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incorrectbatfam · 11 months ago

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Okay, so I want a little angst fic where Robs twins and Milo get kidnapped, and the kidnapper is doing the whole cliche thing with ‘cHoOsE oNe, will your twins or Milo live??’ and, Rob thinks, it should be obvious, right? Pick ur twins! But, it’s a difficult decision, he can’t let any of them die, and he’s stressing Tf out. Like, Milo is fourteen! And the twins love him! (Kinds? He bullies them sometimes but it’s fineee)

At the end, the bats come and save them, but it’s still an eye opening experience.

The Gooners Christmas kidnapping fic that exactly one (1) person asked for

Word count: 3,375

———————

“What’s the password?”

Milo chuckled. “Jackie, you’re only supposed to do that when you get picked up from school.”

“Dad said to always ask before getting in the car with anyone,” the six-year-old replied.

“But you know me.”

“What if you’re a shapeshifting alien trying to abduct us? Or an evil robot clone?”

He sighed. “Unicorn ice cream. Now are we going Christmas shopping or not?”

“Sure,” she said, “when Gunner quits being a slowpoke.”

As if on cue, the other boy stumbled out of the three’s shared bedroom, tugging his blue snow boots on. Since he didn’t know how to tie the laces yet, Milo kneeled down and helped him.

“Now remember, the mall’s gonna be really busy, so what do we do if we get separated?”

“Meet at the food court,” they say in unison.

“And what do we not do?”

“Go to a security guard.”

“And why don’t we do that?”

“Because they don’t work for people like us.”

“Good job.” He patted the pom-poms topping their matching hats.

Once Milo buckled the twins in and put his favorite rock album on, they set off. There was a light dusting of snow on top of the salt laid down earlier that morning, but the fifteen-year-old managed to weave through the holiday traffic and beat the lights in time to snag the last parking spot at Gotham City’s shopping hotspot.

“Any idea what you’re gonna get your dad?” he asked as they walked into the bustling shopping mall.

“How about a watch?” said Jackie. “I saw a really cool gold one last week.”

“Hm… maybe,” he said. “Gunner, what about you? Any thoughts?”

Gunner stifled a laugh. “Pants.”

Milo rolled his eyes playfully. The kid was in that phase where pants were the funniest thing in the world. But in the nine months since he started living with the Steelers, Milo hadn’t seen Rob get anything—buying or stealing—for himself. It was always for the kids or to sell on the internet. And, frankly, the man looked like he spent a year on a deserted island.

“We’ll start with pants,” he said.

“What about you?” Jackie asked. “What are you gonna get him?”

“I’m not sure.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Probably something as a thanks for, you know, not leaving me to the wolves.”

“Like what?”

Gunner said, “How about a World’s Best Dad mug?”

“That might work for you, but he’s not my dad,” said Milo. He shrugged. “Eh, I’ll figure it out.”

They perused a few clothing stores, the twins pointing out pieces of clothing their dad might like. Milo kept a mental inventory as he fiddled with the magnet in his coat pocket. He also made notes about where the cameras and security guards were placed.

After about an hour, the kids were whining about being hungry (breakfast wasn’t exactly filling—they shared an egg and a slice of toast between them). Milo took them to the food court and used some cash he pickpocketed the other day to buy them both kids’ meals from the Batburger pop-up stall.

Once they sat down, he said, “I’m gonna go get the gifts for your dad. Do you guys have your phone?”

Jackie and Gunner nodded and pulled out matching rose gold and black smartphones, respectively, that totally weren’t stolen and jailbroken.

“Good. Stay here and don’t move. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. Call me if you need anything.”

Milo still had a thing or two to learn before he could begin swiping electronics and jewelry, but shoplifting clothing was easy. He grabbed a shopping bag from behind an unoccupied register and wove through the aisles for the list of things from earlier. He took them to the dressing room and removed the security tags with his trusty magnet before putting the clothes in the bag. Then, for good measure, he stuck them back onto random clothes throughout the store before walking out while using his phone like any other teenager.

When he didn’t see the twins at the food court, there was a small spark of panic. He called Jackie and it rang three times before she answered.

“We’re in the bathroom,” she said.

He should’ve noticed the quiver in her voice. When he stepped into the all-gender restroom, he was met by the kids pressed against the wall with a haggard middle-aged man towering over them.

Gunner cried out, “Milo!”

As the door fell shut, the stranger whirled around, pointing a sawed-off shotgun at Milo. “You with them?”

Stunned, Milo nodded numbly. He wasn’t sure if that was the right move or not.

The man’s hands trembled. “Do as I say or I shoot.”

Milo reached for his batarang—the one he found on the street—inside his jacket, but before he could grab it, the man walked around him and prodded Milo in the back with the barrel.

“I know you heard me. Now all three of you move it.”

The bathroom was five steps from the exit, so there wasn’t any chance to make a getaway without putting Jackie and Gunner at risk. They were ushered roughly into a white van with the peeling logo of an electric company. A second person was in the driver’s seat so the guy with the gun got into the seatless back with them. He slammed the door shut. Milo motioned for the twins to get behind him.

The driver turned the radio up as they made their way onto the road.

Smart. Milo thought. Mask any calls for help. This obviously wasn’t the kidnappers’ first rodeo.

But neither was it Milo’s. Being a runaway street kid, he had his fair share of close calls with bastard adults who tried to manipulate him because of his age. While he couldn’t call himself an expert, he had a general gist of how these situations went.

Traveling at sixty miles per hour in a windowless van with no clue where they were headed, Milo didn’t have an upper hand. He needed information. Something was better than nothing.

He studied the man with them, who had tucked the gun away. Even in the dark, he could see the man wasn’t doing well for himself. The worn-out clothes plus the crudeness of his weapon ruled out the mafia. What would Falcone or Maroni want with some random kids from Burnside, anyway? Milo could also rule out some of the major Rogues—Riddler, Two-Face, and Mr. Freeze all had standards.

The man’s graying blonde hair and beard were both overgrown. His face was hollow and his breath smelled like spoiled leftovers. Clearly, he hadn’t taken care of himself in a long time. Mental break? But unless it was a case of folie a deux, there’s no way he could’ve gotten a second person to be his getaway driver. More likely than not, he was on his last legs and holding people for ransom was his Hail Mary.

Milo also tried to analyze the man’s body language, but the low light and the moving van made it difficult. Kellin would’ve probably deduced everything with their assassin training by now.

He glanced over his shoulder at Jackie and Gunner. Gunner always had more braggadocio, but underneath he got more scared easily, and Milo saw it in the way the kid clung to his sister’s arm with tears running down his cherubic face. Jackie appeared calmer, but her big brown eyes looked up at Milo, silently begging him to do something.

Milo took a deep breath and turned to their kidnapper. “You mind telling me what you want with us?”

“We don’t want anything from you,” the man replied.

“Then what? You gonna sell us? Because we’re pretty unmarketable.”

“No,” he said. “This isn’t about you. It’s about your father.”

“Axel Carr? Good luck with that. I’m as dead to him as he is to me.”

The man pointed to the twins. “I meant theirs.”

“How do you know their dad?” Milo asked slowly, careful not to let a name slip in case the man was bluffing.

“I worked with Rob Steeler under Scarecrow. When he left, instead of getting promoted, they let our entire crew go since we lost our key player.”

The man was clearly getting started and Milo hoped he’d keep going until the boy could formulate a plan.

“My whole life torpedoed after that. No gigs meant no income. No income plus a disabled kid meant I had to give up custody.”

While unfortunate, Milo was more focused on the clock and speedometer up front. Eight minutes had passed since they started driving and the speed had stayed consistent. The hum underneath the wheels told him they were still on the highway.

“Without that money, I can’t get my kid back. So here’s what’s gonna happen.”

They came to a stop and there was the sound of a garage door opening and closing. Gun back in hand, the man prodded them out.

“I’m gonna make Steeler pay,” he said. “He gives me cash for his little tikes. Otherwise, if I can’t have my family, then neither can he.” He turned to Milo and cocked the gun. “As for you, I’m afraid I can’t have any witnesses.”

“Wait!” Milo exclaimed before the man put his finger on the trigger. “Don’t you think killing me right away will cause a huge scene? You’ll end up with cops at the doorstep before you can even ask for the money.”

The driver muttered something to the gunman.

“True,” the gunman said.

The driver whispered something else. The gunman’s face lit up and he nodded.

“Better idea,” he said. “I was going for around thirty grand. That’s ten grand for each of you. For each one he can bring me, I’ll let you go home.”

Jackie piped up. “What if he can’t?”

The man smiled. “For your sake, little girl, you better hope he does.”

The gunman forced the three to surrender their phones while the driver bound them with rope to a water pipe against the wall. The windowless garage offered no clues to the outside, but the fishy smell in the air meant they were close to the harbor. It hadn’t been used in a long time because every step someone took left a footprint in the dust. Off to one side, underneath a mountain of scrap wood and netting, was a speedboat with a gaping hole in the hull. On the other side was a small, messy work table where the driver and gunman were making the ransom call.

“Milo, what do we do?” Gunner whispered.

“Just stay here and don’t move unless I tell you to,” he replied. “I’m gonna get us out of this.”

“What if you get hurt?” Jackie asked.

He smiled. “Remember when I did a cartwheel with a twisted ankle? A little hurt doesn’t bother me.”

His arms were pinned to his side, but he managed to maneuver them enough to grab his magnet and batarang. Normally he would have had a trunk full of inventory to work with but this was going to have to do.

While the kidnappers were on the call, he sliced himself out of the ropes with the batarang. He also loosened Jackie and Gunner’s restraints to prepare for a quick escape.

The only exit was the garage door, controlled by a red button on the wall. If he was one of the bat-people, he could easily throw the batarang and hit the tiny target far away, but as just Milo, the risks far outweighed his chance of success. Normally he would have tried anyway, but he had the kids with him.

He gestured to Gunner’s boots. “I need to borrow something real quick.”

The boy nodded. Milo undid the laces, resulting in two long strings in his hands. He tied them together to create a single, even longer cord, which he then put the batarang on one end of.

The kidnappers turned toward them and the gunman shouted, “Hey!”

Milo muttered a prayer to Wonder Woman on the off chance that’s her thing.

He twirled the string and released it. It wrapped around the driver’s knee, causing the man to stumble and fall. His joint cracking echoed through the garage and a red stain grew on his cargo pants.

He reeled it in before throwing it at the gunman’s face. The tip grazed the man’s cheek, drawing a thin trickle of blood, before spinning back around into Milo’s hand. Milo threw a punch, but the man caught it. The gunman twisted before shoving Milo to the ground and pointing the shotgun at him.

“Had fun playing Robin?” the man asked, finger nearing the trigger.

Stall. That was all there was left to do.

“Heroes are overrated. They always have to follow some stupid code,” Milo said, doing all he could to keep his voice steady. “You and I have more in common than you think.”

“Whatever deal you’re trying to cut won’t work,” the gunman replied. “Steeler’s already on his way and he accepted all my terms.”

“What if I tell everyone what you did? Then what?”

The gunman laughed. “Tell who? The same cops you’re always running from? Don’t think I didn’t do my homework on your little posse.”

The driver was pretty much down for the count because he was still on the floor with the pool of blood slowly growing. Plus, he didn’t seem like the fighting type to begin with. Unless there were more kidnappers lurking, Milo just had to make sure the gunman stayed focused on him.

“Your kid. How old are they?” Milo asked.

“He’s ten, and unlike you, he’s actually suffering. He didn’t bring it on himself after a fight with daddy.”

That plucked a nerve. For a disheveled ex-henchman, the man knew a lot.

Milo clenched his jaw. “And what would he say if he knew about this? Even if you get the money, what makes you think he’d want anything to do with you?”

Smack.

Milo fell back as the gun met his temple. His head throbbed and black speckles swam in front of his eyes. His fingers traced over the spot and came back red. Through the dull ringing in his right ear, he heard the twins cry out his name.

He turned back to the gunman, still kneeling. “If you’d do this to us, what’s stopping you from doing it to him?”

This time, a kick to the stomach forced the wind out of him. He doubled over, gasping. He reached for the batarang but the gunman kicked it away.

The man raised his gun for another strike but the garage door interrupted him.

“Step away from the kids.”

The twins exclaimed, “Dad!”

Rob made brief but reassuring eye contact with them before turning to the kidnapper.

“I got as much as I could, Frederickson. Now let go of my kids.”

The kidnapper walked over and snatched the water-stained blue duffel bag out of Rob’s hand. He opened it and counted through the banded bills before turning back to Rob.

“I said thirty grand. This is only twenty-five.”

“That's all I got, I’m telling you! Just take it and let my kids and I go home.”

“We had a deal.”

While the two men went back and forth, Milo crawled over to the batarang. The open garage door meant the bright lights inside flooded the harbor with nothing blocking the way. The bright lightbulbs dangled from the ceiling.

It was sheer luck the batarang flew over the adults’ heads and wrapped around the base of the brightest light bulb before dangling in front of it. It wasn’t very distinct, but his makeshift Bat-Signal would have to do.

The man cocked the gun. “Now you gotta pick. It’s them…” He pointed it at the twins. “Or him.” He pointed at Milo.

What kind of choice is that? Milo thought. Of course pick them.

Rob stood there as if nailed to the spot, fists clenched.

“Fredrickson, think about this,” he said, his normally firm voice edging on pleading. “Is five thousand dollars worth having this on your conscience?”

“You were always the soft one,” the man sneered. “You never let it on around the boss until our last sting.”

“There’s ransom and then there’s this,” Rob said. “Fredrickson. Darren. You’re not okay.”

“Rob,” Milo said.

The men’s heads both swiveled around.

Milo swallowed. “Give him what he wants and he’ll be out of your hair. It’s obvious. Pick the twins.”

Rob sputtered, eyes wide. “I-I…”

“You trust me on the field all the time,” he said. “So do it again.”

“I can’t.”

The gunman said, “So the little ones go.”

“No!” Rob yelled. “I just—I just need…”

“Take. Your. Pick.”

His eyes darted between Milo and the twins. Milo knew his boss was an idiot at times and the proof was right here. The twins were younger. There were two of them as opposed to one of him. They were actually Rob’s.

Before the gunman could repeat himself again, a brand new voice chimed in.

“I’ve seen this trope before. Spoiler alert: the good guys win.”

With a swish of her purple cape, Spoiler released her grapple and knocked the shotgun away. She coiled the rope around the gunman before kneeing him in the ribs. Milo didn’t think much of heroes given how they beat up people like him and Rob, but he couldn’t help but marvel at each fluid strike. As easy as one, two, three, four, and five.

The gunman hit the ground and she clasped a pair of handcuffs on him. Nearby, Orphan collected the driver.

Spoiler crouched beside the twins and freed them. “Are you guys alright?”

They nodded. Gunner said, “Is the supervillain defeated?”

“I’d hardly call him super, but yes,” she said. “He’s not gonna bother you anymore.”

As red and blue lights flooded the room, Milo’s head pulsed even harder like a kick drum at a rock show. Some of the blood from his temple dripped onto the floor. His stomach rolled.

Rob answered some of Spoiler’s questions before she set them loose. Of course cops would be at the scene. Why didn’t Milo think of that?

The twins ran into their dad’s arms and he scooped them up. Milo had never seen his boss so relieved or so scared. He staggered to his feet, one hand in the brick wall for balance. His head spun and a sharp pain was finally sinking in.

Rob put the kids down and turned toward Milo.

“I’m sorry,” Milo said. “It’s my fault we got into this mess and—”

He was cut off by a pair of arms wrapping around him.

“Rob, what—”

“Just shut up and take it.”

The hug ended before Milo could fully register it. After one of the medics patched his wound, all they had left to do was go home and pretend this never happened. Business as usual.

“The car’s still at the mall,” he said.

“I borrowed one from Otto,” Rob replied. “I’ll get ours in the morning.”

Once they were back at the apartment, Rob tucked the twins into bed with an extra-long story. Meanwhile, Milo cleaned himself up in the cubicle-sized bathroom and changed into something more comfortable.

He tried to sleep after that but wound up tossing and turning for hours, replaying the night’s events in his head. What if he hadn’t left the twins alone? What if he’d brought a better weapon? The Steelers were already hanging by a thread and he just cost them twenty-five grand. If one of the others was in his position, they could’ve figured a way out by themselves. Blaise would’ve siphoned the gas from the van and turned it into a flamethrower. Booker and Molly would’ve been better negotiators. Kellin would’ve fought their way through.

The door opened. The thin bar of light cut between his side of the room and the sleeping twins’ bunk bed.

“It’s two o’clock,” Rob said.

Milo propped himself up on his elbow. “And?”

“I could hear you down the hall. You’re gonna wake the twins up at this rate.”

“Not on the clock, not my boss.”

Rob quietly chuckled. “Get some sleep. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

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thegayhimbo · 4 years ago

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True Blood: Pam, Jason, Salome, and the Impact of Sexual Abuse (Spoilers from Season 5):

One thing that struck me about the Season 5 episode "Whatever I Am, You Made Me," is how it deals with the theme of sexual abuse and the impact it has in a person's life. It presents three characters (Pam, Jason, and Salome) with backstories about being raped, and not only does it show how these characters processed their trauma in different ways, but it also shows how it influenced their behavior later in their lives.

Pam for instance was a prostitute who worked at a brothel in her human life. She was responsible for other women who had gotten into that profession, and it's pretty clear from her flashbacks that the job was not only degrading and soul-crushing, but also dangerous. Pam had to deal with the constant fear of catching a life-threatening disease, getting STDs, losing her pretty features, getting tossed aside, or even dealing with potential rapists/sexual predators. We literally see Pam get attacked by a man on the streets who attempts to rape her, and the only reason that doesn't happen is because Eric intervenes. The show never outright states this, but I always had the impression that (prior to meeting Eric) Pam experienced rape/sexual assault during her time as a prostitute, especially from men in that time period who didn't think her consent mattered. She also saw the vile ways other men treated her girls, which I'm sure left mental scars. It's probably a big reason for why she's emotionally closed off from other people (except for Eric), and why she hides behind snark and sarcasm: That trauma is still with her after all these years. It's a defense mechanism to outwardly show she doesn't care about what other people think because she doesn't ever want to be emotionally vulnerable the same way she was when she worked at that brothel. It's also why she's fiercely loyal to Eric: He saved her from a horrific fate, and actually gave her a life worth living. She can be vulnerable with Eric because she knows him and trusts him, but it's harder for her to be emotionally vulnerable with other people, or develop meaningful relationships with them.

On a related note, Pam's flashbacks also help explain her feelings of contempt towards Bill: Prior to season 5, I used to think Pam's dislike of Bill was mostly rooted in pettiness. However, with the flashback, it puts everything in a different perspective. Pam had a valid reason to hate Bill: She remembers him as the guy who (along with Lorena) raped, drained, and killed several of the girls from her brothel. Pam pretty much pegged Bill as a misogynist in that moment when she first met him. No wonder she doesn't like Bill, even after all these years.

Jason is another example of someone who experienced rape at a young age. We find out that when he was around 13-14 years old, he was taken advantage of by a teacher named Ms. Steeler. Said teacher had a sexual relationship with Jason when he was her student. Just based on the dialogue between her and Jason when they meet up for the first time in years, it's stated that Jason was taught certain sexual things from her, and it's implied that the reason she used Jason in that way was because she was unhappy in her own life. What happened here led Jason to believe that the only thing he was good for was sex and nothing else. And when you look at Jason's sex life over the course of the show, which is a string of one-night stands and unhealthy relationships, his sexual exploits look pretty desperate and even sad. At one point, he tells Jessica that sex is the only way he knows how to feel okay because he knows deep down that he isn't, and a lot of that promiscuous behavior stemmed from what happened here with his teacher. I know Jason initially tells Ms. Steeler he doesn't regret their relationship (even though she does), but on some level, I think he subconsciously knew what she did to him was wrong, but he never really comprehended why until he had sex with her again as an adult, and finally understood the full implications of how that relationship fucked him up into adulthood.

This is one of the few instances on a TV show where I've seen the student/teacher relationship between a young teenage boy and an older female teacher get called out for how damaging it is. It's NOT portrayed in a sexy or positive light, and I'm grateful for that. I'm also glad the story breaks the rape myth of "women can't rape men" (and believe me when I say I have met people who still believe that kind of bullshit 🙄). It also gives a different perspective about Jason's sexual exploits, and why they're so unhealthy. I felt bad for Jason in this story, and that moment when he realizes how much his relationship with Ms. Steeler screwed up his life is one of the best acting moments from Ryan Kwanten IMO.

Finally, there's Salome's backstory. We find out that (contrary to how the Bible portrays her) she was once a young girl in a messed up family who was used by her mother to seduce Herod Antipas. She accomplished this by wrapping Salome up in scarves and delivering her to him so he would have his way with her. She basically got prostituted to a man who was a pedophile, and then was later vilified as a seductress of men even though she was actually a rape victim. When she's telling Bill this story, she sounds bitter and angry, and I can understand why: Imagine going through a horrific experience like that, and then not only do you get victim-blamed for what happened, but you are also demonized for what was arguably the worst moment in your life. And on top of that, you get a nasty reputation that's rooted in misogyny and slut-shaming, and you can't escape it no matter how hard you try.

I know some fans have complained about Salome being an underdeveloped villain, but I disagree. I think she is fully realized as a character, and her backstory explains a lot about why she acts the way she does. This is someone who has a deep hatred for humans because of what happened to her as a girl. Her comment to Bill about how humans in her youth were far more savage than any vampire she's known reflects that attitude. This is someone who embraced being a vampire because it gave her the control in her life that she didn't have as a human. This is someone who turned to Lilith and was a champion for the Sanguinista's because she wanted to leave her mark on the world. She wanted power over others the same way her family (and other people) had power over her in her human life. That trauma is still with her after all these years, and has manifested itself in a very frightening way. It reminds me a little about what happened to Antonia where she was also raped and later vilified for something that was out of her control. Except in Antonia's case, it led to a deep seated hatred of vampires.

Both Salome, Jason, and Pam experience rape/sexual abuse early on in their lives, and it's only years later when you see how that trauma has shaped them. Pam is emotionally closed off from people, has a hard time forming close relationships with others (except for Eric), and has an obsession with her looks. Jason developed a promiscuous lifestyle that stemmed from the belief that his only worth as a person was in sex and nothing else. Salome embraced the role of a seductress and made it her own while also championing a religion that advocates for enslaving humans because of how much she hates them. All 3 of them reacted differently to the sexual abuse they experienced, but it did shape them into the people they became later on.

In any case, I wanted to write about this because it's something that's been in the back of my mind since I saw this episode again.

#true blood #tgh opinions #true blood season 5 #jason stackhouse #salome agrippa #eric northman #tw rape #true blood rewatch #pamela swynford de beaufort

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wheresmynaya · 4 years ago

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Lost in the Lights Ch.4 | Brittana

Posting early today since the Steelers game has been postponed so many times I've lost all concept of time LOL. Anyway, I get a real kick out of everyone that mentions they're a Steelers fan in their reviews. Wave that Terrible Towel for me too (I left mine in American, such a rookie mistake).

Also Happy late Thanksgiving, hope everyone had a safe holiday with lots of laughs.

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

It’s Wednesday morning and Brittany’s walking with Kurt to their first class of the day when McKinley High’s mascot comes running down the hall at them. They barely get out of his way in time as he continues whooping down the hallway. Students around cheer but Brittany just stares blankly, trying to understand what that was all about.

“That guy does his Spirit Run every year around this time,” Kurt explains.

“Spirit Run?”

“Yeah. It’s really just an excuse for him to run around the halls like a crazy person,” Kurt says, “You’ll probably see it again at least three more times this week.”

“You guys really go all out here,” Brittany mentions as she and Kurt begin to walk again without fear of getting trampled.

“Told you,” Kurt shrugs, “Homecoming is one of McKinley’s biggest events.”

“Small towns are so weird,” Brittany chuckles.

“They are, but I do love a good theme,” Kurt replies then gasps as he turns to her, “Have you given any thought to who you’ll be going with?”

