ‘these’ moods. What works on one day might not work the next time. Previous experience is all he has to draw on, though.

“I noticed you didn’t eat too much at breakfast… you in the mood for something sweet?” Tempting him with one of their favorite treats might put him in better spirits, at least for a minute. “There’s a box of imagawayaki on the counter… there’s three in there, so we can split ‘em. Mom said these ones have chocolate cream in them.”

Everyone else lets out a blissful sigh as they all think about how delicious that’s going to be. Bean paste or custard or even regular cream is always good, but chocolate cream? If they had to fight over those, someone might end up dead.

Ichimatsu offers a shrug in his brother’s direction. “Sure, if you guys want. I’m just not that hungry.”

Osomatsu frowns, and looks over toward Choromatsu who’s thankfully recovered from the imagawayaki imagine spot. None of the brothers would ever turn that down. Even if they weren’t necessarily hungry, they’d make room for something that good. Moreover, given that Ichimatsu didn’t eat anything at breakfast, he should be starving,especially for sweets.

Choromatsu makes his way over, setting a careful hand on Ichimatsu’s shoulder. He doesn’t have any more of a clue what to do than their eldest, so he’s flying by the seat of his pants just as much. Something has to be done… they can’t just let poor Ichimatsu suffer. “Ichimacchan? It’s pretty cold today. How about I turn on the kotatsu, and if you’re gonna nap, you can sleep with your legs under it? That might feel nice.”

Well. That does sound nice, Ichimatsu thinks, because curling up under the heat of the kotatsu is always nice in the winter. But… he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the energy to even move from this spot. “Oh, yeah… I’ll probably just nap here, though. Don’t really feel like moving.”

“Aaah, but you are cold, aren’t you? I can hear your teeth chattering from all the way over here!” Karamatsu is up in an instant, tugging his leather jacket off his shoulders. Although it leaves him in nothing but a tank top ― and a horribly plain grey one, at that ― it’s a necessary sacrifice for his little brother’s comfort.

He hurries over to where everyone else is gathering and gently drapes the jacket over Ichimatsu’s shoulders. “Hmph… Karamatsu to the rescue as usual! You’re looking cozier already.”

Man,Ichimatsu’s mind comes up with, I try on Shittymatsu’s dumbass jacket one time and suddenly he’s coming up with any excuse to put the stupid thing over me. Do I really want him freezing instead of me? Why don’t I just move my ass over to the kotatsu? He’s gonna catch a cold and it’ll be all my fault because my stubborn ass didn’t move and he took pity on me.

God, I wanna die. They’re all falling all over themselves to do shit to cheer me up when they should be focusing on themselves. I’m fucking trash, making my brothers waste all their damn time on me. Why couldn’t I just do stuff and not make them worry?

“… Ichimatsu-nii-san?” Totty has plopped himself down in front of Ichimatsu, staring in concern at his big brother. Fuck. He’s using that eye voodoo of his, and if he says anything, if he asks Ichimatsu a question, he’s gonna get an honest answer despite the fact that Ichimatsu doesn’t want to admit anything.

He can’t help it, though. Totty’s hand is soft as he reaches up toward Ichimatsu’s face, thumbing away tears that Ichimatsu didn’t even realize he’d started to cry. But his youngest brother is delicate in the way he brushes them, so caring and tender that any little bit of strength Ichimatsu had to keep things hidden away crumbles quickly.

“Hehe,” Totty chuckles, though there isn’t a genuine mirth behind it, “you’re not having a good day, Ichimatsu-nii-san… are you?”

He blinks, and more tears start to drip down his cheeks. This time Totty doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, instead staring at his brother with those big, sad doe eyes, glittering with sympathy.

Ichimatsu lets his head drop again, eyes pressing against his arm and tears soaking into his sleeve. “N-no,” he manages to say in a quiet, insecure, small voice. He hates it. He hates making this stupid confession, because he should be able to take care of himself. His brothers don’t need to be huddled around him, pissing their days down the drain. “I’m… I’m having a bad day.”

With that, it’s like all five of them attach themselves to him all at once. There’s a brief cacophony of worry and reassurances, and a hug Ichimatsu almost loses himself inside of.

“Alright, you hear that, guys?” Osomatsu announces, maybe a bit louder than he really needs to. “Ichimatsu’s having a bad day! Woohoo!”

Choromatsu scoffs. “Ah, ‘woohoo’?? Osomatsu, you idiot! This isn’t a good thing!”

Osomatsu pulls away to rub a finger under his nose with a grin. “Hey, sure it is! He said it, didn’t he? Good for you, Ichimacchan! You’re having a bad day and you said so! Remember what happened when Totty kept junk from us? We need to know this shit! I’m glad you said something!”

Karamatsu’s hand tousles Ichimatsu’s hair as he pulls his brother into a hug. “Yes, Osomatsu is right. You’re having a bad day, Ichimatsu, and that’s just fine. It takes a lot of bravery to admit it, so we’re proud of you.”

“Plus, we’re gonna make this the best bad day ever!” Totty hums. He’s whipped his phone out before anyone can so much as blink, typing away on it. “It’s just about lunch time, so I’m gonna order some takeout! Ichimatsu-nii-san, what sounds good? Curry? Sushi? Ooh… maybe fried chicken? We don’t do that too often… might be a nice treat! Oh, it’s your call, though.”

Osomatsu gives Ichimatsu a tiny bump on the shoulder with his fist. “You and Totty figure that out while I go cut that imagawayaki for us. Be right back, guys.”

… Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone or something? What the hell???

Ichimatsu lifts his head just a little, looking at all his brothers. Totty’s on his phone looking at delivery options, Osomatsu is headed to the kitchen, Jyushimatsu is nuzzled against his side…

None of them are leaving him by himself. They all still want to be here even when his mood sucks ass. Even when he can’t really do anything for himself. Even when he’s being a huge fucking pain and a thorn in their sides and doing literally nothing to contribute to the day.

What the hell are they all doing? Why are they all fine with wasting their day taking care of him?

When Karamatsu presses a couple of tissues into his hand, Ichimatsu somehow finds the energy to use them to wipe his face. Fuck, he hates crying, and he hates people seeing him cry. “Don’t do this,” he mumbles. “You’re fucking morons. You have better shit to do than…”

“No way!” Jyushimatsu aggressively snuggles against the side of Ichimatsu’s stomach, circling his arms around his brother’s waist. “What better shit could weeeee have to do? We’re shitty NEETs!”

Choromatsu chuckles. “Besides, there’s literally nothing more important than taking care of each other, especially when one of us is down and out. Ichimatsu, you… know none of us are shy when it comes to being honest. So, just… try to believe us when we say there’s nothing we’d rather be doing than being with you right now.”

He straightens up, then gingerly taps Jyushimatsu with his foot. “Hey, Jyushi, how about you scoot yourself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu? And Totty, are you really gonna make a delivery driver come out in this weather? It’s almost below freezing! Why don’t you go get it yourself?”

“Excuse you, but if they haven’t shut down the delivery option, why shouldn’t I take advantage of it? I don’t wanna leave Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“Okay, okay… I guess that’s fair. What are you ordering, again?”

“Aaaah, I dunno! I was waiting for Ichimatsu-nii-san to say what he feels like.”

Meanwhile, Jyushimatsu has somehow gotten himself and Ichimatsu over to the kotatsu, and is currently shoving his big brother’s legs under it while Choromatsu moves to plug it in. “Home run, YEAH! Your tootsies will be toasty in no time, Ichimatsu-nii-san!”

“O-oh… thanks, Jyushi…” That’s about all he can say, really. He’s slumped over the table in a matter of seconds, and although there’s no way it can support the weight of everything he feels like he’s being crushed under, feels a little more relaxing than holding himself in a tight ball in the corner.

He’s going to cry again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to cry again. His brothers, his selfish, douche-a-holic, demon brothers… would rather be taking care of him on a bad day than out doing their own things, not touching him or his shitty mood with a ten-foot pole.

Jyushimatsu is cuddled up on one side, and he can feel Karamatsu settling in on the other with an arm around Ichimatsu’s shoulders. That’s it. He’s surrounded by brothers and their warm, selfless-for-once-in-their-lives affection. He has to surrender. He doesn’t stand a chance.

His mind drifts back to the others. “Oh… Totty…”

“Oh! Yeah, mhm?”

“Um… curry sounds good, I guess.”

The impossibly huge smile on his youngest brother’s face comes through even when he speaks. “Oh, great! Curry it is! Okaaaay, I’m gonna get it from that nice place in town. You want it with rice or udon? Or do you want curry bread?”

“Uhh… just with rice.”

“Rice, okay, sounds good! Beef, chicken, or pork?”

“Huh… you mentioned fried chicken, now that sounds good. Does that place do curry rice with tonkatsu on top?”

“Oooh… that does sound good. Yeah, I think there’s an option for that. Chicken tonkatsu with curry rice, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha. Is that what everybody wants?”

“Yeah, Totty,” Choromatsu injects, “just order the same thing for everybody. We’ll all eat that.”

“Okay, what about sides? Does anyone want fukujinzuke or rakkyō?”

“Geez, just… just get half of each and we can divide it up if anyone wants any.”

“Okaaay! I’m not ordering drinks from there, though… too expensive. We have tea here. Oh, I’ll get a few orders of pork curry bread, too, in case we want a snack later.”

“Well, make sure you get either three or six.”

“Yeahhhh, Cherrymatsu, I’m not stupid! I’ll just get three; I’m fine buying some, but I’m not trying to go broke! Does that sound okay, Ichimatsu-nii-san? The curry bread for later?”

It takes a moment, but finally Ichimatsu lets out a breathy, almost tearful laugh as he leans against Karamatsu’s shoulder. “Totty… you’re trying to fatten me up… you witch… you’re gonna cook me and eat me… that’s your plan, huh?…”

The whole room erupts into a small fit of laughter, even Totty who’s blushing at being teased. Ichimatsu feels Karamatsu press a kiss to his head, and he sighs. Usually he wouldn’t be able to take all of this… the attention, and Totty blabbering away, and Choromatsu trying to be responsible, and… everything.

At the moment, it feels right. Like things are supposed to be this way. Like he’s supposed to be having a bad day so his brothers can all gather around him and remind him that regardless of anything else, when one of them needs their brothers, everyone is going to be there.

Maybe he needed that reminder.

Maybe they all did.

[manychocolatefactories]

CatCF Ruby Chocolate: Part 1, Kids and characters

This version is the last of the "four main versions". It is named after the new, fourth type of chocolate discovered in 2004 but only publically released in 2017. It is a modern version, supposed to take place in the 2010s. In this version, there are six Golden Tickets released in the world.

First Winner: Augustus Gloop

(Based on: Augustus Gloop)

This version of Augustus was inspired by the 2013 musical, more specifically by the idea of a cute little boy that eats "pigs limbs from limbs", and also swallows whole little dogs. So, something quite dark.

Augustus has a very cute face. A chubby, angelic face, like the puttis of the Renaissance paintings: blond curls, puppy eyes, a radiant smile. If he wants, he can make your heart melt like the video of a little kitten purring.

But Augustus is hungry. All of the time. He eats and snacks all day long. He dreams of food. He sleep-walks to eat. And while he adores candies and chocolate, there is one thing he loves more than anything else: meat. Meat and blood. He is a true carnivore, for him every meal rhymes with "meat". And if you leave him unattended, he will try to get meat by himself. For exemple, by attacking a living pig and devouring it on the spot. Or by biting off the fingers of a plump woman. But, of course, all of that with a cute smile and while saying sorry in the most adorable way.

Nowadays, if your cute you must be innocent, and thus forgien.

Augustus' body is not as cute as his face. It is said to be a "bloated mass of pink flesh", actually very similar to the body of a pig. His fatness is described as "ill-fitting", as if it was "forced" onto his body. His overweightness is not natural. It is puffy, flabby, bloated, but doesn't feel "natural".

Augustus also always wear ill-fitting clothes and suits.

Mrs. Gloop is a tiny woman, usually wearing a pale pink skirt suit, with her hair arranged in a crown of braids. She might be tiny, but she is bold, energetic, and speaks both clearly and loudly. She has so much presence, she often intimidates people. She keeps reminding others of how cute her son, and how eating makes him grow strong. She insists that she is a good mother who makes sure her son eats of everything (to have a balanced diet), eats well (by giving him only the finest and best-quality products (such as the Wonka bars and not their cheap rivals knock-offs), and of course, she only feeds her son because he "needs nourishment".

And don't dare criticize her, or she will scream so much, so hard and so high your ears will bleed. Just like the "original" Mrs. Gloop, this one keeps pointing out the "hooligans", saying it is better to stay at home eating food than being a violent thug on the street. My iteration sincerely believes that violence and criminality is due to poverty, hunger and lack of food, and if everyone was well-fed the world ould be at peace.

(For her, think of Mrs. Gloop the original, mixed with Bernadette from the Big Bang Theory )

Mr. Gloop (full name, Gordon Gloop, parody of Gordon Ramsey) is the son of a butcher, and the grandson of a slaughterhouse worker. He was always knee-deep in blood, and as a result grew accustomed to killing animals and cooking them (in fact the sight of blood makes him peckish). He is a tall and strong man, but suffers from a bad sleep due to his wife's horribly loud snoring.

He tried to teach his son the refinment of haute cuisine, for Mr. Gloop is a world-renowned cook, but to his disappointment Augustus only cares for raw meat and drinking blood-dipped candies. Mr. Gloop is so obsessed with having good dishes and best-quality ingredients, he keeps at the back of his house a little barnyard full of cattle (if he ever has to serve some steak or ribs to his guests). Trouble is, Augustus keeps sneaking into said barnyard to devour the poor animals.

Second Winner: Elvira Entwhistle

(Based on: Veruca Salt)

Veruca Salt being a pretty solid and complete archetype in herself (the girl who wants it all and has her parents buy her all), it is quite hard to reimagine her. So, I tried thinking about "why" she wants things - given the actions are settled and confirmed, it is the goals that are important, the motivation. And , in our time of modernity, what makes people want things? Trends, fashions, what is "in".

This reinterpretation of Veruca, named Elvira Entwhistle (after one of the old drafts names), is a mix between Chanel Oberlin from Scream Queens and Esmé Squalor from a Series of Unfortunate Events. She is a girl living for trends, for fashions, buying and acquiring all of the latest things "in", only to discard them as soon as they are "out" or not trendy anymore. Spending her time on social media, following models and influencers, she keeps going to luxury shops with her "personal assistant" (a nice name for what is a modern slave) to buy accessories, jewels, clothes, pets and whatever corresponds to the current trend.

Spoiled, impatient, self-centered and short-tempered, she needs to have the latest fashion NOW or she will get insanely angry. She also doesn't hesitate to change her personal appearance to fit all the new trends (for exemple her hair changes color and shape every week). Of course, she got her Golden Ticket because it was the current trend. Everyone was searching for it, so she had to get a Ticket to be the most "in" person around.

 Third Winner: Mike Teavee

(Based on: Mike Teavee)

For this version of Mike Teavee, I wanted to get away from the usual hyperactive and hyper-violent kid. I wanted to take back this common idea that television makes you stupid and sluggish, by making Mike the perfect embodiment of a couch potato (even though he was designed to look at the same time like a mushroom and a zombie).

Mr. and Mrs. Teavee are hard-working people, who spend their entire week working and only come back at home for very brief periods of times (usually in the week-end) before going right back at work. As a result, Mike barely knows his parents. He doesn't even know what kind of work they do. To "babysit" their son, the Teavees bought an enormous, high-definition television with a 666 channels pack, and kept telling him to not go outside due to the outside world being "dangerous" and filled with crushing bikes, killing cars, kidnappers and the like. This is how Mike began his life as a shut-in.

Spending his days looking at the television, never going outside, he ended up closing all shutters because light bothered him. Living in the dark, barely lifting his body from the couch, he only survives on candies, snacks, television-plates and microwaved/defrosted food (and the Teavee family can afford to buy a lot of it, because they are really, really rich - Mike has accounts in three different banks).

The result? A chalk-white boy. A bloated ans shapeless body. A full-moon face covered in craters and scars due to a bad case of acne. Two dead, sunken, small eyes. Speakin slowly, and often pronouncing only half of the words, Mike refuses to answer or talk to anyone while television is on : he only speaks during "uninteresting advertisements". The only thing muscular in his body are his fingers, that got a lot of muscle mass due to twitching frenetically all day long on the remote to channel-hop.

Mike is actually a very intelligent boy, but all his cleverness and intellectual gifts are buried and wasted by the brain-washing of his shut-in life and his television obsession. He got his Golden Ticket because his parents often buy him Wonka bars as "television snacks". Even though, in his own words, he prefers food that "tastes like plastic".

Fourth Winner: Violet Beauregarde

(Based on: Volet Beauregarde)

What is Violet, originally? She is a girl that seeks fame and attention, that is snarky, that is nasty towards people, and that does stupid records. What reflects that perfectly in our day and age? Reality television shows!

Violet Beauregarde was strongly inspired by the most brainless and "sassy/nasty" stars of reality television and the Internet. She is a teenage girl wearing clothes of such bright, flashy and clashing colors it often hurts people's eyes. Her face is covered in makeup, her hair is covered in extensions and her hands are covered with fake fingernails.

She thinks she can be as rude and horrible as she wants, as long as she calls it "sassy". But on the other side, she considers "rude" anyone or anything that doesn't please her, or that is too "ugly" or "dirty" for her. She is the kind of girl that keeps screaming loudly "YAAAAAAASSS, bitches!" and "DAAAMMMNNNN", that calls herself "the queen", that chews ferociously on her gum all day long, and that says "Why are you touching me? See, you're touching me again!" while she is the one hitting people. She hates everything "old" and "boring". She keeps publishing musical albums that nobody actually buys, because she sings badly mere words (her singles being titled "Lalalala" and "Heyheyheyhey" - she never understood a song needed to have lyrics). Finally, her biggest dream is to be part of a TV-reality show.

Her father, Mr. Beauregarde, feeds his daughter's "bitchy diva" attitude and her delusions of grandeur by acting as his agent (just like in the 2013 musical). He is also the "ringleader" of Violet's circus (because Violet, with her clothes of ridiculous colors, and her enormous amount of makeup, has a clown subtext). As a result, Mr. Beauregarde is like a ringleader in acircus, a showrunner in a freak show, and also an agent. He "sells" his daughter, he organizes her interviews, he has people pay money for "extra time" with Violet, he shows her around, and finally he uses his whip (yes, he has a whip) to attack all those that try to "touch the product".

He is a short, flabby and balding man, that smokes very long and thick cigars, wears enormous rings and clothes that are garrish and clownish - his over-the-top and ridiculous fashion sense is clearly a compensation for what he lacks in height, hair and health.

 Fifth Winner: Marvin Prune

(Based on: Marvin Prune)

In the original drafts of Roald Dahl, Marvin Prune was a Mr. Know-it-All, a too-perfect schoolboy obsessed with studies, an arrogant bookworm, a haughty teacher's pet, you named it. In this version, i decided to keep the idea of Marvin being a "know-it-all", but instead of using school, books and the like, he rather uses modern technology and the Internet.

