#pretty sure blue/red is how i was taught in school when learning french and then blue/red/green when i started german

[corvid-language-library]

It's funny how I use colour coding differently for different languages. Japanese is an orange-lime-purple language and I the colours denote pitch accent. Norwegian is a red-blue-forest green language and the colour matches gender.

[purple-goo-writes]

Where on Earth is MDC?

Chapter 1 

Richard “Dick” Grayson with all his 10 year old intelligence and circus know how was pretty sure of one thing and one thing only- there was no way his guardian, Bruce Wayne, was married. He may have grown up in a circus as an acrobat and wasn’t schooled the way kids were normally, after all most kids don’t have a circus clown teaching them math or a Lion Tamer teaching science- But he was not an idiot! Plus he was Robin! He helped Bats solve some pretty tough cases. He wasn’t letting Bruce try and pull the wool over his eyes! There was no way that Bruce Wayne was married-except maybe married to his work as a vigilante.

For one, Dick has never seen or heard evidence that Bruce was married or seeing someone in the whole two years he has been living in Wayne Manor as Bruce’s ward. Sure, Bruce claimed that his lovely wife was a globe trotter like her grandmother and rarely came home to roost due to how busy her schedule was... Dick called elephant-dung on that. There is no way some socialite would be out exploring the world when they could be hanging off Bruce’s arm gossiping at all the galas and parties Bruce had to hold for his business. Though he is only guessing that this is how high society women act due to only seeing this behavior from Bruce’s investor’s wives, dates and daughters. 

He does find it odd that no one comments on Bruce never bringing a date to his own galas or other social functions. And that everyone when meeting Bruce glance at the odd silver ring Bruce always wears in place of a wedding band before giving those weird sympathy looks and subtle glances amongst themselves. Adults seemed to have their own language when it comes to greeting each other that Dick hasn’t been able to decipher yet. Though the Not-Wedding Ring doesn’t always detour the newer social climbing women from flirting with his guardian or trying to seduce him. Dick has been used many times as a human shield against said women and has come to accept/resent his fate.

Two, the young Robin has never seen so much as a tiny photo of the so called Mrs. Wayne! There are no portraits or photos in the manor that he has seen. While Alfred assures him that Bruce carries on with him every where, Dick hasn’t ever seen it not even after slipping away with Bruce’s wallet, just like Jackie taught him to do with the really rude patrons that came to the circus when he was younger. He made sure to return the wallet! He just wanted to see if maybe Bruce had a tiny photo in there like he had seen other men do, like how The Strong Man carried pictures of his husband and children around in his wallet. But, there was no picture in the wallet except for the one of him, Alfred and Bruce together in a family photo. When he saw the photo, Dick had teared up cause this meant Bruce did see him as family and not as an charity case like everyone at the Academy liked to say he was. Alfred claimed that the Misses was simply too busy to pose for a portrait to be painted and always preferred to be the one taking the photos anyway. While Alfred has never lied to him, Dick is still not convinced.

And three, Dick couldn’t find any mention of a Mrs. Marinette Wayne anywhere! Not even with the Batcomputer! All he could ever find was the latest travel logs of some woman named Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as the fashion designer MDC. Sure there were odd newspaper clippings now and then speculating when Mrs. Wayne would be returning from abroad. But those were not concrete evidence of her so-called existence! Honestly, it was starting to drive Dick up the wall with not being able to find anything about or on his guardian’s absent wife! 

The ten year old was this close to throwing a tantrum like no other in demand to get answers. How was everyone convinced that Bruce was married? If he was, then where in the world was Mrs. Wayne?! Cause, Dick would really like to meet her. If only to shut up the voice in his head that was worried that if She was real that she would have Bruce send him away. After all a Circus Freak didn’t belong in High Society. Though Dick was starting to worry if Bruce was really a widower and his way of coping with the grief was to pretend that his wife was still alive and just on an extended road trip...

Though if that was the case then why would Alfred go along with it? Maybe Dick needed to go take a look in the Wayne Family Cemetery just to make sure...

Dick was broken from his musings by Alfred coming into the Manor’s library and clearing his throat, “Master Richard, Master Bruce wishes to see you in the Family Parlor Room. There is someone here he wishes for you to meet.”