Brittany laughs a little louder, but then stifles it when she sees Kurt look at her in confusion.

“I wasn’t going to ask anyone,” She says with a shrug.

Kurt’s baffled and stops mid-step, “What? Why not?”

“I don’t really have anyone in mind,” Brittany answers simply, “Why? What’s the issue?”

“You have to have an escort, Britt,” Kurt urges, “You’re apart of the Homecoming Court now, you can’t just attend the dance alone.”

Brittany rolls her eyes at how serious he’s making it all sound, “Why not? What’s going to happen to me if I don’t go with anyone?”

Kurt stammers, “Uh…nothing I guess but it’s not something people usually do. You’re pretty popular, Britt, why don’t you use that to your advantage like everyone else here? I’m sure you’d find a date easily if you asked around.”

“Okay fine,” Brittany smirks, “Do you want to go with me?”

Kurt gives her a look, “I’m flattered but I already agreed to go with a group from Glee Club.”

“Well look at that. I tried,” Brittany fakes defeat, “Guess I’ll be going alone then.”

“But –“

“I’ll be fine, Kurt. You said it yourself, nothing will happen to me if I go alone,” Brittany chuckles as she enters the classroom.

Kurt just sighs and follows after Brittany.

The day goes on as usual for Brittany until she arrives to her Home Room class for third bell. It’s one of her favorite parts of the day; half of the bell is spent on studying and using your time wisely before everyone’s released for lunch. It’s kind of her time to wind down from all the info-intake, but sometimes she tries to get a jump on homework so she doesn’t have to do much after practice.

It’s also the class before her final one of the day which she gets to spend with Santana.

She has barely walked through the door when her teacher hands her a note saying she’s needed in Ms. Pillsbury’s office. She recognizes the name from when Santana mentioned her awhile ago, but Brittany frowns as she looks over the note.

“Am I going to miss lunch?” She asks but the teacher just shrugs and tells her to get going.

She doesn’t actually know where the office is so she ends up wandering around downstairs until another teacher spots her for looking lost.

“Hey, where are you supposed to be?” They demand.

Brittany just hands over the note like it’s a hall pass, “I’m not sure where her office is.”

She smiles innocently and it’s enough to have the teacher relaxing. Thankfully they offer to lead the way to where she needs to be without any further questions.

When she finally gets to the office, she knocks gently at the glass. There’s a red-haired woman sitting daintily behind a desk polishing off her stapler with a wet wipe. Kind of odd, but Brittany doesn’t question it as a pleasant smile fills the woman’s face upon seeing her standing there.

“Brittany, hi! Please come in,” She says and motions for the blonde to have a seat, “I’m Ms. Pillsbury, I’ll be your designated guidance counselor and college advisor.”

“Hi,” Brittany nods behind a polite smile as she goes to sit, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, no. Of course not,” Ms. Pillsbury assures her.

Brittany’s only a little relieved by that.

“I’ve been trying to make my rounds in meeting with all the Seniors just to make sure that everyone’s on track with deadlines for college applications,” She explains, “I have a little information on you from your old school, but I just wanted to check in and introduce myself properly since you’re new here. How are you finding McKinley so far?”

“It’s nice,” Brittany answers softly.

She doesn’t know what it is about the guidance counselor’s office that makes her feel nervous. Maybe because she spent so much time in it at the beginning of the year? She was always being checked on because of her ailing dad, it always made her feel so uneasy.

“I see you’ve been making quite the splash with the Titans,” Ms. Pillsbury says kindly, “It’s great to see a new student getting so involved. I’m sure the team is happy you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Brittany shrugs; she’s not exactly sure how to answer that especially after taking her stance on slushie facials. They work better as a team on the field but there’s still a little tension.

“So plans for college,” Ms. Pillsbury continues once she sees she’s not going to get anything else out of Brittany.

Brittany shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her hands tightening around the spine of her binder. Talking about her future like this always puts her on edge for some reason. She knows her parents – mostly her dad – always wanted her to go to college after high school, so she wants to honor that. She wants it for herself too, but it’s kind of overwhelming sometimes, especially when she feels like sports are the only thing she’s good at.

That’s not true – she’s a whizz in math and science – but does she really want to make a career out of it? She has no idea, it’s probably a good idea that she figure that out soon though.

All she knows is that GPAs are important and hers isn’t the best it could be. Her grades really took a hit when her dad passed away, but she was able to finish her Junior year relatively strong considering everything that happened. Maybe she’ll be okay?

“It says here that you’ve already taken the SATs twice,” Ms. Pillsbury notes, “Your scores are very good.”

Brittany nods again, “Yes, I sat the exam just before I moved here. I figured that I would be too focused on getting adjusted to a new school to study again.”

“That’s smart,” Ms. Pillsbury smiles, “You’re ahead of many Seniors here, it’s nice to see someone taking the initiative.”

“Yeah,” Brittany just shrugs, “I’m hoping that I can get a scholarship for playing football or something. I know it’s kind of a long shot for someone like me. It’s super rare that a female football player gets a scholarship.”

“But it isn’t impossible, I think that’s the important part so don’t doubt yourself. You could very well get a scholarship for your talents on the field,” Ms. Pillsbury assures her, “It says in your file that you’ve had scouts attend your games at your old school: one for the Florida State and another for Auburn. That’s really impressive, Brittany.”

“Thank you,” Brittany blushes. She remembers those game and how nerve wracking it was for her knowing that a win could determine her future – could determine if she were getting into a good school or not.

“I know Coach Beiste is in contact with a few recruiters and college coaches that are more local if that interests you?” Ms. Pillsbury suggests, “Maybe you’ll have some luck there as well? I know she’s quite close to the coaches at Louisville and Ohio State which are both on your list here.”

“That would be so cool, ” Brittany perks up at the prospect.

Now that they’ve moved, she kind of wants to stay close to home if she can. Maybe she’ll be able to get on Ohio State’s radar or maybe Notre Dame? It has been a crazy dream of hers to play college football at one of the top schools in the country, but she doesn’t know if she’s being realistic.

“Very cool,” Ms. Pillsbury smiles, “Well, I don’t want to take up too much of your time during your study hour so if you ever have any questions or just want to come by for a chat, I’m always here.”

“Thanks Ms. Pillsbury,” Brittany grins before heading back to class. It was a random meeting, but Brittany feels surprisingly lighter after speaking with her – like there was this reassurance she didn’t know she needed. It was completely different from the visits that she’s used to.

\\\\\

Although Spirit Week really seems like five days worth of nonsense, there is still the usual schoolwork and practice that Santana needs to focus on too. So after Wednesday’s Cheerios practice, Santana and Quinn head to the Lima Bean to get some homework done before they fall too far behind.

This year, they only have one class together but unfortunately that’s the only class that they’re caught up on. Instead, they grab a circular table by the window and work on their own things in a comfortable silence. Before either of them knows it, they’ve been there for two hours already and have gone through multiple coffees each – Santana’s on her third, Quinn has switched to tea.

Quinn sits back and goes to stretch a moment later, “I think I’m done for the day.”

Santana blinks her weary eyes, “Same. This bookwork on U.S. Government is melting my brain. Let’s pack up and – “

“Wait,” Quinn whispers and holds out her hand to stop Santana, “Look who’s here.”

When Santana follows Quinn’s line of view she instantly looks away at who’s there talking to the barista.

“We never see her here,” Santana comments disbelievingly.

“Right?” Quinn starts to smirk, “This is perfect.”

Since their talk over the weekend, Quinn’s been in Santana’s ear about her progress in becoming friends with Brittany despite Santana telling her to butt out. She’s been trying to explain that she’s not going to all of a sudden ask her over for a sleepover so they can braid each other’s hair and make friendship bracelets. It takes time, especially for Santana considering she’s not exactly the best at making new friends.

And that’s kind of where Quinn comes in.

“I swear to God, Fabray, if you do anything embarrassing I’m gonna – “

“Hey Brittany!” Quinn calls out sweetly, loud enough so that Brittany – and anyone else in earshot – can hear.

Santana goes ten shades redder and sinks low in her chair, “I hate you so much.”

“What?” Quinn questions innocently, “Friends say hi to other friends when they’re out in public so don’t be rude.”

Santana lets out a sarcastic laugh, “Bullshit. You and I both know what you’re up to.”

“I’m not up to anything. Just be normal,” Quinn whispers out quickly, “She’s coming over.”

Be normal, Santana thinks as she stifles another laugh. How can she be normal when Quinn is yelling out this girl’s name from across the café like they’re best friends? They’ve talked maybe twice and it wasn’t much of a conversation but rather just greetings exchanged.

It’s like Quinn’s just trying to embarrass the crap out of her.

Santana tries to keep a straight face in hopes that the blush fades soon. Hopefully her tan complexion is enough to mask her embarrassment.

“Hey guys,” Brittany greets casually, “How’s it going?”

Quinn looks to Santana to see if she’ll answer. She rolls her eyes when she sees that Santana’s just giving her a death glare instead.

“Going well,” Quinn replies first, “Did you just get out of practice?”

Brittany sighs tiredly and goes to brush her hair behind her ear, “Yeah. Very tiring, but that’s why I’m here. I’m so close to a nap but I still have a ton of homework to do by tomorrow. Looks like you guys do too.”

Santana remains weirdly silent so Quinn gives her a subtle kick from under the table, “So much, but we’ve just finished up. Santana and I were actually just talking about tomorrow’s Spirit Day. Right, Santana?”

Santana gives Quinn one last narrow of her eyes before she’s putting on a smile, “Right, Quinn.”

“What is it again?” Brittany asks as she looks to the brunette with her pretty blue eyes.

Santana’s breath catches before she croaks out, “Crazy Hair Day.”

“That’s right,” Brittany chuckles before she teases, “Another super original one. Have you got any ideas for what you’ll do?”

Santana feels a little more at ease, “I’m trying to talk Quinn into dying her hair pink.”

Brittany’s brows shoot up as she looks to Quinn, “Awesome!”

“I’ll probably just wear mine down,” Santana adds which has Quinn rolling her eyes.

“Why do I have to dye my hair when all you’re doing is wearing yours down?” Quinn huffs.

“Because,” Santana retorts, “No way I’m doing anything crazy to all of this. Do you know how much these extensions cost?”

Brittany laughs at their dynamic, “I mean, it totally works! You’d look so different without your usual high pony. I can’t wait to see.”

Quinn sends a stealthy glance over in Santana’s direction. Santana makes a point not to look.

“What about you?” Santana asks Brittany, “What are you going to do differently?”

“I don’t know,” Brittany shrugs, “I probably won’t comb it or something. Although, the hair dye does sound pretty cool.”

Santana laughs at Quinn’s eye-roll just as the barista calls out Brittany’s name.

“Oh! That’s me,” Brittany jumps, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Santana and Quinn say their goodbyes, but once she’s out of hearing range Quinn practically lunges across the table in excitement.

“She was flirting with you,” Quinn points out around a smirk.

Santana looks at her in disbelief, “Where the hell did you see flirting in all of that? Besides, wasn’t the point of all that to make a friend?”

“Come on,” Quinn gives her a look, “It was pretty obvious.”

“You’re delusional,” Santana chuckles.

“And you’re still date-less,” Quinn then sits up straighter, “Wait. I have an idea.”

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Santana shakes her head, “It’s a no. It’s a hell no.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to state my case.”

“Yeah, because it’s bound to be ridiculous,” Santana replies. She glances over in Brittany’s direction as the blonde goes to sit at a table by herself. Santana pushes away that little feeling of hope before she’s turning back to Quinn, “She and I barely talk outside of class. It would be so weird and awkward, she’d never agree to it. Not to mention that it would be completely predictable.”

“Predictable?”

“Well yeah,” Santana answers like its obvious, “The only two girls nominated that are also – you know – and they just so happen to be going together? No. I’m not going to give this school any more reason to talk shit. I’m not falling for that trap.”

Quinn rolls her eyes, “What are you talking about? What trap?”

“You don’t think this is weird?” Santana questions, “A girl being nominated for King? That’s never happened before. Is it not a red flag for you?”

Quinn sits back again in her chair and sighs, “Honestly Santana, I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if she’s genuinely been nominated or if it’s something else. I don’t think we’re gonna find out until Saturday.”

Santana sighs too, “I just don’t want her to get dragged into all my crap, you know? I don’t want them to mess with her like they’ve messed with me.”

“Yeah,” Quinn nods sadly, “I know but maybe it’s different this time? Brittany’s…she’s a lovely person and really tallented. Who knows, maybe that’s why she’s being nominated? Maybe her being an awesome quarterback and leading the Titans to so many wins has distracted people? Maybe this is real? I don’t know.”

Santana bites her lip. She wishes she could be that optimistic, but she’s been burned too many times. It’s hard for her to see the good anymore. She just hopes for Brittany’s sake that Quinn’s right this time.

“But,” Quinn adds, “What I do know is that Cheerios don’t go to these things by themselves – especially ones that are nominated.”

Santana tenses her jaw. She hates all the social rules she has to follow just because of her status. She hates how popularity is everything in place like Lima. For once, she just wants to be herself but everyone makes it so damn difficult.

Still, she has her obligations.

“If you can’t go with Brittany,” Quinn starts, “Who will you go with?”

She glances one last time at Brittany sitting alone studying before she finally answers, “I’ll find someone.”

And Santana tries valiantly to do so.

Once she gets home from the Lima Bean, Santana lies on her bed and scrolls through her contacts but nothing jumps out at her. Actually, it’s not the fact that no one jumps out – it’s the fact that she can’t bring herself to stoop down to that level again and go with a guy.

She can’t pretend anymore, no matter how bad she wants to avoid it all and go back to how things were a couple years ago where all she had to do was hide behind some guy in order to avoid how she truly felt. No one questioned her, no one doubted if any of it was genuine.

If she were to go with one of the many guys listed in her contacts, she would be doing just that – reverting. She feels guilty just thinking about it, but she knows it would be easier going back on what was said about her rather than actually living up to it.

Honestly, she doesn’t know which is scarier: pretending to be someone she isn’t again or finally owning up to who she really is. She just hates hearing the I knew it or I told you; it makes her feel so see-through, vulnerable. She can’t have that, she can’t have people at this school thinking they know her when they really don’t, but what is she supposed to do?

Continue to hide from the truth? Hope that everyone forgets?

Santana continues to scroll through her phone hoping that maybe she’ll find the answer to all her troubles amongst the boys’ names.

She doubts she will and that’s the biggest problem of all.

\\\\\

The next day, Brittany gets home a little earlier from football practice to find her mom helping Pete with his homework in the dining room. He instantly lights up when she enters the room and rushes over to hug her hips.

“Hey Petey,” Brittany chuckles, “You doing homework?”

“He just finished up,” Whitney smiles lovingly at the pair, “Got every question right.”

“No way!” Brittany gasp and goes for a low-five, “Mr. Smarty Pants in the building!”

Pete gives her an enthusiastic slap to her palm, “Should be rewarded with ice cream, right?”

Brittany’s brows rise and they both look over to their mom as she mimics him, “Right?”

Whitney just laughs, “Don’t you need to shower or something, Britt?”

“Showered at school,” She grins triumphantly.

“You can do that?” Pete looks up at her in awe.

“Totally.”

“Well,” Whitney sighs, “Let’s go then! Tonight’s the Bonfire, isn’t it?”

Brittany nodded as she put down her bag in its usual place by the front door, “Yeah, but it’s not until later. I’ve got time for an ice cream run.”

“Can I go to the bonfire too?” Pete asks as they all make their way outside to the car.

“Mom said no, remember?” Brittany tells him gently as he climbs into his seat, “It’ll be too late for you.”

“Bummer,” He frowns. Brittany gets in the passenger side and Whitney goes to start the car when he asks, “Will Santana be there?”

Brittany’s a little surprised that he remembered her name but answers anyway, “Yeah, probably. Why?”

Pete doesn’t answer for awhile, “Just wondering. She’s nice.”

Brittany nods, “Yeah. I think so too.”

She goes to flip though the radio stations, but Santana’s mention reminds her of how she felt seeing the Co-Captain for the first time that morning.

Like they discussed at the Lima Bean, Santana had worn her hair down. Brittany almost didn’t recognize her, she looked that different. More relaxed maybe? Who knows, but Brittany caught herself staring several times which would’ve been embarrassing if Santana noticed. Her hair was a lot longer than Brittany thought and any time Santana would brush it behind her ear or twirl the tips of it with her fingers, Brittany could smell the scent of her shampoo wafting off of her.

It was super distracting.

That scent was committed to Britany’s memory, because that scent was now Santana. Whenever she caught a whiff of it, Santana’s smiling face popped up in her head. As much as she thought that was really cool, it kind of worried her because she knew what was starting to develop and she couldn’t have that.

Crushes are meant to be on people she might actually have a chance with. Not pretty, straight Cheerleaders who could probably get anyone they wanted in the entire school.

“So are you two going together?” Whitney wonders and Brittany’s eyes nearly bug out at the question, more importantly how casual it sounded.

Is she reading my thoughts? Brittany wonders.

Pete pipes in next, “Yeah, are you?”

Honestly, Brittany never really considered Santana as an option. The girl is probably the hardest person to read and that’s coming from Brittany who is excellent at reading people…on the football field.

If Santana’s somewhere on the spectrum, it would be news to Brittany.

“Uh…no,” Brittany finally answers, “I doubt she’d want to go with me. I bet she has so many guys lining up to be her date though, she’s very popular.”

“How do you know she won’t want to go with you instead then?” Pete wonders innocently, “Maybe she’s tired of going with boys?”

That has Brittany chuckling, “Maybe but I’ll probably just go by myself and meet up with my friends. I don’t mind not having a date, just means I can dance with everyone else’s.”

They seem happy with that answer so the rest of the car ride is quiet aside from Pete singing along with the radio. Brittany just stares out the window wondering if her brother might be on to something about Santana though.

It’s probably a shot in the dark, but the longer she stews on it the more curious she becomes.

Brittany’s always loved Bonfires; she likes the way the smoke lingers on her, the feel of the heat of the flames on her cheeks, how the glow of the fire has this sort of hypnotic effect. She really gets the expression a moth to a flame because she can so relate to the way it pulls you in.

She has seen Mike and Sam around, along with the other guys from the team but she makes a point to stay near the fire instead. It’s a lot colder than it was when she went out for ice cream earlier and she kind of regrets not wearing something thicker underneath her letterman jacket.

It’s not until after Principal Figgins makes a few announcements that she has to gather with the team for their grand entrance. It all seems a bit backwards since they’ve already been mingling for the past thirty minutes, but she just goes with the flow and follows after Kurt until they’re dismissed to join everyone else again. It’s then, that Brittany spots Santana hanging around the chairs she was sitting in before the Titans were called over.

To Brittany’s surprise, Santana sits alone. And like a moth to a flame, Brittany finds herself wandering over without a second thought.

“Hey,” Brittany greets with her hands tucked in her jacket pockets, “Where’s your other half?”

Santana looks away from the dancing flames and blinks like Brittany had just interrupted some deep thought, “Who? Quinn?”

“Yeah,” Brittany smiles as she sits next to Santana, “You two are always together.”

Santana chuckles, “She’s chatting up Mike I think. She’s on the hunt for an escort to Homecoming.”

“I’m sure Mike’s loving that,” Brittany laughs.

“Oh yeah?”

“Totally,” Brittany nods, “He has the biggest crush on Quinn. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Oh, she knows,” Santana replies, “I don’t know why they won’t make it official already. They’re fooling no one.”

Brittany laughs again and thinks back to all the times she’s overheard Mike talk about Quinn like she put every star in the sky. It’s cute, she thinks, they’re cute. It makes her wonders why they’re dragging their feet if the feelings are mutual.

Her thoughts are interrupted though when she sees Santana shiver.

She’s still wearing her uniform so it’s no wonder why she’s cold but at least she has her Cheerios jacket on too.

“You guys not allowed to wear pants or something?” Brittany asks jokingly.

Santana shoots her a playful glare, “I would’ve worn my warm-ups if I knew it was going to drop 40 degrees. It wasn’t this cold when I got here earlier.”

“I know right?” Brittany agrees as she tries to use the collar of her jacket to cover her ears, “I don’t like it.”

Santana chuckles as she sees Brittany trying to hide further into her jacket, “Okay it’s not that cold. We’re literally sitting by a fire.”

Brittany just shrugs and looks back at Santana. Again, she’s kind of captivated by her. With her hair still down, falling in gentle waves over her shoulder, and the glow of the fire casting shades of burnt orange…Santana’s kind of beautiful.

Crap, Brittany thinks and goes to shake away the thought.

Instead, she goes to ask a question that’s been eating her up since her chat with Pete. Really, she just wants to shut down that nagging feeling of hope in the pit of her stomach and confirm that Santana’s already been easily swept up by some other eligible, more realistic option for a date.

“So what about your date hunt?” Brittany prompts timidly, “You have an escort already too?”

“No,” Santana’s smile falters and there’s just the barest of a crinkle between her brows as she looks back at the flames.

Brittany’s shocked by the news.

“I wouldn’t go with anyone if I could,” Santana mentions quietly, “But it’s kind of tradition that a Cheerio doesn’t go unattended.”

“This school and its traditions…” Brittany sighs with the shake of her head.

Santana frowns, still looking away from Brittany, “Yeah. It’s so stupid.”

Brittany watches Santana, trying to read what’s hidden beneath the surface but she’s at a loss. Santana can be so cryptic sometimes, her walls so impossibly high. It’s hard for Brittany to get a read on her so she just has to ask instead and hope Santana graces her with an answer.

“I take it the hunt isn’t going very well?” Brittany wonders.

“Not at all,” Santana answers with a deep sigh.

Brittany wonders what that is. The way Santana looks is similar to the first time Brittany ever saw her back at Puck’s End of Summer party. She remembers seeing Santana and Quinn sitting by the pool – she’s never seen a girl looking so sad at a party. Back then, she wanted to go over and ask her why she was so sad but that was probably the alcohol giving her a false sense of confidence.

But knowing more of Santana now and seeing her look that way makes Brittany feel kind of sad too. She’s not sure how to console Santana, if that’s even what she wants from someone, so instead Brittany tries to make her laugh.

“Wow, you struggling to find a date?” Brittany teases gently, “There definitely isn’t any hope for the rest of us.”

“Why’s that?” Santana asks with her expression even.

Brittany gulps; maybe she’s making it worse?

“You’re just…” Brittany fumbles for the right words but all she can think of is how Pete described Santana earlier, “You’re nice. It’s kind of hard to believe that someone like you is still dateless.”

Santana looks like she’s about to laugh, “Nice? I don’t think anyone’s ever said that about me unless they’re referring to my ass.”

Brittany begins to feel flushed because well, yeah that too but that wasn’t what she was referring to.

“You are though,” Brittany assures her, “You brought me the work I missed that one time. You assigned a locker to me when Coach Sylvester wouldn’t. You brought me that awesome – but weird colored – juice when I wasn’t feeling well. Not to mention how you handled JBI before I knew who he was…”

Santana just shakes her head though the smile begs to form.

“You’re nice Santana,” Brittany tells her this time.

Santana bobs her head from side to side like she can’t decide if she agrees with Brittany.

“Well, a lot of other people would disagree,” Santana says finally, “I’ve…burned a lot of bridges in the past so nice isn’t going to cut it unfortunately. Pretty sure Quinn nabbed the last available Titan and I sure as hell won’t go with one of the Hockey players. If there are any Titans left they’re either pigs or too gross for me to even consider so that’s that.”

Suddenly Brittany feels her senses heighten and her heart rate spikes, because a thought just crossed her mind and although her head is telling her to keep quiet about it, her heart tells her to go for it. She’s caught in the middle, but then she hears her dad’s voice in her head saying, “You won’t know unless you try.”

So she decides to shoot that shot in the dark and hope for the best.

“What about me?” Brittany offers hesitantly. She feels her heart jump to her throat and it’s taking everything in her to come off cool and casual.

Santana looks at her curiously, “What about you?”