Marvin is a tech-obsessed boy. He lives for, with and through technology, to the point of neglecting to live in the real world. He thinks his over-use of technology, and all the knowledge it can provide him, make him an "intelligent" and "superior" boy (when in fact it does not).

He thinks he can claim to have been everywhere in the world because he visited virtually all the most important landmarks of the world. He claims he can speak all the languages in the world, but in fact he uses translation websites. He keeps tracks of all his bodily functions thanks to health monitors (heartbeats, blood pressure, cholesterole...) but not because he is concerned for his health, merely for the sake of knowing more things. For him, Googling something is the best solution to all your troubles, and as a result he is a self-centered and pompous boy.  

Due to his technology dependance, Marvin is actually quite a weak boy. Since he doesn't do any sport or physical activity, and since he rarely leaves his house (due to always ordering things online, having classes online and visiting places virtually), he is a quite thin and frail boy, if not emaciated - at least, a good chunk of his muscle mass has melted away.

The original parents of Marvin Prune were, in Dahl's works, teachers and school principals. I decided here to go with the opposite of a teacher : Mrs. Prune never does anything herself, and always blame it on others. There are problems in the world? For her people should fix it, but they are too lazy to do it - while she herself does nothing about it. Her son acts rude? "Someone should teach him good manners" she says. She loses all of her money? "That's because the people in charge of the economy are all incompetent!"

Mrs. Prune thinks of everything and everyone as stupid because it allows her to blame all of her problems and flaws on other people. But ultimately she never takes any kind of action herself. If someone should teach her son good manners, it is "those lazy teachers at school", certainly not her! She also dislikes things that are "foreign".

Marvin found the Golden Ticket when he ordered by mistake a chocolate bar in France : in truth, he wanted to buy a "tablet" (in French a tablet is tablette, and a chocolate bar is also a tablette de chocolat).

Marvin will also be incredibly frustrated inside Wonka's factory, because in there numeric devices mess up, stop weirdly or disfunction totally (the same way UFOs tend to mess up phones, radios, computers and the like). As a result, he becomes powerless and helpless.

 Sixth Winner: Charlie Bucket

(Based on: Charkie Bucket)

Here, I decided to really twist things up. To have a Charlie Bucket that isn't thin or malnourished, but fat! Yes, here's Chubby Charlie! (No, not Fat Charlie, this one is copyrighted)

Charlie's story is deeply linked to the story of the Wonka factory. The town Charlie lives in was built around the Wonka Factory a bit before the 20th century - it was a "worker town", created to allow the workers of the factory to live with their family next to their place of work. For more than fifty years the Factory was the only occupation and work of the town. But somewhere in the 1950s or 1960s, all the workers had to take an early retirement. They were kicked out, and the Factory closed to the public. The Factory was still working, but not hiring anyone anymore. This was an enormous blow to both the town's economy and moral. There was an economic crisis and poverty (since people were trained only to work in a candy factory).

But there was one good thing: since it was the town Wonka's products were created in, they were sold at must cheaper prices than anywhere else in the world, and all the ex-workers of the Factory got in exchange for their work coupons and reductions for themselves and all of their families - reductions on the Wonka products, of course. This was seen as a chance, because the Wonka products were world-renowned candies, even luxury goods in foreign countries. It was like being able to buy haute-couture as daily clothes and eat gastronomic cuisine every week-end.

But this good wasn't so "good". Indeed, given the poverty and lack of job in town, the ex-workers and their family relied more and more on the coupons and reductions, their diets filled with candy and sugary products. As a result, from the 1970s to the 2010s, the number of people suffering from obesity, diabetes and teeth problems blew up.

[ This background is actually a mix of two different real-world fact. Real-world fact 1: the Menier Chocolate Factory in France, aka the real-life Wonka Factory, was revolutionary for creating a town for its workers, and taking care of their health, education and the like, but closed after World War II, to the deception of everyone. Real-world fact 2: Coca-Cola, Nestlé and other big food industries tend to pay their employees with extra-sugary and extra-addictive if their own products in poor areas, such as South America - resulting in sicknesses and diseases.]

As a result, in this version Charlie is fat. Because in modern days, and in developped countries, poverty and malnourishment actually leads to obesity and diabetes, due to the cheapest food being candies and junk-food.

This version of Charlie is a very nice kid, but a kid addicted to the Wonka products. He grew up on the coupons, due to his family all being ex-workers. Grandpa Joe and Grandpa George both worked at the factory, but were too old or sick after being fired to find a new job ; Mr. and Mrs. Bucket had been trained for the factory and could barely afford new studies after its closing. Mr. Bucket became a street cleaner, while Mrs. Bucket became a receptionist and secretary for a dental office (due to the rise of tooth diseases, dental offices boomed in town, but most are actually crooked or scams).

Charlie grew up in a very humble home, with two parents working really hard to have enough money to buy food for everyone. Of course, fresh or good food is too expensive. Charlie tries to help his family the best way he can with his part-time job (making people fill surveys) and by working really hard at school. But as the years go by, his weight and his health are beginning to cause problems. Due to not having any money he can't do sports, wich makes him gain weight, and the fattest he is the hardest it is to do sport, it's a vicious circle. Every year, the scale reveals he puts on more and more weight, and faster and faster - if he doesn't do something quick, he may end up obese.

And, as I mentionned before, Charlie is truly obsessed with the Wonka products, it is an addiction. He dreams of them at night. He sticks Wonka bars wrappers on the wall of his room like posters. He drools at the mere mention of a Wonka bar. He isn't spoiled, cruel or nasty, but he is too addicted for his own good. In fact, when he finds money in the stret and buy chocolate bars with it, it is a pure act of selfishness, because he doesn't have the willpower to turn away from the candy shop and go back home.

[writeyouin]

It says asks are closed, but your recent post said they're open? If they are closed, that's fine, sorry to bother. Love your stuff btw! What if LL crew were temporarily turned human. The human liason helps them adjust (even if this is just for a while-they hope) and since it's Christmas, they decide to make everyone a traditional Christmas dinner (or as close to it as they can...) Who actually helps in the kitchen, who's more of a hindrance, and who sneaks food when they think no one's looking?

Transformers MTMTE/LL Reader Insert – For Just One Day

A/N – This one was tricky, trying to fit everyone in.

Warnings – Very Mild NSFW

Rating – T

It started with a stupid bet that the crew wouldn’t last a day as humans. To be honest, you forgot even making the bet with Brainstorm, but apparently those were your exact words, and now he hadn’t just turned himself human, but the entirety of the Lost Light. Fortunately, the effects of Brainstorm’s device were only going to last a day. Unfortunately, the day it took place was Christmas. Now, you not only had a million questions to answer about being human, but you also had to cook a Christmas dinner for everyone because Swerve had given the idea to Rodimus and it had spread like wildfire.

“Okay,” You said, tying back your hair and putting on an apron, mildly anxious now that everyone was looking to you for a Christmas feast. “I’m going to need help in the kitchen, if anyone will volunteer.”

Ultra Magnus nodded. He had just finished making a pamphlet for the bots who were struggling with their humanity. “I shall organise a cooking party,” he said, and with that, he was organising groups of bots who had volunteered into those willing to cook meat and those who weren’t.

Soon, you were left with a group of around thirty volunteers, looking to you for instructions. Among them were Rung, Ten, Swerve, Nautica and Cyclonus. You started by showing the group how to prepare the vegetables, setting off a production line. Rung was very attentive to his carrots, though having more experience on model ships, he was paying far too much attention to detail and was very slow with his work. Upon watching Ten, who was much faster, you decided to partner the two up to make up for Rung’s lack of speed.

Whilst trying to give instructions to some other bots, you found Swerve watching you dreamily, rather than preparing his items. When you went over to him, he blushed and started talking a million miles an hour, soon becoming more of a hindrance than a help, though you humoured him, since it came from a good place.

“You can keep yapping, as long as you get back to work, instead of staring at me,” You winked.

Swerve, feeling suddenly very nervous looked around for something to distract you, although it was too late for you not to have noticed his blatant ogling. “Ugh, I- I- I- FLOUR FIGHT!”

He threw a fistful of flour at your face. You coughed and spluttered, raising a bemused eyebrow once you were okay.

“I-Uh-I-” Swerve babbled, wondering why he hadn’t just got back to work when you had called him out.

“I’ll let that one go, but I’m gonna get you back later,” You deadpanned, smiling only when your back was turned and he couldn’t see you; it would be fun to watch him panic for a while.

You walked on, stopping when you found Nautica stirring an empty pot, whilst watching Brainstorm and Perceptor dreamily. You had a feeling that she had volunteered for the cooking before she realised that they were going to be running various experiments on the now-human crew. You stopped to look at the pair of arguing scientists.

“It is not a contest,” Perceptor sniffed drily.

Brainstorm wrapped an arm around him, “Everything is a contest, Percy. If it wasn’t, existence would be futile. So, you in or not?”

“Most definitely not. I am here to research the human mechanics that you have so hastily created, not compete over who can do the most experiments before the day is up.”

“Ah, classic Percy, that’s the fighting talk I love. We’ll tally the scores at sundown.”

Turning your attention back to Nautica, you knew she wouldn’t abandon the work she had promised to do, even if she didn’t realise that she wasn’t actually doing it.

“You should go with them,” You told her.

“Hm? Me? Oh, no, I couldn’t. I’m supposed to be here,” Nautica smiled bashfully when she realised that she had been stirring the wrong pot and the cocktail sauce was still just a batch of raw ingredients.

“Nautica, you’re supposed to be having a good time. Go nuts, run some experiments. Christmas is all about having fun, after all.”

Nautica chewed her lip, considering it.

You pushed her towards the exit, “Go!”

With that, Nautica gave you a quick hug and ran excitedly out, leaving you to get back to checking on everybody else. On her way out, you saw Megatron standing awkwardly in the doorway. From the disturbed look on his face, it occurred to you that nobody had told him what was going on and he had only just figured it out upon seeing everyone else.

You approached him, “Hey Megatron… It was Brainstorm-”

“So I gathered,” He replied gruffly. “Please can you inform me how long this is to last.”

“Around twenty-four hours.”

“I see. Then I shall remain in my hab-suite until it is over.”

“Wait,” You grabbed his arm. “We’re um, celebrating a human holiday, if you want to join us.”

“Please (Y/N), do not pity me. You know I have no place among my peers during celebrations.”

“Megatron, I will only pity you if you leave. Come on, you should be among your friends, and don’t say you don’t have any ‘cos that is utter rubbish. So, as your friend, I am ordering you to get over to your other friend, Rung and help him with those potatoes.”

Megatron stared at you, dumbfounded. If he didn’t have so much respect for you, he would have left to hide away until this was all over. As it was, he simply nodded and joined Rung, who immediately struck up a friendly conversation.

‘Right,’ You thought to yourself, ready to get back to work until you saw Tailgate hanging out near Cyclonus, about to pop some raw bacon in his mouth.

“NO,” You ran over picking him up. “PUT THE BACON DOWN.”

“WHAT? WHY?” Tailgate whined. “You didn’t yell at Ravage when he stole the eggnog.”

“He did what?” Sure enough, when you looked around, the eggnog was gone without a trace; how Tailgate had seen him take it was beyond you.

“(Y/N), I just wanna taste Cyclonus’ cooking. Pleeeeeease.”

“Tailgate, I get that you’re excited, but Cyclonus is on meat duty, ‘kay. Meat can make humans really, really sick if we eat it raw. I’m just doing this so you don’t get ill. So, I’ll say it again. Put the bacon down.”

“Do as (s)he says,” Cyclonus added, without even looking up from his cooking station.

Huffily, Tailgate put the bacon back onto the counter and you let him go. “If you want everything so perfect, you better check the dessert station,” he huffed.

You were puzzled for a moment, but you decided to do what he said, heading over to the dessert section.

“Oh, come on,” You groaned, upon seeing Rodimus remoulding all the gingerbread men into gingerbread Rodimus stars.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Rodimus grinned, trying to hide his artwork behind his back. You had been far too occupied to notice, but Rodimus had already been kicked out of the kitchen by various other members of the crew no less than seven times for causing havoc wherever he went. Quite frankly, he didn’t want to be kicked out again; it was getting harder and harder to sneak back in.

“Really? You couldn’t leave the gingerbread men alone?”

“(Y/N),” Rodimus put a hand over his heart. “I, for one, am disgusted that you would allow us to take part in an act that encourages cannibalism. I mean, eating fake humans is the first step towards eating real humans, and I will not stand for it.”

“Ugh, where the hell is the dessert team?” You asked frustratedly, looking around for any sane bot.

“Oh, them? Well, they chased after Riptide who stole all those little pastry things to eat. Then when they came back, Rewind and Chromedome had stolen all the chocolate.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They heard something about chocolate being an aphrodisiac, so they took it and went away to canoodle.”

“Then what happened?”

“Then Drift came to try some stuff.”

“Drift, really?” You said, surprise colouring your tone.

“Yeah, don’t tell him I told you, but he has kind of a thing about watching organics eat, so he stole some food to get into his kink state. Anyway, that was when the dessert team abandoned base and went to play twister. By the way, super-fun game. Anyway, that brings us to this point, when I’m your only hope for saving dessert, thus saving Christmas.”

You rubbed the back of your neck tiredly, “Fine… Do whatever the hell you want to the gingerbread. Just make sure to cook it afterwards. I left the instructions on the datapad there.”

“You got it,” Rodimus winked. “This is gonna be the best dessert ever.”

Finally, you were free to get back to work, and with only a few more problems, dinner was served. You and a few others volunteered to take food to those who had decided to quarantine themselves. Your first stop was Whirl’s hab-suite. Quite frankly, you were surprised that Whirl hadn’t come out to make mischief when everything started.

You knocked on his door, “Whirl, sweetie, you in there?”

“GO AWAY, MEATBAG!” He roared from inside.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I SAID GET LOST. I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU OR ANYBODY ELSE WHILE I’M LIKE THIS.”

You didn’t really understand what Whirl’s problem was, so you just left the food outside his door, telling him what you had done before leaving. Whirl didn’t go to collect the food. How could he, when he had a problem of this nature? As it turned out, something had gone wrong with Whirl’s transformation, so instead of his usual holoform, he looked entirely different. He was a grown man in a leather jacket, with fairly good looks. The problem was that without his interface panel or his usual feminine form, he couldn’t hide his arousal for you. As such, he had vowed not to come out until everything was back to normal.

Where others were saying Merry Christmas, all Whirl could think was ‘Bah, humbug.’

Like my work? Buy me a coffee and earn preview of the next fic, or commission me on the commissions page.

[cagestark]

-Defender//3-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Longest chapter by far...enjoy. ;) let me know what you think.

warnings: rape is mention in a strictly theoretical sense, but non-consensual groping is referenced.

read here on AO3.

-

‘Whatever kids do’ (I’m twenty fucking years old, Peter thinks to himself) turns out to be just sitting in his room, climbing the walls. Literally. Unfortunately, there aren’t any spiders making nests in the corners of the room, but at least he tried to find kin.

He takes the plastic bag out of his backpack, the one that hold his trackphone and charger. Now with an increased paycheck, he’ll be able to afford a real phone, one that he doesn’t have to risk turning on just once or twice a day to preserve the battery. There aren’t any messages, but Peter hadn’t really expected any different. He turns it off and tucks it back into the waterproof bag.

After a time, Peter begins to feel like maybe he’s hiding in his room. He’s hungry—and he lives here now, right, so why shouldn’t he just go out into the kitchen and make himself a sandwich? But every time he reaches for the doorknob, he chickens out. What if Mr. Stark is out there? Peter’s dressed in the only casual clothes he owns, a pair of warm sweatpants and a long-sleeve flannel shirt. Hardly appropriate attire to be seen in by a billionaire. By Tony Stark.

But the hunger wins out sometime around eight in the evening. So he carefully nudges the door to his room open and slips out.

He swallows a gasp, heart hammering when he spots Tony sitting on the leather couch with his socked feet up on the coffee table. Schematics are scattered everywhere, and his StarkPad is displaying something in 3D—fuck that’s so cool. The television is on, muted, the History channel playing a documentary on Ancient Egypt. A glass of mostly empty whiskey sits perched in one of the man’s tanned hands.

Quiet as he tried to be, some noise must slip out because Tony’s head turns. He looks wide awake for the late hour. “Hey, kid,” Tony says, eyebrows lifting. “You’re so quiet in there, I honestly forgot you were here.”

“I get that a lot,” Peter mumbles. He points to the kitchen, one hand absently trying to pat at his curls and decide if he looks like a hot-mess or just a mess-mess. “Can I get something to eat?”

“Mi casa es su casa, now. Literally. Help yourself to whatever you like, and if you want to keep me from eating something, put your name on it or hide it behind the vegetables.”

Peter snorts. “Noted. I just didn’t know if I was like, supposed to pay for my own groceries first. I don’t have any money.” He’s been spending his SI checks on motel rooms so that he’s not sleeping outdoors, but the other man doesn’t need to know that.

“Nobody pays for their groceries,” Tony says absently, already looking back to the hologram projected by his StarkPad. He prods at something with the end of his pencil. “Just eat what you want and let me know if you want me to order you something special.”

“Nobody pays for their food?” Peter mutters, looking into the refrigerator. It’s stocked with everything he could possibly want, and several things he can’t even name: fruits of strange shapes and colors, cheeses that smell nothing like cheese, milk that doesn’t come from a cow. “You just buy all the Avengers food, all the time?”

“I am the Avengers’ wallet, kid,” says Tony. “I house them, I buy them whatever they need, I upgrade their suits and weapons, provide any special technologies my brain can cook-up. I provide most of the paycheck—but SHIELD does help. Truth be told, the risk of the job isn’t worth what it pays, so if that’s why you said yes, you might want to rethink things.”

“No offense,” says Peter, sitting at the stool by the marble countertop. He has three peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in front of him made with crunchy peanut butter and organic raspberry jelly and wheat bread that is thick and brown and fragrant. His mouth waters. “But you’ve spoken like a true billionaire. Money and security? That’s worth everything.”

Tony stops what he’s doing. He puts his StarkPad down to rest in his lap, and the look on his face—Peter can’t pin it down, but it makes his shoulders hunch. Did he say something wrong?

“No offense, but you’ve spoken like a Dickensian protagonist. It’s worth everything?” Tony repeats. “Worth dying for?”

Peter shrugs. “If I’m dead, who cares. It’s worth almost dying for, though. Or at least—it is to me.”

Tony’s expression makes him look ten years older than he is, Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Peter, if you need financial security—I can take care of that. Look, I can fill in a lot of the blanks when it comes to your past and how you’ve had to rough it, but here at SI we take care of our own. You don’t need to be an Avenger to eat, to have a place to sleep, to get healthcare. Jesus, you’re only twenty years old; you have your whole life ahead of you. To be honest, kid, this business doesn’t really guarantee longevity. There isn’t a retirement plan.”