That puzzled the child sidekick, but he simply shrugged and nodded, “Alright, Alfie!” Before hopping up from his chair and leaving the book he had been reading in the seat as Dick darted out of the room excited to meet someone new. Maybe it was one of Bruce’s lawyer friends again! Like Dent, who was nice and for some reason liked to comment on how much Dick looks just like Bruce in that odd teasing tone all of Bruce’s actual friends use when they learn he took Richard in. Honestly, Dick isn’t sure what is so funny about the fact that he looks like Bruce. Genetics are weird and he still refuses to try and understand them. 

When Dick skidded into the Family Parlor Room, he was not expecting what happened next. Not at all. Because before Dick could even ask Bruce who was there, the ten year old was being swept up in a flurry of chiffon and lace as a lovely French accented voice started cooing over the tiny child in her arms. Dick would forever deny the startled squeak he let out and the fact that he blushed as red as his uniform top when he managed to get a good look at his captor. The person holding him could only be described as a heavenly beauty with long silky black-nearly blue hair and bright expressive blue eyes that exuded motherly love whilst she held him close in a gentle hug. Her smile made Dick think of the sun shining out from the clouds after weeks of rain and it radiated love, love that he could tell was aimed at him even though they had just meet. It reminded him so much of his own mother’s smile that Dick had started to tear up.

“Hello, ma petite colombe, it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” the heavenly being cooed at him, gently cradling the child closer with a gentle smile, “Bruce has told me so much about you. I’m so glad I can finally welcome you to the family.”

Marinette simply held her son, yes her son because even if he was not adopted yet Marinette already loved him like her own, close as the little boy broke down and started crying as he clung to Marinette returning the hug. She could tell he was relieved that she accepted him, honestly she warned her silly husband that Dick may be worried about her not liking him. Really, her silly love was just as silly as her Papa at times. She shook her head and tugged Bruce into the hug as well, so that he could reassure their little dove that they loved him and he was welcome in their family and home. Mari loved Bruce, but he was sometimes slow on how to approach emotional situations.

[a-la-la-llama]

The One Where Marinette Kicks Butt #7

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 8

  It was a normal day at work, Marinette helped Ivy tend to the plants. Said flowers complained about everything and no matter what, could never decide what music they wanted to listen to to help them grow! After the whole you are not safe without the kwami’s protection, Marinette had to stop Plagg from eating flowers he deemed were cheese. Tikki kept eyeing the aphids and would snack on them when no one was looking. Sass kept coiling his tail too tight around the stems. Nooroo wouldn’t stop drinking the nectars. Pollen was pollinating. Then lastly, Orikko was plucking the daisies petals off one by one. To sum it all up, it was a pretty normal day.

Closing was easy since they didn’t have any last minute orders for the next day. Once the doors were locked, Ivy waved her off and they went in different directions.

  They always closed at six-thirty and were out by seven o’clock. Gotham was beginning to change towards fall in late September, however, so the sun would start setting at seven instead of the usual eight to eight-thirty. Marinette lived fifteen minutes away and was a relatively small stature girl. She also had on her school uniform which meant everyone who saw her knew she was just a teenager. Do you see the problem yet? Can you guess what was bound to happen? Let’s set the scene, shall we!

  Marinette had noticed them when she was walking by and one of the two men brushed her with his shoulder. Even though he was the one to run into her Marinette swiftly apologised and went on her way. She was eight minutes from her apartment and turning a corner when she noticed that they were not far behind her.

The problem was that they had been going the opposite way beforehand. So she tried to do what a normal person without pocket gods would do in this situation. She didn’t want to lead them home so she stuck with the few crowds there, trying to lose them. But night was approaching, slowly fewer and fewer people were out.

Marinette considered going into a coffee shop that was open but what good would that do if they just waited for her to exit. It’s not like she could afford to have a phone and even then she only knew a few people in Gotham. She was just deciding on how to locate a police or fire station when she was yanked backwards by her arm. Into a gosh darn alleyway.