Of course she’d want me to spell it out for her, Brittany thinks with a chuckle.

“Well, I’m not on the Hockey team.”

She can see the moment Santana catches on.

“Last time I checked I was a Titan too,” Brittany continues, “And I don’t have a date.”

Santana blinks at Brittany like she can’t believe her ears, “But…you’re a g – “

“I swear, if you say girl…” Brittany laughs.

“What?” Santana stammers out a laugh too, “You are!”

“Okay, and?” Brittany asks, “What’s that have to do with anything?”

Santana shakes her head and lets out a wry laugh, “Two girls can’t go to a dance together.”

Brittany rolls her eyes at that reasoning, “Who said?”

Santana’s lips part but nothing comes out. Brittany smirks.

“You don’t have an escort and I don’t either,” Brittany explains, “From what I hear, Cheerios tend to go with Football players and since I’m apparently the only Titan without a date still it would make sense for us to go together. Unless you’re considering me one of the gross ones you wouldn’t dream of going with?”

Santana averts her gaze, “You’re not.”

Hope starts to swell within Brittany, “Well then…we’re not really breaking tradition, are we? It’s like finding a loophole. You’re still a Cheerio going with a Titan, it just so happens that we’re both girls.”

Santana takes a moment to reply but when she does, she sounds a lot more nervous than before and Brittany worries that she’s made her uncomfortable by asking.

“I – I’m just…” Santana stutters, “I’m not…”

Brittany waits for Santana to finish but she’s so tripped up on her words that she can’t get anything out. The blonde kind of gets what Santana’s trying to say judging by the look of discomfort and takes the awkward rambling as all the assurance she needs.

“Santana, you don’t have to be gay to go to a dance with another girl,” Brittany jokes trying to lighten the mood.

Santana just stiffens, “Uhm.”

“I wasn’t going to go with anyone either,” Brittany continues to ramble, “Seems like you and I are the only ones that have that in common.”

“Right,” Santana mumbles.

“Yeah so,” Brittany chuckles, suddenly feeling way more nervous than before, “Maybe we can just go together as friends?”

“Friends?” Santana repeats. It seems like she only knows how to say one word at a time now.

“Yeah, friends,” Brittany chuckles, “You’ve heard of them, right?”

“Y-yeah,” Santana stutters.

“Okay, well all of mine already have dates and since everyone wants to put such a big emphasis on having an escort, you’re the only one left that I’d feel comfortable going with. Not that I consider you a last resort,” Brittany quickly amends, “I just thought we could help each other out, you know?”

Santana looks shocked, “Really?”

“Well yeah,” Brittany shrugs. She pushes away the doubt trying to worm its way in. She can’t remember the last time she felt this nervous to go out on whim, “So what do you say? Do you want to go together?”

“As friends?”

“Yes Santana,” Brittany chuckles, “As friends.”

“Okay,” Santana smiles and for a second she starts to act normal again, “Yeah. That’s cool.”

“Awesome!” Brittany beams.

She feels so relieved now and thinks that went a lot better than she thought but she can still sense a little hesitance on Santana’s end which makes her a little nervous. She goes to tuck her hair behind her air just to give her hands something to do.

“So…” Brittany drawls out, “I should probably get your number then? For outfit coordination purposes, you know just so we don’t accidentally match or something.”

When she sees that faint smirk on Santana’s lips, Brittany feels a little better about asking.

“Wow, you always this smooth when getting a girl’s number?” Santana teases.

Brittany instantly rolls her eyes at the sarcasm.

She’s been told that she’s charismatic and maybe a little accidentally flirty, but she honestly isn’t trying anything with Santana. She wouldn’t do anything to make her uncomfortable – she knows what straight girls are like around the not-so-straight ones so Brittany’s always cautious with how she comes off.

Even if her cheeks burn a little, she’s glad Santana still has jokes and decides to make one of her own too.

“Don’t worry, Santana,” Brittany smirks as she hands over her phone, “If I was going to hit on you, you’d know it.”

Santana blushes hard but Brittany just misses it as Santana fishes out her phone from her bra, “Here. Let me get your number too.”

\\\\\

By Friday, word surprisingly hasn’t gotten around that Santana is going with Brittany. She knows she hasn’t told anyone �� not even Quinn yet – so Brittany must’ve been staying quiet too. She’s kind of thankful for that, even if she didn’t explicitly tell Brittany not to.

But that isn’t the only thing she hasn’t explicitly told Brittany.

“Santana, you don’t have to be gay to go to a dance with another girl.”

Brittany’s words flash in Santana’s head like warning lights. She doesn’t know why she’s surprised by the statement; they’ve never talked about her sexuality before. Then again, it’s not something she loves to bring up in casual conversation nor is it something she flaunts.

She’s just shocked more than anything that Brittany doesn’t know yet considering how invasive everyone is at school.

Santana’s in the locker room with Quinn getting ready for the Pep Rally when she finally tells her best friend the news.

“So I found a date,” Santana mentions before the rest of the squad joins them, “Well technically, the date found me.”

Quinn perks up, “Who?”

She can barely contain the smirk when she looks over at Quinn, “McKinley’s star QB.”

“No way!” Quinn gasps. A wide smile fills her face and makes her cheeks bunch, “That is so great, Santana. This is happening so much faster than I thought! God, I’m so surprised. Mike told me that she wasn’t going to go with anyone. I wonder what made her change her mind? Wait, what changed your mind?”

Santana wonders that too and a little part of her holds out hope that it was because she told Brittany she was having trouble finding a date. That gets Santana thinking; she couldn’t find a date because she didn’t want to go with a boy – and now the only girl at school that’s an option for her thinks she’s straight.

The fucking irony.

“So there’s just one small problem,” Santana notes without answering Quinn’s questions.

“What?”

“She…doesn’t know,” Santana says cryptically.

Quinn’s confused, “Doesn’t know what?”

“You know,” Santana prompts then goes to whisper, “She thinks I’m straight.”

Quinn’s jaw drops, “Wait. What?”

Santana just nods.

Quinn shakes her head, “No seriously, what?”

“I don’t know,” Santana says as she slumps down on the bench next to Quinn, “Is it weird that I’m disappointed? I mean, I know I don’t smell like a golf course or wear flannel 24/7 but like…really? I thought everyone knew by now?”

Quinn’s at a loss too, “The one time your reputation doesn’t come through for you.”

Santana let’s out a bitter laugh at that and looks to the floor, “What’s the point of being outed to literally everyone in this whole fucking town if I still have to come out to people myself?” Santana feels a lump instantly lodge itself in her throat and it becomes impossibly hard to swallow back. Her eyes feel hot and stingy, “They did it for me once and now that it would actually benefit me, no one wants to say anything? I thought people here loved talking shit about me behind my back? Where are they all now?”

She doesn’t notice that streams of tears have begun to run down her cheeks until Quinn’s wrapping an arm around her. Santana’s vision blurs as the sobs hit her hard. She hasn’t let herself cry about what happened in so long, maybe that’s why she broke so quickly at its very mention? She’s glad they’re still alone though, she’d hate for the rest of the squad to see her like this.

“Santana,” Quinn tries but it’s the only thing she can get out right now. She doesn’t know what to say that’ll make this go away so she just holds Santana upright and keeps her steady.

“I’m fine. It’s fine,” Santana stammers as she takes a deep, shaky breath. When she finally believes her own words, she pushes to straighten up so she can wipe her face.

Quinn looks at her worriedly before she turning away so that Santana can continue to calm herself down. She knows how Santana gets when she fusses over her, so she tries to give her some space.

“I thought I could make jokes about it,” Santana mentions awhile later, “I guess I’m not ready yet.”

“It’s okay,” Quinn smiles apologetically. She waits a moment before suggesting, “Maybe look at it as a positive? Brittany’s one person you get to come out to on your own. You can do it however you want and I’m sure she’d be very understanding.”

That actually calms Santana a little. She thinks about her abuela and how she was the only person she came out to on her own terms and it completely blew up in her face. But with Brittany, she knows it would be different. She knows Brittany wouldn’t shut her out.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Santana nods, “I can control it this time.”

“Exactly,” Quinn gives her a pat on the knee, “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up. The girls will be here any minute.”

When the Cheerios take to the gym, they do their usual routine of getting the crowd hyped up for Principal Figgins as he goes through with the usual announcements and Fall teams introductions. It’s all business for Santana as she works the crowd – that is until the Titans are called out and she feels something shift.

Brittany leads the team while wearing that award winning smile of hers. The rest of the guys pump their fists and cheer, motioning for the crowd of students to get louder as they spread out and get people amped up for their performance with the Cheerios.

It’s nothing special; the Cheerios and the Titans do something together every year for the Homecoming Pep Rally. It’s usually the same routine since it’s easier for the Titans to follow along when all they have to do is pair off with a Cheerio and groove to the music.

Santana sees the Hockey guys sulking off to the side – no one ever gets that loud when they are announced – and she finds herself smirking at how pissed they look. For a team that sucks so bad and swears that Hockey rules the school, they rarely get any applause that isn’t forced.

Brittany then surprises everyone by doing a no-handed cartwheel and it has the crowd in awe. Even Santana’s jaw drops a little as she watches Brittany stick the landing in one smooth motion before skipping over to stand next to her.

“Impressive, Pierce,” Santana comments as she shakes her pompoms.

Brittany lifts her shoulder as she moves easily to the rhythm of the song, “I use to do gymnastics.”

“Of course you did,” Santana chuckles as she keeps up with the choreography, “Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Recite the alphabet backwards, parallel park, color in the lines…” Brittany lists playfully.

“Very funny,” Santana rolls her eyes. She goes to do a high kick before she’s dancing again next to Brittany, “You ready for the game tonight?”

“Totally,” Brittany nodded resolutely, “Should be fun. Are you?”

Santana lifted her shoulder similarly to what Brittany did before, “I’m interested to see how you do. We haven’t won a Homecoming game in years, so...”

Brittany giggled, “Well, I work pretty well under pressure so...”

Santana smirked as the routine ended, “We’ll see.”

\\\\\

To say that there’s a lot of pressure on Brittany to bring in a win is an understatement. After everything that happened with her stance on slushie facials and the way she spoke so highly of herself when it came to winning, Brittany kind of dug herself a hole. Not that she would take back anything she said – she was very serious when she vowed she could take the Titans to the Championships.

She knows she can, that’s why she’s so confident about it.

It’s just whether or not a select few members of the team are going to get with the program so that they can really start to thrive, because no matter how good she is – one person doesn’t win games.

There’s still Karofsky and Azimio being absolute pains in her ass then there’s Finn with his need to remind Brittany of every little thing that’s never been done purely because no one’s ever tried making any changes.

People here are just so set in their ways – happy to carry on with their so-called traditions although they suck. She can see the subtle changes in others on the team though – like very, very subtle changes – so she’ll take that as progress for now.

The game against the Westvale Wizards ends up being a complete blow out. The Titans crush the Wizards in every aspect; so much so that Brittany started to feel a little bad about the score differentiation.

Home: 28 Away: 3

She doesn’t feel that bad though because she broke many personal records tonight and that’s bound to get some media attention. Not that it’s what she plays for, but her meeting with Ms. Pillsbury has her thinking about scouts and her future. She hopes she’s enough to grab their attention.

Westvale didn’t offer too much competition compared to going up against Carmel High, but a win is a win. It’s just what the team needs for morale and it’s a great way to end Spirit Week and put everyone in a good mood for the Homecoming Dance. Apparently, the last time the Titans won a Homecoming game was nearly six years ago so it’s yet another record Brittany gets to claim as they move on to being 6-1.

After giving out handshakes to the other team, Brittany makes her way off the field for some water and finds Santana lingering by the sidelines along with the other Cheerios. The rest of them are getting packed up but Santana’s just watching Brittany as she draws near.

Brittany sees her holding a green Gatorade cup in her hand and it puts a smile on Brittany’s face.

“Well, you didn’t disappoint,” Santana says once Brittany’s close enough. She hands the cup over to the blonde, “Great game, Pierce.”

Brittany’s smile grows as she sets her helmet down on the bench so she can take the drink, “Thanks. It was a team effort.”

“And always so humble too,” Santana notes with a chuckle.

“Really couldn’t have done it without your amazing cheers though,” Brittany winks just before she nods over at the squad, “Great stuff.”

Santana looks behind her and shrugs, “It was a team effort.”

Brittany can’t help but laugh at that, “Of course.”

Santana can be so damn cute sometimes without even trying – at least, Brittany doesn’t think she is. Really, Brittany can’t understand how she got so lucky with getting to be Santana’s date. Well, not her date date.

Brittany’s pretty sure that’s off the table.

She’s just honored that she gets to go with someone she genuinely likes to be around. It’ll be cool to hang out with Santana in a different setting other than Miss Holliday’s classroom or practice or in passing in the hallways.

Which reminds her…

“So about tomorrow,” Brittany mentions a little timidly. She plays with the paper cup in her hand, “Did you want to meet there? Or I can pick you up if you want? You’ll have to text me your address. Although, fair warning: I’m not very good at directions. The whole in 300 feet turn left thing always confuses me like how am I suppose to know how much that is…” Brittany pauses when she sees Santana start to raise her brow, “I’m rambling, sorry.”

Santana chuckles, “How about I pick you up at yours? I already know where you live anyway.”

Brittany nods, “Okay, yeah.”

“Doors open at 7:30,” Santana mentions, “I can come by around 7?”

“Yeah,” Brittany grins, “That sounds good to me.”

“Cool.”

“Yup.”

“Yo Pierce!” Mike calls out to her from where the team has started to gather for a post-game huddle, “Get over here!”

Brittany tosses up her hand in a wave before turning back to Santana, “Sorry, I better get over there. Thanks again for the drink.”

Santana just nods, the same small smile playing at her lips.

It makes Brittany smile too and for a second it makes her trip up on her words, “Uh…so I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

Santana nods again, “Yeah, text me. Congrats on the win again.”

Brittany’s smile widens before she’s jogging over to the huddle. She wasn’t all that jazzed for the dance at first, but now that she’s going with Santana she starts to feel the excitement build.

Now, she can’t wait for tomorrow night.

#Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana Fanfiction #QB!Britt

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recurring-polynya · 5 years ago

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I think it’s pretty evident by now that I am something of a connoisseur of Bleach filler. Like greatness, this is not a thing I have chosen for myself, it is just a thing that has been thrust upon me. And to that end, I need you to know that Bleach #147-149 is the template on which all other filler should be built. I love it. It’s perfect.

I’ve chosen to group it in with the Advance Team Filler, even though it really takes place during the early Hueco Mundo arc. There’s more HM filler much, much later, but it’s after the Cap’n Amagai filler arc, and I feel like this fits more thematically with the Advance Team filler. Also, all the other members of the Advance Team got their own episode and these are Rukia’s.

These episodes are everything I wanted #136-137 to be. One thing that I always want in filler is shitty bad guys who are way below our heroes’ usual standard. I get enough of Ichigo training and tapping into his inner strength during the canon parts. When I’m watching filler, I only want to see him whale on some throwaway villains. The Fullbringer Arc is not actually filler, but it has Big Filler Energy, and Zaraki killing that butler dude in half a second is the most gratifying part of it.

So, let’s jump in:

We’re in Hueco Mundo, Rukia and Renji have just showed up in their sweet capes, everyone is riding around on Bawabawa. Runuganga, the huge sand dude they defeated last episode, shows up again (he’s made of sand, so he can never die, I guess?) Rukia tries to Second Dance him, but she’s standing on Bawabawa during the part of the attack where the blades go down into the ground, they go into poor Bawabawa instead and he freaks out (and then Renji scolds her, it’s beautiful). Runuganga then makes a sand whirlpool and the process of falling into it, Rukia falls off Bawabawa and gets separated from everyone else as they fall down into the ::Forest::of::the::Menos:: (end reverb)

Everyone in this filler is extremely stupid, but it’s okay, because it doesn’t matter, in fact, it is charming and hilarious. There’s some physical comedy of the Great Desert Brothers falling on Ichigo’s head, Ishida holds forth on Hueco Mundo flora, and literally like 10 minutes pass before Renji notices Rukia is gone and everyone’s like “Whaaaaaa? Rukia, whaaaaat?” They go looking for her, and once again, I cannot emphasize enough that Ichigo and Renji are just Jason-from-the-Good-Place level morons in this episode. Ichigo theorizes that perhaps Rukia is so light that she has been blown away and Renji is all aboard his idiot train.

So, where is Rukia, anyway? She lands somewhere else and immediately gets attacked by Hollows. She’s not really having any trouble holding them off when this dude in a stinky cape covered in Hollow skulls shows up and “saves” her. It’s like this guy saw Renji’s bankai capelet, and said, “this, but cocktail length with extra skulls.” He takes Rukia back to his bachelor cave, where he has cubbies full of mushrooms and a sweet kidou lamp he made himself. Rukia realizes he is a shinigami and yells “WHAT’S YOUR SQUAD?” at him a bunch. He takes off his mask to reveal that he is in fact, dreamy. His name is Ashido and he is Extremely Rukia’s Type, by which I mean he is tall, has spikey hair, and is not very bright.

We get a flashback of Ashido’s sad origin story: he and a bunch of his squad members followed some Hollows back through a Garganta and got stuck in Hueco Mundo. He figures that he can do more good exterminating Hollows where they live rather than trying to get home, so they stay there and fight Hollows until all his friends are dead. Oops. The very sexy Hollow Zorak skull he wears as a mask was in fact, the head of the Hollow who killed his last friend. He uses Hollow skulls to deflect ceros which seems… useful? And sort of made up? As he’s telling this story, the camera pans out and there are a bunch of graves? And he’s like, “I wanted to tell you this story in front of my friends so they could hear the voice of a shinigami again.” Rukia, of course, is like “Ahhhh cool cool cool cool cool cool, no doubt, no doubt” as if she doesn’t also have a hill of friend graves that she likes to pose in front of. He asks Rukia if they have noticed a decrease in Hollows in the Living World due to his efforts and Rukia refuses to answer or to make eye contact. He then observes that some weird crap has been going on lately, did something happen in Soul Society? and Rukia is like “So many things happen in Soul Society, it’s basically unknowable.” Rukia is my queen and president, I love her.

Asido then observes that some morons with too much reiatsu seems to be fighting nearby and attracting every Hollow in the vicinity. Rukia is like, yeah, they’re mine. As they head off in that direction, they get attacked by Hollows and Ashido relives his entire flashback again, but in negative colors. Baller move, Filler Episode.

Some other stuff has happened-- Chad and Ishida rode Bawabawa up a tree? Nel and her Fraccion got kidnapped by the Hollows whom Aizen has allegedly put in charge of the Forest of Menos? I feel like Aizen just said that to get rid of them, these guys are more like some over-enthusiastic Steelers fans you accidentally sat next to at the bar than actual villains. All this is slightly boring, except for two things:

1. Everyone has started treating Bawabawa like Lassie, where he goes “BAWABAWAWAWABAWA” and someone will reply to him like he’s a person, “Nel has been kidnapped? She’s stuck in the old abandoned well?” I love Bawabawa so much, I love yelling “BAWABAWA”, and I never once got sick of this gag, not even for a second.

2. As you might expect, the Forest of Menos is full of Menos. Hundreds of Menos. Pantsloads of Menos. You may remember a million episodes ago, when Ichigo still had Rukia’s powers, and he had to tie his sword to Ishida’s head in order to defeat a Menos. Those days are over. Menos are bowling pins now. Ichigo and the gang are just annihilating Menos. Menos corpses everywhere. Chad punches a Menos in the foot and it dies. I’m pretty sure Renji deflects a cero with his bare arm and then kills like 30 Menos who are standing in a line, which makes them very convenient to run over with Hihiou Zabimaru. Ashido has been down here for *hundreds of years* trying to reduce the number of Hollows, and it’s clear that the Karakura Kids + Renji could clear this place out in an afternoon and still have the energy to go Cosmic Bowling afterwards.

Meanwhile, Rukia and Ashido run into Ashido’s old nemesis, the Boss Hollow of the Forest. Ashido fights him dramatically for a while, and then he makes a bad deflection and the guy is about to hit Rukia, “RUUUUUKIIAAAAA NOOOOOOO!”, mantis skull flashback *again.* And here is where this episode becomes next level, because Rukia goes to shikai and just goes ham on the guy, and you realize that she has been slumming this entire time. Ashido is a joke. He doesn’t even have shikai. Rukia is so much better than him and the only explanation for this is that she’s been letting him look cool because she wants to tap that. Ashido just accepts this, and I assume this is the point where they have mediocre Hueco Mundo sex.

We go back to the boys, who have defeated all the Hollows they could find and found the exit, and are fretting because they still don’t know where Rukia is. Then Rukia just walks up, “Hey guys, what’s going on in this thread?” They all start to leave when one of the Hollows from earlier comes back (you had ONE JOB, Ichigo, everyone else killed their Hollow) with 50 Menos. Keep in mind, based on earlier events, this would take Ishida like 6 seconds to take care of, but Ashido has to dramatically face them himself. There’s a hilarious bit where he turns back to fight the Hollow and Ichigo and Renji run right past him. He can’t even run fast. He’s terrible. Anyway, some rocks start falling and Ichigo and Renji get entranced by them (shiny!) and Ashido jumps past the rockslide to fight the Hollows and is therefore trapped and they have to leave him behind.

Back on the surface, Rukia takes a knee and makes a dramatic speech while Ichigo and Renji stand behind her like good wingmen and press F in chat. It ends with this:

I cannot see this without thinking about that part in Shrek 2 where Shrek says “I promise I shall repay you, unless I can’t find you, or I forget!” Especially because Rukia 100% forgets that Ashido exists and we never see him again.

Advance Team Filler Masterpost

#bleach filler #rukia kuchiki #ashido #hueco mundo #menos #six hearts beat as one #morons #these utter buffoons #BAWABAWA #rukia is perfect #i bet orihime is sad she missed this

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massmurdera · 5 years ago

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2019 & 2010s Best/Worst

Because I like lists and cataloguing the dumb shit I cared about. As my brother once said after seeing and reviewing NOW YOU SEE ME on a lazy Sunday, ‘Some would say it was a waste of time, others might say it was a colossal waste of time.’

I’ll admit, it’s a bit over-the-top. Particularly including the Pats, but yeah, in the Tom Brady era that started when I was 14 as a Freshman in high school to 33 years old now and wrapping up soon-ish (?), there’s not a chance in hell I’ll care as intimately about this shit. I grew up with it at just the right time.