Peter stares. His eyes burn but he isn’t a crier. He cried at May’s ‘funeral’, when he couldn’t afford to bury her and they’d cremated her instead—and he’d promised himself that it was the last time he’d cry for as long as he lived. So he doesn’t cry now, but he kind of wants to. In his mind he sees Ben, sees the man who killed him, feels the helplessness and the guilt all over again.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” he says. He pauses to clear his throat so it doesn’t sound choked. Peanut butter is sticky; that’s all. “But you don’t know everything about my past. I’m not just doing this for the money.”

The silence lays thick between them, broken only when Tony nods and says, “That’s fair. Would you do me a favor and bring me a beer while you’re over there? Bottom shelf. Behind the quinoa.”

Peter has no fucking idea what quinoa is, but the refrigerator isn’t Mary Poppin’s purse or something, so he finds the beer towards the back eventually and grabs a bottle for the older man. There aren’t many left, and Peter sees that it’s because several empty bottles are sitting in a row by Tony’s feet. The stuff looks expensive, has a foreign label in a language that Peter can’t even identify, much less read. He crosses the room to deliver the bottle to the man’s waiting hand.

Tony goes to drink it and bumps the cap against his lip. Peter snorts.

“Cut me some slack,” Tony says around a smile. “I haven’t slept since your little nighttime creepy crawly act on my building. This takes a bottle opener anyway—no, no, I’ll get it, you just sit and eat, you’ve done enough for me—”

Peter takes the bottle and pops the cap with his bare hands. All the beer he’s ever seen were cheap screw-off tops, or he would have rummaged through the drawers for a bottle opener for the man earlier. It isn’t until he’s handing the bottle back and sees Tony’s wide-eyed expression that he realizes not everybody can pop a bottle cap with their thumb.  

“You weren’t kidding about how strong you are,” Tony says.

Peter just shakes his head, slow.

Tony points to the sandwiches on the counter. “I was just about to order in Chinese. What do you think? Better than PB&J?”

Mr. Stark clears the coffee table of his work and orders Chinese from a place he swears is the most authentic place in NYC. Then they spend fifteen minutes arguing about whether to start watching the Star Wars movies at the prequels or originals (because the documentary on TV is a snoozefest, which is why Tony was trying to watch it while he worked). Tony finally concedes to Peter’s persuasion, but Peter sees him smiling around the neck of his bottle as he takes a generous sip.

They put on the Phantom Menace.

“So tell me about yourself,” Tony says after the Chinese has arrived, sitting in various boxes scattered across the glass coffee table. He ordered an inordinate amount, and Peter plans to make sure that absolutely no grain of rice goes to waste, thanking the older man between bites. “I know more about your scopulae than I do you—and that’s not a weird metaphor.”

Suddenly Peter’s stomach isn’t used to being so full, and it rolls a little with nausea. He sets his plate down to let it settle.

“You made it sound like you already knew everything about me. What do you want to know?” he asks. He’s keenly aware of how painful his life has been. It sounds like a Shakespearean tragedy when he plays it out in his head: his parents’ untimely deaths, seeing his Uncle murdered (his fault, all Peter’s fault—), then his aunt passing away from illness. Losing the apartment. Living on the streets and in shelters and in any buildings he could scale or break into.

“Whatever you want to tell, kid,” says Tony. “It’s not an interview or an interrogation. FRI says you’re a native of Queens.”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Yeah. I’m from Queens.”

“I’m sorry,” says Tony gravely.

Peter smiles. “Queens isn’t bad, really.”

“Any family?” Tony asks. He stares at the screen where Qui-gon Jinn and Obi-Wan are bickering and takes a swig from the long-necked bottle, casual as can be, like he knows the answer is heavy but they have to get it out of the way.

The smile slips from Peter’s face. He shakes his head. “I’m alone.”

“No, you aren’t,” Tony says with conviction. “You’re an Avenger now. We’re all assholes, but we watch out for each other. It really is a family of sorts. A dysfunctional family, with an aunt who’s great at murder, a centennial grandfather, and an uncle who drinks too much, but such is life, right?”

“Who are you in that scenario?” Peter laughs. Something settles in Peter’s stomach, warm, like hot chocolate after coming in from the cold. Tony is so fucking nice. How does this man have everything? Looks, brains, money, and kindness.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Tony holds up the beer bottle. “I’m the uncle who overindulges.”

At that moment, a noise pierces the air. Peter jumps, heart hammering. “What’s that?” He asks.

“Just the bell, kid, no worries. FRI, who is it baby?”

“Captain Rogers, sir.”

Both of them go stiff in their seats. After a moment, Tony relaxes again, but Peter can’t let his guard down, not when that name makes his muscles clench in anticipation for a fight, when it makes his scalp prickle with anxiety and warning. “Let him in,” Tony says, standing. By the time Captain Rogers appears, Tony has a beer out for him.

Steve stops when he sees Peter sitting on the couch. The blond takes it all in: the movie on screen, the mostly-eaten food, the empty beer bottles on the table (which he eyes with disapproval). It must look like Peter and Tony are very familiar with each other, Peter in his pajamas, Tony in just his jeans and the wifebeater that was under his t-shirt while he worked down in the lab.

“Hey, Cap,” Tony says. He holds up the bottle. “Drink?”

“No thanks, Tony. Can I talk to you outside?” The look he gives Peter is apologetic enough. “Sorry kid, you aren’t an official Avenger yet until your induction, or I wouldn’t bother with all the secrecy.”

“It’s fine,” Peter says stiffly.

“I’ll be just a minute, Pete,” Tony says. They step outside.

-

Peter hears everything through the walls from his seat on the couch. The television plays but does nothing to disguise the raised voices from beyond the door. Peter wishes he could see their faces, but (no matter how cool it would have been) he didn’t develop x-ray vision from the spider bite. Maybe it’s for the best—maybe Peter couldn’t be held responsible for his actions otherwise.

“What’s going on between you two?” Steve asks.

“What are you talking about? We were eating Chinese and watching Star Wars.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate?”

“I sure as hell did, but he insisted that we start with the Phantom Menace and not A New Hope—”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Are you grooming him?” Steve sounds horrified at the thought, and Peter can’t assess his face to tell if he’s sincere or not. “A homeless kid you found, and suddenly you’re giving him a room in your penthouse, a job, you’re spending the day with him in the lab? And now, what, you’re plying him with alcohol?”

“I am not grooming Peter,” Tony says. His voice sounds firm. Good! Peter thinks. “He’s in there drinking a goddamn Coke. To be honest, I’m shocked that you even know the term, I didn’t think grooming officially existed in the Stone Age—”

“I take all the classes SHIELD requires of me to lead the team and keep people safe, even from attacks that aren’t always with fists or alien tech. Grooming has always existed; as long as there is prey, there are predators looking—”

“Peter is not prey, he could fucking snap me in half—!”

“But not if you make him like you, is that it? Not if he thinks he owes you—”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

The silence after that lasts a moment too long, and Peter shuts his eyes. Because he can hear more in that silence than he did in Tony’s exclamation—Tony is beginning to doubt himself. He’s beginning to believe the worst in himself. They’ve only known each other for forty-eight hours, but Peter already feels like he knows Tony better than the people around him: the painful vulnerability, the intense self-criticism.

“Look, if it will make everyone feel better, I’ll move his room—”

“God damn it,” Peter hisses.

“—maybe Vision wouldn’t mind rooming up here with me. I’m practically his father, or—something.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Steve says magnanimously.

“I bet you do, asshole,” Peter mutters.

“Is this all you came up here for?” Tony asks. “To read me the riot act over treating the kid like I’d treat any of you—if any of you liked me enough to invite me to your get-togethers or to accept my offers to join me up here—”

“I had a reason. Here,” something is exchanged hands, the rustle of paper. “Fury’s background check on Queens in there. It’s very thorough and enlightening—”

“And not my business,” Tony says. “This is confidential even by SHIELD standards—do I have clearance to have this?”

“I thought there was something in there that might be important for you to know. The kid used to work for Hammer Industries.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, this is it. It was lovely, folks! Peter should just pack his bag now. Maybe the windows in his room open so he can slip out and scale the side of the building. For a moment he thinks about how it might feel to just let himself fall. Now that he’s tasted this bite of a better life, returning to his old ways will be even more painful. But Peter doesn’t even know if the fall would kill him—

“Hammer Industries?” Tony says at length. “He definitely upgraded.”

“I want to look out for you, Tony,” Steve says.

Peter doesn’t believe a word of that.

The worst part of all is that he has to sit there on the couch and pretend like he hasn’t heard the entire conversation. How can he explain—how he’s always had a passion for tech, how he never even dreamed of being able to work at Stark Industries, so he’d shot for the moon instead of the stars, settling at Hammer Industries. Only the place had been a shitheap with a perverted boss and Peter saved up enough to cut his losses, and then Stark Industries had accepted him! Even working on machines in the maintenance department…it was more than Peter had ever dreamed.

But Tony doesn’t know that. The look on his face when he comes back in the room is grave.

“Hey kid,” he says. “Sorry I missed some of the movie.”

“It’s okay,” Peter lies.

Tony sits back down on the couch, as far away from Peter as he possibly can. He doesn’t take a single sip more of alcohol, and while he is friendly enough when Peter asks him a question, he doesn’t let himself be roped into conversation anymore. He stares at the television screen like he’s seeing through it, and Peter feels it slipping away—his chances at being close with Tony crumbling like sand through his fingers.

What he decides to do is to say something. Anything.

What he does is scoot across the couch and climb into the man’s lap, straddling the strong thighs. Tony looks at him like two separate heads have sprouted from his ears. Instinct has him pushing at Peter sharply, and it’s only Peter’s enhanced sense of balance and grip that has him twisting to avoid being pushed flat onto the glass coffee table. He lands like a cat in the slim space between the sofa and the coffee table.

“Get off of me—”

“Please let me explain—”

“Explain what?” The man swallows, heavily, staring down at where Peter kneels between his thighs. The sound is loud to Peter’s ears; he can hear it all, the pounding heart too. “Jesus Christ, you don’t need to be in my lap to have a conversation with me, do you?”

“I did work for Hammer Industries,” Peter says. “But I worked maintenance for them, too. They were shit, they treated us like shit, Hammer was a creep who used to grab my ass in the hallways, and I quit before I even had another job, that’s how desperate I was to get away.”

“You heard all that?” Tony asks, eyes wide enough to show white all around the dark iris. “Fuck, kid, eavesdropping—?”

“I have enhanced senses,” Peter pleads. “I can hear everything if it’s close enough. I can hear the Avengers on the floor below us when they’ve got a movie turned up too loud, I just, I didn’t want to say anything because it’s so creepy, but I can’t help it, and, and—”

“Hey, calm down. Here, will you get up? You’re going to give me a heart attack. Come sit on the couch, we’ll talk.”

They resume their seats on opposite ends of the couch. Peter looks down at his shaking hands, clenches them tight until his knuckles go white, but it’s not just his hands: his whole body shakes. Peter has never been gifted with words, something that has only became worse after the passing of his aunt, when he had no one to talk to. If all of this—the chance to be around Tony, the penthouse, the Avengers—if it all relies on Peter talking his way into it…then he’s doomed.

Tony scrubs at his face with a weathered hand. He looks exhausted. “I’m really sorry that you heard all of that out there,” he says at length.

“None of it was true,” Peter blurts. His blood thrums when he remembers all of Steve’s words. “You aren’t grooming me. Not to mention, I’m a fucking adult.”

“A vulnerable one,” concedes Tony.

“So are you,” Peter says through his teeth. “Everybody is vulnerable to something. You want to pity homeless youth, go find one who is really suffering. I’m enhanced! I can climb walls even in the rain to get somewhere safe and dry. I don’t have to worry about anyone mugging me or, or raping me, because I could just pull their arms and legs off. I’m not vulnerable. I’m just—”

“Just what,” asks Tony, motioning with a hand when the younger man’s words cut off. “Go on, kid. I’m listening to you.”

“I’m just a guy who—who is finally getting everything that he wanted,” Peter says. All the anger is sapped from his veins now, and he feels old and heavy and tired, his eyes burning traitorously until he blinks them clear and dry. “I’ve wanted to work with science since I was old enough to go to school. But I don’t have an education, I don’t have a degree. I didn’t even finish high school. Places only hire me for grunt work, but I’m good with machines. I figured maybe I could, could work my way up. To something. Working at Stark Industries was just a pipe dream. I never thought I’d get a chance, but my Aunt May…she used to say that I’m too pessimistic, and I should open myself up to good things, because good things will happen.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away Mr. Stark.”

“Peter—it’s okay. I wasn’t worried about you working at Hammer Industries as it was. Hammer isn’t clever enough to infiltrate my building, and even if he were? My secrets are a lot harder to steal than anyone might think. If FRIDAY had seen you doing anything suspicious, she would have notified me in a heartbeat. That’s all shit; I know that.” Tony clears his throat. “But Cap was right about one thing. I don’t want you getting ideas in your head, that you have to treat me a certain way to stay on the team and in the Tower, or that I expect any treatment like that.”

Peter groans. “I don’t think that. I’m not twelve. Besides, the other Avengers treat you like shit, and you keep them around—”

“Hey,” says Tony, raising his voice a little. “They don’t treat me like shit, so knock it off. Having you up here in the penthouse does give the wrong impression. I don’t want you or anyone else to think I’m trying to take advantage of you.”

“What—what if I want you to?” Peter asks. He dares a look at the older man; God, he’s so handsome, even looking stunned as he is. His mouth is open like he wants to say something but isn’t sure what to say, and Peter takes the chance to continue. “I know I’m young, and I’m not the best looking guy around, not even the best looking one in the Tower, but I’ve had a crush on you since like, 2008. You’re everything I’ve dreamed of, Mr. Stark, and somehow I’m here in your penthouse and we ate Chinese together and I don’t want to let it go.”

“Peter—” Tony looks stricken, face pale.

“It doesn’t have to be anything serious,” Peter amends quickly. “I know you’re busy, and I’m going to be too, I guess. No pressure. You could just let me know when—when you wanted me and I’d be there for you.”

“Kid,” says Tony. “Stop. That’s not the way I work, and that’s not the way I want you to work. You shouldn’t let anybody treat you like that—”

“I wouldn’t let anybody treat me like that,” Peter promises. “Just you, Mr. Stark.”

That does something to the man. Tony groans, reaching up to palm at his eyes. “You don’t make it easy on me, appealing to all my seedy kinks, kid. If I’d met you ten years ago—yikes, not ten-year-old you, twenty-year-old you but, yeah, alright, you catch my drift. If I was the same man now that I was ten years ago, I wouldn’t hesitate Peter. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

“Besides the spider bite, I’m really not that special,” Peter says. “But I’m okay with that. Most people aren’t special.”

“That’s not true,” says Tony. “I’ve got three emails in my inbox from my head of Maintenance begging to have you back, saying that you’re a wunderkind with the machines and that the HVAC hasn’t been in such good shape since it was first installed. You’ve made quite an impression down there—and on me, too.”

“Really?” Peter asks. He can’t help but sit up straighter, buoyant butterflies in his stomach uplifting him.

“Really,” Tony confirms. “I like the way you listen, kid. The hero worship thing, too. You’ve got to know that that plays right into my ego. Fuck, Steve’s right. I’m really not a very good man.”

“I don’t care what Steve Rogers thinks,” Peter breathes. He shifts up onto his knees, edging towards the man at the other end of the couch. By the time he stops, his feet are tucked underneath him, knees touching Tony’s thighs. Peter reaches out to put a hand on his bicep, and the older man flexes instinctively. “I can hear that, you know. The way your heartbeat just picked up.”

Tony swallows. “Not something I usually have to hide.”

“You don’t have to hide anything from me,” Peter says. “Mr. Stark?”

“What, kid?”

“Would you kiss me?”

“That wouldn’t be fair to you. Because after this conversation ends, I’m going to ask you to switch rooms with Vision.”

Peter can sense the weakness in Tony’s will, and he uses it to shift himself onto the older man’s lap, back where he was when this conversation began. Only this time Tony doesn’t push him away, just leans his head back against the couch cushions and closes his eyes. Peter stares, awed. Something about him is attractive to Mr. Stark, something that has the man barely hanging on to his control. The power is a heady thing, makes his body sway forward the way it does when he’s standing on a tall building too close to the edge. This power over the man is just as great a responsibility as his spider senses, and he would never, never misuse it.

“I don’t ever want this conversation to end, then,” Peter admits, letting his fingers drift up from where they’re resting on the man’s bicep, up along the t-shirt he’s wearing and to his neck where his pulse is hammering away. Peter presses, so gently on that carotid artery, and Mr. Stark’s mouth opens, a silent sound that deafens Peter. The younger man’s cock is rapidly hardening, but he keeps his hips pulled back lest he be too tempted to grind on Tony’s abs.

“Everything ends, kid.” The rumble of Tony’s voice reverberates through Peter and makes him shiver.

Peter carefully lets his weight down—and yes, he feels a distinct bulge in the other man’s pants, hears the way that heart stutters, resumes its beating in double-time. Tony sucks in a breath through his nose and holds it until his lungs must be aching. “I’m going to kiss you now,” Peter warns.

Tony tilts his head back up until there is nowhere to look but at each other. Slowly to give the man time to pull away, Peter ducks his head in until their panting breaths are mingling between their open mouths, and Peter decides that if Tony didn’t want Peter to, he wouldn’t have his eyes closed this way, wouldn’t have let his hands grip at Peter’s thighs to pull him further down on the man’s cock.

“One kiss,” Tony says, their lips brushing. “And then you have to go downstairs, Peter. So make it count.”

“I will,” Peter promises.

And he does. Their mouths are open when they meet, and Tony’s mouth feels better than Peter might have ever imagined it to be: soft and firm and eager, coming to life like a live wire beneath Peter’s less experienced lips. But what Peter lacks in experience he makes up for in exuberance, letting both hands come up to tangle in the older man’s dark hair, letting his hips rest heavy on that hard cock beneath him just to feel the way Tony’s groan makes them both vibrate. Peter reaches out blindly and uses one hand to brace himself on the back of the couch so that he can grind down on the cock beneath him.

“Jesus, kid,” Tony breaks apart to breathe.

“I won’t let you cheat me; I’m not done with my kiss,” Peter says, pulling him back, their mouths raw and red. He sucks on the clever tongue and then pulls away to feel the burn of Tony’s facial hair against his oversensitive mouth, keeping the contact (still counts as one kiss, right? If Peter never completely pulls his lips away?) until it leads him down to that pounding pulse that he can lick and suck at. When he plants his teeth there, Tony hisses, hips thrusting up reflexively to drive his hard cock into the hot cradle of Peter’s hips.

“God, I’ve wanted this forever,” Peter says, scraping his teeth against the warm skin of Tony’s neck. “How am I supposed to stop, Mr. Stark? I—I don’t think I can.”

“Peter—one of us has to—has to—fuck, your mouth—!”

“If one of us has to fuck my mouth, I hope it’s you—”

“Christ, don’t say shit like that,” Tony gasps. “Who knew you had such a filthy fucking mouth.”