Seriously, if they have the highest crime rates, and most of them happened in alleys, why do they have so many alleyways! Especially dark and dead end ones like where Marinette was standing. A normal person would be terrified but Marinette wasn’t a normal girl, but she couldn’t let them know that. For all they knew, they just cornered   a helpless girl that was scared of the two men twice her size. When really they were the ones who fell into the trap of a powerful god wielding girl with no escape.

“Look who we finally caught, can’t run now.”, the blonde one taughted.

“She almost looks like a Wayne. If we could convince the boss, she’ll be worth a lot more than those other girls.”, the brunette one suggested.

Who was even a Wayne and why did she look like them? Was it the blue hair, she’d never seen others that had a natural blue like her besides her mom and Kagami. It must be her eyes, but lots of people could have blue eyes, especially in America. The blonde pulled a needle out of his pocket.

“Now just make this easy and stay still so we don’t have to hurt that pretty little face of yours!”, he sneered.

Kwami, what were these awful attempts of being intimidating? She’s seen chihuahuas do much better. Plagg’s destructive energy was pulsing through her backpack, along with everyone else but he was the strongest. Why did cats have to be so territorial, she would have to put an end to this before the magic got out of hand. None of them wanted another Pompeii, Atlantis, or Black Death on their hands. She allowed them to inch closer towards her as she started rambling nonsense in French. Better if they thought she didn’t know what was going on, they’re more likely to make arrogant mistakes. The blonde could tell she was overwhelmed and about to bolt so he quickly lunged at her, but she was faster. Next thing he knew, the needle meant for her neck was in his own as he fell unconscious.

Turning towards the brunette, he had pulled out a simple pocket knife. It wouldn’t do anything more than a flesh wound unless he hit a major artery or organ. She didn’t really want to fight the two just, you know, stop them from hurting her.

Taking off her backpack, she swung it by the strap and knocked the weapon out his hands. Tackling him was the next step and she used all of her body weight to keep him down long enough to slam the bag on his head. The egg shaped Kwami box felt like a load of brick. She should know, Marinette had dropped it on her toes multiple times! Just two hits and both her attackers were out cold.

Setting her bag back onto her bag, she stood up and straightened out her skirt. Good thing she didn’t tear any of her clothes or the two would have definitely woken up with black eyes. Marinette heard two feet gently land behind her at the entrance of the alley. Wouldn’t you know it, the blue-bird that Selina had told her about and decided to drop in. Of course, right after she finished dealing with the two herself!

“Je suis désolé de ce que je leur ai fait. Ils essayaient de me prendre mais je n'allais pas laisser ça arriver. Je dois y aller maintenant monsieur!”, she said, still playing the foreign card.

( I'm sorry about what I did to them. They were trying to take me but I wasn't going to let that happen. I must be going now sir! )

“C'est bien petite dame! Êtes-vous d'accord, vous ont-ils fait du mal?”, he answered. Marinette certainly didn’t expect him to know what she had said.

( It's alright little lady! Are you okay, did they hurt you? )

“Je vais bien. Je suis pressé, je dois y aller!”, she announced and rushed past him.

( I'm fine. I'm in a hurry, I have to go! )

  Nightwing looked at what the tiny French left behind. Foreigners sure knew how to get the job done. What was even in that backpack of hers. The dude would surely have a concussion, but in the end he deserved it for trying to kidnap the girl. Gothamites could surely learn a thing or two from people like her. Now the question was what to do with the criminals. He could turn them into the police or inform Red Hood about them. One had mentioned other girls, so Red Hood would be the better option. He could investigate and find the chain and most likely rescue those who weren’t so lucky and already caught. Plus, the man had a soft-spot for any and all kids.

  Nightwing thought back to the French girl. She really did look like a Wayne! Dark hair, blue eyes, seemed to have gotten herself in and out of trouble before. All she had to do was be an orphan and she’d fit the memo. The girl had a Gotham Academy uniform, maybe Damian knew her? Second thought, Damian probably didn’t talk to anybody in that darn school unless he had to, so that was out of the question. Something just wasn’t sitting right with him. He had seen her before but where? No, not her, those eyes. Nightwing had seen those eyes before.

He didn’t know how long he stood thinking in the alley but the realization hit him like a truck.

She was the freaking ghost that stole his favorite blanket!