2019 MOVIES TOP TIER 1) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood 2) Uncut Gems 2nd TIER 3) Knives Out 4) Parasite 5) Little Women 6) Midsommer 3rd TIER 7) John Wick III 8) Ready or Not 9) Marriage Story 10) Joker 11) Irishman 12) Shazam! 13) Us UNDERRATED Ready or Not TOO LONG John Wick III; Irishman SOLID El Camino GOOD BAD 6 Underground OK 21 Bridges; Avengers: Endgame; Dolemite is my Name; Dragged Across Concrete; Fighting With My Family; Hustlers; Knock Down the House; Longshot; the Report; Two Popes MEH Always Be My Maybe; Death of Dick Long; High Flying Bird; Spiderman: Far From Home; Standoff at Sparrow Creek DISAPPOINTING Hobbs & Shaw; Toy Story 4; Triple Frontier SUCK Laundromat; Under the Silver Lake OVERRATED Ad Astra; Booksmart; the Farewell FUNNIEST SCENE Dicaprio flipping out in movie trailer BEST CLIMAX/ENDING Once Upon a Time; Uncut Gems HAVEN’T SEEN 1917; Apollo 11; Beach Bum; Dark Waters; Ford vs Ferrari; Honey Boy; Jojo Rabbit; the Lighthouse; Star Wars 2019 TV TOP TIER 1) Succession 2) Fleabag 3) Watchmen 2nd TIER 4) When They See Us 5) Barry 6) Unbelievable 7) Chernobyl 8) Sex Education DAMN GOOD Big Mouth; the Boys; Brockmire; Derry Girls; Euphoria; Loudest Voice; Mindhunter; Pen15; Righteous Gemstones; Veep WATCHABLE Atypical; Bosch; Dark; Goliath; Karate Kid; Kominsky Method; Mandalorian; Mr Robot; Mrs Fletcher; Russian Doll; Warrior HIGH/LOW I Think You Should Leave SHIT END FOR ALL-TIME GREAT Game of Thrones HALF-WATCH Living With Yourself; Raising Dion; the Society NOT UP TO STANDARD Stranger Things; GLOW; Killing Eve; True Detective BAD Luther; Shameless; Silicon Valley; SNL SUCK 13 Reasons Why; Big Little Lies; the Witcher FUNNIEST Desus & Mero DOCS 1) Fyre: both 2) Ted Bundy Tapes 3) American Factory 4) Leaving Neverland STAND-UP SPECIALS 1) Burr 2) Chappelle 3) Jeselnik 4) Birbiglia 5) Gulman BEHIND ON SHOWS I DIG Brooklyn 99; Catastrophe; Corporate; Expanse; Good Place; It’s Always Sunny; Letterkenny 2010s TV DRAMA 1) Breaking Bad 2) Game of Thrones 3) Justified 4) Mad Men 5) Hannibal 6) Banshee ANTHOLOGY/LIMITED SERIES 1) Fargo SII 2) True Detective SI 3) When They See Us 4) People Vs OJ Simpson 5) Chernobyl 6) Show Me a Hero 7) the Night Of 8) Honorable Woman COMEDY 1) Atlanta 2) Fleabag 3) Veep 4) Big Mouth 5) Parks & Rec 6) Rick & Morty 7) Nathan for You 8) Review 9) American Vandal HIT/MISS Black Mirror OVERRATED Boardwalk Empire; House of Cards; Peaky Blinders; Westworld UNDERRATED Banshee; Brockmire; Hannibal FUN HATE-WATCH Newsroom DOWNHILL Homeland; How I Met Your Mother; Legion; Sons of Anarchy HATED Girls; Leftovers; Rectify UNWATCHABLE Twin Peaks BEST ENDINGS Breaking Bad; Justified; Fleabag; Parks & Rec DUMBEST ENDING Dexter; Sons of Anarchy LATE NIGHT Desus & Mero POLITICAL John Oliver 2010s MOVIES 2010 Social Network Animal Kingdom; the Fighter; Four Lions; Inside Job; Jackass 3; MacGruber; Shutter Island; Toy Story 3; True Grit; Winter’s Bone 2011 the Raid Descendents; Drive; Fast Five; the Guard; Mission Impossible 4; Take This Waltz; Warrior 2012 Magic Mike 21 Jump Street; Argo; Cabin in the Woods; Chronicle; Django Unchained; Goon; Looper; Queen of Versailles; Silver Linings Playbook; Skyfall 2013 Wolf of Wall Street Before Midnight; the Conjuring; Gravity; Her; Inside Llewyn Davis; Prisoners; Short-Term 12 2014 John Wick the Drop; Edge of Tomorrow; Gone Girl; the Guest; Lego Movie; Nightcrawler; the Raid 2; Whiplash 2015 Mad Max 7 Days in Hell; Big Short; Brooklyn; Creed; Ex Machina; Fast 7; It Follows; Logan; Magic Mike XXL; the Martian; Me and Earl and the Dying Girl; Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation; Sicario 2016 the Nice Guys Deadpool; Edge of Seventeen; Everybody Wants Some!; Green Room; La La Land; Manchester By the Sea; Moonlight; OJ: Made in America; Popstar; Sing Street; Weiner 2017 Get Out Blade Runner 2049; Coco; Dunkirk; Lady Bird; Logan; Thor Ragnorak; Tour de Pharmacy 2018 Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse BlacKKKlansman; Den of Thieves; Hereditary; If Beale Street Could Talk; Minding the Gap; Sorry to Bother You

THE BEST Mad Max BEST DOC OJ: Made in America FUNNIEST DOC Tickled UNDERRATED DOC Weiner HORROR Hereditary FAVORITE/FUNNIEST PERFORMANCE Ryan Gosling (Nice Guys) DESERVED 5 SEQUELS the Nice Guys SUPERHERO Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse WAR Dunkirk BEST FIGHT SCENES the Raid UNDERRATED any Lonely Island project NICE TRY Dark Knight Rises; Inception; Interstellar; Widows STAND-UP 2010s FAVORITE Bill Burr NEXT BEST Ali Wong; Anthony Jeselnik; Kyle Kinane; Bert Kreischer; Marc Maron; John Mulaney; Patton Oswalt; Rory Scovel; Tom Segura COMEBACK Chappelle DOWNFALL Louis CK DIED BEFORE PRIME Patrice O’Neal, Greg Giraldo UNDERRATED Joe Derosa MUST-SEE LIVE Robert Kelly PODCASTS 2010s BEST/FUNNIEST/UNDERRATED Walking the Room RUNNER-UP 600 Dollar Podcast ONE-MAN RANT Bill Burr Monday Morning Podcast SPORTS Pardon My Take RIFFING Bodega Boys HISTORY/COMEDY Dollop HISTORY DEEP DIVE Hardcore History MOVIES Rewatchables HATE-WATCH CRITICISM West Wing Thing POP CULTURE/FILM Frotcast MIXED Revisionist History GOOD/BAD Joe Rogan: GOOD: propping up comic friends; BAD: useful idiot for propping up bad faith fascists who should be put out to pasture INTERNET CURIOSITY Reply All LEFTIST POLITICS Chapo Trap House TRUE CRIME In the Dark ADVICE Don’t Take Bullshit From Fuckers LAME Pod Save America OVERRATED Missing Richard Simmons DIDN’T LIKE S-Town SERIAL Season 3>Season 1 TRUMP Trump, Inc SPORTS SCHAUDENFREUDE Fuck the Chargers OKAY Bill Simmons WTF WITH MARON good when he talks to comics MURDER My Favorite Murder OTHER GOOD ONES Hound Tall; Press Box

2010s MUSIC FAVORITE anything Brian Fallon ROCK BAND Menzingers SONG Robyn-‘Dancing On My Own’ POP-PUNK BAND Wonder Years LIVE ALBUM Horrible Crowes-‘Elsie’ HEAVY BAND Every Time I Die ELECTRONIC Chvrches SOLO Rihanna COVER ALBUM Dustin Kensrue-‘Thoughts on a Different Blood’ GO-TO AT GYM Story So Far OFF THE INEVITABLE & IRRECOVERABLE DEEP END Kanye KIND OF LIKE THE MUSIC/HATE THE PERSON: LIKE KANYE Taylor Swift, Bieber THOUGHT I’D HATE BUT DOES NOT SUCK Lana Del Rey; Post Malone OTHER FAVES 1975; Arctic Monkeys; Beach Slang; Black Keys; Bon Iver; Carly Rae Jepsen; the National; Thrice MIXED Chance the Rapper; Kendrick Lamar I’ll be honest I spent far more time listening to podcasts nearly all the time and just listened to mostly the same couple of things I liked. 2010s PATRIOTS 2010s BEST GAMES 1) Seahawks Super Bowl 2) Falcons Super Bowl 3) Ravens 2015 Divisional 4) Chiefs 2019 AFCCG UNDERRATED CLASSIC Ravens 2015 Divisional BRADY/GRONK GO DOWN LIKE CHAMPS 1) 2018 Eagles Super Bowl 2) Broncos 2015 AFCCG: Brady’ offensive line was a sieve EITHER WAY Giants Super Bowl: game changed when Brady’s shoulder got fucked up by Tuck FAVORITE PLAYER TB12 MOST FUN/DOMINANT Gronk HEART OF TEAM Edelman BELOVED Wilfork ROCK SOLID 1) Hightower 2) McCourty 3) James White 1st BALLOT HALL OF FAMERS 1) Brady 2) Gronk 3) Revis LATER BALLOT 1) Edelman 2) Scarnecchia 3) Welker 4) Wilfork 5) Slater MAKING AN ARGUMENT Gilmore PATS HALL ONLY 1) McCourty 2) Hightower 3) Mankins 4) White 5) Gostkowski 6) Mayo 7) Chung UNDERRATED/GOOD VALUE 1) Amendola 2) Vollmer 3) Ninkovich 4) Chung 5) Woodhead DESERVED BETTER Welker UNSUNG Slater OVERRATED 1) Solder 2) Brandin Cooks NO-SHOWS Dolphins (Dec ’19); Jets Divisional (Jan ‘11) BEST REGULAR SEASON WINS 1) 2013 Broncos 2) 2017 Steelers 3) 2013 Saints BEST REGULAR SEASON LOSSES 1) 2012 49ers 2) 2016 Seahawks 3) 2014 Packers 4) 2015 Broncos LOL Miami Miracle: saved by winning Super Bowl LEAST TALENTED TEAM 1) 2013 by a mile 2) 2010 3) 2011 4) 2018 BEST TEAM 1) 2014 2) 2016 BEST PLAYS (NON-GRONK) 1) Butler INT Seahawks 2) Edelman TD pass vs Ravens 3) Buttfumble Jets 4) Edelman catch vs Falcons 5) Walk-off TD vs Falcons 6) Dan Connolly kick return 7) Brady TD pass to LaFell 2015 Divisional POUNDED TABLE TO DRAFT 1) Lamar Jackson 2) Kittle 3) AJ Brown 4) Honey Badger 5) Stefon Diggs WANTED BUT OUT OF REACH 1) Aaron Donald 2) Quenton Nelson 3) Derwin James 4) Hopkins 5) TJ Watt 6) Saquon 7) Keenan Allen 8) McCaffrey 9) Gurley WOULD’VE WON IT ALL IF NOT FOR INJURIES 2011, 2012, 2015, 2017. That’s football HEALTHIEST SEASON 2018 ROPE-A-DOPED/GOT BY ON VETERAN GUILE 2018: Belichick’s best coaching FAVORITE PICKS AT THE TIME OF GUYS I WANTED 1) Gronk 2) Hightower/Chandler Jones 3) Shaq Mason MOVES I HATED THAT I WAS WRONG ABOUT 1) Stephon Gilmore 2) trading Jamie Collins MOST IMPROVED Marcus Cannon BEST FIND Kyle Van Noy MOVE I LOVED getting Blount back the 2nd time IF BUTLER WASN’T BENCHED, DO THEY BEAT THE EAGLES? Yes 100%. If only because, if nothing else, he can tackle BUTLER’s INT KILLED THE ‘LEGION OF BOOM’ SEAHAWKS WOULD-BE DYNASTY Yes DRAFT REACH THAT MADE NO SENSE Jordan Richards: Tavon Wilson 2.0 BAD DRAFT MOVES 1) Dominique Easley 2) Cyrus Jones 3) Dobson 4) Mallett DIRTY SECRET Belichick sucks at drafting in 2nd round WOULD HAVE BEEN GOOD IF HE STAYED HEALTHY Malcolm Mitchell HATE TO SEE WALK BUT COULDN’T AFFORD 1) Trey Flowers 2) Chandler Jones 3) Jimmy G 4) Talib 5) Akiem Hicks DEFLATEGATE fraud/power trip job by Goodell/owners BRADY OR BELICHICK MORE VALUABLE Brady 100% DISAPPOINTING/GAMBLES 1) Ochocinco 2) Michael Bennett: got him 2 years too late 3) Fanene signing 4) Haynesworth BEST SHORT-TERM 1) Martellus Bennett 2) Chris Long 3) Revis 4) Brian Waters SUSPECT CHARACTERS/EDGY PERSONALITY MACHINES Brandon Spikes; Brandon Browner…SERIAL KILLER Aaron Hernandez PERSONALITY DISORDER DISASTER Antonio Brown: bad signing/unexpected HOW THE FUCK DID WE LOSE TO THAT GUY? Eli Manning/Nick Foles LIFESAVER Scarnecchia MCDANIELS Frustrating—but continuity matters REFS FUCKED OVER Gronk MISCELANNEOUS 2010s GOOD/ENJOY Bernie Sanders/AOC: people who actually want to get good done that’s long overdue…Lebron James; Stephen Curry; Kawhi; Zion Williamson; Luka Doncic...Lamar Jackson; Pat Mahomes; JJ Watt; Marshawn Lynch…Coach Ed Orgeron...David Ortiz…2011 Bruins…memes…Don Winslow crime novels…David Roth writing on Trump…David Grann non-fiction…’Book of Mormon’ DID NOT ENJOY Kyrie Irving…Deflategate…LeBron on the Heat…Bobby Valentine DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY PEOPLE LIKE ‘Between the World and Me’…Elon Musk…Lin Manuel-Miranda/’Hamilton’ INDEFENSIBLY AND INFURIATINGLY BAD THE MORE YOU LOOK AT IT Facebook…Obama Presidency/Democratic Party Leadership EVERYDAY DISASTER Media: CNN; Fox; MSNBC; NY Times Op-Ed…Trump/Republicans: Trump presidency was basically 2010s 9/11 for inevitable disastrous fallout & consequences my generation will never recover from…Grifters Trojan horsing way in shamelessly (Trump administration; Ben Shapiro; Alex Jones; Milo; Jordan Peterson, Tomi Lahren, etc.) and no repercussions...Republican Party basically one goal: to troll libs even with shitty ideas that suck FAVORITES WHO DIED Bourdain; Elmore Leonard; Garry Shandling; Muhammad Ali; Robin Williams; Tom Petty BEST TALENT CUT SHORT Philip Seymour Hoffman SHITTIEST PEOPLE WHO DIED Antonin Scalia; George HW Bush; John McCain; Osama; Steve Jobs; Whitey Bulger I FORGOT THAT SHIT HAPPENED Charlie Sheen loses it JEFFREY EPSTEIN did not kill himself WHAT DEFINES 2010s Amazon/Bezos…Climate Change/Gun Violence inaction…Journalism being taken over by Bane Capital-esque vultures/local places dying...one-sided Class War by the uber-rich…#MeToo…Netflix…Opioids…Outrage/Cancel culture…Police Injustice…Silicon Valley…Social Media…Superhero shit…Your mom

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alitheamateur · 6 years ago

Text

The Grind- Chapter 25

I figured parking the bike in the garage out of plain sight would be my best bet, just in case Tia spaced and happen to pass by Revel’s and let Livvy catch site of me there. As far as she knew, Cal and I were out at the pub for the first preseason Steelers game, grabbing a couple beers. I drafted Tia to persuade her into one measly night off from the unforgiving jump ropes and speedbags to go to some unrealistic, sickening, fucking chick-flick, and maybe allow her a drink. My real whereabouts had to remain unsuspected, at least for now. I planned on filling her in on all the secrets tomorrow night, and pray to God that it didn’t send her spiraling into a hissy fit just 5 days before her match with the Franklin Park gal.

I had never lied this much to anyone in my damn life, which didn’t make the fact that Liv was the victim, any easier. I had prodded through her phone, snuck out on the porch two or three times in the last week to ‘check the mailbox’ that I had already emptied earlier in the day, so I could return a missed call. I bought plane tickets with my Paypal so she wouldn’t see the transactions, and paid Mac $200 to play chauffeur to the airport, all behind the back of the woman in my life. It was for her own good, and for my own peace of mind.

I opted to reach out to Liz first, stealing her number from her daughter’s phone contacts, figuring if she and Tony were anything like my own parents, the lady of the house called the shots. I pleaded with her best I knew how, to promise we keep my little master plan hidden from Liv, and in typical female fashion, she whispered “oooh’s” and “awwww’s” about how I was just ‘too sweet and romantic for my own good.” Shit, you got a lot to learn about me, lady.

They flew in early this morning, and I gave Mac all their hotel info to pass along when he picked them up, so I could spend the day with Liv in peace, not having to duck out to answer a thousand phone calls. The Elliott’s weren’t happy about my fitting the bill for their visit to the ‘Burgh, but I insisted on treating them like royalty for the week they’d be in my city. Anyone with Livvy’s blood in their veins, deserved to be considered as such. No matter how strained the healing relationship between the three of them was, Tony and Liz were still her parents, and I’d give them that respect. Sure, the way they handled some situations with their daughter was lightyears beyond fucking foolish if you ask me, but that wasn’t my battle to fight.

I figured Revel was a happy medium for dinner on their first night. It was just hoity enough to impress them, but not stuffy enough to overwhelm them. I had to scoot Liv out the door first, knowing the dress pants and button up Ralph Lauren would’ve been a dead give away into my long list of fabrications this week. I had to work one-on-one with Tia to organize everything, directing her to keep my lady out late so I could get home first and change inconspicuously. But threaten her not to get Liv completely bombed so she wouldn’t be hung over for the surprise breakfast with her parents tomorrow morning. I only booked their hotel room for two nights, in hopes that this whole shebang wouldn’t pop off in my damn face, and Livvy would let the two of them finish out their visit at our place.

Once my helmet was strapped and locked to the bike, I turned the corner into the main lobby of the restaurant to make my way to the hostess chair. I made sure my guests were seated already, and followed the direction to our corner table, wiping two very sweaty hands on the inside lining of my slacks.

God, please don’t let them laugh me out of this place.

It was like looking straight into the face of Liv in 25 years when I locked eyes with Elizabeth, besides the blonde color of her hair, not matching her child’s now darker strands. I guess I hadn’t noticed the stark resemblance over the video chat. I smiled at the two of them, I could feel it was awkward and forced but I hoped they’d return the gesture regardless. The couple stood, and I greeted the lady first, doing my best to always mind the Ritter manners.

“So nice to meet you in person, Mrs. Eliiott. You and Livvy might as well be twins! I’m uh… I’m Colton.” Her smile wasn’t the warm, sunny one I’d grown so fond of with Liv, but she was kind enough.

Tony, patiently standing to my right, observed every little inch I moved. Typical of the father to a girl, I assumed.

“Oh, Colton, it is very nice to meet you finally. And you look so sharp!” Liz held my hand between both of hers, to appreciate the treasure of a man who could dress himself with some sense these days.

“Thank ya’, ma’am,” I blushed awkwardly. Compliments were never my strong suit.

“And Mr. Elliott, how are ya’ sir? Nice to see you.” I turned on the masculine shake when approaching her dad. My own father engrained the importance of a firm grip greeting as soon as I could talk.

“Enough with the formal stuff, Colton. Call me Tony. Although, I can admire the respect you have for your elders. To be honest, I didn’t expect such from a guy who beats people up for a living.”

Happy to shatter your stereotypical idea of me, man. But, I’d still break the nose of any fucker in this entire place who breathed the wrong way.

“Don’t let the scarred knuckles fool ya’, sir. I’m not a complete wild animal,” I tried to joke.

We sat, waiting to order, each scanning over the menu in tongue-tied silence before Liz finally broke the plain. “So, did Liv ever catch you in this big scheme, Colton? Does she know we’re here yet?”

“Actually, she’s completely clueless. Or, just letting on to be. But, she seems to be in the dark still. Ain’t real sure how I pulled it off, honestly. She usually reads me like a damn book.” I huffed with a scratchy laugh, quickly scolding myself internally for slipping a swear word.

“And this fight? Was it your idea? I mean, did you want her to get involved with it like you are?” Tony folded his menu, assumingly decided on his dinner choice, and focused he folded hands towards me. His tenor seemed almost snarky, but I was sure he hadn’t meant it that way, remembering Liv say he seemed somewhat excited over the idea.

“Actually, I hated the thought from the get-go. I lost my mind just when I thought it was all for fun. I begged her not to take it. But, you know 2-1 as well as I do. She shut me up real quick.”

“2-1?” Her mother cocked a confused smile of question.

“Oh, uhhh.. yeah. It’s just a little nickname I call her. She wears this old ratty hoodie around all the time with the number on the back. So, the name just kinda stuck.” I scratched my head before taking a generous gulp of water to lower the temperature of my smothering, sweating armpits.

“She talks about ball then? I mean, you’ve heard some about her days as a Warrior?” Tony interjected with round eyes.

“Definitely. I know it all, Mr. Elli… uh, Tony. We play sometimes on Sundays at this park down from our house. She kills me by 15+ every time.”

He smiled bittersweetly at the idea of his all-star with a ball in her hands again. And I, wanted to hit him for being so blind to the fact that she had so many other talents to be proud of, if he would just live in the now and see it.

Between our main course, and the dessert I ordered after listening to Liz read over the description in the menu more than three times, her dad brought up the inevitable. The “thing I wanted to talk to them about.”

“Okay, Colton. Now that you’ve treated us to that perfectly cooked slab of red meat, what did you want to talk with us about? Something to do with this fight, I’m sure.”

I swished another drink of water, although it was missing the bite of bourbon that I needed so fucking badly.

“Yeah, you could say that, I guess…” I answered him vaguely.

“Everything is okay though? You’re not worried for her anything, are you?” Elizabeth chimed in, sweeping a hair behind her ear, just the way Liv does.

“I’m worried for her, only because I love her. And when you walk up those steel steps, you’re takin’ a risk no matter who you are. But your daughter, she can hold her own. I see that now.” I reiterated to myself as much as her parents sitting across from me.

Tony and Liz looked away from me, now towards each other in both confusion and concern at my lack of response to the burning question of the entire damn night.

Being the coward I fucking am, and my very typical struggle for the right words, I did the only thing I knew to do that would clear the air, and satisfy their curiosity. I wriggled around in my seat, trying to loosen the opening of my pocket so I could reach in for the tiny, purple velvet box that had been burning a hole there since I left the house a couple of hours ago.

I neatly and gently placed it closer their side of the perfectly set table, and then looked down to fidget with my fingers.

Her mom, the feminine instinct in her realizing immediately what was inside, reached for the box first, eagerly. A hand covered her opened jaw once she caught site of the custom cut, octagon shaped diamond, seated inside a silver band. The price was kept inside the secret space of a lock box I kept at the top of the closet, way beyond my housemates reach, to remind myself of the success that had allowed me to purchase something so extravagant, still not living up to what Liv really deserved. The jeweler laughed at the bizarre suggestion I had for an octagon shaped engagement diamond, but there was no convincing me into anything else. The cage was the very reason our relationship even began. Well, that along The Grind. And Drew and I had plans for that later.

“Colton, speak up, son.” Tony leaned over to witness what had so thoughtfully touched his wife in the square shaped box. I couldn’t read his reaction, which sent my nerves straight to shit.

“Tony, I adore your daughter. That goes without sayin’….” I pasued, planning out every word in my head before I said it out loud. “I hurt her awhile back, something I still beat myself up over, and I never, ever want to see her cry like that again. I have issues of my own with anger, and I throw tantrums sometimes, but Livvy is my calm, ya’ know? She’s made me into this man who actually feels more than hate… and…. resentment. I would walk in front of a train for her, if it came to that.”

They sat very still in their seats, Liz wiping a tear here and there with the corner of her black cloth napkin, and Tony only furrowed his forehead, paying close attention to my professions.

“I didn’t know people were actually capable a’ lovin’ somebody else like this, but as soon as I think I love Livvy as much as anybody possibly could, she goes and proves my ass wrong.”

Strike two for sayin’ ass, Ritter. Liv’s gonna wash your mouth out with soap.

“I’m askin’ kindly, for a blessing from the two of you to ask Liv to marry me. It would mean a great deal to me, and I value the opinions of you both. But, if you can’t give it to me, I apologize, but I’m going to spend the rest of my life with your beautiful daughter no matter what. If she’ll have me.” I finished.

I had enough of my pop in me to know that asking for approval of the father was the right thing to do. But I had just enough thick-headed asshole in me, that I had decided on kneeling for Liv’s hand regardless of their approval. When your life once was a pathetic waste, and your mind is a dingy, manic hole like mine, you cling to any light like a fuckin’ firefly to flame. Liv was my chance, my reason. She was my light, and addiction.

“I think I can speak for Lizzie here too, when I say the respect you’ve shown us by asking, speaks a lot about your character. But Colton, this all seems a bit… rushed? I mean, it wasn’t long ago she was sitting in our dining room, explaining to us she had to flee the city for a week just to try and get some peace of mind after the way you hurt her. Now, the two of you are living together, and thinking about marriage?” Tony said.