“Wait until you see what my filthy mouth can do,” Peter says, desperate fingers tugging down the collar of Tony’s t-shirt to suck a bruise onto his collarbone, and it makes the man’s hips stutter beneath him. Peter finally pulls away (this has been far more than one kiss, but he doesn’t think Tony minds much anymore) and stares at Tony’s face. His eyes are closed, lashes long and dark where they brush his cheeks. He has the loveliest mouth, full and expressive and a little swollen from the way Peter nipped at his lips.

Their mouths are drawn back together, two magnets always seeking each other out. This kiss is better, a little more experienced. It’s give and take, both of them swaying into each other like sails caught in the breeze, the lap of warm tongues like waves against a ship’s hull, their ever present arousal being driven higher and higher. Peter reaches down to slip one hand beneath Tony’s jean-clad ass and pull the man up, harder, the friction on their cocks so painfully good that he can’t help but whine in the back of his throat.

“I can’t believe a tiny thing like you is so fucking strong,” Tony says through his teeth, slipping both his hands down into the back pockets of Peter’s jeans. When he squeezes Peter’s ass, he can’t help but jump, cock spitting precum in his boxers.

“Does—does it turn you on?” Peter asks, already suspecting the answer, the dark flash of Tony’s eyes when Peter popped the bottle cap with his bare hand replaying in his mind. “Knowing how much stronger than you I am? If I, If I wanted to, I could snap you in half just like you said to Steve. But I’d never do that. Maybe I’d just hold you down so that I could climb on top of you and ride your cock just the way I wanted to—”

“Fuck—kid, you keep talking like that and I’m going to blow in my pants.”

Peter’s breath catches. He slows his frantic grinding, turning them into long, deep strokes. “That’s what I want,” he whispers. “I want to see you cum, please, Mr. Stark? You make it sound like this might be my only chance. That would be a crime though, because there’s so much I want to do to you, suck your ridiculous brain out through your cock and swallow your cum and rim you and pin you flat to whatever surface we’re closest to—whatever works—and ride your cock, or, or give you mine—”

Tony’s back arches, cutting off a strangled shout. He stays that way, head back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in ecstasy for an endless moment, and then his hips drop back down to the couch as he groans, burying his face in Peter’s neck, content to let Peter hump him through his orgasm until he is shaking, oversensitive, heart pounding far too fast for a man of his age and cardiac history. It’s all the most sexual, incredible experience of Peter’s short life, and he knows that it’s not the end. It can’t be.

Even though his cock aches, balls protesting the lack of orgasm, Peter gently shifts himself off the man’s lap, wiping the dark hair from Tony’s forehead, slick with just the beginning of sweat. He places a last tender kiss on the man’s cheek, just above his trimmed facial hair.

“I’ll get my bag,” Peter whispers. “Just give me five minutes.”

Then he stands and disappears into his room, leaving behind the billionaire.

-

Peter stands in what was once Vision’s room feeling bereft. Apparently the man(? cyborg? Peter isn’t sure of what to call him) didn’t care much for decoration, because the room looks as the room upstairs did with all the impersonal warmth of a fancy hotel room. The bed is large and comfortable, sheets clean. The bathroom is black marble, shining and sleek. He should be comfortable here. There’s nothing very different—

—except for the company.

Steve Rogers knocks and then looms in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His face is pleasant enough, a little pitying maybe, but Peter is willing to admit that his own feelings on the man might be clouding his perception. “Hey, Peter. I wanted to see how you were settling in.”

“Oh, hi, Captain,” Peter says. It’s easy to slip on a naïve persona, all guileless wide eyes and timid cracking voice. He just plays up all the characteristics he naturally has, though they all seem to melt away when this man is near. “Would you—would you come in, actually? I have some questions.”

“Sure—”

And when the door closes behind him, Peter is there, a hand flat against it so that try as he might, Steve can’t open it. Any pleasantry saps itself from both of their faces until they regard each other with trepidation (from Steve) and undisguised dislike (from Peter).

“I heard everything you said upstairs when you were talking to Tony,” Peter says through his teeth. He barely recognizes his voice, the darkness in it, the disgust. It feels like possession, like his own anger is a demon inhabiting his body and he’s just along for the ride, staring through the holes of his eyes like they are far away windows. “Do not ever, ever mistake me for prey. I might be in the web along with the flies, but that’s because I am the spider. Tell me: what do you know about spiders?”

“Not much,” Steve admits. He doesn’t look scared, though the tense stance says more than his expressionless face; maybe he isn’t afraid, but he isn’t underestimating Peter either and that’s good. Peter can appreciate that.

“I read all the books in the New York City Public Library about them during the summer I turned fifteen. Did you know that jumping spiders can jump almost 40 times their own length? They can hold up to 150 times their own body weight, too. For their size, they are one of the strongest, fastest animals in the world. Maybe those statistics don’t carry over to me; maybe the mass makes things different, maybe since I don’t have an exoskeleton, maybe since I only have four legs and not eight—but maybe they do reflect my abilities. And maybe I am that strong. And I don’t want you to forget it.”

“Are you threatening me Peter?” Steve asks solemnly.

“No,” Peter says. “I’m defending myself, and I’m defending Tony. Remember that.”

Steve looks at him, serious. “I will. Is that all, kid?”

If he thought that he’d find any satisfaction in threatening Steve Rogers, he was wrong. All he feels after the door closes is empty, angry, a pot with the lid on tight even though the pressure builds and builds, desperate to boil over. There’s no relief to be found; his fury is so impotent. Nothing he can do would change Tony’s mind (and he doesn’t want to change Tony’s mind, he wants Tony’s mind to change on its own).

For the first time, he feels scared of himself.

But all he can do is persist, exist, like a weed coming up through the crack of the Avengers’ concrete.

Peter undresses and lays in the comfortable bed, staring up at the darkness of the ceiling. For a while he tosses and turns (can a bed be too comfortable? Too soft and yielding to his every curve? Talk about first-world problems), but then he sits up in the dark.

On the floor above him, Mr. Stark has started playing music. Loud. Loud enough for Peter to hear.

He takes one of the fluffy pillows and tucks it between his arms where (ideally) another body would rest. Closing his eyes, he falls asleep to the sounds of Led Zeppelin’s greatest hits. He dreams of rain on the windows.

[szopenhauer]

Do you like Chanel purses? no

When was the last time you had Pepsi? ages ago

Do you know anyone with exaggeratedly big muscles? not personally

What is your favorite endangered animall? elephant

Can you name someone with the same last name as you? my parents

Who was the last person to scream your name? ...

By the way, that wasnt meant to be perverted.  too late  I have no idea why I thought about that - no one ever screamed my name this way and nobody ever will :x

Do you struggle to articulate your thoughts and feelings? it seems Name something that you are doing tonight. nothing and I realized that I don’t want to go to sleep more than ever before, I just don’t want to wake up tomorrow and yet I’m scared of dying (suffering)

Do you like the smell of a barbecue? nah

Would you date an 18 year old at the age you are now? too young for me Are you more likely to show affection through your words or your actions? words I guess Do you have an easy time falling asleep? I wish Are you a crier? crybaby Do you like to wear makeup? no Do you have a high tolerance for people? pfft Do you like your bed? why not How many times have you been to the ER? few

Are you wearing shorts? basically never

Do you eat randomly, just whenever the hell you want? ...

Did you have trouble getting up this morning? yeah What’s a few things that automatically make you go, “Awww”? cute little dogs Do you have soft hands? Do you like holding hands? do I? I like to hold hands tho What’s your opinion on perfumes that are REALLY expensive?  dumb, I hate perfume but expensive - that is ridiculous! Have you ever really hated a teacher and practically made it clear you did? Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. Are you a little bit cautious around horses? Do they scare you a bit? I’m just a cautious person in general  If you could live next door to ANYONE, who would you want to live beside? love of my life, I mean - we can live together but for now it would be cool if we were neighbors at least, you know what I mean? Do you think your friends are pretty? Do your friends think your pretty? what friends... Are you currently worried about your parents finding out about something? maybe mom about that one particular thing that starts on S and ends with X

What is your opinion on air pollution? less cars!

Were you forced to read ‘The Odyssey’ in high school? from what I remember

Who was the last person to come visit you? M.

When was the last time you shaved your legs? recently

Do you own any superhero shirts? nope

What is your opinion on the “Team Edward/Team Jacob” shirts? I dislike Twilight

If you had to teach a class, what would you teach? if I really had to then art

How did your parents meet each other? personal

What profession do you think is the most under-appreciated? garbage collectors, those who clean the streets or hospitals, postmen etc.

Have you ever drawn on someone while they were sleeping? don’t do that

Does time really heal all wounds? Or is that just a trivial saying? trivial saying

Where is your favorite place to take a nap? I don’t do naps but my bed

Would you rather lose all your old memories, or never be able to make new ones? not be able to make new

Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I don’t drive

What’s a tradition you hope never dies out? it’s a secret

Do you have any exes you’d consider dating again? I’m dating my ex 

Have you ever went a year without getting your hair cut? yes Do you think you could go a week without sugar? without sweets? I already do, I don’t even drink tea with sugar  Would you be willing to go one day each week without meat? absolutely Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? whatever Are you any good at sewing? I know basics Have you looked at any old photos of yourself lately? this year Do you carry a calculator around with you everywhere? I don’t need it that often Do you like to plan things out or just go with the flow? plan but not strictly

Do you garden at all? If so, what types of things do you grow? I help my parents which I find pointless because there is always much more work than results Do you consider cooking to be an art? when done right How many pairs of sunglasses do you own? too many considering that I barely wear ‘em ^^” Are you a fast or slow reader? fast Would you ever spend $500 on concert tickets? hell no Do you know anyone who looks like you? there was a gal who was similar to me on tumblr but younger than me, I lost contact with her  Do you get nervous when you go to the doctor?  yeah :( Are you a short tempered person? oh well...

Does it take a lot to gross you out? I’m easily grossed out  Last time you seen an ocean: never saw ocean in person Do you collect sea shells? not as much as I used to

What is one change you need to make in your life this month? lets not talk about it, ok?

Would you have sex with the last person you texted? done Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? she’s gonna be busy working Do you require a lot of private time? yasss Have you ever told a guy you were a lesbian to get him to leave you alone? it’s because I’m a lesbian lmfao If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? in my most fav shows plot was more important to me than characters tbh, it’s hard to explain, I hope I’m not the only one who thinks this way haha but in Buffy I didn’t like Xander and Angel was annoying even though he was necessary, I wasn’t a fan of Faith and didn’t understand Riley existence in the universe, also Dawn changed a lot for worse but I swallowed it with patience, in Call the midwife I felt crappy when they took Chummy and Jenny away, I didn’t watch newest episodes so I have no idea who Lucille and Valerie are, I horribly miss sister Evangelina :(

What’s the best part about flying? don’t ask me, I’ve never been on a plane

Did you ever watch Sailor Moon? fragments

Chocolate or Vanilla ice cream? vanilla

If you had to get glasses would you wear contacts? I’d prefer glasses

Are mac’s really better than PC’s? I’m a PC gal

D0 y0u l1k3 t0 t@lk l1k3 a 5c3n3 k1d? *cringe*

When you were red and green clothes do you feel like a Christmas Tree? lol

What TV show has the best theme song? hard choice

New Year’s Plans? I don’t plan to live that long

Would you agree that Sex and The City is the best show ever? no way, I didn’t even care enough to watch one episode of it

Do you call your friends with red hair “ranga’s”? wtf

Have you ever been surfing? me? surfing? r u kidding?

Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? excuse me, I’m into women exclusively

Name a thing in your room that other probably don’t have in theirs: me ha!

What’s your best jacket like? comfy :3

What’s something you can cook or bake like a pro? nothing 

If you could pull off any hairstyle, what would it look like? I have couple of ideas ;)

What is the worst thing that happened so far today? my failed appointment as I didn’t get any answers nor help for my heart condition and allergies and that was the last attempt, I have no other ways of fixing things to survive next months, my life;s officially over, I only have suffering and fear left, I’m a burden and I want to kill myself sooner than food or cardiac arrest 

Did that ruin your day? it ruined my LIFE

What’s something good you’re looking forward to? sweet relieve of death?...

What’s something that you think is really cute?

*wish it was mine

Describe your feet: eww, why, better not

If you see somebody crying, do you start crying too? depends

How do you like your hoodies? oversized, without kangaroo pocket in front and/or a zipper, yuk

Is having to pee really badly worse than being really thirsty? it is to me at least

Were you a cute baby? I was a red haired potato

Are you talking to anybody right now? online 

How tall are your tallest socks? I kept my rainbow knee high socks but I don’t use them anymore

Are you waiting for a phone call? at night?...

Do you look forward to swimsuit season, or get really nervous? I was skipping swimsuit seasons for over 10 years until this summer - I bought the cheapest and went to stand/walk in the water and sit on a beach despite my insecurities 

If you could live for a year with any foreign family, where would you go? don’t wanna, scary

What do you wish people would pay you to do? browse the internet XD

Do you take good pictures? I try

Should you be doing something else right now? wash my hair, drink water, commit suicide - who knows

Did that question make you nervous? that question made me sad 

Why don’t girls like porn? some enjoy it 

Tell me a memory of this summer: this summer is all about romantic love, illnesses and nostalgy

Do you think it’s pretty when 100s of balloons are let loose into the sky? a waste but still pretty, sorry love, I know you’d be irritated so don’t worry - I will never do smth like that to ya

[averymessyxmas]

Chapter 6: Grandma Rudy Arrives (10 Days till Christmas)

Janessa:

 I woke up this morning feeling like a weight had finally been lifted off my shoulders. I never knew Vada still held on to that night, I kind of just put it behind me, and moved on. After Grandma Rudy surprised us. We all caught up with her in the living room, Mama and Daddy set her up a room, and we just all went to sleep, I was in pain from Vada’s slap when I woke up. “Damn it that girl can hit” I got dressed for the day and sat on my bed and called my husband on facetime. “Damn baby what happened” Dylan said seeing my face bruised on one side. I sighed. “Vada” I told him. He shook his head. “Damn, yall still beefing?” He asked. I shook my head. “No actually we made amends last night after she hit me” I told him. He smiled at me. “Your still beautiful, right Chase” Dylan said with Chase climbing all on him. “Yesth” He said with his little lisp not paying me any mind. “So I’m thinking fuck it, I should just come over today” He told me. I felt nervous a little. “I mean, yeah everything has calmed over here so far and daddy is happily in a relationship so he wouldn’t care” I said. I heard a knock at the door before it opened. I jumped but calmed down when I seen it was Grandma Rudy. “You scared me” I told her. She laughed and gave me a cup of something. I tasted it then made a face. “It’s eggnog with henny” She said. I laughed. Grandma Rudy always had to be drinking. “That’s that husband of yours?” She said. I nodded slowly but confused how did she know. “You wear your wedding ring like an idiot, if you trying to hide the fact your married child just take off the got damn ring” She said before sitting next to me. She snatched my iPhone. “Oooh I remember him, hey fine white chocolate you remember me?” She said smirking. I see Dylan nod and laugh through the camera. “Let me see that baby, Hey Grandma Rudy’s baby, he so cute, looking like coffee mixed with crème, a latte baby” She said sipping on her drink. I seen Chase look through the phone smiling. “You have a nice ass family Nessa; your daddy is going to kill you” She laughed before handing me my phone back. “Your grandma and my grandma shirl should meet” He said laughing. Grandma Rudy and I were on facetime with Dylan for an hour before he had to go because Chase was getting fussy and needed to eat. “So you and Vada made up?” She asked. I smiled yeah. “Does she know the rest?” Grandma Rudy said. I put face in my hands. “No, and I’m not telling her, it was in the past Grandma, were fine now” I told her getting up. If Vada found out we dated after she left for 2 years, and that I got pregnant, got an abortion she would be pissed at me even more.

 Nori:

  Ever since, I told Dre. I thought it would be easier for me, and I wouldn’t have to stress about hiding my pregnancy, but shit aint go to good when I told him. I been trying to listen to breathing exercises to calm down when I’m stressed. I heard a knock at my door. “Hold On!” I said. I put on my oversized jacket quickly and zipped it up. “Come in” I said. In walked Janessa. “You scared me Ness” I said. She smiled. “Sorry, How are you?” She asked. I shrugged. “I’m okay, just I’m always tired, he is always moving, I’m hungry. I want cereal at random times, and Doritos dipped in Ranch is like my go too, I just feel by myself” I stressed to her. She sat down on my bed, I sat next to her. She rubbed my stomach a little. “If things get to crazy here, you can come with us in L.A. I will help you” She told me. I smiled. She got off my bed, and opened the door. “I’ll see you downstairs” She told me. I stood up and looked at my mirror, and absurd my baby bump. My iphone started ringing. I noticed the number. I picked up the phone. I could hear him breathing on the phone. “Norielle” He finally said. “Yes”. “I, I want to apologize for blowing up on you, I was caught of guard”. He told me. I felt a tear drop of my cheek. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you, I didn’t want to say it through a jail visit where we can’t even touch each other, I really need you right now Dre and you’re in there”. I said through my tears. “Nori, it was still fucked up man, I shouldn’t have questioned you but damn girl you showing, it ain’t like you just found out”. He said. “I was in denial Dre’, I didn’t know how far I was until I went to the doctor, I’m 5months, Im due May 15th.” I told him.  “You know what we are having?” He asked. I smiled. “A boy”. I could hear him getting emotional on the other in of the phone. “I um, damn I’m have a son that’s crazy, and you were going to keep him from me”. I sighed. “Dre, I was not going to do that, I was not trying to leave you nothing My doctor said NO stress, I love you, I want us to have this big happy family but first you focus on getting out and I’ll focus on getting him here”. I told him. “I don’t have much time Nori, I love you and my son man” He hung up. “I was going to give you some drank but I see you can’t drink” I turned around and seen Grandma Rudy standing by my door. I was about to cry. “Please don’t tell Grandma” I stressed to her. She put the drinks down and hugged me. “Stop all that crying girl, I’m not telling nothing. I ain’t no snitch baby, I’m here for you. Now having a baby is a big responsibility. They cry, they shit, they take up all your damn time, you can’t drink cause you got to breast honey it’s a whole damn job, are you ready for this?” She asked me. I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know, I just know I love my baby already so much” I told her. “Well your still in school, that’s good, you got family that loves, although my daughter will shit a whole brick when she finds out good lord, but I got you baby” She told me. I nodded and hugged her. “Thank you, Grandma,”. “Baby get dressed, we are going out today”. She told me. I nodded and started to finish getting dressed.