Tag list

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[misclaravoss]

THE TASK. → Getting To Know You.

BASICS. 

Full Name: Clara Rose Voss Nicknames: Just Clara Skeleton: The Tenderheart Titles: None Cast Position: Royalty | Nobility | Gentry Birthdate: January 21

PHYSICALITY. Height: 160 cm Body Type: Clara is lithe, and thankfully she doesn’t think much about her body.. negatively or otherwise. It’s just.. there. Hair: Her hair is red and curly, normally below shoulder length. She usually has it pinned back loosely. Eyes: Blue Skin: Her skin is pale and smooth. Markings: She has freckles across her entire body, as well as scars from her adventurous childhood. Nothing too dramatic, just from scapes and cuts here and there. She does have a pretty good burn on the inside of her left wrist from a cooking mishap when she was younger. Walking: Clara is a fast walker, and she hates slow walkers. She’s not really direct or confident about her walking.. her body just doesn’t move that slowly.  Speech: Clara speaks with an English accent that has some Scottish quirks that she picked up from her father. She is a fast talker and occasionally stutters. Posture/Bearing: Slouching was one thing that her mother would never over look. Clara was taught to sit up straight, with her ankles crossed and her hands folded neatly in her lap. 

PERSONALITY. Presentation: Clara appears vibrant, caring, and educated to the outside world. She nearly always has a smile or laugh on her lips, will stop whatever she’s doing to help a stranger, and when speaking to her you can tell that she had a first class education (notice I said educated, not intelligent. The girl has enough common sense to keep her alive.. that’s about it.) Interactions: She can be shy, but that’s only with people she feels intimidated by. But even then she tries her best to push past that feeling. She is willing to talk to anyone, for as long as they like. Lures: Clara is drawn to nature. She loves being outside, sitting in the grass, basking in the sun. Temperament: She is stubborn and sarcastic. She has a sharp tongue, though she likes to think of it as witty. Though she is caring, she is not gentle. Luckily, having so many sisters, she is not quick to anger.. it takes a lot to really make her angry. Reputation: She is known for her caring and outgoing nature, as well as her often slipping manners and lack of common sense. 

HABITS. Favorite Hours: A mix of a night owl and a golden hour baby.  Punctuality: She will arrive within five minutes of the agreed upon time. Whether that’s five minutes early or late is a surprise for the day.  Nervous Ticks: Aside from the idle twirling of her hair, her biggest nervous tick would have people thinking she’s crazy, or got some bug crawling on her. She will rub her nose, then her eyes, then her hands, then her leg.. in the span of a few minutes. Sleeping Style: She in one of those weird back sleepers who doesn’t move at all. She wakes up exactly how she fell asleep, practically dead while sleeping. 

EDUCATION. School: She was an okay student, not good or bad.. just regular. Known Languages: She knows French, Latin and Gaelic (loosely). Her mother made sure all of her daughters were taught French and Latin. Her father sort of taught them Gaelic. But they mostly just picked up words that he said, as well as sometimes asking him how to say certain things. Talents: Clara is a jack of all master of none type. She can play a few songs on a few instruments, she can sew a dress, and she can hold a tune if she really wanted to. Learning Style: Visual and verbal.

PHILOSOPHY.  Religion: She was raised Catholic, her mother is devout, but she hasn’t really formed her own opinion yet. Superstitions: She carries all of the Scottish superstitions her father passed on, different ways to curse yourself with bad luck.  Virtues: Charity, kindness, and patience. Vices: Lust, pride, and sloth.

RELATIONSHIPS. Family: Her family consists of her parents, Jasper and Alice Voss, and her sisters Eliza, Issy, and Kitty. Friendships: Clara has a lot of acquaintances but not a lot of close friends. Friends in Need: She is prepared to help anyone in any way. Needing a Friend: But she is unable to ask for help. Too stubborn. Discord: She is not an impartial third party. She will have an opinion and she will let you know whose side she’s on. Enemies: Clara is loyal and honest to a fault, so dishonesty and betrayal hurt her the most.