“You’re exactly right. And, if Liv tells me she isn’t ready, then I’ll learn some patience and wait ‘til she is. But, as much as you love Mrs. Elliott here, I’m sure you’re familiar with the saying ‘when you know, you know’….”

I knew I was going to be pining for the girl the second I laid eyes on her static striken, matted hait that morning at the coffee shop. And I knew it again, the minute she walked out of Mac’s gym that night. As soon as the lingering of her sweet perfume had dissipated from that hallway, I felt my heart harden like cement.

“Tony, you know was well as I do that Liv would want this. She loves him. Any time the sting from a breakup is as deep as she said it was, it’s meant to be.” I smiled to her mom for supporting the decision that her stern husband was still wrestling with.

There was silence while Liz devoured the chocolate desert the waiter had brought, offering me a taste, and once the check was delivered to me, an answer from the pair was still unknown.

“If ya’ want, you guys think it over. I know it’s a hefty decision,” I reasoned levelheaded.

“No need, Colton. My Livvy would never forgive me if she knew I didn’t give you my blessing.. If she loves you, and wants a life with you, well….then welcome to the family, boy.” Tony smiled, sliding the ring back, and I stood following his lead, to hug them both.

The most perfect, gorgeous, fuckin’ green eyed, smiley woman on this God forsaken earth, was going to share my last name.

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @littleluna98 @mollybegger-blog

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy conlon #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

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a-dreamer-named-mars · 6 years ago

Text

Imagine Jamie Saving You on a Botched Robbery (Part 1)

You balanced yourself in your heels as you made your way through the New York City night and walked inside a grocery store. You had just arrived to the city three days ago - you came from Los Angeles after you broke up with your boyfriend and after finalizing the contract with the dance studio you worked for, giving dance lessons, and you moved to New York to get a fresh start.

As you walked inside the store, you could tell something was wrong because the owner was looking white as sheet and shaking uncontrollably. He nodded you not to say anything and you just ignored it and moved to the cereal isle, where you were only going to pick up a box of cereal for your late dinner and quickly pay and leave. New York had proven to be so different from Los Angeles in just three days - people were more weird, and some actually scared you; they weren't as nice as the Angelinos and they definitely weren't as warm. But everyone you know had warned you about that before you moved there, so you knew what you were getting into and didn't pay much attention to the same guy who was looking strange just a few minutes ago, and who was now refusing to register your item and let you pay. He kept gesturing you to leave with the cereal but you wouldn't obey, you were going to pay. You weren't a steeler and never had been, not even when you were a teenager, and you weren't going to steal now just because some creepy guy was telling you to.

"Fine." You put a five dollar bill on the counter and grabbed the box under your arm. " Keep the change." Before you could take another step you felt someone grabbing you and resting a gun in your neck.

"Oh my God!" You yelled, panic starting to take over you, and tears starting to form in your eyes.

"SHUT UP! SIT BEHIND THE COUNTER!" The guy with a ski mask said while he tossed you to the ground.

You still spent a good forty-five minutes with another person plus the owner behind the counter while two robbers stole everything they could, before police walked inside with their guns held high, aiming froward, reading for anything.

And that was how you met the love of your life, Jamie Reagan. He was one of the cops called on the scene and he was the one who, after the robbers were arrested, came to you and rescued you. He checked your pulse, which was high because of how nervous and anxious you were feeling, and held you close when you cried. He spoke to you, sitting in the back of an ambulance with you wrapped in a blanket while you sipped the water bottle they gave you, and managed to calm you down. You exchanged phone numbers and from that moment on, you became close friends, then best friends, and were now boyfriend and girlfriend.

Everything seemed great between the two of you, you had been dating for almost a year and half now, you had met his family, you had moved into his apartment, and everything was going good for you two. You were a professional dancer and two months after you moved to New York, you got the invitation from a dance school to participate in a dance competition - it would have multiple levels, and the final prize were 20.000 US dollars which you could really use right now. Things with Jamie seemed to be going strong for the long haul and you knew he was the man you wanted to marry one day and have kids with, so the money would definitely come in handy since you didn't save up much with the dance lessons back in Los Angeles.

The break up with your boyfriend a few years ago was bad - he was a professional dancer like you and focused only on the dancing, sometimes he treated you wrong and you just couldn't take it anymore so you decided to break up, quit the lessons at the dance studio and move to New York, ready to embrace every situation and experience it brought to you.

"Hey Jamie?" You asked as you closed the front door behind you and made your way to the couch to find him resting after a shift.

"Yeah?" He responded with a sleepy voice.

"Did I got any mail? The dance school said I'd get a letter with all the information for my next performance and that's coming in two weeks!" You explained as you took off your leather jacket and tossed it to the other couch, where you were going to sit.

"Oh,uh... Yes, you got a letter from the school. But it only come today and I didn't open it." He said while he sat up on the couch and pointed to the envelope laying on the table.

You got up in a heartbeat to pick up the letter, thanking and kissing him on the way. You picked up the envelope and made your way back to the living room to sit on the couch, this time the couch where he was sitting, still looking pretty sleepy and tired.

You opened the envelope as fast as you could and once you got it opened, you pulled out the letter, with all the information you needed to prepare yourself for the final performance.

"Oh my God..." You said as you used one hand to cover your mouth.

"What happened, (Y/N)? Is everything okay?" He asked, moving closer to you.

"My dance partner for the performance... It's my ex." You said, still re-reading the letter, confirming that was indeed his name and his contact.

"What?" Jamie himself, could not believe it either. He never met your ex, neither did he (or you) wanted to, but after you once told him how and why it was that you and Fred, your ex, broke up, he instantly disliked him. And he certainly wasn't appreciating these news.

Author's Note: Hey my dear readers, I hope you had a nice summer! This requested imagine is two parts long, which will be posted separately. I hope you like what's coming up next! As you already know I have a Jamie Reagan Fan fiction (finalized) - Little Did They Know - and the second one for that - Love Battles. While you wait for the next request to be uploaded, which might take a while, I recommend you read those two. Who's a regular reader and has kept up with the fan fiction knows about the cliffhanger and I can only tell you, the plot will thicken! Who's excited? Have a great day!

P.S: I didn’t mean to disrespect any New Yorkers, I’m sure they’re lovely people, I just characterized them like this because it’s what I hear they’re like and I was trying to describe the discomfort and the feeling of out of place of the reader.

#jamie reagan #jamie reagan x reader #blue bloods #imagine #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a story i'll never write #love #dance #romance #will estes #jamie reagan imagine

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an-all-write-life · 6 years ago

Text

65 Questions You Aren't Used To

Tagged by the amazing @donaldpiercesbae and I think @nxttime? I'm not positive about that 😂

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

Uhhh....no?

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

1. I thrive in the darkness lol

3. The person you would never want to meet?

I've got a list.

4. What is your favorite word?

I love saying el chupacabra. I say it in a weird voice. 😂

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

Maybe a maple or cherry blossom tree?

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

What crawled in my hair and died?

7. What shirt are you wearing?

A black t-shirt with Ariel and Ursula on it.

8. What do you label yourself as?

Weird

9. Bright room or dark room?

Bright! The better to read in, my dear 😂

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Sleeping

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

I dunno, none of them have sucked majorly so far

12. Who told you they loved you last?

Either @nxttime or @sweetspiderboy! <3

13. Your worst enemy?

Social norms

14. What is your current desktop picture?

15. Do you like someone?

Do fictional characters count?

16. The last song you listened to?

"Scars to Your Beautiful" by Alessia Cara

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

You don't want me to have this kind of power.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

This one dude that's fond of following me around town and being a creep in general.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

Yeah, I don't go for that sort of thing.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

Uhhh...I don't have one??

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

I have no clue.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

I can wiggle my ears

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

Unique? My fears are pretty basic.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Peanut butter, jelly, and butter on wheat bread.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Probably on boots or earrings.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

London!

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?

This seems a lil' fishy to me.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?

Equality

29. What is your favorite expletive?

'Crap'

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

One of our family photo albums

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

My experiences, both good and bad, made me who I am today.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

Germany

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

I wouldn't want to disturb the dead by bringing them back from the afterlife.

34. What was your last dream about?

It had something to do with my siblings I think??

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? - Are you good at reading people a.k.a can you guess a person’s character correctly without knowing them well?

Sort of.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Nope

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Yuppers

38. What is the color of your socks?

Purple and white

39. What type of music do you like?

Country and 50's

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

Both

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

Chocolate

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)

Pittsburgh Steelers. Only because they're my grandpa's favorite team.

43. Do you have any scars?

Mmhmm.

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

Happy.

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

I'm okay with how things are.

46. Are you reliable?

I like to think so.

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?

Are you happy?

48. Do you hold grudges?

Depends on what you did to me.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

A panda and a tiger would be interesting.

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

I can't think of any right now.

51. Are you a good liar?

I wish I could say no.

52. How long could you go without talking?

Probably a day or so.

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

I haven't really had any.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Yup.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

Not really.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Butter or peanut butter.

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

A spider web that I doodled.

58. What would be you dream car?

A Mustang.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

I don't really do much of anything in the shower. I'll think about my life or fics tho.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

Nope

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

I'll look at it every now and then, but I don't believe what it says.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

I've always liked X.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Dragons

64. What do you think about babies?

ADORABLE

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of. - What’s one place in the world you would transport to if you could do it right at this moment?

My grandpa's house.

Tagging: @sweetspiderboy @avengerdragoness @rogrsnbarnes @rynne311 and anyone else who wants to do it. ^_^

#tag game #tagged #get to know the writer

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the-canary · 7 years ago

Text

Sky Full of Song - B.B (2/10)

Summary: Giving a recovering amnesiac the proper musical education he was missing, wasn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Bucky Barnes)

Prompt: “Should I reveal exactly how I feel?”

Word Count: 1357

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @redgillan writing challenge. Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter. We had waffles at work yesterday and this chapter just came together really fast. I hope you enjoy. It also should be noted that the main character won’t be called by her “code name” alot, but I wanted establish what number she was within the group.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Warnings: Waffles and David Bowie references.

Part 1 |

“ Live without the sunlight. Love without your heartbeat ,” you hum softly as you enter the small room with a duffle bag in hand. Two nods in your general direction, but Four groans at the sound of your voice humming a familiar song. You take a seat on the chair next to him and slide the bag underneath your desk.

“How many times did you watch that awful movie this weekend?” he asks as you laugh. While, the three of you didn’t spend a lot of time together, hell you barely knew each other’s real names, there were certain quirks that showed every once and awhile.

For example, Two was really into gardening (all the plants and flowers blooming on her desk showed it), Four was really into the Pittsburgh Steelers (he never stopped complaining once football season started), and you -dear little Seven- were really into music of any kind, and musical movies were sort of your favorite thing.

“ Twice ! It was a good weekend,” green eyes roll at your enthusiasm because only you would consider Monday part of the weekend. While, it might have bothered you in the beginning, you knew that Four simply didn’t like the movie because it marked a decline in one of his favorite artists’ career, the man is dedicated to David Bowie (another one of his quirks) and for that you couldn’t really fault him.

“Please don’t forget to send your report to Three,” Two chimes in before going back to working on whatever she has placed on the metal table in the back. You give her an thumbs-up and proceed to get ready what you are going to present to Three – the most senior member of your group, because while you did have time to spare on watching movies, you had been more focused on the small mission they sent you away for the weekend – collecting of data and software in ways only you could.

You grab a small hard drive from the duffel bag and connect it to your laptop. There are jitters running up and down your spine at the thought of seeing Three again, who wasn’t a scary man, but he was a father figure whose disappointment always made you feel bad about yourself. You let out an aggravated sigh and get up with your computer at hand.

“I’m gonna go raid the kitchens,” you huff as Two shakes her head. You get up and walk out of the room, Four yelling out at you to bring him some Nutella.

fourth night.

It was one of those nights where neither him nor Steve could sleep after a mission, they had gone running around the compound a few times and even trained in the gym for a couple of more hours. However, midway it was starting to become obvious that the jetlag and injuries were starting to get to them both, though Steve was far more willing to go to bed. Bucky was too afraid and unsure of what horrors and memories would wake him up this time around. It was just a few hours that he had to kill, he could find something to occupy his time with. He just didn’t know that certain something was in the kitchen, saying good night to Steve and promising not to leave it in ruins, like you had done the last time.

It’s 3 in the morning when he finally decides to leave the gym, wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a white tank top-- and head back to face whatever might be lurking in his head, and while he wonders what had happened to the young music woman from a couple of nights before, he tries his hardest not to seek her out again – no normal person should be burdened with him. However, that’s easier said than done when you are standing in the kitchen once more with a bunch of food surrounding you like it’s nobody’s business. He walks over to you and this time you are ready for him.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” you smile from behind the kitchen counter-top, a plate of waffles in front of you as the toaster pings up another pair, “Waffle?”

He shakes his head in affirmation and you grin before handing him the next batch. The fruits, syrup and a bag of chocolate chips are all placed near the laptop softly playing a voice that he remembers but can’t quite place. You take your own in front of the computer with a mouth full of waffle and powdery sugar, while typing out a few things. The song closes and another one begins with that same female voice slightly softer than before as she questions her romance in the song, until it clicks.

“Ella…Fitzgerald?” he questions and turns to look at you nodding, though your eyes are still on the computer.

“It’s Too Soon to Know . She sang it in 1948,” you explain and glance at him from the corner of your eyes, “My grandma used to like her earlier stuff.”

“How long did she keep singin’ for?” he shuffles in his seat before taking a bit of his whipped cream and strawberry topped waffle.

“Early 90’s, if I remember correctly,” you explain as a strawberry falls onto his plate. His bright blue eyes grow a little in size at the comment, and it causes you to raise an eyebrow. Was it really that surprising that she lived for so long, I mean look at him . No, it had to be something else.

“To be honest, I love her older stuff from the 60’s,” you comment and a confused look crosses his face for moment before easing back into eating his sugary concoction.

“I haven’t heard any of her music past the 40’s,” he meekly explains as you turn your full attention to him, work completely forgotten now.

“ Wait, Wait ,” you put your hand up in front of him as your voice gets a little higher at the prospect of this man missing decades of music. It hurt bottom of your very soul.

“Have you heard the Beatles ? Elvis Presley ? Queen ?” now you were just rambling to the poor man.

“I’ve heard of them,” he shrugged it off and while you could clearly understand where he was coming from –being the Winter Soldier and then a wanted criminal didn’t really give you time to hear the newest jams- but, it was high time he learned about what he was missing, no?

“David Bowie?”

“Who?”

“ Blasphemy ,” you seethe to yourself and you are sure Four would have cried out at such a crime, he certainly did when you explained you didn’t know any of the man’s music outside of a certain favorite film of yours. Though that wasn’t the problem you were facing right now. And suddenly, an idea pops into your head.

“Well, we have to change that, Sergeant Barnes,” you grin at the flabbergasted look he gives you, but you are too deep into your own idea to backtrack on it now, “And you have the perfect teacher for it.”

“Good, I guess,” he gives off an awkward smile, trying to understand what he has just gotten himself into, “When can we start?”

“ Now ! Now is completely perfect,” you give him a rueful smile before grabbing your phone and pulling out your Ella playlist, and secretly hoping that Two doesn’t find you slacking off again.

“Okay, Sergeant,” you pause and begin to play a song with her and the Delta Rhythm Boys. It was better to start him off with something closer to his time period before moving onto your personal favorites. He leans in close as the countertop and various placed toppings let him. However, he corrects you on one thing before the vocals set in.

“Bucky,” you look up at him for a further clarification, “You can call me Bucky.”

“Oh! Well, you can call me Seven,” you grin as Ella’s voice leads you into the daybreak once more.

Part 3

#maisieswritingchallenge #series: sky full of song #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #fabiola trying to write

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fourthlinefic · 7 years ago

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Diversions III

“A solid game tonight boys!” Brian grinned, spinning the helmet between his hands. The dressing room was quiet as they all waited to see who the helmet was going to. “Some real sweet moves all around, but I think that it has to go to the big guy. Jamie, you were fuckin’ awesome out there.”

The room exploded into a cacophony of catcalls and wolf whistles as Jamie stood up to receive the Steelers helmet from Brian. Olli immediately started ribbing him, and Geno snorted as Jamie gave in and put the helmet on. Or tried to at least.

“Should have got a bigger helmet,” Ryan called and was met with a rumble of agreement. Jamie shrugged and set the helmet down on his stall bench.

Geno tried to be happy for him. He really did. The guy had been playing hard, making things happen, and he deserved the praise. It was just hard to appreciate all that when he was also banging your best friend.

“You okay there, G?” Patric asked, suddenly thumping Geno in the shoulder. “Zoned out for a sec.”

“Oh, yeah. Just thinking.”

“Dangerous hobby there,” Patric grinned and Geno smiled back in pale imitation.

Patric was right though. It wasn’t dangerous, but it was stupid to think of Sid as his, or to think of Jamie as some kind of enemy. They were teammates first and the team had to come first. He couldn’t let his own personal issues get in the way of that. They were already struggling as it was, Geno didn’t need to add another wrench into the mix.

So he stripped his kit off and ignored Sid’s honking laugh at whatever it was Jamie was saying to him.

Later, back at the hotel, it was a little harder to ignore the whole feelings thing when Geno rounded the corner to his room to see Sid plastered up against Jamie, crowding him against the wall. Geno only caught a glimpse of them, but enough to see Jamie’s hands, low and possessive around Sid’s hips. He ducked back around the wall, not wanting to have to deal with that whole… thing.

The worst part was that Sid wasn’t even trying to keep his voice down, and Geno could hear almost every word they were saying to each other.

“I’m gonna let you fold me in half,” Sid said in a voice that settled low in Geno’s gut. “That was the hottest fucking thing.”

“It wasn’t really a fair fight-”

“Jamie, let me have this.”

Jamie laughed and Geno hated him.

“Sure.”

Their words were replaced with the slick sounds of mouths and tongues and Geno hated that too. He should just round the corner, teach them a lesson in not making out in public corridors, but he found himself frozen in spot.

“Wait, Jamie, not out here. My room.”

“I’m gonna take you apart.”

“Sure thing, big guy.”

Geno waited until he heard Sid’s door click shut before he let out a deep breath and left his hiding spot. He let himself into his room and stood for a second in the dark.

“Get over yourself,” he muttered as he stripped out of his suit. He dropped it on the floor, a problem for tomorrow Geno, and crawled into bed. He lay there, staring at the ceiling before exhaustion pulled him down. Problems for tomorrow.

“It’s not like I care where he puts his dick, I just don’t want him to sleep with him!”

Sergei sighed and pushed another beer over to Geno. He thought he’d escaped this particular brand of whining when he’d left the pens. Thought Geno might have grown up a bit without him there all the time. The universe clearly had a fucked up sense of humour.

“Sounds like you’re jealous,” he said, and felt a certain amount of gratification when Geno choked on his beer and slopped it down his shirt. He handed him the tissue box off the coffee table. Zhenya took one with a glare. “I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that. New guy turns up on the scene and steals the affection of the love of your life, you spiral into a downward whirlpool of anger and bitterness. It’s textbook jealousy, Zhenya.”

Geno ignored him in favour of another mouthful of beer.

“Do you want to sleep with him?”

The beer went much further that time, and Sergei sighed in dismay at the state of the coffee table. Geno muttered an apology, using the tissues to mop up his mess.

“No I don’t,” he said finally. “I just, I just hate how he acts around him. It’s always ‘oh, look at Jamie, he’s so tall and he can punch people really well, and his face is so good’. It wasn’t even a fair fight! Manning was punching above his weight.”

Yup. Jealous. Sergei pat Geno on the shoulder and tried not to laugh at the thirty-one year old sulking on his couch.

“Scared of being replaced?”

Geno paused, an uneasy look on his face which was just as good as any answer he could have given Sergei.

“I’ve always been tall,” he grumbled. “And I’ve punched lots of people. I just don’t understand why he’s never looked at me like that.”

“You’re an idiot,” Sergei said, his voice heavy with all the weariness of a man not paid enough to deal with this shit. “Sid has always looked at you like that, you stupid boy, you just never noticed because you had the sun in your eyes.”

The blank look Geno gave him almost made Sergei weep.

“Zhenya, look. You’ve always looked at Sid like he’s the only thing that matters, but you’ve never seen him looking right back! You both think so highly of the other that you wouldn’t dare think that he’d ever stoop to liking you like that,” Sergei took a breath and another mouthful of beer. “It’s been like that since day one. You’re both idiots.And now Jamie’s here and looks like he’s sticking around for a while. You feel threatened, you decide to hate the guy. It’s childish, but it’s understandable.”

When he looked over, Geno had a thoughtful look on his face and Sergei could practically hear the gears grinding.

“I think,” Geno finally said, slow and hesitant. “That I might be a bit jealous, and I also think-” he paused, looked sideways at Sergei with an anxious look in his eyes. Sergei gave him a nod if encouragement. “I think maybe I might be a little bit in love with Sid?”

It had only taken him twelve years, but there it finally was.

#diversions #hockey rpf #crosby/oleksiak #sidgeno #ish #my fic

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behardonyourself · 4 years ago

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Keep Moving Forward

I realize I tend to use that phrase a lot. In short, it’s all I know how to do.

Ironman and ultra-endurance events have a lot of parallels to life. Everything can be going amazing, and in the blink of an eye, you simply get derailed, and while troubles seem to come all at once, it’s important to remember that you’ve faced hard times so many times before.

Two weeks ago today, I lost one of my very best friends in the world. An otherwise seemingly healthy guy, he had been diagnosed with sleep apnea, had a massive heart attack while he slept, and never woke up. He and I had been planning a weekday trip together to just hang out, laugh, and unwind. I can’t believe it’s been two weeks already. It seems like we were laughing uncontrollably about something otherwise insignificant and ridiculous 30 minutes ago. Nick, I miss you more than you’ll ever know - and since you were the ultimate Steelers fan, in your honor, I am now a Steelers fan.

A few days before Nick passed, someone I have long considered a personal and professional mentor discovered that they had inoperable brain cancer, and only has months to live.

These two events have weighed very heavy on my heart and mind and at times, have made it extremely difficult to focus on the most seemingly simple tasks.

I have never thought of life as being glass “half full” or “half empty”. I have always been grateful that I have a glass to begin with. Like everyone, I have had challenges professionally, with my family, financially, and everything else. Those things happen. And while I’m typically the outwardly confident and invincible guy, ultimately, it can wear you down. I have never questioned my own mortality. However, seeing two people that I have viewed as so incredibly strong go through this, it reminds one of just how fragile this life is.

I have often said that this blog is my therapy. I write in it to work things through in my mind and to ultimately share that no matter what on earth you’re going through, you’re never alone. I am the worst in the world at asking for help. I’m so self-reliable that sometimes I have to put it in print to remind myself that it’s okay to trust and to rely on others - that we aren’t always capable of doing everything ourselves.

“Keep moving forward” is my own little self-cheer. I have to remember that I have a 2 year old daughter and a 16 year old son that need me to be strong for them. As a dad, you don’t get the luxury to take time off. I can’t afford to be distant and miss whatever is going on in their world.

I am thankful for everyone in my life. I know that I’m the worst in the world when it comes to checking in and reaching out, and I’m working on that.

I’m ready for everyday life to get back to normal, restrictions lifted, and having the ability to travel freely and spend time with those that matter to us.

Remember: Run the mile you’re in. Don’t be afraid to lean on others for help. And always, always, keep moving forward.

#mybattles #keepmovingforward #mentalhealth #ironman #covid #coronavirus #bepositive #staystrong

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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How NFL Blitz Became the Best Arcade Football Game Ever Made

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Football is violent and fast. Brutal injuries are inherent to the action when 300-pound bodies slam into one another like cars at a demolition derby. In the late 1990s, no video game simulated that feeling more than the most anti-sim football game ever made: NFL Blitz.