 Narkim:

 I was sitting at the dining room table with Damien and Nylah eating Cereal when Nori and Grandma Rudy came downstairs. “So yall ain’t fucked yet?” I asked looking at Nylah and Damien. Nylah looked at me crazy, Damien smirked. “I mean I have tried” Nylah pushed him. “Boy please” I started laughing. That nigga D was blind asf La-La was feeling him and if he stopped trying to fuck old ladys then he would see how beautiful she was and how she been there for his dumb ass since diaper days but that aint my bizz. “Who fucked what?” Grandma Rudy said. She was lit. “Hey Grandma Rudy you got the juice, that good shit” I said. She winked at me and slid me a cup. “Oh its lit” She held her hand out. “I know you got that green for your granny now” She said. I smiled. “I gotchu G-ma” I told her. Momma walked downstairs looking nice. “Good morning babies” She said smiling. She kissed Grandma Ruby cheek. “Hi mama”. My mama said. Grandma Rudy looked at her suspiciously. “Who been in your draws Rice?” She asked my mama. “Ayye yo Grams nobody wants to hear about who been blowing my mama back out why we eating”. I told her. “Hush up boy how you think all yall got here” She said. My mom was humming around the kitchen, now she boujee, she never eats cereal so we all just stared at her as she made her some all smiley and shit. “Mommy you good?” Nori asked walking in. My mom nodded. “Mmmhm she done met somebody or got her groove back” Grandma Rudy said sipping on her “Special” drink. My mom normally would argue with G-ma but she just waved her off, yeah that’s nasty but somebody done made my mama happy, she aint get home till 2 am after she had been out all day, and Daddy left to go back to his apartment since they announced they divorce, shit was weird as fuck. My iphone started buzzing. It was Mack. I sighed and got up to go outside and take the call. Homie been scaring me since he pulled the strap on me, like made me one to get suited up too, just in case. I ain’t no bitch but I was scared to piss him off. “Yerr” I said. I could hear Mack laughing. “Nigga, don’t yerr me bitch, What happened to what’s up Bossman…anyways I don’t need you to fuck up on my shipment again young blood, I need you at 8pm asap, or I’m pull up on you again and it wont be pleasant, now I been letting you slide cause you my favorite but you missing out on my million dollar deal the other night hurt me, and as of recently I found out that you never got that brick to East Side a few months, but it’s all good just be there tonight get me this money, get me this merch and ill move up your pay and your position” He told me. My heart was racing. “Aight I got you, 8 pm don’t fuck up” I told him. He laughed. “You already know”. He ended the call. I heard the front door open, revealing my Grandma Rudy in her puffer jacket and a scarf drinking her liquor in a coffee cup. “Now I know you aint bout to roll one without your grams” She said. I smiled. “Nah I got you grams”. She nodded. “Nori told me you got yourself a range rover, and a condo in Buckhead”. She said smiling. I nodded. “Yeah, but keep that between us, I been saving at footlocker” I told her. She started laughing. “MJ used to be saving up at Taco Bell, lying ass nigga he was out there selling them drugs and being a want to be gangsta, I had to bail him out of jail so many got damn times, so I know when my grandkids up to no good” She told me. I passed her a blunt I had already rolled. We sat on the porch. “You know your twin is pregnant?” She asked me. I nodded. “Yeah man its tough for her with her baby daddy in jail and shit” I said. “How he get there?” She asked. I sighed. “Um they found a pack of cocaine in his car like a brick” I told her. She looked at me as I looked towards the drive way. “He was dealing too?” She asked me. I shook my head. “Nah, he like a honor student, Um G-ma don’t tell Nori this but I um I l had got scared cause the cops was checking my dorm for narcotics so I got scared, I aint want to go to jail so I noticed his car door was unlocked. I put it in his car”. I confessed to her. She shook her head at me. “That’s a shame, your sister struggling as it is to keep this secret of hers, you going to have to make this right or tell her, I can keep your secret Nari but you need to be a man and own up to this” She told me. I shook my head. “I can’t right now, she so damn fragile since she been pregnant, she would cut me off, or panic or lose the baby and I don’t want to stress her out, she stressed as is because of me”. I said. She passed the blunt to me. “Well it’s your mess baby, you figure it out”. The front door opened again, revealing Vada, Nori and Michael and Janessa, Damien and Nylah. I quickly put the blunt out. “Damn grandma Rudy you drunk and high?”. Vada asked. Grams shrugged. “Im what yall say lit?” She said smiling. Vada held her hand out. “What?” I asked. She smirked. “Pass me it, shit Im stressed I need to smoke” She said. “You got to share” Michael told her. She smiled. “Ofcourse”. “Aye yall mutherfuckas need to chill this my shit, but ima share” I said. They laughed. I lit the blunt and we all passed it around and we all smoked except Nori and Janessa. “So what’s the move?” I asked. “Well we all about to hit up the mall” She said. I nodded, “Yall have fun, I’m bout to go see my girl” I told them. After we smoked, G-ma, Vi and Mike, Damien and Nylah was smacked. They all got in the car with snacks and shit and pulled off. I started getting ready to go see my girl.

 Vada:

When we pulled up to the mall, the first place we all went was the food court. Nori and Janessa and I split up from Michael, he wanted to get gifts from me and didn’t want me to see. Grandma Rudy ran off cause her boyfriend Charles met her up here. Damien and Nylah went their separate ways, so it was just me and my sisters. “The last time we all hung out like this Nori was like 9 or 10, we were babies now were grown that’s crazy, how have you been Nori, I haven’t catched up with you since I got here” I said to her. She went through her phone and slid it to me, it was picture of an ultrasound. “I’m pregnant, I’m 25 weeks, and I’m having a boy. Oh my God that felt so good to get off my chest” She said. I was staring at her and the picture in shock. I saw her and Narkim when they were born, I helped change them and bath them and I’m fucking shook. “Wow, your going to be a mom” I said in a daze still high. She smiled and nodded. “That’s weird to say, just keep this between yall, I will tell everyone else when I’m ready”. She told us. I nodded. “Where’s the father?” I asked. She showed me and Janessa a picture. “Oh girl he is fine, where are you hiding him?” I asked her. “He is in jail” She told me. I looked at her crazy. “Come again?” I asked. “He was wrongly accused, but he will be out soon” She said. I almost smacked her. “Well, I hope everything works out, I don’t want you out here being a baby mama”. I said to her. “I’m getting married, well hopefully Michael proposed earlier this month” I said. Nessa and Nori smiled. “Oh my gosh Vi, I’m so happy for you” Janessa said. “He wants to have time to tell Daddy, you know how he is” I said to them. Janessa nodded. “Don’t we”. I was curious to know why she was single. “You live alone in L.A?” I asked. She slowly shook her head. “I have a life out there, but right now I’m keeping it private” She told me. We sat and talked and ate our food just catching up on sister shit. “Vada? Vada Richards?” I heard a man say. I bought choked on my juice. “Omari?” I said. He held his arms out for a hug. I got up and hugged him. He smelt so got damn good. “Damn girl you are looking fine as hell, how are you?” He asked. “I’m good, how are you?” I asked. He smiled. “I’m good, I’m sorry about that night when you left, I was hurt, I felt so bad I didn’t know how that happened. I never meant to hurt you” He said. I nodded. “It was a decade ago, Im over it”. I said. “I’m actually here with my sisters, you of course remember Janessa, and this is my baby sister Norielle” I told him. He looked at Janessa. “Hey, Ness” He said. I don’t know why but him calling her “Ness” pissed me off. “Well it’s nice seeing you” I said. He pulled out his phone. “Can I get your number maybe we can meet up again?” He said. “Well who is this chocolate drip?” I heard Grandma Ruby say walking hand in hand with her man Charles. “Grandma, you just going to say that with Charles right there?” Nori said. She waved him off. “Old bat is losing his hearing, Right Charles!” She yelled in his ear. He smiled at her. “See, now who are you?” She asked Omari. “Hi, I’m an old boyfriend, Im Omari” He told her. Grandma Ruby dropped her smile and let go of Charles hand. “Oh you that nigga, that broke my Vada’s heart and then….”. “Grandma!” Janessa said cutting her off. Grandma Rudy stopped what she was saying. “You fine boy but you trifling, plus Vada already has a man and he is way sexier than you keep it in the family having ass, come on Charles” She said walking with him, looking at me. “I um well” Omari said. I awkwardly smiled. “We can maybe catch up on drinks but like she said I do have a man”. I told him. He nodded. We exchanged numbers, we hugged again, and he walked away. Michael walked up behind me hugging me from behind. Nori and Janessa looked at me and I glared at them, they could read that I was telling them to be quiet.

Damien:

“So, who is this girl that you are keeping from me?” Nylah said. Laying on my bed with her feet on the wall. “Nobody, just a little bitch I’m fucking” I told her. She laughed a little. “You like her?” She asked. I shrugged. “I mean I like the way I feel around her, but it’s not love” I said honestly. “What is love to you D?” She asked. I shrugged. “I don’t know, like some real vibe type shit, homies and lovers” I said. She started to get up and face me. “Well you love me?” She asked. I looked at her for a while. “Yes, I do” I said. She smiled. “Like a friend, like a sister, like a girlfriend?” She asked. I sighed. “I just love you, I mean I’d beat anybody ass for you, and kill for you, and like die for you type love” I said to her. She looked at me and then looked down, “I love you too”. We looked at each other for a minute, next thing I know we was making out on the bed.

 “I um, I’m sorry La-La” I said to Nylah. She was putting back on her clothes. “Don’t be sorry” She said smiling. I smirked at her, “What are we, what is this?” She asked. I sighed, “Let me think for a minute” I told her. I walked up to her and kissed her. “I got you La and you got me, but if my moms find out we just had sex, you going to Nori’s room” I told her laughing. My phone buzzed, and I see I had a text from Kristen. “I’m outside, back yard.” I read. “I’m be back” I told Nylah. She nodded and grabbed her stuff to take a shower. I ran downstairs and went out the back door. I looked to see if Vada and Michael could see us, but their blinds were closed in the guest house. “Oh you making house visits now Ms. Madison?” I asked folding my arms. She looked at me. “I couldn’t think about our last encounter and I’m sorry for leading you on, can we please just move forward?” She asked. I inhaled deeply and nodded. “Sure whatever” I said. She looked at me shocked. “Really?” She asked. I nodded. “Yeah so you can get gone now” I told her. She stood there. “I um, I missed you” She said smiling at me. “Nah, we not doing this, you good fam you can go fuck the older version of me, and shit” I told her. She started coming on to me, doing that kissing on me shit. I was starting to fall for it. “He said you good!” I heard my grandma Rudy say. We both jumped. “Get your old ass away from my grandson bitch” Grandma Rudy said. She came out there with her henny bottle, and a blunt. Kristen ran off. “Spill it” She said to me sitting at the back-porch table. “I um, Nah you don’t want to hear it” I said to her. She gave me a stern look. “She’s my teacher, we were messing around until I found out she’ dad’s girl”. She started chugging her henny. “I aint drunk enough for this shit” She said getting up. “I aint gon say nothing to you knuckle head ass daddy, lets go inside”. She said to me. I walked upstairs, and I came in my room. “Want to go again?” Nylah said smiling at me. Now I know I got the juice, but damn these females go crazy for D’s D. “Let’s just chill tonight” I told her. She started laughing and nodded.

  MJ:

 I was up fixing a snack in the Kitchen, I couldn’t sleep since Danielle left place. My mom been out late these last 2 nights like she’s some 20-year-old girl what the fuck is going on in here. “Hey baby” My grandma said. “Hey Grandma Rudy”. I said. She was walking all over the place stumbling. She went to the radio set in the corner of the living room and started playing Boys 2 men “Let is Snow”. She started swaying around. “This my shit!” I nodded and laughed. “Alright grandma lets get you to bed” I said. She shook her head. “Can you take me to Charles house?” She asked. I groaned. “Alright let’s take you to your man’s house”. She packed a bag that she called a “Dick Appointment bag”, my grandma be tripping man. We got in my car and started driving, Charles lived just 35minutes away. “Where Dani?” She asked me. “Um with her family” I said. She nodded. “I’m happy yall still together even after you tried to get back with Gia”. She told me. I shook my head. “Let’s not bring that up grandma” I told her. “What? I’m glad you decided to end that break yall had to go back to her” She said. I shrugged. “I think She’s cheating on me Grandma, she been hiding shit staying out all night” I said to her. She looked at me. “That’s cause you think when yall had that break she fucked around on you too, sometimes women just need a man to be there, you got to be there” She told me. We talked a little bit before I dropped her off. I sat in the drive way of Charles house before I thought about what she said. I drove to Douglasville to Dani’s fam’s house to see her and my kids. When I pulled up at the house, I seen her, and some nigga laughing in the window. I was so fucking mad I wanted to drive through that damn house. “Fuck this!” I banged on the door. The door opened revealing my wife. Her smile went to a scared look. “Malcom, what are you doing here, I told you I’d be back tomorrow” She said. I laughed. “You up here with that nigga with my kids Dani!” I yelled. She shook her head. “Malcom please he’s my cousin” She snapped. “Man fuck you” I said. I got in my car and drove to some place familiar. I knocked on the door. “MJ what are you doing here?” Gia asked. “Can I crash here?” I asked. She nodded and let me in.

Characters:

Omari: Now (Lance Gross)

Mack: (Quavo)

[canaryatlaw]

alright. it’s 9 pm here. I’m obviously trying to get to bed early since I have to wake up at 5:30 am and go take the fucking bar exam. Predictably, I’m a ball of nerves right now. But I’ll be fine, I always am. I’m good at tests, it’s easy for me to recall information, and though essays always give me anxiety initially once I get there and start writing them I actually like them, and tomorrow is all essays. 10 of them total. 1 where they give you a whole packet including law in the jurisdiction and write your analysis totally from that, which will probably be the best one for me. Then there are 3 Illinois specific essays and 6 multistate essays. it’s a lot. but anyway, today. I did get up when my alarm went off at 10 because I didn’t want to sleep in too long and not be able to fall asleep tonight. I had decided I would skip showering this morning and shower tonight so I wouldn’t have to shower tomorrow morning, but upon waking up I found I really wanted to shower, so I did, and now it’s night and I really want to shower again lol but I won’t and I’ll do it after I get back tomorrow. So, woke up, showered, made oatmeal which only resulted in one kitchen disaster (I was trying to get the brown sugar to go into the pot a little at a time but then it shifted and all of my brown sugar was now liquified in my pot, so that was fun) and was looking on my computer for stuff when I saw an email from the health insurance company that does our prescriptions, upon which I remembered oh fuck, I need to call my doctors office like today and get this figured out. Basically, I was at the doctor like two weeks ago, and they gave me the prescriptions, which I mailed onto the health insurance company I referenced above, but they haven’t sent me the meds yet, and I’m running out of one of them, and I was set to run out Wednesday afternoon, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about that until like, Wednesday evening, so I needed to call my doctor’s office and ask them to call in an emergency supply for like two days, and like, I love my psychiatrist so much he’s great and I wouldn’t trade him for the world, but god I have his receptionist staff so much. Whenever I call for anything it turns into such a production, at least this time they didn’t tell me he can’t call in prescriptions to Illinois like he does every time I call, but they had me call the insurance company to find out when the meds would get to me so they could then give me enough of the meds, and the insurance company people said it’s set to come on Wednesday in the mail but like if that didn’t happen I would’ve been screwed so they called in like 2 days emergency supply of it but I don’t actually take it at the dosage he prescribes so I have more than 2 days worth lol but I don’t expect to need to use them, I’m just glad I’m covered. but yeah, I did other things around the house and started getting ready for a bit, then took an uber to target that was somehow like $2 because of some promotion they were running, and grabbed the prescription plus some candy because I needed candy to bring with me here. I have pretzels and potato chips, various candies, granola bars, and these microwave muffin things that has the dry mix in a little cup and you add water and microwave it and it’s like this awesome chocolate muffin, which are super good except you have to be really careful to get all of the mix wet or at the bottom it gets grainy and really gross but otherwise it’s good lol. I also have some of the Starbucks via refresher packs that I’m gonna add to a water bottle tonight and stick it in the fridge so it’ll be good to go in the morning because that’s my method of getting caffeine, which will obviously be much needed. I ubered back from target but it took forever to get to me which was obnoxious, but oh well. I continued getting ready and eventually didn’t have much else to do, so I just kinda hung out for a bit. The school bar people told us not to study today because we wouldn’t remember anything anyway, but like, I know that’s not true for me lol so I did a little. The hotel didn’t have check in till 4 so I was basically just killing time at this point. When we eventually got there I got yet another uber, but I put it on pool and nobody ended up joining so I only paid $10 for the same ride I would’ve had to pay $24 for (#winning). The hotel is kinda small, but it’s nice, the bigger hotel that’s actually at one of the test sites (not the one I got assigned to regardless) but all their rooms were booked because I had to book late since we didn’t know which bar I was taking for like, fucking ever. But yeah, I checked in, easy enough, came upstairs and settled in a bit, figured out how to get the wifi to work and turned on the tv then subsequently broke the tv and had to figure out how to make it work again. I ordered pizza from the same chain place I normally get it from except this was different and I didn’t really like it very much, idk what the difference was but it just wasn’t doing it for me, plus my tongue was being really obnoxiously sensitive so I really couldn’t eat anything other than like, the crust, so that was also irritating. But I sat here on my computer and looked over the mini-outline book (and by mini I mean some of them are like 70 pages). It’s funny to look over the secured transactions material, because at the end of the semester I already had the bar books and used them to study because they had a comprehensive summary of everything I needed to learn, I actually printed one and brought it with me to the test (which was open book, obviously) and it was very helpful and I somehow got an A- in that class that I had no idea what was going on in for a solid 5/6ths of the semester, and when I listened to that lecture yesterday I retained a good amount of it, so I was happy about that. But I went through the ancillary subject outlines that were generally more like 20 pages, so much more manageable, and made sure I had all my mnemonics down, including the one for the hearsay exceptions which is like, 20 letters long lol. I then did go over the Illinois distinction section for the main subjects, because if I get an essay on one of those in the Illinois part I obviously have to answer under Illinois law. I watched the office on comedy central while doing all of this because I couldn’t find the channel guide and the office is always a solid choice. It’s funny to see Ellie Kemper as Erin because she looks so little there as compared to how she is on Kimmy Schmidt now. but those were very entertaining. So I got to the end of the outlines, turned off the tv, took my pills so there would be a little time for the more sleep causing ones to kick in, then started writing this, and now here we are. I have a lot of mixed feelings about everything going on tomorrow. I know I’m smart, that’s never been in question, I’m just worried I didn’t spend enough time preparing and I feel ill-equipped, because it’s just so much information....like you could get a question on the lesson from one day of class, for all of your classes, for three years. it’s a massive amount of information. I’ve also been acutely aware of just how alone I am. My brother never moved out, so he was with my parents every step of the way through this, but I chose to stay out here and do it myself because that’s always been who I am, the independent one who can’t wait to get out into the world. And I’m here, but it gets lonely some times, especially being that I’m super-extroverted so not being around people for this whole studying period was not doing well for me (one of many reasons I was all to eager to get ice cream whenever Jess wanted to). Even now, it’s just me here. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a hotel room completely by myself before, except for that awful night when I got stranded overnight in Philadelphia and had to go to that awful creepy hotel where I didn’t sleep a wink, just stayed up reading, because I did not feel safe at all (and I was only 19) but obviously this is a very different situation. And I mean, I am more or less a proper adult now, I’m 26, which feels like ages older than 25, because now I’m in my late 20s, and I don’t know how I feel about all of that. I mean, these are all choices I made, and they’re not ones I regret, not at this point at least. It would’ve been nice to have someone here with me, but I made the decision to leave those people in New York and come out here and do it myself, and I am doing it. I want my legal career to be about the things I did, the prestige I brought to my name, not following in the shadows of my dad and brother, I want that name to be known for me and what I’ve done, what I will do. And I know I can do it. Got all the way through law school, this is just one more hurdle I gotta jump over before I can actually be a full blown lawyer. I don’t know if my parents are gonna come for the swearing in, it hasn’t come up yet, I mean it would be nice to have them there just because I would feel very, very lonely if I was all by myself surrounded by people who had their families there with them.....because they didn’t move halfway across the country from their families. Sigh, I know I’m rambling at this point. Just a lot on my mind. But tomorrow I’m going to wake up confident and ready to crush this test, because I know I can do it, I KNOW I can, and I will, and I’m going to be a total kickass lawyer who is instrumental in instituting reforms in the child welfare system that will increase adoptions, decrease foster kids getting bounced between homes, better prevent kids from being brought into foster care when it is preventable by providing parents with the right resources, better support to keep foster teens in high school and bridge them into college (the college rate for foster care kids is something dismal like 2%, not even exaggerating), decrease the number of children in residential facilities who do not really need to be there, increase the number of foster homes nationwide, provide resources for the teenage mothers in the system so they don’t end up having their child taken from them and continue perpetuating the cycle, and so many more, I could go on all day about all the things I’m going to change. And I’m going to do it. I know I can, so I will. 