MOTIVATIONS. Intentions: Mostly she’s just here because her mother told her to. But she does hope things go well. Goals: She just wants to be happy, in a way that is true to herself without upsetting her family. Fears: The fear of disappointing her family.  Regrets: She probably would have fought for the person she loved more. Breakthroughs: She needs to stop being a push-over. Helping other people, making other people happy, can’t always come before making herself happy.

[malkaviansyndromes]

i was inspired by quimton so i did the 93 question meme for lestat :)

1. What is their gender? male, but like, gay rat male

2. What is their sexuality? men

3. What is the meaning behind their name? Do they have any nicknames? it’s from iwtv, which he never read, he was an edgy goth weirdo and thought it sounded cool. erin calls him a rat but he doesn't have any actual nicknames

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with? he doesn't have any siblings but will try to adopt younger friends as "siblings" 5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives? when he was alive his relationship with his dad was...Not great. aside from his mom he didn't talk to his family. his sire is dead lol

6. What would they give their life for? his friends or husband probably, if it had to be anything

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet? yes! he's in a relationship with märchen and has been for a while; mär found him shortly after his embrace and made sure he was accepted into the camarilla rather than getting axed for being an illegitimate fledgling.

8. What do they believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them? he has no idea and doesn't really want to think about it

9. What is their favorite color? Favorite animal? probably some sort of hideous tie between black and pastel pink. he likes cats

10. What are some of their talents/skills? he can draw, and also has a decent head for computer science and math

11. If they could make a mark on history, what would they like it to be? he would want to either be part of some massive political change to keep people from suffering, or solve the problem of quantum gravity

12. How old are they? When is their birthday? 23! he was born on march 5th

13. What do they do for fun? video games. eat a bunch. annoy his friends. he's a simple man

14. What is their favorite food? How often do they get to eat it? cheeseburgers...his husband lets him eat food any time he wants even though it's disgusting and bad for him since he's a vampire

15. What was something their parents taught them? nothing really specific beyond to be the terrible way he is now

16. Are they religious? sort of?

17. Where were they born? illinois unfortunately

18. What languages can they speak? Where did they learn these languages? english is his native language. he took french in high school and lost most of it, and has tried to pick up a little german from his husband and online. he knows a pitiful amount of japanese but only out loud, surprisingly not from anime so much as listening to tons of japanese music with subs

19. What is their occupation? idiot. he does odd jobs for the anarchs and helps with their computer shit sometimes

20. Do they have any titles? How did they earn them? nope

Personality: 21. What is their favorite thing about their personality? that he cares about shit

22. What is their least favorite thing about their personality? he has bad self esteem so a lot of things

23. Do they get lonely easily? YES but he's also a bit of a hermit socially

24. Do you know their MBTI type? no i used to

25. What is their biggest flaw? probably having a bad temper and making snap judgements

26. Are they aware of their flaws? So Much All The Time

27. What is their biggest strength? he's pretty empathetic

28. Are they aware of their strengths? he denies they exist

29. How would they describe their own personality? "awful little animal"

30. When frightened, will they resort to “fight” or “flight”? freeze probably, but flight if that doesn't count as an answer

31. Does this character ever put somebody else’s needs before their own? Who do they do this for? How often do they do this? yes, for pretty much anyone he likes even a little, and very very frequently

32. What is their self esteem like? BAD

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it? losing the people he cares about. he would Give Up On Life if he was alone

34. How easily do they trust others with their secrets? With their lives? weird little guy who is extremely paranoid but simultaneously too trusting. he tries to ignore his misgivings to give people the benefit of the doubt, doesn't always end well for him

35. What is the easiest way to annoy them? don't listen to anything he says. if he's being ignored in a conversation he will be furious

36. What is their sense of humor like? Give an example of a joke they would find humorous. "penis music," basically any joke about communism, horribly deep fried memes

37. How easy is it for them to say “I love you”? Do they say it without meaning it? he says it easily and a often, but not without meaning it unless he wants to feel guilty enough to vomit

38. What do others admire most about their personality? erin says "his friendly personality and jokes and level head when it comes to important things"

39. What does their happily ever after look like? having a normal life without being afraid of poverty or being alone

40. Who do they trust most? Is that trust mutual? probably erin and märchen, so yes

Physical Profile: 41. What does their laugh sound like? Do they snort when they laugh? How often do they laugh? he cackles like an awful little witch every once in a while