Unfortunately, the world may never see a game like Blitz again. To be sure, football video games are as popular as ever—or at least EA Sports’ Madden franchise is, since it’s the only football sim officially licensed by the NFL. Spiritual successors to the Blitz brand of arcade-style football have come along here and there, with EA’s former NFL Street franchise and the 2017 reinvention of Mutant Football League by Digital Dreams Entertainment the most noteworthy. Even 2K Games plan to return with an NFL-licensed non-sim in the near future, and Madden NFL 21 has a new backyard-football mode called The Yard. But the marriage between the NFL and such over-the-top gridiron action as the original Blitz titles from Midway Games may have been unique to its time.

Two decades ago, arcade cabinets were still a lucrative proposition. Thanks to the arrival of Midway’s iconic NBA Jam in 1993, sports games in particular could be major money makers. NBA Jam raked in $1 billion in quarters during its first year. That’s billion with a ‘B,’ and it’s a figure even the game’s iconic announcer, Tim Kitzrow, still has trouble wrapping his head around.

“I happened to see an article that was posted on the bulletin board in the cafeteria. It said ‘NBA Jam breaks all records. Makes $1 billion in revenue this year,’” Kitzrow tells Den of Geek. “I just, I laughed and thought it was one of the guys with a sense of humor in the office who had typed that up as kind of a joke. I still can’t believe it. No one could believe a billion dollars [in] a year.”

Mark Turmell, creative director of NBA Jam, says that he and his team certainly enjoyed the fruits of their labor after the game’s success. With a team that included lead artist and game designer Sal DiVita, Turmell noted they were all “pretty young” and bought cars and “did silly things,” but that there was little room to rest on their laurels before working on the next game. With a steady stream of hits like the Mortal Kombat and Jam games, “we kind of kept our nose to the grindstone.”

Indeed, Midway Games enjoyed a golden age in the ‘90s. However, up until the team took up the project that would become NFL Blitz, their games existed in only two dimensions. But the gaming landscape was changing. Three-dimensional arcade games were nothing new by 1997, when Blitz released, and they were proliferating the market at a rapid pace. That was especially true of the home console market, with both the Sony PlayStation and Nintendo 64 becoming the dominant players in that space.

The opportunity to work in 3D was new and exciting for Turmell, who noted the “hardware that could actually put enough stuff on the screen to get away with 3D, the horsepower” had arrived.

“If you look at the NFL Blitz models, the players, it’s only a few hundred polygons,” he added. “Kind of rectangular arms, biceps and more of a square-ish head and so forth. There was not a lot of resolution or detail, but it was still, the hardware was strong enough to run at 60 frames a second, which is just a necessity on really any game.”

Leaning into the Action

With the hardware and programming capabilities in place, that allowed the lifelong Detroit Lions fan the chance to create a Midway-style game for his favorite sport. That meant making some big changes to the gridiron game, most notably cutting the number of men on the field for each team from 11 to seven. The number of players wasn’t just chosen at random.

“We knew we wanted to focus on offense, so with the quarterback, a couple of wide receivers, a running back, that burned four characters there,” Turmell said, “and to have only one guy as a lineman or two, you really needed three for somebody to hike the ball and be at the line there. Three linemen was the thing that eventually dictated doing seven-on-seven.”

To juice the speed of games and keep things moving at arcades, quarter length was dropped to two minutes, and time ticked down at an accelerated rate — start to finish, a game of Blitz lasts about 12 minutes. Teams would need to advance 30 yards for a first down, a huge jump from the standard 10 yards. Extra points were (usually) automatic with the press of a button.

Oh, and no penalties. No pass interference. No holding. You want to tackle the receiver before the ball comes his way? Totally legal. As were Hulk Hogan-style leg drops after play was whistled dead. All of the motion capture for these moves was done by DiVita, a veteran of mo-cap who portrayed several Mortal Kombat characters, such as Nightwolf and Cyrax.

“It was kind of a new era, and because of the success of [NBA Jam] and the NBA connection, then the NFL was just a total natural to essentially try to do the same thing. Catch on fire, break the rules, a subset of the rules, multiple behind the line of scrimmage passes, those kind of little rule changes we did.”

As with NBA Jam, Midway brought back Kitzrow, a midwestern comedian and Second City alum, to lend his voice to the on-field action. Unlike with the two-on-two hoops classic, NFL Blitz was the first game he had worked on in which he contributed to the writing. Improved technology also meant the ability to include more speech than in NBA Jam. Rather than one- or two-word sound bytes, Kitzrow could mix more comedy in. Among his favorites: “He just ripped his head off! No, it was just his helmet. Darn it.”

“Tim’s amazing,” Turmell says. “His energy, his ad lib ability. He just totally nailed it on Jam, and then nailed it on Blitz, as well. He was the only guy we called.”

When the time was right, Midway initiated talks with the NFL to get the official go-ahead. They built a demo, telling the NFL that they were aiming for a “quicker-hitting [game], not a deep simulation,” according to Turmell.

“They were of course familiar with the consumer games of that era, and Madden football, where it was more of an 11-on-11, the simulation, the stats,” Turmell said. “We were trying to lean into the action, the arcade, the fast-paced gameplay, that I think the NFL felt like, ‘Okay, that can actually open up a larger fan base.’”

“Too Violent”

Thus, development of NFL Blitz began, largely without interaction between the league and the development team. As was common for the time with arcade cabinets, Midway was already testing the game for profitability at select arcades, and with about a week before final sign off, the NFL rolled into Midway’s headquarters in Chicago to see what Blitz looked like.

It didn’t go well.

“We played the game for them. We showed them the game, and they said, ‘Can you excuse us for a moment?’” Turmell said. “We left them in an office alone. About 15 minutes later, they came out, and they said, ‘We have to wash our hands of this product, and we’re going to give you your money back, and we can’t go forward with this product. It’s just too violent.’”

When Turmell asked what elements of the game crossed the line, the league reps indicated a few animations in particular, which would trigger during the small window after plays were whistled dead and players could pile on with elbow drops and other over-the-top hits.

“I had one where you could pick the player up by the face mask and shake him,” Turmell said. “I had a kick where you could actually kick the player when he was down, and then I had a tackle that was more of, like, a piledriver. You’d kind of grab the guy from behind, jump up in the air, and flip him backwards, so his head hits into the ground.”

Den of Geek reached out to the NFL to hear its side of the story but the league did not respond to questions regarding NFL Blitz in time for publication.

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With their work in jeopardy, Turmell regrouped with Midway Games chief executive officer Neil Nicastro. Turmell came up with a new plan: to remove the “offending animations” and test the game on location.

“If it still earns the money that it was earning already on [the] test, then we will know that it’s not about the violence,” Turmell told the league reps.

The plan worked. The NFL agreed to the proposal, and NFL Blitz earned the same revenue during the test as it had before the animations were excised. After cabinets were released in the fall of 1997, it became another smash arcade hit for Midway. Turmell estimates the game raked in about $650 million in its first year, very impressive for a two-player game which cost 50 cents per quarter of play, per person. That placed it around the top three of games at the time, he said.

Blitzing Consoles

With a mountain of quarters in their pockets, Midway Games successfully ported NFL Blitz to both Sony and Nintendo consoles in September 1998, as well as PC the following month. According to NPD Group’s TRSTS Video Game Service, which tracks total units sold as reported by major retailers, Blitz was the top new N64 game and the No. 3 new game on PS1 for September.

The tagline in ads for the console launch summed up NFL Blitz pretty accurately: “No refs. No rules. No mercy.” Commercials visually drove home the over-the-top violent hits the game allowed. In perhaps the most infamous 30-second TV spot, then-Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Kordell Stewart works on his throws alongside a coach. Within seconds, we see that Stewart is targeting members of the marching band whose music can be heard in the background of the workout. The ad inspired outrage from music educators.

Turmell, who says he loved the ad, pointed out that the league gave the okay to run the spot. But, after the negative response, the ad was removed from the airwaves. Fortunately, like so many old commercials, it still lives on YouTube:

As far as the game itself, NFL Blitz was a faithful port of the arcade hit, especially on the N64. On the Nintendo console, all the fun of playing a quick and irreverent game of football at the arcade came home. The graphics were virtually identical, unlike what the visually-inferior 32-bit PlayStation could produce. And the game’s most fascinating feature could only be found on N64: an easy-to-use Play Editor which allowed players to create custom alignments. These plays could even be brought to the arcade on an N64 Controller Pak to be used on the sequel, NFL Blitz 99, plugged directly into the cabinet. Cutting edge stuff for the late ’90s, to be sure.

In what may come as a surprise from the creator of the revered NBA Jam, Turmell actually points to the arcade’s Blitz 99, released in fall 1998, as “the favorite game that I’ve developed, and it’s because of the tuning on the plays, the interesting things that can happen.”

“There’s a running push that we introduced with that game, and the original NFL Blitz, when you would do a push, you would stop and do it from a stationary position,” Turmell explains. “Blitz 99 did this running push, just the tuning on the dives, the entertainment value of the tackles, the variety of a tipped pass, a doinked pass, a fumble that goes up in the air, people diving for it. Dancing as they’re running down the last 20 years to the end zone, somebody comes up from behind. You could play that game today and it holds up, and you would say, ‘Wow, I’ve never seen that happen before,’ or you’d find moments to scream, and it’s competitive, it’s tight. It was quite a tuning fest. We really tuned it well, because we’d just play it nonstop.”

By this point, the NFL had really gotten squeamish about the game’s violence, particularly the late hits. The league told Turmell that Midway could still put out Blitz 99, but late hits had to go. Hoping to preserve what he referred to as “a cornerstone of the product,” Turmell got the NFL on board with a workaround.

“I said, ‘What if we did a secret code that gave the player a one second window to do a late hit?’ Just like what happens for real in the NFL. Players have that fractional moment where they do a dive, they do a tackle, where they’re a little bit late. They might get penalized for it, maybe not,” Turmell recalled. “And so they said, ‘Okay, if you put it in a secret code, then you can continue for that very small window of time.’”

The late hits code was simple to input: Just one press of the jump button and up on the control stick during pre-game loading activated the feature.

“The game basically continued to allow late hits, and we put a little message up that said, ‘Late hits activated,’” Turmell said. “I think the NFL was not happy that their concern over late hits didn’t really change.”

“Strategic Mistakes”

NFL Blitz 2000 Gold Edition became the final arcade release, the third consecutive year with a new cabinet. Turmell referred to the annual release schedule as “part of our strategic mistakes.” It was not an unexpected result, but Midway aimed to counteract it with its other sports titles.

“We knew it would be an issue, and we tried to start with our different sports titles to alternate years, go fresh, NBA Showtime, and go to the MLB Slugfest, do the baseball game. We had a soccer game called RedCard Soccer that we were working on. We wanted to have a portfolio of what we called over-the-top sports games that we could alternate. That’s tough to do, as well, developing so many products, consumer marketplaces changing, coin-op is drying up.”

But Blitz soldiered on, with yearly releases neither raved about nor widely panned by players and critics. NFL Blitz 20-02 and Blitz 20-03 saw the series jump to the PlayStation 2, Xbox, and GameCube console generation, leaving the dying arcade market behind.

Eventually, pressure from the ironically violence-averse NFL prompted major changes to NFL Blitz. A year after Blitz 20-03, Midway released NFL Blitz Pro in October 2003, which abandoned the series’ trademark arcade-style play for an 11-on-11 football semi-sim setup. By this point, Turmell had shifted away from the franchise and was working on the streetball-styled NBA Ballers.

“The NFL started to threaten not renewing the license, and so we kind of backpedaled and said, ‘We’re going to compete on the sim front and start to push into that direction,’” Turmell says. “It was going to take, no doubt, a number of years to get robust, but it was kind of the first foray into trying to come up with a product, a series that you could actually continually develop like you continually develop the NFL Madden-style product.”

In January 2005, the NFL gave Electronic Arts the exclusive rights to use the official teams and players anyway, leaving Blitz without NFL support altogether after already selling its over-the-top gridiron soul. Now, Midway was free to do as it pleased with the gameplay and leaned heavily into violence and the darker side of the sport with Blitz: The League.

Hall of Famer Lawrence Taylor, whose career and post-football life has been rife with controversy and trouble with the law, lent his likeness and voice to the game, which released in October 2005 and became the first football game to be rated Mature by the ESRB. Driven by a salacious campaign mode that included gambling, drugs, and prostitutes, the unlicensed football game was still received about as well as the most recent arcade-style NFL Blitz games. A sequel, Blitz: The League II, followed three years later for Xbox 360 and PlayStation 3 to a more mixed reception.

Behind the scenes, however, Midway Games was crumbling at the foundation. Turmell points to the 2003 appointment of David Zucker as president and CEO, replacing Nicastro, as a turning point. He identified game partnerships with Snoop Dogg and Shaquille O’Neal under Zucker’s watch as costly errors.

“It was pretty clear, once they started making these big financial mistakes, that we had the wrong guy in charge,” Turmell says.

In February 2009, Midway Games filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, ending the run of one of the most notable game development houses of the ’90s.

Back on the Field

With the remains of Midway scattered to various major games publishers, it was EA who acquired the rights to all of the sports games, including NBA Jam and NFL Blitz. Turmell was offered the chance to join EA Sports in Orlando to relaunch the Jam and Blitz franchises.

“The fact that [the games’ rights] were available and Midway was going through bankruptcy, it probably just made sense, from EA’s standpoint, to gather up those properties, anyway,” Turmell said, “but I think that me being involved was good icing on the cake.”

Turmell described his role with the 2010 edition of NBA Jam as more of a consultant for the EA Vancouver team. With NFL Blitz, he was more hands-on in its development as creative director. Looking back on his time working on the game, he marvels at the well-oiled EA machine that produced the game.

“EA is amazing,” Turmell said. “They are very disciplined, because these sports games do come out on a 12-month cycle, so they’re very production-oriented, very organized. The engineers and the artists know exactly what they have to do in each sprint, in each period of time to launch the product.”

But Turmell’s time with EA was short, as he accepted his current role as the creative director at mobile game developer Zynga. In fact, he left less than two months before Blitz released in January 2012. Reiterating that he “loved EA,” Turmell said the decision was fueled by seeing “where the business was going” with regard to mobile gaming.

“It was a tough decision for me because that’s not the type of guy I am, to leave a project,” Turmell said.

Unfortunately, Turmell said that those final few weeks, when he was no longer around to oversee development, yielded critical changes to NFL Blitz. He says the NFL reviewed the game and eliminated late hits, “so they removed content.” It left him feeling “a little disappointed” in the finished product.

“I wasn’t there for whatever ugliness happened with that, but the game wasn’t the same,” Turmell says.

Kitzrow, who had been brought back by EA Sports to do both Jam and Blitz, could hardly contain his disgust with the handling of the Blitz rebirth, especially with regard to the league’s stance on late hits.

“Unfortunately, the NFL was right in our face about all the late hits, the violence, the concussions,” explains Kitzrow, who shared commentary duties on the EA Sports Blitz with longtime friend and fellow comedian Brian Haley. “Like, dude, this is a cartoon. This is a video game. It’s not really happening. But they didn’t want that kind of extracurricular activity. So it took [out] a lot of the stuff that we grew up playing, having so much fun with the late hits and the craziness, the over-the-top sense of humor. That’s what made it NFL Blitz. It was so watered down that, as much as I wrote a lot of dialogue and a lot of stuff, the speech was very sparse in it. I think it sounded kind of repetitive. As far as I’m concerned, it didn’t really live up to the Blitz title.”

A representative of EA could not be reached for comment.

Legacy

Kitzrow had been given the impression that EA intended to release a new version of NFL Blitz the next year as well. However, despite favorable reviews and tight controls that had been adopted from the Madden engine, the PS3 and Xbox 360 digital release of the game remains the last of the franchise, more than eight years ago. It’s still available for purchase on both consoles’ digital storefronts, with disgraced former Baltimore Ravens running back Ray Rice still representing the game as its cover athlete.

The closest successor to NFL Blitz is 2017’s Mutant Football League from developer Digital Dreams, for which Kitzrow lent his voice. The actor raves about MFL, but he’s pessimistic that EA Sports will revisit Blitz or Jam again in the future. Turmell, although no longer involved with the franchise or the company who owns the rights to it, often hears rumors of a revival and hopes to see it rise again one day. He even believes a great Blitz game can be made without the late hits, a feature which the NFL likely will never greenlight again.

Although Turmell believes that NFL Blitz had a harder time developing the same personal connection that people have with his more renowned NBA Jam series, he knows it holds a special place in the hearts and minds of gamers who flocked to arcades or brought it home for their N64s in the late ’90s.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“I think Blitz … for the people playing in that two- or three- or four-year window, would remember it fondly, had great, competitive sessions with their brother or their buddies. I get a lot of people saying, ‘When I was in college, that’s all we did. We spent so much money on that and got into so many fights.’ You get those kinds of stories. It’s just a smaller crowd.” Still, Turmell adds, “It sure was a hell of a lot of fun to play.”

The post How NFL Blitz Became the Best Arcade Football Game Ever Made appeared first on Den of Geek.

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finding--cat · 7 years ago

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Part I: The List 1.3

In a feat of extraordinary willpower and sheer determination, Ari holds off from texting Weed Guy for twelve hours.

After waking with the sun and running – no, jogging – no, half-jogging/half-walking three miles along the edge of the woods, Ari showers away the sweat and grime and descends the stairs to the sounds of sizzling bacon and cracking eggshells. Rosen stands over the stove wearing an oversized long-sleeved Steeler’s tee that must be Jackson’s, paired with thick socks and hair thrown atop her head in a messy bun. She cradles a bowl of eggs in her arm, whisk in the other hand.

“Morning,” she says cheerfully when Ari appears. “How did last night go?”

“Good morning,” Ari replies calmly, avoiding Rosen’s eyes and going straight for the loaf of bread. “You’re making all this for Jackson, right?”

“For all of us. How was last night?”

“I don’t eat meat, though, so…” Ari points to a jar of peanut butter and takes the bread to the toaster. “And I definitely won’t eat my fair share of the ten eggs you’ve cracked.”

Rosen shrugs. “Jacks likes big breakfasts on weekends. That’s how they do ‘em at home, he says.” Then she shakes her head quickly, annoyed. “Stop changing the subject. Tell me about last night.”

Busying herself by slicing the bread, Ari feigns nonchalance. “Not much to tell. Met Luke at the bar, had a couple drinks, came home.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Rosen’s like a pot of boiling water ready to overflow. “And what happened?! What did you talk about? Did you hit it off? Was he nice? Do you think he’s cute? Did you kiss? Are you seeing him again? God, Ari!”

She’s so riled that Ari has to laugh. “Why are you so angry?”

“I’m not angry, I’m frustrated. Come on – you know I want more details than what you gave me. We used to tell each other everything.”

Suddenly the boiling pot of water is more like a lonely, bleating goat at the petting zoo. Ari softens.

“That was high school, though,” she gently reminds her sister.

“So? We’re still the same people.”

Ari shakes her head, popping her bread in the toaster. “No, we’re not.”

“Well, I am,” Rosen insists.

Ari’s silence is enough of a response for Rosen.

“We can talk about this stuff,” Rosen continues, beginning to whisk again. “Get all our relationship problems out in the open between us. We’re sisters – I can help you. Give you advice, that sort of thing. I’ll be married soon, you know.”

Ari takes her lip between her teeth and holds on for just a moment before releasing the tension in her shoulders. She looks over with a smile. “And that works for you, Rosen. But you know that not everyone has to get married at twenty-three to be happy, right?”

Though Rosen moves not an inch, she somehow shrinks in her place. “I know that,” she says quietly. “It’s not about that, Ari, and you know it. I just want you to know that I’m here to talk to. You’ve boxed yourself up and decided you were alone, but that’s never been the case before and it’s not the case now. I’m here.”

Ari’s head falls limply on her neck as she turns the lid of the peanut butter jar. “Sorry. Okay – you’re right. I’m just not ready to talk about it yet. We just met.”

“Okay.” Rosen lets their last words linger in the air for a moment. When she speaks again, she’s just as chipper as before. After tapping off the whisk on the side of the bowl and pointing it at Ari, she says, “We’re having a barbecue next Friday, though. And Luke’s coming. So… just saying.”

Ari’s head snaps up. “What?”

“What?” Rosen repeats with doe-like innocence.

“Rosen, I just met him.”

“And now’s your opportunity to meet him again.”

Ari teeters between blurting out the truth of her date with Luke or walking out of the room altogether. Ultimately, she finds herself standing on the spot, jaw agape and mind whirling. “Doesn’t this put a lot of pressure on us?”

Unperturbed, Rosen shakes her head and spins back around to face the stove. “This is the opposite of pressure. A second date would be pressure. This is the definition of chill.”

“Having my sister arrange yet another date for us is the definition of chill?”

Ari knows her sister well enough by the back of her head to know Rosen’s rolling her eyes. That’s the benefit and the curse of having a person in your life for twenty-three years, even though that person clearly knows not one thing about Ari in return.

“He’s not the only one invited to the barbecue, Ari,” Rosen patronizes her. “Picture this: you’ve got on a nice summer dress and some cute wedges. The sun is setting over the hills. You’ve got a Corona with lime in one hand and a burger in the other – a tofu patty or whatever. He looks over and sees you chatting, laughing with everyone. He thinks, ‘Damn, this is a girl I gotta get to know.’”

Pleased with her storytelling abilities, Rosen whirls around and begins to act it out. She takes two dramatic, deliberate steps toward Ari.

“He approaches you with some lame joke to get you smiling. You start a conversation about anything – the weather, his favourite sports team, what it’s like living in The Big Apple. You’re smiling, laughing, everything is easy and relaxed. You touch his arm – ooh, what’s that?”

She drags a hand along Ari’s upper arm and cups her elbow in a squeeze.

“He’s thinking, ‘What does this mean? Does she like me?’ It’s up to him to make the next move. He asks if you want to take a seat. He shifts his chair closer to you, puts an arm along the back of your seat as you talk. The sun’s fully set now, you’re not so on display in front of the rest of us, and you’re feeling more confident in the dark. Things are getting sexier. He keeps getting closer. You feel his breath on your cheek. You feel his hand on your knee. You know he wants to kiss you, so you lean in, just a bit, just to give him the last bit of courage he needs—”

“Seriously?”

Rosen stands centimetres from Ari’s face, her eyes closed and lips puckered. Ari places the tip of her index finger on Rosen’s forehead and gives a light push.

Grinning as she reels backward, Rosen opens her eyes. “Before you know it, you’re connecting again. The magic is still there and it’s taking a hold of you. There are people all around you, so there’s no anxiety about the conversation dying between you, but it never does. It’s like you’re the only two in the room.”

Ari’s nod is slow and deliberate as she digests the drama unfolded before her. She smacks her lips. “When will your book of poetry be available in Barnes and Noble?”

Rosen shrugs, sending her a wink. “It could happen.”

“It could… it just seems a little too soon.”

Rosen’s shoulders slump faster than her expression. “Too soon? How do you expect to move a relationship forward if you don’t see each other? I mean… you’ve been in relationships before, Ari, you should remember.”

“No, I know. I just don’t know if I… you know?”

Rosen scoffs. “You don’t like him?”

Ari hesitates long enough that once again, Rosen arrives at her own conclusion.

“I thought you would. He’s kind of like Nate. Remember Nate Pacheco?”

“Yes, Rosen,” Ari answers dryly. “I remember my ex-boyfriend, Nate Pacheco.”

“Luke’s like that.”

“You know there’s a reason Nate and I aren’t together anymore, right?”

“Because you got way too introspective and intense thinking about your long-term compatibility and then fell off the grid until he finally gave up and ended it over text?”

“No,” Ari snaps, wincing at Rosen’s lack of sympathy. “I mean, yes, but there was more to it than that. He wasn’t my type. And vice versa.”

Rosen thinks about this or a few moments while checking the eggs. “What if I set you up with Warner instead?” she suggests. “He and Jacks have been friends since kindergarten. He’s quieter and not as cute, but you might like him. He’s nice.”