Just you wait. 

Goodnight babes. If you want to send prayers/good vibes/whatever my way for tomorrow, it’d be much appreciated. Thank you. ❤️

[girlnextdoorhitchcockblonde]

FINDING HOME - CH. 3

Summary: They only see each other once every few months, but this time he wants to say good bye forever and she wants him to finally come home. READ CH. 1 HERE CH. 2 HERE

Notes: Bughead AU - There’s mention of substance abuse in this one. Let me know what you think Jug should do next!!

Betty Cooper was not missing after all, she was back in town but she wasn’t Betty Cooper anymore. She still smiled, but it was empty, she helped at the school and taught ballet but she went into town in sweatpants, no longer wore make up, her eyes were always swollen and she spent more time than she ever had inside of the house and away from the grounds she used to tend to so dearly. 

Word went around that she had been kidnapped and released on a ransom but nobody knew who would pay a ransom for a girl who seemed to have no family, no friends outside of town who ever visited, no ties, absolutely nobody and for the first time, the town of Riverdale started to speculate about her past and where she had come from. Betty didn’t even notice the whispers and stares, walking around like a zombie with a smile pasted on but feeling absolutely empty. Buying the same thing over and over week in and week out. Chocolate ice cream and milk for milkshakes Jughead liked, coffee to make strong like Jughead likes, burgers with bacon and cheese the way Jughead likes. 

Every minute she could she would disappear into the house, eat in the kitchen if absolutely necessary and then curl up on the bed that now been christened as theirs. Most days she thought she’d imagined the whole thing, but then she’d catch his smell on the pillow or the sheets and she’d break down all over again. She felt empty and alone in a way she hadn’t felt for ages because in the past she’d always known he’d come back and that past was over. 

Jughead rode as fast and as far as he could, not having noticed when she’d slipped a few thousand dollars into the hidden compartment of his bike. She had known he was leaving, he had made it clear. But he couldn’t stop remembering the way she sobbed quietly against the pillow that night once she’d thought he was asleep. He’d never admit it, even to himself, but he had sobbed too, once he’d shut the door behind him. He’d sat on the porch and thought of what life could have been like with lemonade and kids and a dog running around and her kisses for breakfast. He had let himself imagine all of it, cry over it all as if he was burying a dead man he didn’t want to mourn for ever again. He read her letters to him twice and took pictures of the pillars for when he was on the road because as much as he wanted her to move on, he swore he never would. 

Betty was crumbling and one of the boys who helped with her land, son of the town doctor decided to help as best a pre-teen knew how to. 

Jughead was sitting on a bench at a park he told himself was far enough away that he wouldn’t think of Betty when his phone rang. So few people had this number that it startled him, but he picked up the unknown number all the same. It was a burner, if it was being tracked, he needed to know. 

“Who is this?” He spoke in a rough, dangerous tone he’d perfected in his time with the Serpents and the tone on the other side only angered him, it wavered and sounded scared and young. 

“M-Mr. Jones?”

“Who the fuck is this?”

“M-My name is Jonathan.” The kid said and then cleared his throat. “She took you off. You’re not her emergency contact anymore. Maybe I shouldn’t do this. My dad would kill me. But she’s sick.” 

“What the fuck are you on about, Kid? Fucking explain yourself or I will track this call, I will find you, and you’ll regret this sick joke.”

“N-No! No, Mr. Jones...Ms. Cooper she’s...she’s sick. My dad’s the doctor and you’re not her contact but she doesn’t have any and...I thought someone should know.” 

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked, swinging a leg over his bike, ready to risk it all to go to her, why wouldn’t she tell him she was sick? But then the kid spoke and Jughead sat idle in his bike. 

“She doesn’t smile anymore.” It was such an innocent, sad statement. Betty Cooper, the woman whose smile could give the sun a run for it’s money wasn’t smiling anymore and this kid had assumed illness. Jughead sighed and got off the bike. 

“Give her time. She’ll be fine in time. She’s stronger than anyone knows.” He hung up on the kid, staring at his phone, his finger hovering over the ‘block’ button, but he didn’t press it. He brushed his hair back with his hand and sighed, pulling out a cigarette. Betty hated his smoking, he’d quit years ago for her, but she wasn’t his anymore and he wasn’t hers, and he needed a distraction to get her off his mind. 

Half a pack later he decided that she didn’t need to know he was nearby, he could just watch from afar, make sure she was okay and leave again. This time forever. This time, no excuses. He made it there far too quickly not having noticed or cared how fast he’d been going and he stopped by the barn, shutting the engine just in time to see the light on the porch go on and Betty come out. 

For long seconds he wondered who that was, having never seen Betty in sweatpants, hair dull and matted down, and worse of all pulling a tray of small orange prescription bottles on the small table. He knew all of this, they had shared everything for so long that he had memorized the list of pills she had for anxiety and depression and nightmares and all the side effects, but he also knew they each had their time, that they weren’t meant to be taken together, and yet he saw her reach for each one, read the label and pop them into her mouth like candy, no water in sight. 

She got up every few pills, touched the pillars as if reading or remembering something and then went right back to the pills. He didn’t count, but he was stuck in place, staring at Betty Cooper, the only person in the world he’d ever loved, the only person in the world who was so unlike his family that she had become his family, and even from this far away he could see the resemblance between her and his father after a bender.

She sat and stared into a distance for a long time, shocking him when she finally moved to take out a cigarette of her own, lighting it but not smoking. He knew what she was doing, she was looking for any possible reminder of him, even ones she hated and once the cigarette had exhausted itself, she got up, her movements lethargic, and walked back into the house.

Jughead took a step towards the house but then the porch light went off and he hid by his bike again. He had to remember his place, Betty could be sad but she was alive. If they caught up with him, she wouldn’t be so lucky anymore, he knew that, and that, he couldn’t possibly risk. 

He stared at the house, still and dark, looking ominous in the late hour and decided to sit against the barn. Just for a little while, just to make sure she was okay in the morning. For once, he was thankful for his bad relationship with sleep. He sat there the whole night, reading the pillars on the pictures he had, not wanting to approach the house in case she saw him. He wondered how long it had taken her to carve each word to him on the wood, how many splinters she’d gotten in the process. 

He wondered how many man’s eyes fell on her while they helped with what little she allowed them to. He wondered how many times she’d smiled at the thought of him coming home and how many times she’d frowned at the thought of him never arriving. How many nights had she sat by the phone waiting for his call, how many dreams she’d had of him, how many times had she wanted to hurt herself and stopped to make sure he never saw her scars? He didn’t know when he’d started crying, tears rebelliously falling down his cheeks without his permission.

When the sun started coming up he heard a truck approaching down the path and with all the ease a runaway had, he hid, close to the barn but still paying attention to the driver as the man got out and knocked on the door holding flowers. Nothing happened for a long time, and Jughead tried to push down anger that wasn’t his to feel but then he saw her open the door. The smile Alice had trained her to give in place, hair still dull and limp but pulled back. The conversation was short, he handed the flowers, she nodded and smelled them, tried to take a step in but she stopped him. 

Jughead couldn’t hear from where he was, but he saw it, the way the man gesticulated towards the inside and she shook her head, putting up a hand around the man’s chest but not touching him, as if trying to stop him while simultaneously taking a step back. Betty was scared and Jughead jumped up starting to walk towards the house to make sure the man-whoever he was would leave her alone, but then, on his own accord, the man huffed, threw his hands up and got into the truck. Jughead started walking backwards slowly but Betty caught his movement and his eyes. She walked back into the house, leaving the door open in a clear invitation and he stopped, half way between his bike and her and not knowing which to pick. 

[sdhs-enjolras]

{OOC} An extremely detailed list of headcanons because why not?

Questions from here

What does their bedroom look like?

He keeps things relatively simple, but at the same time he totally doesn’t. The walls are a basic off-white, but you couldn’t tell without looking really closely, as nearly every inch is covered in flyers from various marches and protests, corny posters that are left over from middle school that he never took down, framed pictures of his family and friends, and at the center of it all, a massive bulletin board with so much stuff pinned onto it that it seems like a moot point in terms of keeping things organized. He’s got a small, flat-screen TV on top of his dresser, and a (hand-me-down from his parents) queen-sized mattress that rests on the floor across from it with no frame bc frankly, he just thinks it’s more comfortable that way. There is almost always a pile of crumpled up papers lying on the ground by his bed, even though there is a garbage can just a few steps away, beside the desk where he does his homework. Any other writing is done in the comfort of the bed, wrapped in at least five fluffy blankets with the TV on quietly in the background and a mug of coffee on his bedside table. Enj may be tough, but when it’s an appropriate time, he loves to get cozy. As lazy as he can get in the comfort of home, he still wouldn’t be caught dead leaving his laundry on the floor, so there is a hamper near the door, which is almost never empty because he goes through clothes at a shockingly fast rate.

Do they have any daily rituals?

Does coffee count? He can’t even function without at least one cup of coffee in the morning.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

Enj always plans on exercising, but oftentimes finds himself too busy to do so. When he can, he usually will go for a brisk walk and listen to music, but most of his athletic activity is limited to Phys Ed class.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Whether the kitchen is busy or not, you’d better pray Enjolras isn’t cooking dinner. The boy could burn soup.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

In terms of hygiene, Enj usually makes sure everything is nice and clean and sanitary (usually in case Joly drops by) but in terms of organization, he is a total mess. Finding anything in Enjolras’ room, backpack, or locker is like going on the world’s most boring and overcomplicated scavenger hunt.

{putting the rest under a read more bc it’s hella long}

Eating habits and sample daily menu

I wouldn’t say that he is a health nut, but he and his family certainly pay attention to what food they consume. There is only organic, non-GMO food in the house, and any and all animal products come from local sources so that they can know where it’s from, and that the animals are being treated humanely. (When going out to eat at a restaurant, Enj will often stick with vegan meals, but he won’t exactly shy away from a really good burger, if it’s tasty enough.) Breakfast is always simple, usually just scrambled eggs and toast or something like that. Lunch is always a sandwich of some kind and like, some fruit, veggies, and chips on the side because he makes it himself, and that’s the one meal that he can prepare without any sort of catastrophe taking place. Dinner is the big meal each day. What it is varies day-by-day, but the whole family always gathers around the table and eats together and talks about their day.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

TV shows are his downfall. Brooklyn Nine-Nine and Parks and Rec are two of his favorites, but nothing quite compares to his greatest guilty pleasure, which is Saturday Night Live. He loves SNL, and will waste hours watching it on YouTube. Usually, he sticks with the political sketches, but some of the classics (and modern classics) tend to pop up a lot. David S. Pumpkins has become a favorite. However, he always beats himself up when he wastes a lot of time, because he has so drilled into himself the importance of getting things done and working every moment to do so. When other people waste time, it drives him absolutely insane.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

A trip to the movie theater. It may not seem like an indulgence, but due to his busy schedule (and the fact that he still doesn’t have a car) he almost never gets the chance to go see a movie, and when he does, he goes all-out; large popcorn with extra butter, slushie, chocolate, the lot. It is shocking how much he can eat in one sitting when he’s at the movies. He has less of a problem with indulging, as long as time is allotted for it beforehand to avoid any potential guilt.

Makeup?

He has attempted to wear it just for the heck of it, but quickly learned that his skill level in terms of applying makeup is pretty close to his cooking ability. If any of his friends offer, he’s not opposed, though. F**k gender roles, amiright? 

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Hell yeah, Enj is an incredibly anxious human being, and to an extent, he acknowledges that he is stressed out most of the time, but he has yet to realize that there’s more to his anxiety than the fact that he’s busy all the time.

Intellectual pursuits?

He wants to at least know at least the basics of five different languages by the time he’s twenty. So far, he’s obviously fluent in English, and his French is pretty damn strong, especially considering he only started studying it a year ago, but Spanish is proving to be a pain in the neck.

Favorite book genre?

Dystopian fiction, without a doubt (though he has to admit that he was a total Harry Potter geek as a kid and some of that certainly stuck).

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Asexual, and super gay. In terms of other people’s sexual orientation, he’s literally chill with whatever.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

He’s got a small scar on his leg from when he was a kid. Nobody can quite agree on the story of how he got it. There’s another scar on his shoulder that he likes to claim that he got in a fight at a protest, but his friends know that he just spooked his grandma’s cat a couple years ago and it went off on him. 

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Biggest: get into a really good college Smallest: learn how to make a meal that isn’t a sandwich

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Biggest: change the entire world for the better Smallest: go on a vacation to Disney World at some point

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Jeans (yeah, sometimes even skinny jeans, which are unfairly flattering), a t-shirt (usually with some social justice mantra printed on it), a cardigan or unbuttoned flannel or button-up over the t-shirt, and brown combat boots. Sometimes a beanie, but he doesn’t want to be called a hipster, so he usually passes on that. He has no real ritual, he kinda just throws it on when he gets out of the shower.

Favorite beverage?

Coffee, but then again, he considers it more of a survival tactic than an enjoyable beverage and actually hates the taste so much that his coffee is like, mostly cream and sugar, so more realistically, probably Sprite.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Way deeper things than one should think about before sleep. Systemic racism, widespread homophobia, the patriarchy and rape culture, the struggles of refugees, the fact that Donald Trump is a thing, etc. Probably why he doesn’t really sleep that much.

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

He swears to god that he had the swine flu way back when that was a thing. His parents say that it was just a stomach bug. 

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Since he’s ace af, it’s not the typical sexual definition of turn-ons and turn-offs, but he will automatically like you if he catches you doing some random act of kindness. Some kid got tripped in the hallway and you scrambled to help them pick up their books even though you were already running late? You are now automatically Enjolras’ best friend. As for a turn-off, any sort of support for Donald Trump oughta do it. After an incredibly awkward encounter at the grocery store, he still won’t talk to two of his cousins who were walking around with “Make America Great Again” hats on.

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Either the most uplifting speech in history, or nonsensical rambling, depending on how much caffeine is in his system.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

“Organized” is not a word in Enjolras’ vocabulary. He’s got better things to do than waste time making sure everything is in its proper place and labelled and whatnot. He often finds himself regretting this thinking when he can’t find anything ever.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

History is pretty much a total breeze. His average last year was literally over 100, because he aced every homework assignment and every exam, and did stuff for extra credit, which is fitting, because he, as a person, happens to be incredibly Extra™.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

Being pretty much the same as he is now, but probably in college and hopefully taller because right now he’s like, 5′5″.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Honestly, he’s not quite sure what he wants to do with his life. He’s seriously considering becoming a politician, but there is secretly a part of him that really wants to be a teacher.

What is their biggest regret?

If we’re being serious, probably the fact that he has pushed a lot of people away due to his own issues without ever explaining why. If we’re not being serious, when he was a kid, he went through a phase where he refused to cut his hair and it got unbelievably long and out of control and every time he sees a picture of himself from those days, he cringes.

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

He doesn’t tend to pick favorites, and typically considers all of his friends to be equal, but if he had to choose who his best friend is, he’d probably say either Courfeyrac or Combeferre. He doesn’t personally know anyone who he considers his enemy, but I guess you could say just, like, the entire alt-right movement. 

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

React quickly, immediately falling into a leadership role, making sure everyone is okay and things are as under control as possible until the situation has been managed. Once it’s over, he acts stoic and unemotional, spitting out harsh “I’m fine”-s to anyone who checks up on him. Only when he is alone does he finally allow himself to break down.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Kind of similar. His immediate reaction to any sort of shock or trauma is an unhealthy level of stoicism and a little bit of dissociation, followed way later by an actual emotional response in private. If he doesn’t get the chance to let it all out, he will end up crying uncontrollably over the littlest thing. When his dog died in middle school, he ended up sobbing in the middle of math class because his pencil broke.

Most prized possession?

A t-shirt that was signed by Bernie Sanders. The guy is like, his idol. One time, he went to one of his rallies and got so passionate that he cried.

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

They’re fine, as long as they aren’t the highlight of a person’s life.

Concept of home and family?

He’s lucky enough to have an incredibly supportive family and a nice house, but he understands that other people don’t, and wants to do what he can to help them.

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

It depends on who he’s with, honestly. To some people, he’s the mysterious rebel whose identity revolves solely around rejecting the status quo and questioning authority, while to his others, he’s the absolute dork who talks too much, gets overly excited about the movie theater, gushes about how cool his friends are, and was forced by his mom to quit volunteering at the animal shelter after two days because he tried to adopt eleven dogs.

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Video games. He is the undefeated king of Mario Kart, but only ever plays it when his friends are over.

What makes them feel guilty?

Literally everything. Someone should talk to this kid, he acts like every injustice in the world is his fault somehow. 

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

He likes to think that he’s analytical, but if you really look at it, every decision he makes is based almost entirely on his emotions.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

Type A, definitely. Enj has no chill.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Spending time with his friends will always cheer him up, no matter what.

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Somehow, he seems to have both. He thinks that he is morally superior to an awful lot of people, but in every other aspect, his self-esteem is certainly not what it should be.

How misanthropic are they?

Not even a little bit.

Hobbies?

He loves making playlists for pretty much any reason. He’s also secretly good at sewing, and is really skilled at making stuffed animals. He makes Christmas presents for his little cousins, who all think he’s totally awesome.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

He’s still in high school, but he thinks that education is really important. Frankly, he doesn’t believe that self-education is necessarily a good idea unless you are a really dedicated person, because it is easy to slack off when you set your own parameters.