42. What is their favorite thing about their physical appearance? his anime heterochromia

43. What is their least favorite thing about their physical appearance? looking like he's 12

44. Do they have any scars? If so, what are the stories behind those scars? he has a scar on his eyebrow from when he was 2 and tried to climb a bookshelf and it fell on him and he had to get stitches. also....some less funny ones

45. How would they describe their own appearance? "bad" or “sexy” no in between

46. How easily can they express emotions? How easily can they hide emotions? he can express them well but hates to do it. he is way too good at hiding them

47.  What’s their pain tolerance like? he's a little wimpy but trudges through it

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos? no tats!

49. Do they have any piercings? just his ears

50. How would you describe their style of clothing? How would they describe their style of clothing? we would both call it "hot topic dumpster dive"

51. What is their height? Weight? 5'0", haha that's secret

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc? a little round and chubby

53. What is their hair color? Eye color? Skin tone? his hair is actually a light golden brown but he dyes it black. his eyes are grey-blue (he doesn't always like the color) but one of them is red now due to damage during his embrace. he's pale as fuck

54. What is their current hairstyle? What have been some of their past hairstyles? Which was their favorite hairstyle? current hairstyle is a very short half-buzzed kind of thing, which he likes best. he's also had it normal short. up until he was like 16 or 17 he had it very long

55. What is their alcohol tolerance like? What kind of drunk are they? How bad are their hangovers? PITIFUL, he's an extreme lightweight. cuddly drunk or sad drunk. his threshhold for hangovers is high but they're abysmal when he gets them

56. What do they smell like? Why do they smell like this? (Is it the things they’re around or a perfume they wear?) he smells like cheap soap and cigarette smoke thanks to being in the last round often. sometimes he wears body sprays

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin? a lot of complicated ways. unfortunately he has had sex and will do it again

58. What is their most noticeable physical attribute? his height, he's VERY short

59. What does their resting face look like? Do they have RBF? he has just a little bit of RBF but mostly neutral

60. Describe the way they sleep. he steals all the blankets and is a sleep cuddler. he refuses to put his nine fucking thousand stuffed animals anywhere but ON his bed

Environment: 61. Which season is their favorite season? he says summer up until it's actually summer. he likes spring and fall

62. Have they ever been betrayed? How did it affect their ability to trust others? yeah, he's had some complicated experiences with friends and family. he isn't always trusting but usually consciously decides to trust anyway because he generally thinks it's irrational not to without a reason. this often backfires on him

63. What is always guaranteed to make them smile? his friends or husband cracking jokes

64. Do they get cold easily? Do they get overheated easily? yes and yes, at least when he was alive. he had reynaud's syndrome when he was alive so he got dangerously cold in his hands and feet Very easily

65. What’s their immune system like? Do they get sick often? How do they react to getting sick? he's dead now so he doesn't get sick at all, but when he was alive he would generally try to plod through it until he couldn't anymore

66. Where do they live? Do they like it there? los angeles. sort of? big cities are exciting to him, but only to visit, so living in one 24/7 is probably driving him crazy (or crazier)

67. Is their bedroom messy? What about their bathroom? Kitchen? Living room? he tries to keep things a LITTLE tidy but generally every space he maintains on his own is some level of disastrously disorganized

68. How did their environment growing up affect their personality? his parents were broke, so in terms of environment, being anywhere much swankier than a lower middle class house makes his eyes fall out of his head

69. How did the people in their environment growing up affect their personality? he was raised to tough it out and show as little emotion as possible in regards to All Life which is the real reason he treats absolutely everything like a joke

70. How do they feel about animals? Do they have any pets? he loves animals. his husband has a ghoul cat that violently hates both of them

71. How are they with children? Do they have any? Do they want any? he's okay with them, but a little awkward. he would rather jump off a cliff than have any though

72.  Would they rather have stability or comfort? he'd rather have somewhere to turn to than live in a stable environment if the stability was along the lines of "everything is consistently uncomfortable"? i don't really get this question lol

73. Do they prefer the indoors or outdoors? indoors a little but he does still like the outdoors

74. What weather is their favorite? Do they like storms? very sunny weather (sad for a vampire). he does like snow and rain, but only if he can stay in

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen? he'd probably draw his husband lol

76. How organized are they? he has never been and will never be anything even remotely close to organized

77. What is their most prized possession? the teddy bear his mother passed down to him from when she was a kid

78. Who do they consider to be their best friend? erin :3

79. What is their economic situation? not great. he's very broke; his husband has a little more money than he does and helps support him, but the two of them have to watch their pennies for sure. lestat usually lives with his husband but stays at his own abysmal apartment/haven on occasion just for vampire paranoia safety reasons.