“Nah.” Ari slathers peanut butter on her toast, thinking of Niall’s clear blue eyes and his warm laugh and how she felt Okay being with him. “You know what? I’ll see Luke at the barbecue.”

Rosen eyes her cynically.

After a bite of toast, Ari nods enthusiastically. “I’ll give it another shot. Who knows?”

“But you just said—”

“It might turn out great.”

Before Rosen can argue further – and it’s apparent by the crease in her forehead that she’s ready to – Jackson enters the kitchen in boxers and a t-shirt, running a hand over the stubble on his chin.

“Smells good in here. What’s for breakfast?” He joins Rosen at the stove and peeks over her shoulder at the sizzling bacon.

“No, no, no!” she giggles and swats his hand away. “You can’t eat it yet, it’s not fully cooked—Jacks!”

Ari thinks she’s in the clear until her name is called when she’s halfway through the kitchen door, toast in hand.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to Charleston today, right? Just you and me?” Rosen has her palm flat on Jackson’s chest, pushing him away from the food and toward the table. “We can talk more about the… about the thing.”

What once began as a bonding trip with her sister and a venture into modern civilization now sounds like a nightmare. “Um… about that.” Ari pauses awkwardly, eyes darting left and right. “Any way we can reschedule? I told Kalene I’d be around this afternoon to help with the greenhouse.”

Rosen pouts automatically. “What? But we planned this on Tuesday!”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t want to disappoint her, though, so I should probably go in.”

“I’ll hang out with you, babe,” Jackson says, pulling her onto his lap as soon as she forces him into a chair.

While Rosen whines to him, Ari takes the opportunity to escape. Not her smartest idea, to lie to her sister about working when Rosen could easily stop by Kalene’s to check if she’s in. Especially not considering the fact that Ari now has to find something to do in a town that offers absolutely nothing to do and where she knows no one.

If only Kalene really did need extra help in the shop today. Ari could drop by, but what if she’s only a bother? She doesn’t know Kalene well enough to do that. Even if she did, Ari’s not sure she could be so bold.

In fact, there’s no one in Tillson City Ari knows well enough. She’s alone. Entirely dependent on Rosen to introduce her to others, to design her social schedule, to be her one and only friend.

Flopping on her bed, Ari dusts herself of toast crumbs and sighs heavily. Why did she ever come to Tillson City? What’s in this town for her? Why did she think she could do this?

Being alone and loneliness are not one in the same. One implies a lack of people, a physical solitude. The other is emotional, an emptiness in the core. It can only be pushed deeper and ignored for so long until, like a virus, it infects everything: the body, the heart, the mind.

Ari doesn’t kid herself into thinking she’s got much heart left, but her mind is still there. That’s something she must believe she can control.

And maybe it was a mistake to come here. Maybe, for the sake of her mind, she should go home.

She rolls over on the bed to grab her phone from the nightstand. She’ll call Mom, apologize and say it’s just not working out. Rosen’s better off without her here, and God knows she’s better off without Rosen’s meddling.

Ari lies sideways on her bed, legs dangling over the edge, as she waits through one ring… two rings… three rings. The home line and Mom’s cell go straight to voicemail. She scrolls through her phone looking for Work – Dad, hoping to catch him on his cell in case he’s out in the world somewhere. She pauses, however, at a new entry in her contacts: Weed Guy.

Oh, yeah. She forgot about that.

With her lower lip between her teeth, Ari lingers on the contact. It’s an interesting idea. She feels a bit old to be tempted by the prospect of altering the state of her mind, and instead she’s tempted by the prospect of a new experience. One that might do something for her, or one that might not. If she’s leaving anyway, what’s the harm in giving the number a try?

Without leaving herself time to second guess, Ari’s fingers fly over the screen to compose an introductory text.

Two hours later, Ari parks Jackson’s bike in a ditch in another part of town. Forest Hill, it’s called – Ari’s not familiar with the neighbourhood, but she recalls that Kalene lives here, and that’s a good sign. Can you meet at 1? Weed Guy asked her. A good answer would have been: I need time to think about this.

Yet here she stands, armed with sinking doubt, self-loathing, twenty dollars in cash and her driver’s license, about to wander into the house of a man she’s never met, with no one – not Rosen, not her parents back home – knowing she’s here.

At least it’s broad daylight.

The house before her is small, with a peeling shingled roof and worn shutters. The garden is overgrown with weeds and dead buds, but the lawn is freshly mowed. The wooden gate at the side of the house is low and unsturdy, the metal of the lock scraped raw and so disfigured from use that it doesn’t click properly into the latch.

Ari’s spine is relaxed and her knees don’t jitter. Where there should be nerves or anxiety, there is instead a steely knot of resolve in her stomach. She’s here. There’s no telling what she’s so hastily gotten herself into, but she’ll be damned if she doesn’t go through with it.

Go through the gate at the side of the house, he texted her earlier. With no knowledge of what she’ll find on the other side, Ari pulls the latch and slowly pushes on the wood until it gives, feeling resistance as the gate scuffs the grass. She takes tentative steps into the modest backyard, peering around the corner of the house with hesitant fascination.

Her feet crunch along crisp, burnt grass as she walks further into the yard. She comes to a halt a few feet beyond the house, frowning in confusion and palming her phone slid into the back pocket of her shorts. She brings it out to reread the short texts exchanged with Weed Guy – did she go to the wrong house? Wrong street? Wrong time?

No, no, and no. It’s all correct.

But it’s eerily quiet back here.

Ari takes one last panoramic scan of her environment. A small, empty patio, with weeds growing through cracks in the stone. A shady maple tree with helicopter seeds scattered across the grass. And a decaying shed, no roomier than her parents’ old Camry where Rosen used to take her high school boyfriends to make out.

No one is here. It was a scam. A set-up.

With a gulp and release of breath, Ari turns on her heel and takes her leave. So much for recklessness and bravado.

“Ari?”

She spins around. Stepping through a sliding screen door with a glass of ice water in hand is Niall, the tips of his hair curling in the heat underneath his black ball cap, worn backwards.

“Wh—how—you?” she splutters.

He shrugs, closing the screen door behind him. “Me.”

She takes a step back as Niall approaches. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

He freezes, then makes a move to turn on his heels. “Sorry. Should I go?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. Just… did you know I was coming?”

“Of course.” He nods and holds the glass out to her. “Can I get you a drink?”

Ari finds that an odd question. Odd to be asked when she’s only here to pick up ‘an order’, odd for Niall to ask it when he’s not the one she’s here to see. He’s comfortable here – it’s clear from the way he walked out of the house, from the way he doesn’t look over his shoulder anticipating others.

Ari is not so comfortable. She shakes her head.

“You sure? All right. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Niall has a strange, calming presence to him. Though she’s embarrassed to be caught here less than a day after they said their goodbyes at her door, it’s also a relief to have him here. No matter who she’s about to meet, she doesn’t have to meet them alone. After all, Niall’s gotten her out of a sticky situation once before. Against her better judgment, he already possesses a certain level of her trust.

So, with a steady heart, Ari follows him to the shed. Crammed inside that little flimsy shack is a lawnmower, a weedwhacker, a couple of shovels, rusted garden tools, an ottoman. Even with all items considered, there’s more dust in that shed than there is anything else. It floats through the air and grows in every corner, every nook and cranny. There must be years of accumulation.

And in the center of the chaos is a faded teal blue wingback chair occupied by a silver-haired, wrinkled gentleman in slacks and suspenders. He has a wide set nose decorated with more than one sun spot, and he scrunches it with a sniff to clear his nostrils before speaking. His round belly and reddened cheeks make him look alive and healthy; the way he hunches over in his chair and his ribs rack with a cough does not.

“Who do we have here?” he asks.

Ari, significantly baffled by this turn of events, starts to speak but quickly learns she’s unable to find the words. Thankfully, Niall takes over.

“Gramps, this is Ari,” he says. She doesn’t miss the light touch of his palm on her lower back, urging her forward. “I told you about her – she’s new to town, here to live with her sister. I thought you two might hit it off.” With a smile, he looks to Ari. “This is my Gramps.”

“Your—” Ari stops herself. Her heart jutters to a halt and kickstarts again. She met Niall just over twelve hours ago and already she’s meeting his grandfather? She was told life moved slower in the country, but this is the fastest she’s ever moved with any man.

And that – not the prospect of what she’s about to do or how irresponsibly she’s gone about it – is the one thing that makes her nervous.

“Mickey Horan,” adds the man. Though he can’t get out of his seat, he leans over and extends a hand.

Concealing her disbelief, Ari takes his hand. His skin is cool, but the frail handshake is welcoming. So welcoming, in fact, that Ari takes a seat along the bench near him.

“Very nice to meet you,” she says.

“Same to you. Heard a bit about you; Niall here says you live in Pine Corner.”

“I do, yes. For the time being.”

Mickey pats her knuckles with his other hand and then releases their grip. He coughs and sits back in his seat, wiping his brow from the heat. “Grew up in Pine Corner, myself. Used to live o’er on Windcrest Drive. Only had to walk a mile down the road to get to the lumber yard where I worked.”

“Sounds like you’ve lived in Tillson City for a while.”

“All m’life,” Mickey confirms with a sure nod. “And my Pop and my Grandpoppy before him. In fact, when he lived here, it weren’t a city at all – just plumb farmland, far’s the eye could see.”

Tillson City still looks a lot like farmland. Ari can’t imagine it being much smaller.

“I remember when my mother’d send me to town to pick up the post and a loaf of McKinney’s fresh baked bread for dinner.”

Niall groans. “Here we go.”

While Ari giggles, Mickey continues, “’Course, back then there were none of these cellular devices, so she’d send me off with a quarter in my hand and some peanuts in my pocket in case I was out too long. Four miles there, five miles back—”

“Come on,” Niall grumbles under his breath. “Doesn’t even make sense.”

“—and I’d always make it in under two hours. Mother’s eyes would bug out of her head. She thought I was an athlete the likes of Jesse Owens.”

Ari frowns in amusement. “How did you manage that?”

“Well, what Mother didn’t know was that Joe McKinney gave me the bread on discount for ten cents,” Mickey says with a chuckle. “That left me with a nickel for the ice cream parlour and a dime to bribe Lennie the auto mechanic to give me a lift home in his brand new Studebaker. I had it all worked out to where he’d quiet the engine and drop me off one farm down the road and I’d race home from there, sure to be out of breath and covered in sweat when I arrived. Mother never found out.”

When Mickey winks at her, Ari bursts into a laugh. “You sly dog! Your mother had a handful in you.”

“She sure did. Oh, she was o’er the moon the day I married Linda. Glad to be rid of me for good.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Ari’s eyes glint with mirth. “For all your hijinks, I’m sure you were the light of her life.”

“You’d have to argue with my brother o’er that one,” Mickey says with a laugh. “’Course, he’s been gone a few years now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No matter. We all go, don’t we?” With that, he leans forward to lock eyes with Niall. “How’s my medicine coming along?”

For the first time, Ari notices that Niall’s laid out a spread on the rickety table in front of them. A pair of scissors, cardstock, rolling papers, a lighter, and a small bag of marijuana. She gulps.

“Working on it,” Niall replies. He picks up the scissors, opens the bag of weed and begins to cut it into smaller portions. Ari watches with avid fascination. “Mickey didn’t always light up – did you, Gramps?”

“Oh, no,” Mickey agrees, hand on his rounded belly. “What d’you take me for? Your Gram would’ve had my head on a stick.”

“But a couple months ago, the cancer came back,” Niall continues, only glancing up briefly to meet Ari’s eyes before returning to his work. He begins to fold the cardstock with a keen attention to detail, ensuring every ridge is crisp and clean. “Doctors prescribed all sorts of things, but nothing really took the pain away. It took some convincing, but I finally got him to give indica a try. We waited until Gram was out of the house and then we went out into the shed. I rolled his first joint for him.”

“I’d do it myself,” Mickey says gruffly, “but the arthritis is too bad for intricate work like that.”

“It’s an art. That’s what I keep telling you,” Niall shoots back in a singsong voice.

“In my day, it weren’t art – it were for hoodlums and beatniks,” Mickey snaps.

Instead of a clever retort, Niall laughs in good nature. “Welcome to the thug life. Can I ask, do you see yourself as more of a hoodlum? Or does beatnikism call to you?”

Mickey ignores his grandson and gives Ari a pleading glance through eyes blue and clear as Niall’s. “If I tortured my mother half as much as this son of a gun tortures me, I’m going straight to hell.”

Ari laughs, the kind of laugh that shakes in her abdomen and catches in her throat. It’s the kind she can’t stop on cue – that’s how she knows it’s real.

Mickey chuckles. “You’re a nice girl. What’re you hangin’ ‘round him for?”

“I tricked her into it,” Niall replies before Ari can edge a word in. He’s steadily working away, hunched over the table as he meticulously lines two papers with a row of snipped marijuana. Ari watches as he rolls the paper together with the weed, twisting one end with meticulous precision. His eyes remain focused on the task, long lashes blinking every few seconds.

“She’s almost as pretty as Zayn,” Mickey remarks.

His comment is enough to distract Niall from his task. “Oh, God,” he groans, giving Mickey a look. Then he nudges Ari, adding, “Don’t mind him, he’s senile.”

“Who’s Zayn?” asks Ari, though she remembers the name perfectly well – he’s Niall’s friend from high school, the one he spoke of the night before in his car.

“My roommate,” Niall answers. “Gramps has a crush on him.”

“He’s a looker, that one,” says Mickey in his own defense.

“Thanks, Gramps.” Niall rolls his eyes at Ari, who laughs again.

“So you live with him in The Glades? Is that right?”

“Yeah. We live in The Glades now. Well, he always lived there. But I grew up here, I guess.”

“You guess? Damn, boy, putting food on your plate and tucking you into bed every night counts as an ‘I guess’?” Though Mickey’s voice is naturally light, there’s bite behind his words.

“Jesus,” Niall laughs. “It’s a turn of phrase.”

“Well, turn it ‘round.” Mickey looks pointedly at Ari. “He did grow up here. Lived here all his life with his Gram and me.”

Ari nods, sparing Niall a quick glance – he confirms Mickey’s statement with a wary nod, eyes fixed to the table.

“All right, Mickey. Think you can handle a big boy today?” Niall holds the first joint, half an inch thick and about as long as his index finger, and flicks the lighter several times before it catches.

“Oh, I think so.” Mickey lets his grandson do the work but promptly reaches over to take the joint from Niall between his thumb and index finger. Ari watches, rapt, as the elderly man takes his first hit. He inhales slowly, shoulders slouching as an instant calm befalls his muscles and joints like shadows from the clouds creeping over West Virginia hillside.

“Wanna give it a try?”

Niall calls her back to earth, holding the second joint to her. It’s burning, waiting for her to take a hit. It looks simple enough. And she’s around company that, oddly, she trusts. It’s just… when she woke up this morning, this wasn’t how she saw the day unfolding. It’s not going according to her list.

But maybe it’s time to see how she does without rules. It’s been so long, after all.

Tentatively, she takes the joint from Niall by the filter and holds it between her thumb and index finger. Lips parted, she watches the smoke curve in a single stream from the tip, expanding as it hits the air.

“Put it between your lips – not too much – and just inhale.”

She takes one last glance at Mickey, eyes closed as the THC works its way through his system and relaxes him from the inside out. He looks… zen. At peace.

And by god, if she isn’t searching for just that.

It’s not nerves. It’s not excitement. It’s curiosity and the tiniest bit of hope that she feels as she places the filter between her lips. Niall’s eyes are on her as she follows his instructions and inhales, letting the smoke travel through her throat and fill her lungs. This may be it for her – it’s not everyone’s answer, but maybe it’s hers.

When she exhales is when the fitful coughing begins. The tickle and obstruction is so deep in her chest that she has to double over to cough it out, a fist over her mouth and eyes squeezed shut.

Opening her eyes, her watery vision shows Niall sitting next to her, grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

“You—” she splutters, overtaken by another round of coughing, “—you asshole.”

Mickey joins Niall in laughter. Offended, she whips her head in Mickey’s direction to find him with a tired, contented smile.

“Everyone hacks up a lung their first time. Don’t sweat it,” says Niall. “You took a lot in; it’s bound to happen.”

“No need to rush,” adds Mickey.

“Here,” Niall says. He takes the joint, inhales, and exhales evenly. Near the end, he coughs just once. Then he licks his lips and hands it back to Ari. “Give it a second. Like the old guy said, no rush. You wanna feel a slow burn, not an instant high. At least, that’s what I think you want – correct me if I’m wrong.”

“I don’t really know what I want,” Ari replies, and that’s the sad fucking truth. “I’m not a veteran.”

“Neither is Mickey over there, so don’t listen to him,” Niall laughs.

Ari smiles to herself. She takes another deep breath before giving it a second try: joint resting between her lips, breathing in deep, breathing out slow and steady. This time, she’s prepared to cough. It doesn’t burn or cause pain. She coughs all the bad things out and is left with a warm, soothing feeling sinking into her muscles.

She passes the joint to Niall, who takes another hit with expertise. He breathes out the smoke in a smooth stream, a smokescreen covering his face as he leans back on the bench against the wall while the drug takes effect.

“So are you like the village marijuana teacher or something?” Ari asks.

Niall blinks calmly. “Not exactly. You’re only my second student. I’m thinking of starting a business. An after-school program, of course – don’t wanna take the kids out of school.”

“Obviously.”

“It’s not like I go around offering joints to everyone and their brother. Only when I think it’ll help in some way. And for Gramps, it does.”

Ari sneaks a glance at Mickey, who’s smoked half his blunt and sits with eyes closed, completely relaxed.

“Sometimes he’d be in so much pain he couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. It was hard for him, and harder for us to watch. My Gram didn’t know what to do anymore, doctors didn’t know what to do. But I’d heard of cancer patients lighting up to ease their pain, and I figured it couldn’t hurt him. Not at this stage.”

Niall crosses one ankle over his knee and leans his head against the small shed window, letting his hat rest on his lap. The glass panes are cloudy and opaque, but the sun streams in, turning his hair golden in the light. A halo glows around him as Ari stares, transfixed.

“It was pretty surreal to roll a joint for my grandpa. Not gonna lie,” Niall chuckles loosely. “But I’d do it again if I had to. Hell, I have done it again a dozen times since. As long as he needs it, I’ll do it for him. Sit with him while he smokes. Let the day pass us by. Hang out, you know? It’s not the time I thought we’d spend together, but at least it’s time.”

“It’s time,” Ari softly agrees. Time is time, no matter what’s done with it. Immovable, unshakeable. The steady beat of the drum, the gentle patter of the rain.

Niall hands her the joint and she takes another hit. She’s sure she can feel it – a cloudy, dreamy sensation like the glow around Niall’s face. She’s neither drowning nor flying, just sitting still as the world rolls onward. The burn elicits another cough, but it’s weak and painless. She drags her tongue over her lower lip and flicks the end of the joint with her thumb, letting the ashes fall to the floor as if she’s done it a thousand times before.

“Is it medicinal? This?” Ari asks.

Niall shakes his head and watches her through hooded lids. “The doc gave him a prescription earlier this year, said he should get it filled. But it’s expensive, you know, and Gramps wouldn’t let me pay. They had to cut out their insurance about seven years ago – around the time they paid for me to go to college in the city. So I feel like it’s the least I can do, you know? If they won’t let me take care of their insurance, if they won’t let me fill their prescriptions legally, then I’ll figure out some other way. Gram would hate it if she knew. That’s why we smoke out here. Gramps wasn’t sold on it at first, but when the pain got to be too much, he caved. And look at him now.”

Sure enough, Mickey is the picture of pure bliss on his ratty wingback chair. His head is tipped back, mouth hanging open. For all Ari can tell, he’s fast asleep.

She stares at the paper between her fingers, rolling it and feeling the crunch underneath the tissue. This little plant is medicine. It can’t heal, but it lulls. It softens the sting in Mickey’s body. It hushes the voices in her own mind.

After another hit and another weak cough, Ari gives Niall the joint. “I feel it now,” she says.

He nods. There’s still a bit left of the joint, but Niall drops it to the rotting wooden floor and quashes it under the sole of his shoe before picking it up and depositing it in the ashtray.

“You good, Gramps?” he asks.

Too blissed out to respond, Mickey holds up his thumb.

Niall chuckles. “All right. I should get him inside. If Gram catches us out here with him, she’ll box my ears.”

Ari laughs. “What does that mean?”

“Not sure.” Niall stands, organizing the items on the table in neat piles and making a move for Mickey. “But I’ve been threatened enough throughout the years that I know it’s no damn joke.”

Once the shed is back in its proper state of chaos, Niall helps Mickey to his feet and slings an arm around his back. Ari waits for them outside of the shed and then offers her arm to Mickey, who accepts the support. Together, they walk him back to the house, with Niall sliding the screen door to allow them entry.

“I’m gonna help him into bed,” Niall tells Ari. “Gimme three minutes.”

“Sure.”

She watches them go: Mickey’s slow, laboured footsteps and Niall’s patient guidance. Mickey doesn’t deserve this – doesn’t deserve illness at such a young age. He can’t be more than sixty-five, though Ari wagers he’s even younger. It must be horrible for Niall to watch him deteriorate and not be able to alleviate his suffering. She likes to believe that, like Niall, she’d do anything to help a friend or family member in pain – though she doesn’t know if that’s true of her. She’s suffered internally for so long that she’s forgotten to look outward to others. If they bore pain, how would she even know?

Niall sees beyond himself. Ari envies him of that.

There’s an ache winding like rope around her heart, bearing down with sadness – nonetheless, a faint smile crosses her lips as she watches the men disappear into the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

“What will you tell your Gram?” Mickey asks gruffly.

“I’ll tell her I had to wrestle you to take your medicine. After three rounds, you were begging me for mercy.”

“Smartass.”

“You gotta sit up, Gramps, if you want help taking your sweater off.”

“I’ll sleep with it on.”

“It’s nine hundred degrees in here; you’ll roast.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Lemme take it off and I’ll get you a blanket.”

“No.”

“I’ll bring you some water, too.”

“Stop babying me.”

“I will when you start acting sensibly.”

“Get off me, you bugger!”

Ari stifles a giggle as she surveys the kitchen. It’s small and outdated, all brown wooden cupboards and yellow-stained fridge, dishwasher, and stove. The linoleum floor is covered in mahogany diamond tiles and squishes beneath her feet. The table, tucked into the corner of the small room with a wrap-around booth, has only three places set.

But Ari likes it. It’s well used and homey. The tea towels are folded neatly on the bar across the oven, the wooden spoons faded from too many home-baked goods, and photos and notes are adhered all over the fridge with magnets. What it lacks in space, it makes up for in comfort. Is that a cookie jar in the corner of the counter?

“You be nice to that girl out there,” Mickey says, warning in his tone.

“How did this turn into you telling me what to do? I got you an extra pillow; now lift.”

After a few grunts and groans, Mickey adds, “You get her somethin’ to drink and make her a sandwich.”

Niall sighs heavily. “I will. Go to sleep already.”

When Mickey begins to complain of an ache in his side, Ari lowers her head and her smile fades. She was invited inside the house, but that doesn’t mean she should eavesdrop – especially when it concerns Mickey’s health and comfort. It would mortify her to learn that someone was listening in on one of her and Rosen’s private talks about her mental health.

So she exits the kitchen in favour of the adjoining room. The living room is as much of a throwback as the kitchen: it features a wicker peacock chair, a burnt orange shag carpet, and a series of macrame spider plant hangers on a cream white wall near the front entrance. The design is bold and vibrant, but what really catches her eye is the framed photos on the wood-paneled exterior wall.

Last night, Niall browsed through the photos at Jackson and Rosen’s place. It’s only fair to return the favour.