Religion?

He’s an atheist, but still celebrates Christian holidays because they’re too fun to pass up. Logically, he knows that since he doesn’t care about religion and passionately hates capitalism, he should despise Christmas with every fiber of his being, but it’s his favorite day of the year anyway, and nothing is ever going to change that.

Superstitions or views on the occult?

None, really. Cults creep him out, not for spiritual reasons, but just because of their tendency to brainwash and murder people.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

Both, actually.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Someone who loves him despite his flaws, who will stand with him and oppose injustice, and is fine with owning a lot of pets.

How do they express love?

Enj actually gets really sappy with the people he cares about, sending texts and hiding notes with sweet messages. He takes note of the little things, picks up on when someone doesn’t like something and changes it, or figures out that they want something and makes it happen. 

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

He’s easily angered but still incredibly smol, like really he’s the living embodiment of this picture:

So, when he fights, it’s usually against someone way taller than him, and he just relies on a lot of repetitive punching and kicking. Not exactly graceful, but it gets the job done.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Not really, but he usually tries not to think about it anyway.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #43

“i’m gonna pop your bubblegum heart.”

what do you order on your pizza?   jalapenos if it's from domino's, pepperoni everywhere else. what the kind of soda you drink most often?   mountain dew what do you think of girls sixteen and younger going on birth control?   it could be because of her menstrual cycle, in which case there's nothing wrong with that.  but if you're 16 and having sex, i have a problem with that, not that my opinion should mean much to you.  at least you're using protection, i guess. are you borrowing books from anybody at the moment?   well i still have "arthas: rise of the lich king" from jason, but i think it's pretty clear he won't get it back by now. would you ever want another sibling? older or younger? gender?   having a younger brother would be cool, but i don't want one now.  my parents are divorced and my mom's already gone through menopause. grilled cheese or peanut butter & jelly?   pb&j do you take vitamins?   no ever been told “it’s not you, it’s me”?   yes, even though it was a lie???  like he had a problem with me, it wasn't the other way around. will you get married?   i want to, but i don't see it happening.  if jason couldn't handle my depression, no one can. did you have a new year’s kiss?   lmao no how would you describe someone that is your type of guy/girl?   i've found more than anything, i like geeky people.  people that are passionate.  guys that will show their feelings.  i like imaginative guys, the ones that are creative and fun-loving. are you still friends with any of your exes? do you still communicate with any of them at all?   if you consider aaron and juan exes, they're both my friends on facebook, but i only ever talk to juan. do you live on your own or with your parents/a roommate? do you think you’d like to live alone?   i live with my mom (though rn i'm living with dad, long story), and no, i physically could not live alone.  depression would destroy me. how often do you typically change your bra?   ha, let's be realistic, it depends on if i'm even wearing a bra, because i'm like... always at home in my pj's.  but let's say i actually do get dressed, again, it depends on how long i'm dressed.  once i'm back home and know i'm not doing anything more, i get back into my pajamas.  other times, but rarely, i'm dressed all day.  but let's just say in the typical situation: i'll change my bra every other day or so, also depending on if i sweat or not. what is the last online purchase you made?   cheshire cat flip-flips and a "i'm just a poe boy, nobody loves me; he's just a poe boy, from a poe family" edgar allan poe shirt, both from hottopic.  ashley gave me a $40 gift card for it. is there anyone you have to see on a daily/weekly basis that you really dislike?   thank god, no. is your hair thick or thin? would you say it’s easy to manage?   anyone who touches my hair will tell you, it's thick AS FUCK.  like, to an annoying degree.  brushing it can be a nightmare just because it's so thick, and FORGET about putting it up in a ponytail.  it's mostly easy to manage just because i don't do anything special to it. have you ever had to deal with any type of long distance relationship, whether it be a romantic relationship or a friendship?   many friendships, but nothing romantic.  as someone who's been around the Internet since what, '06, i've made many friends that i'll never actually meet. do you have a place you go to a lot that you may be considered “a regular” at?   no when growing up, did your family always eat at the dinner table together?   nope. what is the greatest source of happiness in your life?   my memories of jason.  i just miss him so much.  that won't change. could you tolerate being in a relationship with someone who treated you wonderfully, but was sometimes rude and unkind to others?   let's be realistic, EVERYONE is sometimes rude and unkind...?   could you tolerate being in a relationship with someone who was lazy?   yeah, so long that trait doesn't dictate his life.  most people are lazy, anyway. did your parents read bedtime stories to you when you were little?   yeah what is something you know very little about?   politics have any of your worst fears ever come true?   oh, you mean jason leaving?   has anyone in your family gotten pregnant as a teenager?   yeah, my mom. to you, is sex just about physical pleasure, or do you see it as an expression of love and commitment?   it can be both do you change your type of music regularly?   no.  i've been a metalhead since 6th grade. ever met somebody who seem like they hated life?   oh, you mean me?  well... i guess i should correct that.  i don't hate life, i just hate my life. do you value your life?   yes and no.  like, if a bullet was coming at me, i'd move out of the way, but as i just mentioned, i also hate how my life is going. ever been called a low-life?   i think so, 'cuz i am one. do most of your friends have a significant other?   most do, yes.  a few are even married. who has made the biggest sacrifice for you?   my mama. do you think you could handle a day in jail?   maybe, seeing as i've been in a mental hospital four times, and it's comparable as far as permissions and schedules go.  it's the people i'm concerned about. do you believe that your first true love can be your only love in life?  i don't... know.  i'm not the person to ask.  i've only ever loved one man and am convinced i won't love another, sooo... what brings out the worst in you?   mentioning jason.  blaming me for what happened. do you know how many people your best friend has had sex with?   not that i've ever asked, but yes.  she tells me everything. are your boobs real?   yes.  implants have too many risks anyways. would you take your ex-significant other back?   in a fucking heartbeat. have you ever had sex on the beach?   no and i wouldn't want to because sand... everywhere...? have any of your friends died of an overdose?   it's possible.  i had an online friend disappear years ago, and i'm STILL worried about her... how many different colleges have you gone to?   two how much stress can you handle?   none what is one thing you thought you’d never do but have done or are doing?   survive without jason do you ever feel like your life is too boring or predictable?   i know damned well it is do you have to take medication for any mental illness?   yes are tongue piercings slutty?   no...? are you embarrassed to buy condoms?   i've never had to, but i don't think i'd be. have you discovered your passion?   yeeeaaars ago... meerkats. (: what’s your favorite cereal?   double chocolate krave do you read reddit? if so, how often and what subreddits do you like?   nah. what’s the weather like today? is it nice enough to go outside?   it's sleeting and snowing.  if it wasn't for the sleet, it'd be gorgeous. have you ever eaten at a restaurant and left without paying?   no how old were you when you first became sexually active?   uh, like 16-17?  still haven't had actual sex tho what's your favorite kind of bread?   pumpernickel have you ever been to a stadium concert?   no.  the alice cooper concert was outdoors. think of the last person you kissed, have you ever kissed them on a bed?   plenty of times. have you done illegal things with your parents nearby?   download music is all. are you taller then 5 foot 7 inches?   nah son. who was the last person you talked to before you went to bed last night?   i texted my mom. why aren’t you with the person you first fell in love with?   he doesn't like me anymore. last time you were told you’re cute?   probably months upon months ago by juan. next time you will eat?   like 30 minutes who will be the next person you kiss?   probably no one. ever. last time you were in trouble?   few days back when i talked back to my mom do you have a fish tank?   no last place you took a plane to?   ohio what is your preferred method of birth control?   abstinence.  hasn't failed me yet. do you have a hard time admitting you’re wrong?   not at all.  i always think i'm wrong anyway. have you ever made out in a bathroom?   i don't think so. would you rather have a poodle or a Rottweiler?   i don't currently want a dog, but a miniature poodle i guess. have you ever made out in a park?   nah. is it colder than usual outside today?   yeah.  there's snow out. what do you normally order on your burger?   cheese, mustard, ketchup, pickles... have you ever dipped french fries in a frosty?   yes, and it's gross. what is the biggest flaw in your spouse/crush?   he's obviously not very supportive.  if he was, he'd still be with me. do you prefer writing with mechanical pencils or normal #2 pencils?   mechanical are you planning on dressing up for halloween?   if we have the money, i'd like to. do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything?   oh, every day? who was (or is) the teacher that gave you the hardest time in school?   none of them did.  just be a good student and most teachers are great. how do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you?   I GET SO EXCITED OMG OMG OMG do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people?   not really.  i love food too much lol what is the worst thunderstorm you’ve experienced?   hurricane floyd how often do you take the train to go places?   never are you in love?   should be obvious. are you an affectionate person?   very have you ever had a valentine?   jason was the best. what is you favorite type of lunch meat?   ham are both of you biological parents currently alive?   yeah do you like mustard?   yeah do you wash your hair everyday?   no, that's bad for you. if you were a zoo animal (i.e. lion, tiger, warthog) what would you be?   meerkat any cheesy bands that you love?   lol ludo if you could go nuts and dye your hair any color, what would it be?   gray.  mom won't let me. when was the last time someone saw you naked?   probably mom after i got out of the shower and came into my room? what is the greatest loss you’ve endured?   jason where do you like to be kissed?   lips, neck... and i think brief kisses on the hand from a guy are very romantic. do you know a hoarder?   yup. can you do a split?   nope. is anyone in your family in the army?   nah. did your mother go to college?   she dropped out when she was younger, but she's back in it now. are your grandparents still married?   no, on both sides, a spouse is dead. do you spell the color as grey or gray?   "gray," 'cuz that's the american spelling is your father bald?   nah do you know triplets?   no do you prefer titanic or the notebook?   oh GOD.  the notebook, i guess. how many times have you been to the hospital?  er: seven times, actual hospital admission: three times what religion will you raise your children to practice?   christianity have you ever stayed in a stranger's house before? if yes, why?   no do you believe in the idea of taking from the rich and giving to the poor? why or why not?   no, honestly.  the rich earn their money just as the poor earn their money.  while i understand (BELIEVE ME) it's hard to live being poor, that's no excuse to take from those better off. if you were a god or goddess, what would your powers include?   communing with animals.  maybe be a shape-shifter, that'd be cool as fuck. what are your opinions on gendered products?   explain?  like, do you mean how some toys are "meant" for certain genders, not the other?  if so, then it's ridiculous.  if your child wants to play with a certain toy, let him/her.  for example, i played with dinosaurs in opposition to barbies, and i grew up fine in general. do you believe that animals are capable of “human” emotion?   absofuckinglutely. have you ever changed your views because you were in the wrong?   yeah who do you consider “family?”   my mother, father, two immediate sisters, one half-brother, two half-sisters, my pets, and my best friend colleen.  i guess jason, sometimes. could you sacrifice yourself for someone you barely knew?   no what’s your favorite video game?   "silent hill 2"!!! have you ever experienced discrimination first-hand?   yeah, bc of mental illness. what holiday is closest to your birthday?   valentine's day are you biracial?   nah. are you afraid of shots? like injections?   shots that draw blood, no.  shots that inject medication?  fuck yes, they're agonizing. do you know your blood type?   yeah, it's a. how many times did you have to take the driving test before you passed?   i haven't taken a driving test yet bc i'm fucking lame. what do you think when a band/artist “sells out”?   i think it's rarely even a thing.  like, i'll use metallica as an example.  everyone always says they sold out, when they didn't.  are you suddenly reaching a broader audience?  good for you.  congratulations.  did you change your look?  good for you, tastes change.  now, did you change just for fame?  you're foolish. what do you think of fans and fandoms?  it's absolutely marvelous that people can come together over a common interest.  some are just... oh my GOD, so entitled (i'm looking at you, mythical beasts).  but in general, the idea of fandoms are great. should parents be their child’s friends?   ... duh? what do you think of doctor-assisted suicide?   i'm not sure on this, but i think i disagree with it. in the case of prevention of overpopulation, should some people be prohibited from reproducing?   just flat-out stupid/cruel people, but that'll never happen. you discover that because of a mix-up at the hospital, your wonderful one-year-old child is not yours. would you want to exchange the child to try to correct the mistake?   yes, BUT i'd want to keep up with the child i'd raised that year. do you trust anyone to protect you? who, and why?   my parents, because they're my parents. if you had a death note (like the anime), would you use it?   ... fuck me, yeah, i would. when did you start discovering your own music taste? what was it?   middle school.  heavy metal. describe the ultimate hell.   hearing jason say he didn't love me anymore one more fucking time. are you able to kill animals? under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable?   i couldn't, i don't think.  i find killing fine if you're hunting for food, but not for pleasure. would you be willing to have horrible nightmares for a year if you would be rewarded with extraordinary wealth?   yeah. if you could influence people like a celebrity does, how would you use it for the benefit of the planet?   definitely spread Christianity how and when are abortions okay?   only when it's that type of pregnancy where despite growing, the baby is never alive.  shit, what's it called... ummm... entopic pregnancy, that's it!  the cells are only going to keep growing, so they obviously need to come out.  otherwise, i don't care if you're raped or whatever, you have that damn child and give it up for adoption. if you could offer a newborn child only one piece of advice, what would it be?   ANYONE can hurt you, even the unexpected. would you save an extremely talented musician who has the influence to promote good values for the world or a pregnant woman in a situation where it is certain you must choose one over the other?   ugh... the pregnant woman, i guess.

[storytellersinkpot-blog]

Publication Interview with Rebecca Grabill: Halloween Good Night

Author and MFAC alum Rebecca Grabill talks about her novel, Halloween Good Night. Halloween Good Night, published July 25, is a counting book starring your favorite monsters. 

Gliding through the moonlight

come the monsters big and small,

sliding up your stairway

and oozing down your hall.

They aren’t very scary,

in fact they’re rather sweet.

So snuggle into bed and let them whisper,

“Trick or treat!”

Why do you write?

I won’t be the first to say this, but I write because I must. It’s not self-expression or fame (who cares what I have to say?), it’s not some deep idealistic zeal to change the world (I’m far too cynical to do more than hope). It’s compulsion, plain and simple. When I go too long—a couple days—without writing, I feel uneasy, then agitated, then depressed, until I write again, even if all I can manage between newborn feedings and dropping teens at events is a few lines of a lousy poem. I have to write. There’s no other option.

How did HALLOWEEN GOOD NIGHT get published?

This is actually a fun story (see what a great teaser that is? That’s why I get the big bucks. Umm…). Anyway, I wrote the first draft of HGN during my MFA at Hamline, during my semester with the venerable and amazing Phyllis Root (whom I adore). I remember reading it at a student reading and thinking, “Yes, finally I figured this picture book thing out!”

Sadly editors weren’t agreeing. After graduation I did everything to the story from changing it to a direct “copy” of Over in the Meadow (super super simple and made me want to weep with self-loathing), to attempting to rewrite it in a little monster preschool setting. That’s where I realized I didn’t want to write a monster-goes-to-preschool book (well, I might want to, but I didn’t want This book to become That book). So I stopped re-envisioning it and revised to make it as sparkly as I could, and then I waited. I was also expecting a baby (#5) around then, so I was well practiced at waiting.

In fall of 2014 when I was barely able to function because of newborn and life, my agent called to say she had interest. Apparently an editor she knew was looking for a Halloween book, and she said, “Oh, I have just the book!” and passed it on to the editor and the editor happened to LOVE my story.

A few days later, on Halloween day, while I was hiding in the car and nursing the baby while my big kids were in class, the official offer came in. I got off the phone with my agent and floated around the rest of the morning. Until the kiddos were done with class, and then real life returned with, “Mommy, I’m hungry,” and so forth.

When you start writing, do you know what the ending will be?

Generally, yes. The ending is often the first thing I know about a story. Or think I know, since everything is open to change as the story and characters develop. This is especially true with picture books since these stories are so palm-sized and visual. I sometimes have an “image” in mind of the end before I even have a beginning. I certainly did with HGN. I saw a child tucking all the “scary” Halloween monsters into bed, mastering fear, being the adult, and the story grew from there.

On the flip side, I have a fantasy series in the works, and the ending has been a struggle for as long as I’ve been writing it. It’s been dormant for a few years, but now that I contemplate returning, I know that blasted ending will still be there, ugly as it is. I haven’t figured out what to do about it—yet.

What’s your writing process?

Um, cry, eat chocolate, drink coffee (decaf, see the in-utero comment above), cry some more… Just kidding. Sort of. Because of the demands of life, I have to guard my writing time (afternoons while the littles nap, big kids do independent schoolwork/pretend to do schoolwork, i.e. binge watch inappropriate Netflix or YouTube), and I have to accept that a little progress each day is better than no progress at all.

Basically, when 2pm rolls around, I put on my noise cancelling headphones and let the rest of the world shriek. And I write. I don’t do warm up exercises (please, as if I have time for that!), I don’t freewrite and brainstorm and play with my little Garbage Pail Kids figurines (ok, not much), I pick up where I left off the day before, and I keep going. I stop only when nature calls, when I need to tell one of the kids, “Yes, fine, whatever, go eat a bowl of ice cream with marshmallows and popcorn and watch Walking Dead” (not really, really I’ll just grunt and wave them away and discover later what they were asking me), and I keep going until finally I realize if I don’t stop Right Now nobody will be eating dinner.

This of course will all be blown to h@ll in December when the baby comes, but it’s what I’ll work toward even then.

As far as process for individual books, it varies so incredibly for each project it would be useless to describe. Some are written in a bout of inspiration, others are written and re-written dozens and dozens of times over the course of years. And yes, I do mean years. My current project started as an essay around 2003. It’s now almost “done” (whatever that means) and has been rewritten from the ground up at least six times, and heavily revised and restructured twice that many. AND I’m not sick of it, which means something. Hopefully something good about the manuscript and not something disturbing about myself.

What do you do when you’re not writing?

I homeschool four of my five children and feed the youngest sixth child—in utero until December—copious amounts of chocolate and cucumbers, but not together because I may be pregnant but I do have standards. I also love to binge-watch Netflix in the evenings and read books about food and sustainable agriculture.

I spend an inordinate amount of time in the kitchen because of medically necessary food restrictions—some mine, some belonging to various children. And I spend an inordinate amount of time Googling bizarre medical (and other) questions, which I could say are research, but come on, let’s be real. Weirdness and the abnormal, medically and otherwise, fascinate me.

I have kept chickens, though after a recent raccoon massacre I’m taking a break, and I have a large, ill-kept garden of mostly tomato hornworms and herbs. I also do photography (mostly stock) when the whim strikes at a time when I also have time, which doesn’t happen often, sadly. Sort of like an eclipse.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Don’t try to copy another writer’s process. Seriously, I LOVE reading about how Stephen King writes, or Hemingway, or Anne Lamott. I love it because I think somewhere in their process will be this Golden Truth I’m missing in my own process. I think if I adopt their Magic, somehow my writing will go from slow-plodding-work to flying on clouds of bliss. Except then I get pissy because their process won’t work for my life. Like seriously, if Stephen King were a homeschooling mother of soon-to-be six, would he have time to write ten pages every single day? If Robert Olen Butler were a mother of ANYTHING would he be getting up at 5am to write from his dream state? So that’s to say, don’t look for the magic wand, golden ticket, mythical Dream State. It doesn’t exist. The only way writing gets done is by writing. Period.