80. Are they a morning person or a night owl? night owl, which is lucky for him

Miscellaneous: 81. Are they bothered by the sight of blood? not blood on its own, no

82. What is their handwriting like? extremely messy

83. Can they swim? How well? Do they like to swim? he can swim okay. he really likes it

84. Which deadly sin do they represent best? wrath probably

85. Do they believe in ghosts? he would have to be stupid not to at this point

86. How do they celebrate holidays? How do they celebrate birthdays? with food, usually, which makes his being a vampire kind of difficult. he likes to celebrate birthdays with presents and cake. if he and his husband weren't vampires he'd bake mär a cake every year

87. What is something they regret? probably the way he acted when he was in the camarilla, it wasn't particularly pretty because he was very, VERY upset about his embrace. he regrets having to have killed people to escape, and also regrets the weirdness of having to let go of most of his mortal friends

88. Do they have an accent? if you consider boring midwestern nothing voice an accent. 89. What is their D&D alignment?

chaotic good 90. Are they right or left handed? right handed

91. If they were a tweet, what tweet would they be? there are so many tweets in the world. probably the one about revving your motorcycle and lying dead on the pavement

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif. why would you assume i have enough of these on hand to do that?

93. What’s the most iconic line of dialogue they’ve ever said? he says stupid shit all the time it's hard to know

[slytherin-puffskein]

A Grand First Impression

As Penny Haywood’s pen friend arrives to Hogwarts, everyone is soon enraptured by her beauty, and accidents come one after the other.

Including @hogwartsmysterystory‘s MC Ethren Whitecross !

* * *

Laurent never really felt something for a girl before.

Right, he had thought he had feelings for Penny, but after a few weeks he was quick to figure out that he didn’t love her. He liked her as a friend, but the thought of pursuing a romantic relationship with her didn’t make his heart skip a beat like it would to other people. It would remain calm, almost still, almost frozen.

Never he had wanted to kiss a girl.

When he was nine, he had gone to a theme park with a friend of his. She took his hand, but he didn’t think much about it. Maybe her fingers just felt cold. They kind of were, in fact, so maybe she just wanted Lau to warm her up. He was happy to help. But as they were waiting their turn in the Ferris Wheel, she tip toed and attempted to kiss him.

Maybe it was her horrendous breath or the fact that he didn’t like her like that, but he soon found himself running away as far as possible.

( Ever since, he was bitter he didn’t get to have his Ferris Wheel ride. He would have been on top of the world !! )

He was about to give up on the idea of ever liking girls, that until he set his eyes on Aurélie Dumont, Penny Haywood’s pen friend.

She had told him a lot about her, but he never really listened. Why focus on someone he barely knows, and will probably never meet ? What kind of sense did that make ? However, he managed to get bits and bits of information, as his mind happened to tune in once in a while.

She is a student from Beauxbatons, and one of the nicest girls I’ve met !

That was probably the only thing that truly caught his attention, as he was supposed to be a Beauxbatons student himself. However, his parents had to move to Kildare.

If they hadn’t, maybe he would have met Aurélie in less humiliating circumstances.

Ethren Whitecross had been quicker than him with touring Hogwarts to Aurélie, so he only got to meet her when Madame Maxime requested the Gryffindor’s presence. Hearing such news, and learning about the Beauxbatons Headmistress’ height, Laurent just had to come and see even if he wasn’t the one invited. 

As he stepped into the Great Hall, only one thought crossed his mind.

My, she is huge indeed.