She’s immediately drawn to the photos on the right end of the wall. A pop of striking blue eyes grabs her attention: baby Niall; nothing but cheeks, blond curls, and wide, round eyes. In one of the photos, he can’t be more than a year old, dressed in navy blue Oshkosh overalls and a red shirt near the Christmas tree. His green-socked feet stand on burnt orange carpet – the photo was taken in this very room. In another photo, Niall is six or seven years old, with light brown hair gelled into a flick at the top of his forehead and gaps between his crooked teeth. He stands next to a seated, younger version of Mickey and a woman Ari presumes is Niall’s grandmother. She has highlighted hair styled in a blowout; Mickey’s got his hair combed to the side. They’re young to be grandparents, Ari thinks. She’s never seen either set of her grandparents without grey hair or crow’s feet.

There’s another photo of Niall at age nine or ten, sitting triumphantly on the roof of the aging shed out back. Another on his bike in the driveway, helmet straps beneath his chin and Mickey holding the seat of the bike for him, teaching him to ride it. Another on the front stoop, Niall in a grey suit with the slacks just a bit too short and the blazer just a bit too broad for his frame. He must be seventeen or eighteen, braces finally removed and smile confident and straight. He grins at the camera as his grandmother adheres a boutonniere to his lapel. It must be prom – in the adjoining photo, Niall stands next to a boy his own age, black hair and brooding eyes with a suit fitting his lean figure just right. Where Niall’s brown shoes are dull against the brick, his friend’s black shoes glint in the sunlight. Niall’s arm is woven protectively around his friend’s shoulders, and though his friend doesn’t return the gesture, his eyes are on Niall and not the camera lens.

Niall really did grow up here, in this very house in Tillson City. His entire life is documented on this wall: first steps, first day of school, graduation.

Though she knows she’ll be returning to the right side of the wall to scrutinize each and every photo of Niall’s youth, Ari moves to the left to examine the frames there. This side of the wall is perhaps the true beginning: a cliché black-and-white photo of Mickey and his wife sharing a milkshake, no older than twenty. A coloured photo of their wedding day: Mickey in a white suit and tie next to his glowing bride, frilly white headband in her blown-out hair and blue eyeshadow striking against her skin. Another of the two of them standing outside this very house, the keys in her hand and a celebratory flask in Mickey’s. His wife, smiling brilliantly next to the fireplace with her hand on her bulging belly: their first pregnancy. Later, a photo of the two of them standing over a baby in a bassinet. That baby is pictured years later as a six-year-old girl, learning to ride a bike outside with her daddy just as Niall did. At ten years old, the family had a professional photo taken at Sears portrait studios: a faded blue background, all three of them in their Sunday best, hands folded on their laps and smiles cheesier than lasagna.

But that’s it. No graduation photo, no prom photo. The girl’s life is documented up to twelve years old and then comes to an abrupt halt.

“My mother.”

Ari abruptly looks over her shoulder. Niall has come up behind her, hands behind his back.

“The girl?” Ari asks, pointing to a photo of her clinging to Mickey’s back on a camping trip in the woods.

Niall nods.

“What happened to her?”

He shrugs, wetting his lips. “Nothing. I mean, she’s not dead. Last I heard, she was in Tampa Bay. She used to date the wide receiver of the Buccaneers, but I think she stayed there even after they split up.”

Ari blinks once, and then again, to understand. She’s having trouble digesting his words. She feels heavier, tied to the ground, and her mouth goes slack.

“She got pregnant in high school by accident. Her boyfriend wanted her to go out of state and get it taken care of, but I guess she thought she could handle it. Not long after I was born, she didn’t want the responsibility anymore – still wanted to live her life, you know? So Gramps and Gram raised me pretty much from the beginning.”

“So…” Ari trails, struggling to find the words. “Your mom’s… your mom is… your grandparents are more like…”

“Still call ‘em Gram and Gramps, but yeah, they’re like my parents. My mom’s more like a sister. A sister I see once every couple years, if that.”

That prompts a laugh from Ari, though she’s not sure why. Mickey’s asleep in the other room, so she knows to keep it quiet – not a loud, barking laugh, but rather a series of giggles that shake her shoulders and leave her grinning uncontrollably. Niall watches with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her hand at him and then using it to cover her mouth and muffle the sound. “I don’t mean to laugh.”

He shrugs again. “By all means.”

“No, I’m done now.” She dons a straight face for all of one second before dissolving in giggles. “I’m so sorry. It’s not funny, I know that.”

“I guess it’d be a better story if it was.”

Ari laughs so hard she has to bend over and hold her stomach. When Niall puts a hand on her shoulder, she swats him away, assuring him she can fend for herself. But she can’t, not really, and she stumbles to the tawny-coloured couch to take a seat.

“Oh god, I’m such a dick. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to stop.”

Her frantic apologies get Niall laughing, and then he sits on the arm of the couch beside her and extends his arm along the back. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. First time smoking a J. It happens to the best of us.”

“Is that what this is?” Ari asks, wiping away a tear.

“I hope so. Otherwise, you really are kind of a dick.”

She snorts, dropping her head like deadweight against the back of the couch. Her shoulders shake as she laughs uncontrollably, suddenly fascinated by the swirled Artex ceiling. It’s like five dozen giant snails closing in on her.

Niall scoots from the arm of the couch to the cushion next to her. Quietly chuckling, he hunches over his knees and rubs his temples. He waits for her to quit laughing, to look at him head-on, to have a conversation with him.

At least, Ari assumes that’s what he’s waiting for. “I’m sorry. I hate myself. I’m sorry.”

Niall shakes his head, buried in his lap. “Don’t be. I was prepared for this.”

“God.”

She allows herself another few seconds to truly laugh, to feel the contraction in her abs. Niall runs a hand over his face and looks over his shoulder at her, a broad, disbelieving grin on his face.

“Do you know how—” she laughs “—how to—” she laughs again “—how to make it stop?”

“How would I know?”

“You’ve done this before. Maybe the antivenom is, like, a shot of lime juice. Or to startle me by, like, coming up from behind. You know, ‘Boo!’”

He laughs in earnest then, smacking his knee at the prospect. “You mean the cure for hiccups? You think getting scared will stop your giggles?”

Ari laughs so hard she can barely breathe. She brings her knees to her chest and rolls over on the couch, hands on her sore belly. Unable to verbally respond, she merely shakes her head.

“I mean, we can try. Ready?”

Struggling for breath, she shakes her head again.

He ignores her protests. He leans over the arm of the couch, inhaling deeply. Ari, clutching her belly and giggling, isn’t prepared when he lunges toward her and grabs her shoulders, exclaiming, “Boo!”

Her jaw drops, laughter belting from her throat. “It hurts,” she moans, curling into herself further.

Niall releases her with a coy smile. “Guess it’s just hiccups, then.”

“Fuck. Make me stop, Niall.”

“I can’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.” He stares at her with unprecedented softness then, like there’s a vast landscape or a thoughtful painting before him.

But there isn’t. If she’s a work of art, she was probably painted by a cousin of Jackson Pollock.

“I like your laugh,” he murmurs.

Ari wipes more tears from her eyes, finally allowing her legs to relax and dangle over the cushion. Shuddering with the last quakes of laughter, she says, “I didn’t intend for you to hear so much of it.”

“Why not?”

“Mm…” she trails, gulping down a welcome breath as her abdominals take a rest, “haven’t laughed this hard in a while.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. He brings an ankle to rest on his opposite knee, wrapping his hand around his bony calf to keep himself steady. “Everyone needs a good laugh once in a while. Gramps says so, anyway. Says it’s good for the soul.”

Ari feels composed enough to sit a bit straighter. After a few even breaths, she replies, “He seems to know what he’s talking about.”

Niall scoffs. “He thinks he does. But that’s all that matters, isn’t it? If you believe in what you say, you can convince everyone else to believe you, too.”

The ceiling snails are still swirling. After what feels like five seconds but may very well be five minutes, Ari answers, “I wouldn’t know.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve never been very convincing.”

“I’d tend to disagree.”

“How would you know?”

Niall angles his body toward her on the couch. “You convinced me I had to talk to you last night, just standin’ there lookin’ like you had something to say. You convinced me you weren’t having a great time on your date. You convinced me you were definitely worth sticking around and talking to. And you convinced me that I should be there the first time you smoked a J, just in case it changed everything.”

Ari smiles through heavy-lidded eyes. The ripples of laughter are gone from her body, replaced by a crushing wave of exhaustion. Warmth slides down to her toes and a lead weight keeps her in her seat, sunk between the cushions of the couch.

“Did I?”

“You did,” Niall affirms. He leans back, his head rolling to his shoulder to look her in the eyes. “What’s the verdict?”

“About what?”

He shrugs. “How do you feel?”

“I think I feel…” Ari trails off as she considers her thoughts. “It feels light, like my arms and legs are feathers, but I also don’t think I could move from this spot. I’m just weighed down here. Like gravity’s pulling me closer to the earth.”

“Huh. Is that a good thing?”

“Yes,” Ari answers with a lazy nod. She holds Niall’s gaze. “I haven’t felt the earth like this.”

He smiles warmly. “Good. I’m glad.”

“I think I feel… Okay.”

He chuckles, massaging the heel of his hand into his calf. “That’s not exactly a glowing review.”

“It is to me.” Ari takes a considerable amount of time tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Unceremoniously, her hand drops beside her on the couch. “For a long time, all I ever felt was Not Okay. When you’re always Not Okay, you forget what Okay is. Not Okay becomes the new Okay. You don’t think you’ll ever feel the old Okay again.”

No longer laughing, Niall chews on his lower lip. “Is this the old Okay or the new Okay?”

“The old Okay, I think. Everything is sort of filmy right now.”

“Cloudy, you mean?”

“No, like… is there a green screen behind you?”

Niall stares at her for a moment before breaking into another smile. “You’re funny.”

Ari has no response. She sighs, oxygen filling her lungs inch by square inch. “To feel Okay…”

“Yeah?”

She hums in consideration, staring up ahead. “It’s the best feeling in the world.”

When did Niall get so close to her on the couch? He’s there next to her now, their knees pressed together and her elbow resting on his forearm. Though her stare is fixated on the ceiling snails, Ari is acutely aware of his pinky finger splayed just above her knee. It probably got caught there as he went to press his palm against his thigh, but he makes no effort to move it. And it feels Okay, too. So Okay that maybe, unaware of her body’s intentions, she leans into his warmth.

“The snails are cuddling me,” she murmurs, cheek resting against his shoulder.

“What’s that?”

“The snails up there.” She uses her index finger to point straight upward. Niall follows her gaze with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I guess it does look like snails, huh?” He chuckles. “One night, I was about fifteen, I came home baked out of my mind. I didn’t think I could make it to bed and I was scared of waking up Gram and Gramps with a noise, so I just crawled through the front door and dropped to my back on the carpet here. I lay down on the floor and stared up for probably an hour. Thought for sure I was falling into a vortex. Had myself convinced the CIA was involved in my alien abduction.”

“That’s deep.”

“I guess.” His knuckles rub along the outline of muscle in her outer thigh. “I can get pretty intense like that when I smoke too much. I try not to – I scare myself, sometimes.”

Marijuana has a different effect on her. Ari scares herself sober, she scares herself on meds, but this is different. This is like the first crisp breath of autumn air after a stifling hot summer. There’s no fear or paranoia; rather, the rushing waters in her mind turn still, the uneven beat of her heart finds cadence.

“I scare me, too, sometimes,” Ari admits quietly. “Not right now, though. I feel safe with me right now.”

“Me too.”

She glances at Niall to find him already looking at her, unsmiling but warm blue gaze.

“Really?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not… a lot? Not too much?”

He purses his lips with a crease in his brow. “Not for me. You’re just enough.”

She doesn’t quite know what to make of that. Niall doesn’t know her, not really, but he knows the recklessness of her darkest moment. To still want to pursue something with her – an acquaintanceship, a friendship, more – is almost heroic of him.

And she should stop him. Because it’s not fair, what she could put him through. The burden she’s been to her family, to the friends who stuck around for long enough to see it, to Louis – she can’t do that to someone else. Especially not to someone who’s already got a person to care for. Niall’s got Mickey. He can’t have Ari, too. It’s not fair.

She moves her hand near his on her thigh. Her outstretched pinky finger links with his. Niall doesn’t move a muscle. When she meets his eyes, he’s once again studying her face. Reading her expression.

Dimple pressed into her cheek, Ari smiles with one half of her mouth. She bites her lip to suppress a giggle. “I had fun with you last night.”

Still serious, Niall nods. “I had fun, too.”

“And today.”

“Mm hmm. ‘M glad you came. Glad you texted me.” He breaks eye contact to study their hands. His pinky curves around Ari’s. “Somethin’ in me hoped you would.”

She breathes evenly through her nose, feeling like she’s sinking further into the couch, into him, but not bothered about climbing out. “Why didn’t you just ask for my number?”

Niall grins. “Because I gave you mine instead.”

“But I didn’t know it was yours. You tricked me.”

He winks.

“You didn’t know if we’d see each other again. I could have been too intimidated to text someone I didn’t know. Some random guy who could hook me up with weed.”

Niall shrugs. “I had a feeling.”

Ari frowns. “What feeling?”

“You said you wanted to give it a try. From the look of that list of yours, it seemed like you follow through on new things.”

Her list isn’t particularly daring or insightful. Her worst fear is for someone to use it to pass an opinion on her, but with Niall, she doesn’t mind so much. She doesn’t worry that he knows about it or that he’ll use it against her. He doesn’t write her off as crazy or disturbed. In fact, from the way he looks at her, from the way he melts against her instead of pushing back, Ari suspects he isn’t wary of her at all.

“You’re lucky you were right,” she says with a wry smile.

“Don’t I know it.”

He’s bold but not cocky, confident but not smug. There’s something magnetic about Niall beyond his crystalline eyes and warm grin. For someone so tied to this town and devoted to what family he has left, there are flickers of devil-may-care inside of him. And to Ari, a girl finally caving into adrenaline and impulse, a girl in search of something Big to tip her scales back into the zone of Okay, Niall must be a divine intervention in her life, overwhelmingly attractive and an adventure all on his own.

She breathes deep and admires his features – the dusting of stubble along his jaw, round nose, endearing indent in his chin – and grins broadly. Whatever comes of this, she’s happy to have met him once and met him again.

Just as Niall’s finger slips from hers and his palm begins to cross over to her thigh, the front door bursts open. Ari jumps in her seat, but Niall looks over calmly, his hand returning to his lap.

“Hi, Gram,” he says to the woman who pokes her head around the door. The crinkling of plastic bags causes him to jump from the couch. “Lemme help.”

“Niall,” she says, breathless. “Where’s your Gramps?”

“Down for a nap.” He takes every single grocery bag from her hand and gestures to the couch as she steps into the entrance. “This is Ari, by the way.”

“Oh!” Surprised, her head whips around and her palm covers her chest. “Well, all right. Hello, Ari.”

Already on her feet, Ari crosses the floor with her hand outstretched. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Linda, Niall’s Gram.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“Well, sure, dear. Got a few more bags in the car, if you’d care.”

“I can do it—” Niall begins to say, interrupted by Ari’s quick and easy agreement. With a cheerful shrug of her shoulders at Niall, she follows his grandmother down the front path to the car.

Linda jingles her keys as she hustles to the vehicle. “Haven’t seen you ‘round before, Ari, not to be rude.”

“Not rude at all. Actually, I’m new here.”

Linda opens the trunk and stands back while Ari grabs a couple of bags and a jug of milk. She puckers her lips as she thinks, finally asking, “Are you one of Niall’s friends from New York?”

“Uh… well, no. I am from New York, though. Long Island.”

“What brings you to Tillson City, of all the darned places?”

“My sister lives here with her fiancé. I’m here to visit, to help her prepare for the wedding.” To run away from my old life, to get better, to stop being a burden to my family…

“I see. Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? And lemme guess: Niall’s playin’ the wedding.”

As she slams the trunk shut, Ari shakes her head. “No, I, uh – wait, does he do weddings?”

“Sure. Folks ‘round here like the acoustics, you know, for walking up and down the aisle and such. Of course, he’d prefer to play the reception – more money in that; more fun, too – but these days he has trouble getting the old band back together.”

“Oh,” says Ari. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll suggest him to my sister.”

“Better ask him first,” says Linda over her shoulder with a chuckle. “He can be picky who he performs for, that boy. Then again, this town’s not done him right.”

Not done him right. Ari’s pace slows as she follows Linda inside, wondering what she means. Because Niall’s mother dropped him with her parents and skipped town? Because there’s no way to make it in music around here? It’s not fair for her to want to know more of Niall when she’s known him less than twenty-four hours and he knows so little of her in return. But he seems so cheerful, so easygoing and relaxed in his life. She’s curious to know what it is about this friendly town that’s disadvantaged him.

“Hey. I’ll take these,” Niall says, approaching them in the hallway. Linda holds out her bag, but he zips around her to relieve Ari, instead.

“I see how it is!” Linda calls as she heads to the kitchen.

Niall follows with a laugh, apologizing as he opens the refrigerator to find a spot for the milk jug.

Linda drops her bag on the countertop and turns around with a hand on her hip. “So how was he today?”

Closing the fridge, Niall sighs with an indecisive shrug. “He’s had better days. His back was giving him trouble, so good thing we got him down for a nap.”

“That’s what you think. You’re not the one who has to be up with him until all hours of the morning because he’s too wired to go back to sleep.”

“Eh, I don’t think you’ll have problems. I made sure to tucker him out.” Niall gives Ari a secret grin.

Poor Mickey. To be spoken about like a toddler or a wily dog, everyone nattering over his health and wellness. Then again, this is how her family speaks of her.

“We’ll see about that.” Linda pinches Niall’s cheek. “Thanks for comin’ over, pickle.”

He shuts his eyes briefly, smacking his lips together and grinning without teeth. He eyes Ari, who sucks her upper lip between her teeth to suppress a laugh. Pickle.

“And thanks to you, Ari,” Linda adds. “You entertained both my boys today, I’m sure.”

“They entertained me, more like.”

She snorts, unconvinced. “Well, they’re yours if you want ‘em.”

“Love you, too.” Niall throws an arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her cheek. He turns to Ari. “All right. You good?”

She nods, unsure how to proceed.

“You good, Gram?”

“All good, baby. On your way.” She smiles at Ari, eyes squinting as she squeezes Niall’s shoulder. “Know you’ve got things to do, other people to be accountable to. Not just us anymore, is it?”

“Eh.” Niall brushes it off with a swipe of his hand and throws his hat on his head. “You know I got your back. See you soon.” He pats himself down from his hips to the pockets of his shorts. He reaches into the right pocket to produce his car keys. To Ari, he says, “Let’s rock and fuckin’ roll.”

Acutely aware of her own feet, which may as well be made of brick given how heavy they’ve become, Ari follows Niall out the front door and across the lawn to where his truck is parked halfway in the ditch. As he holds open the passenger door, Ari lifts one foot onto the floor and then pauses.

“Are you driving me home?”

In reply, Niall offers nothing but a patient smile.

“I can walk. It’s not far. I got here on my own, if you recall.” She steps out of the truck.

“Far walk, isn’t it?”

“I biked.” It’s as she speaks that she remembers Jackson’s bike, lying haphazardly in the ditch. Niall follows her there. Once she stands it up, he takes it from her hands and begins wheeling it toward his vehicle, where he lifts it into the bed of the truck and closes the door. Ari doesn’t resist, climbing into the passenger side of the truck when Niall opens the door for her.

“You don’t have to do all this.”

He closes the door on her and folds his arms across the ledge of the open window. “Least I can do after the whole mysterious number drama.”

With a faint smile on her lips, Ari watches him walk around the hood of the car and wave to Mickey and Linda’s next door neighbour. They exchange a greeting before Niall jumps into the driver’s seat, gearing up the engine before putting on his seatbelt.

“I owe you for resources today.”

“Resources?” His brows pinch.

Ari glances at him but is momentarily distracted by the carseat in the back. A stuffed lavender rabbit with tremendously floppy ears sits on the seat. That’s new – the carseat was empty last night.

“Weed isn’t free, right? At least, that’s what they tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I want to pay. I came into this thinking I’d have to, anyway.”

He shrugs, turning the wheel hard to navigate out of the spot. “Everybody gets a free ride their first time.”

“But I don’t need a free ride. I have cash, I can pay my share—”

“Don’t.” Niall reaches over with one hand and grabs her wrist to prevent her from digging into her pocket. “I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. You’re from the city – I’m from podunk West Virginia. Things are different here, okay? People are different. Expectations. All of it.”

Ari slumps against her seat, exhaling a forgotten breath when he releases his hold on her wrist. “Okay. It’s just, you know. I was prepared for today to go a bit differently.”

“Better differently?”

“No.” She laughs, head tilting back to rest against the seat. “Can’t fathom how it could’ve been a better situation to walk into.”

Niall doesn’t reply. When Ari looks over after a few seconds, he’s smiling at the road ahead.

The drive to Jackson and Rosen’s place is only a few minutes. Ari spends the majority of it staring out the window, so fascinated and confused by the rolling scenery she’s unable to carry on conversation. Niall lets her be, chuckling to himself as she presses her fingertips to the windowpane as if trying to touch the far-off poplars. It’s so beautiful out there. Ari wants to paint it and be a part of it all at once.

“So, uh…” Niall’s voice breaks the silence once he turns them onto West Elm Road. “I know you thought you were texting someone else today, but now you know it was me.”

Ari tears her gaze from the scenery and replies, “Right.”

He shakes his head with a sheepish grin. “Might be the sneakiest way I’ve ever gotten someone’s number.”

She laughs. “Sneakiest way anyone’s ever asked for my number.”

“Guilty.” Niall clicks on his blinker and pulls into the drive. “Now that I’ve got it, do you, uh… do you mind if I use it sometime? Soon, probably?”

Ari’s eyes go to her knees as she fights a blush. “No, that would be cool. You should. Use it, that is.”

“Okay. Cool.” He nods his head to an inaudible beat and glances out the window. The neighbours are moving an old armchair from their house to the side of the road for pickup. Softly, Niall adds, “I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. Are you up for that?”

Chest tight, Ari replies, “Yeah.”

“Okay.” The promise floats heavily in the air until Niall spits out, “I’d invite you out for dinner right now, if I could, but I’ve got a couple of things to take care of and—”

“Oh no, that’s okay,” she assures him. “Doesn’t have to be right now.”

“I’m working later tonight. Um… tomorrow, though?”

Tomorrow. Not even waiting for next weekend. Ari’s stomach flips and then sinks as she recalls her schedule. “I’m at Kalene’s tomorrow. There all week, actually.”

“Oh.” He looks sad for a fraction of a second before brightening considerably, like a puppy going on a walk. “How about Friday?”

She laughs. “This Friday?”

“Yeah.”

There’s an event in her mental schedule on Friday, but it’s one Ari is eager to be rid of or to make more pleasant for herself. In a split second decision, she announces, “My sister is having this barbecue at our place on Friday. I think she’s got ten or twelve people coming. I won’t know anyone.” Pausing for effect, Ari finishes, “You wanna come?”

It’s a bold question, but Niall considers it with reasonable fairness. He hisses in reluctance, but one glance at Ari has him relenting. “Keep you company and whatnot?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want,” Ari says quickly, wary of pressuring him too much. Unless he doesn’t feel pressured, in which case she may have turned him off by being too cavalier. She adds, “It’ll be a better night for me if there’s someone to talk to.”

When Niall’s shoulders relax and he grins, Ari knows she’s won him over. “Okay. Yeah, I can be that someone.”

She smiles.

“I’ll text you?”

“Yeah. Thanks again for the ride.”

“Pleasure.” He waits for a beat. “See you Friday.”

Ari’s got her hand on door ready to push it open, but in a moment of impulse, she leans the other way and stretches across her forearm resting on the console. Sensing her movement, Niall turns to face her head-on, eyes zoning in on her lips as he leans in. She stops abruptly, recoiling at the motion. Without thought, she takes his jaw in her hand and turns it back to the dashboard so that she can pop a chaste but lingering kiss on his cheek.

As she pulls away, Niall’s grin stretches like an elastic band from ear to ear. He huffs with silent laughter and salutes her as she slides out of the car, a secret grin on her face that only he would know anything about.

#tls #my writing #1dff #niall horan fan fiction

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