Also, listen to feedback. Especially editors/agents, but even Uncle Sal knows a good book when he reads it (usually). Your readers know more than you think. Are they wrong sometimes? Sure. But if three of five readers are saying, “This really shouldn’t be in verse,” then try it in prose no matter how attached you may be to it the way it is. The worst that can happen is you spend some time making a change that doesn’t work. The best is that you end up with something amazing. Risk, try, and for heaven’s sake back up to Dropbox or the cloud or something. And consider Scrivener because it’s awesome, and no they don’t pay me to say that (but they should!).

What are you working on now? Any upcoming events or other info you’d like to add?

I’m finishing up a Middle Grade novel about “influence” and happy little topics like race and cruelty and beauty and friendship. Or I think I’m finishing it. I’ve “finished up” this novel before, so I hesitate to say anything for certain. Then I’ll turn my attention to maybe some picture books or an early MG about a hog, or that ending-less fantasy. Or maybe I’ll be so thoroughly pregnancy-brain-addled that I’ll decoupage everything in the house. It’ been known to happen. Or tie-dye all the diapers… Hmm, actually that does sound fun.

That’s writing stuff. Once publication happens, there’s a whole new to-do list. I have an author questionnaire to fill our for one book (with things like the names of all my local librarians, all the famous people I know, Costco’s buyer and home phone number [kidding, sort of]), and another book that will be hitting editorial soon, and I have an October full of book-release events for Halloween Good Night, plus social media/blog/etc. to keep up with.

Anything else?

Be sure to check out my website: www.rebeccagrabill.com! And if you’ve read and loved Halloween Good Night, I would love love love to see some nice reviews pop up on Amazon!

[sarahburness]

Overcoming a Negative Body Image: 4 Things to Remember

TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of anorexia and may be triggering to some people.

“You will never be free until you free yourself from the prison of your own false thoughts.” ~Philip Arnold

I really don’t remember my life before anorexia. I think back to my early teenage years when I ate peanut butter sandwiches and drank hot chocolate without a single thought of how many calories I had consumed. There was no guilt, no worry, no need for perfection. How I wish I could get those carefree moments back.

A few years ago anorexia completely distorted my perception of myself. All it took was one seemingly innocent comment from my classmate: Haven’t you gained weight recently? From that moment on, I no longer saw a healthy, fit person when I looked into the mirror. All I saw was an imperfect body.

Meticulous calorie counting, diet restriction, and exercise time logging began to fill day after day. I wasn’t living as a human, but rather as an engineer treating my body as a machine. I loved myself for every pound I lost, every piece of clothing that felt a bit looser, and every little bit of food I managed to leave on my plate.

I felt like a crazy person because my reasonable self knew that I shouldn’t be starving myself and exercising ridiculous number of hours every single day. I knew exactly what was wrong with me except there was nothing wrong.

Somewhere in the evolution of the illness, I lost control. I ate one apple a day, drank only water, ran ten miles every morning, did squats and push-ups while studying, and paced in my room instead of sleeping. Nobody asked any questions, so I didn’t provide any answers.

And then one day I was finally rewarded with my target weight glowing on the scale. I had done it! The hard work had paid off and I was free. Or so I thought. The control I now had over my body was deceiving. Once I reached my target weight, I couldn’t stop. The rush was too inviting. Every extra pound lost felt like a victory.

You Don’t Notice You’re Losing Control Until It’s Lost

When I looked into the mirror, I saw my ribs with their thinly stretched coating of papery skin, and every single hump of the spine as I bent over. People began to whisper. The doctors told me that I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t start eating. But I was proud. Every comment about how skinny I was felt like an accomplishment. My insecure self was at rest only when I met all so high standards I set for myself. It felt like a prison I couldn’t get out of.

The prison was in my head. If at some point I was controlling everything related to food and body image, now I had lost control and the illness controlled me.

I was hungry, cold, tired, and unable to pick myself up. The voice inside my head was telling me that nothing I did was good enough. If I ate a salad, I shouldn’t have had it. If I went for a walk, I hadn’t walked far enough. I pushed my body to the point that I collapsed.

Since I’m at a healthy weight now, people ask me how I overcame anorexia. The truth is that the recovery didn’t happen overnight, and not without relapses. It took a lot of tears and struggling, but eventually I stopped drowning. I chose to step out of my self-imposed prison, with the help of friends, family, and a counselor.

I was fortunate enough to have the support of loving parents who were there when things were hard, when I wanted to give up because I felt too fat, when I needed somebody to remind me that recovery was worth it. And more importantly, that I was worth it.

It was a taxing mental battle that still at times rages within me. The old eating disorder voice creeps up sometimes, but I now recognize that voice as irrational and destructive. I’m learning to ignore it. I’m learning to quit running away from myself.

4 Things to Remember When You’re Under the Spell of a Negative Body Image

Negative thoughts about your body consume you. They take and take and take. To recover, you essentially have to figure out who you are again. You have to build yourself up from the smallest bits of what you know of yourself. You have to differentiate yourself from the condemning voice. Here are some of the things I learned (and had to embrace) on my way to recovery.

1. Not all thoughts are facts.

The problem with a negative self-image is that it feels like a fact. You can easily convince yourself of something that is not true. Even at 5’7” and my lowest weight (ninety pounds), I believed that I needed to be thinner.

I felt that my waist wasn’t slim enough, my arms weren’t toned enough, and my thighs weren’t narrow enough. My mind was a very thorough liar, and there was nothing anyone could say to convince me otherwise.

If I hadn’t learned about these lies and how to discern them, I would probably never have gotten out of that vicious cycle.

You might have a hard time discerning truth from lies in the beginning, so instead of questioning whether your thoughts are facts, ask yourself which ones serve you and which do not.

Growing up with an athletic sister, most of my negative thoughts evolved around my body. I could objectively say that although I was very thin, I wasn’t particularly lean. So I signed up for a gym membership and started lifting weights.

However, what was initially a constructive thought—that it would serve me to build muscle—turned into an obsession within a few months.

I remember standing in a basement gym, pushing a heavy barbell above my head, when I realized I was crying. I let my tears roll down my cheeks and focused back on the barbell. I had to finish my workout. I was exhausted and hungry from all the workouts I put my body through every single day, but all I could think of were toned arms and washboard abs.

I think I knew long before that day that my desire for a lean body was no longer serving me. However, I couldn’t stop exercising. I had to sweat. I had to feel my heart race. My life revolved around my fitness routines.

I knew then I needed to challenge the thoughts that told me I wasn’t lean or fit enough, and adjust accordingly.

That isn’t to say that I stopped working out altogether. There are days I still experience anxiety when I know I won’t be able to get to the gym. But any time a destructive thought about my not-so-toned body pops up, I remind myself this doesn’t serve me and do my best to let it go and focus on something more positive. I may not have the leanest body, but I am more than just my physique.

2. Absolute control is an illusion.

Eating disorders are all about control. Control issues with what goes into your body and what comes out of your body. It’s about exerting control over at least one aspect of your life. However, it’s an illusion. In fact, you may feel in control, but be very out of control. The more successful you are at exerting control over how much food you take in, the less control you actually have. The eating disorder and twisted ideals are controlling you.

Right before I hit rock bottom, I was paralyzed with fear and crippled with anxiety. I needed the eating disorder. I needed the identity and illusionary control it gave me. If I felt I got everything under perfect control, I felt strong. Paradoxically, that’s when I ended up under the doctors’ and my parents’ supervision, with no control over my food intake.

Letting go of control was the hardest part. I would be lying if I said I no longer struggle. However, I’m much better at reminding myself that the greatest control is in letting go of the need for it.

3. Perfectionism is unattainable.

Perfectionism goes beyond doing your best. It’s about setting extremely high standards that are unrealistic. In my perpetual quest for perfection, I believed I could meet those high standards. I strived for perfection in my studies, relationships, cleanliness, exercise, and diet. Mediocrity was unsatisfactory. It was all or nothing.

Perfection is so addictive because it locks you into thinking that if you do everything perfectly, you can minimize the feelings of pain and judgment. But the truth is, you can’t. There will always be people in your life who judge you no matter what you do or what you say.

The one thing you can do is to surrender. Accept that you are work in progress. Embrace all parts of yourself, even those that seem “imperfect” to you. Practice forgiveness and self-compassion. And most importantly, be patient. Adopting new patterns of thinking takes time, but the work is worth it.

4. Food isn’t the enemy.

The difficulty with negative body image is that it’s closely tied to weight (and therefore, food). But unlike a drug addict, you can’t avoid the trigger. You can’t simply avoid food for the rest of your life, although it is very tempting to adopt the mindset that the fewer calories you eat, the better.

In that sense, healthy eating literally saved my life. Fueling my body with simple whole foods shifted my focus from calorie counting to nourishment. Instead of weighing myself several times a day, I focused on my health.

At times, I still pay attention to how my clothes fit and how I look in the mirror, but food is no longer the enemy. It’s the means to achieve the good health we all find so radiantly beautiful—glowing skin, shiny hair, and a fit, strong body.

Silencing the Voice

Do I still struggle at times? Yes. However, when my negative thoughts and struggles reappear, I no longer let them run my life. I recognize them as something I must overcome. There are days that I have to make a conscious effort to eat and not panic when the scale shows an increase. But thankfully, I know the price of letting fear take over my life.

I know that one day I’ll be able to step on the scale and not cringe at the numbers that appear in front of me. One day, I’ll be able to eat a meal without thinking about calories. One day, my mind will be completely free. Until that day, I keep silencing that voice.

About Petra Scott

Petra Scott is a Registered Holistic Nutritionist and a Raw Food Chef who helps women build a foundation of wholesome eating to create a strong self-image. Get her free Health Mastery Toolkit to discover your ideal diet and take your health to the next level.

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from Tiny Buddha https://tinybuddha.com/blog/overcoming-negative-body-image-4-things-to-remember/

[adampaisley]

My Foray into Gonzo Journalism

PART 1 - Drugs and Food

In an effort to expand my writing portfolio and find paid work, I’ve taken stock of what is popular in today’s media and decided that I need to pursue the technique of gonzo journalism.

My research shows there are a few paths I can take. I narrowed it down to two; either seek out really awful, uneducated people and tell you about them or I can write about doing things that are ill advised in a cool ironic way.

My day starts at 10am. I normally wake up at 7-7:30 and this day was no exception. But as a gonzo journalist, it’s a big no-no to start your day that early. In fact it’s more likely it’s when your night should end. This was going to be tough. I stayed in bed for a bit, read some news, posted a couple HBDs on Facebook and had a sensible breakfast before heading out.

I chose this day to start my new journalistic endeavor because it was the first day of the month after my birth month. Which meant I was driving with an expired license. I had received a renewal notice in the mail but chose to ignore it. Already feeling the gonzo rush, I head to meet a known local drug dealer to prepare myself for the evening. “Sup cuz?” he greeted me, using his e-cigarette, fully aware of the lack of research on the health ramifications of the technology. It smelled nice, like a blue raspberry sno-cone. I said as much. “Yeah, it’s blue raspberry”, he replied. This drug dealer is actually my second cousin Dale (I’ve changed his name from Dave to Dale to protect his identity).

“What do you need?” he asked. I left with some magic mushrooms and MDMA, or ��Molly” in drug-lord parlance. I wondered if this was based on the great Canadian actress Molly Parker but Dave wasn’t sure and said “probably not”. I argue that she deserves something to be named after her but Dave has already left. With the drugs securely in my coat pocket, I continue my journey.

It’s now lunch time. I head to a dive restaurant that’s of such poor quality, even Guy Fieri wouldn’t feature it on Triple D. The decor was unappealing; The crown moulding was a mess. Real sloppy work. I have a seat at the counter. “Hi, what can I get for ya?” the waitress asks. She’s an older woman, mid 40’s, dyed black hair and heavy on the makeup. She isn’t unattractive and you could tell she was a dime in her day. Her small-town eyebrows are still sculpted the same way her mother taught her at thirteen. Personally, I’m feeling extremely uncomfortable, knowing I’ll have to describe her appearance in a weird, misogynistic way in the article as is customary in gonzo journalism. (Sorry Kathy! You were a wonderful server and I know your appearance has no relevance to the story but I feel as if I had to include this.)

I’m about to order a burger with fries but realize that isn’t ill-advised enough. I look to the back page of the menu. “I’ll have the fish please” I say, knowing full well it is likely already prepared, frozen, and simply warmed for the customer. “Okay”

Lunch was pretty good. I feel okay. The tartar sauce was actually quite good. I ask about it and am told it’s made in house. I mention they should sell it and Kathy offers to put some in a container for me. I gladly accept, pay my bill and head out.

I still have a few hours to kill before I’m scheduled to take the drugs so I head to a Starbucks. I’m doing this ironically as it’s not something a cool guy gonzo journalist would do. I ironically charge my phone and order a “caramelli frappiachi or whatever”, purposefully getting the name incorrect because I wouldn’t unironically drink such a delicious beverage. I sit and play a couple turns on my Yahtzee app before heading toward the hospital.

I decided to take the drugs across the street from the emergency room. I haven’t done drugs before and read about some pretty serious allergic reactions online. My reasoning for taking them across the street and not in front of the building was twofold; less chance of being seen by a narc (drugs slang for “Narcotic Tattletale”) and if I had to cross the street with a severe allergic reaction, it would be great for the story. As a bonus, the bus I wanted to take after was west bound so it made sense to be on that side of the street.

I ingested the magic mushroom and didn’t feel an immediate allergic reaction, so I hopped on my bus and started my “trip”. ;)

Shoot, I forgot to swear in the article. Fuck the establishment! Okay, thanks.

PART 2 - I’m on Drugs, which are Illegal.

It was hard to tell if the drugs were starting to have an effect or if the bus is always this unpleasant. I hadn’t taken transit in many years, as my parents gave me a Honda Civic as a high school graduation present and it has proven to be a reliable companion. I’ve had to do a few minor repairs but am overall very happy with the reliability.

On the bus, a man is eating sunflower seeds and spitting them onto the floor. Another smells greatly of urine, yet still has the mind to catcall a teenage girl. An unkempt teen audibly burps while texting with the keyboard click sound on. It’s hard to imagine this wasn’t a hallucination but a few people I told about it suggested that these behaviors are not uncommon on the bus. I push through it by fondly thinking about the comforts of my sedan.

I finally arrive at my destination, a public park. From what I had gleaned from my research, I was now supposed to experience something considered illegal in some countries with a person of notoriety. Perhaps do peyote with Deadmau-Five or ingest an extremely hot sauce with Dave Coulier.

I had contacted a number of people and the one who was kind enough to join me was a friend of mine who is a regional journalist who is verified on Twitter. He was not very receptive to doing anything illegal but after some convincing, he agreed to eat some foods that aren’t allowed to be sold in the country because of regulatory law.

We kicked things off with a glass of Ovaltine I bought online. You can get it where I’m from as well but it’s a bit different from the British one because it has a colourant that isn’t approved here. We both agreed; it tasted pretty good.

Next up, I had tried to get my hands on some farm raised salmon but it didn’t pan out so I had to get a bit creative for the next one. We each had a Kinder Surprise egg. They’re legal here in Canada but not in the US as the toy inside is a choking hazard. We removed the toys and ate the chocolate without incident. They’re great. I received a puzzle inside, which is disappointing but my friend got a frog that jumped if you flick it, which was pretty cool.

I thanked him for his time and asked if he wanted to hang out and join me tonight. He said he had to head home because he and his partner were going to watch Rango.

I’m flying solo.

PART 3 - A Set Back

Well, something caught up with me. Possibly the magic mushrooms or more likely the Ovaltine. I’m pretty lactose intolerant and spend the next two hours in the washroom with a Gatorade and my iPad.

I watch a few eps of (pre-Logan era) Gilmore Girls to comfort myself.

I worry my article is in peril of ending unceremoniously if I’m unable to make it out that night, so I take an Imodium and have a short nap.I wake up feeling better and I decide that I’m up to the challenge of a night out.

I think I’ll take my car this time. I don’t want to drive under the influence but I figure any effect the mushrooms would have had is gone after my time on the toilet. The bus is just too much right now. Especially with the threat of loose stool.

PART 4 - I Drop My Bean

I pre-purchased tickets to a concert by a local punk band called Truck Frudeau. From what I’d seen online, their music is terrible and their point of view misguided but I decided to attend anyways. My research shows that these articles aren’t about sharing great art but finding something that will result in people clicking on the article to scoff.

I arrive at the venue at 9:00 PM. It said doors at 9 but when I enter there is nobody taking tickets and the band is just setting up. I figure this would be a good time to talk to them for my story. I’m not sure of how the interview will go but if they’re cool, I can act like I’m cool for talking to them or(hopefully) they say something incendiary, and I can be really condescending and sensationalize it.

I ask the lead singer, Josh, what his main problem with the Liberal government is. He says that “Justin Trudeau is just a pawn who answers to rich assholes who want to sell guns to the middle east so people kill each other.” I imagine this is not the PM’s main objective but there is likely a very troubling and continued history of Canadian arms sales. I want to research this further but I know I need to be careful the article is political enough to draw interest while never veering out of the realm of trash entertainment.

I ask to the drummer, Wes, about what he wants to accomplish with the band. He tells me that he doesn’t “pay attention to politics. (He) just likes to smoke weed and hang out when (he’s) not working at the bank”. (Off the record, I ask him what it’s like to smoke weed. I don’t want him getting in any legal trouble and I don’t want to look like I am not cool in the article.)

I thank them for their time and they finish setting up. About fifteen or so people are now gathered in front of the stage. This seems like the right time for me to take the Molly(Parker) but I’m a little gun-shy from my earlier narcotic experience and only take half of the already minimal dose I purchased. I drink a whole bottle of water with it because I heard MDMA dehydrates and I’m already pretty dried out from the loose stool.

The band begins their set. A group of teens start to mosh so I stand near the back. I think I start to feel the effect of the drug because I find myself enjoying the band. I tap my toe and nod my head, really feeling it.

It’s now about three songs in and I’ve hit a wall. I’m so tired and can’t take it any longer. I head to the washroom, the music is stripped of all the deafening volume and I can really hear how poorly they’re playing. I go to the stall and sit on the toilet.

Next thing I know, I’m woken up  from a dream about going to the airport to look for my misplaced gloves. There was a punk band playing at the airport in the dream, which makes a lot of sense now that I’m awake. An awful smelling bartender with camo pants tucked into his combat boots tells me the show has concluded and they’re about to lock up. I ask them to call a taxi for me. I get into the taxi and give him my address. The driver asks me what band I saw. I pause for a second, then say “Uhh…Jeff’s Place” because I didn’t want to explain what Truck Frudeau is all about and that’s the best fake band name I could come up with at the moment.

I arrive home and head straight to bed. I sleep soundly until 8am which is very late for me.

Fuck the establishment. Thank you for reading.