Madame Maxime was easily towering over everyone, and that resulted with several students curiously staring at her, wide-eyes, wondering what was possibly going on with her. A Half-Giant, perhaps ? Probably the most likely option, but certainly the less appropriate to bring up. After all, who asks people they just met what they are ?

Flanked to Maxime’s side, Lau managed to spot a petite, blue clad girl wearing a weird hat of the same colour. He was quick to assume that this girl was, in fact, Penny’s pen pal, as the young Hufflepuff was standing next to her and giving out her brightest smile. Only a few steps away he saw Ethren Whitecross, who was giving the Beauxbatons student quite a weird look. Was he judging her hat ?

As Laurent approached the small group, he understood fairly quickly that Ethren wasn’t, in fact, judging her uniform. He was actually doing the very thing Lau never usually did with girls.

He was admiring her.

Her, and her pretty brown locks brushing over her pale, smooth skin. Her, and her pretty and comforting blue eyes that could be easily comparable with a warm embrace. Her, and her pink lips which released a joyous, musical laugh as Penny finished telling a joke.

Laurent Dorian King’s heart skipped a beat as their gazes met, and Aurélie suddenly smiled brightly.

“Oh, bonjour ! You must be Laurent. Penny told me a whole lot about you in her letters ! I sure am glad to finally meet you”

Did Penny really talk to her about me ?

Oh Merlin, she said my name. It sounds so heavenly when pronounced by her.

OH SHE’S LOOKING AT ME STOP STARING AND SAYING NOTHING.

Laurent finally took ahold of himself, and raised his chin awfully high while showing off his most charming smile. He had forgotten, however, that he had snacked on some chocolate with Summer, and that a big brown spot now resided against his teeth.

“Bonjour ! Je français !”

Idiot.

He had meant to say that he could speak french as well, and that disaster of a sentence came out instead. However, Aurélie giggled, and Lau immediately felt appeased.

“That’s good to know, sometimes speaking English can be exhausting...”

“You guys will be able to chat together, then !” Penny chimed in, her smile still present. “Lau, did you know Aurélie is planning to transfer from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts ? How amazing is that, right ?”

“I had Ethren bring me to his potions class” Aurélie sighed softly. “I had expected some alchemy, but Snape remains a very competent teacher”

“He is competent when he’s not trying to ruin your life” Ethren mused.

Aurélie’s laugh was quick to fill the air, and both boys felt a blush creep up their cheeks.

“Anyway. Ethren, this is Madame Maxime, our Headmis-”

Lau could only get hit by the realization of how bigger she was when up close.

“Wow, you’re huge !”

And a cold silence filled the air as Madame Maxime set small piercing eyes on the redhead.

“Pardon ?”

A huge lump suddenly started clawing against Lau’s throat, hurting him and thus preventing him to speak. Despite that, however, he managed to churn out something that made sense:

“Hugely into fashion ! Look at that outfit, it is truly striking !”

Following these words, he proceeded to smile as brightly as he could, once again showing off the chocolate stain. For a brief moment, Aurélie’s own hand hung over her mouth, as if attempting to warn the redhead, but it quickly went limp. Madame Maxime remained silent for such a long moment that Lau feared she might attempt to curse him... but finally, she smiled.

“Well, merci, Monsieur... ?”

“King. Monsieur King. I was actually supposed to be a Beauxbatons student, but my parents moved to Ireland”

“Ooh ?” Aurélie exclaimed. “That’s too bad, I would have love to have you as classmate ! You seem... fairly entertaining”

At first, only Lau’s cheeks were coloured with red. Now, his ears were too, as well as the tip of his nose.

“Indeed, you and Monsieur Whitecross have a good potential to be Beauxbatons students. With Aurélie’s possible departure, I might just need some ‘Ogwarts students to compensate !”

Madame Maxime let out a deep, guttural laugh, while Aurélie’s eyes suddenly flashed with multiple ideas.

“Madame, why don’t we teach them the Entrance ? It would make them feel like true Beauxbatons students, don’t you think ?”

“I think it is a wonderful idea, Mademoiselle Dumont ! Why don’t you teach them ?”

Aurélie excitedly nodded, and stepped closer to Ethren and Lau who were both as red as a Gryffindor’s tie. Luckily, they have been able to focus just enough on her instructions while also admiring her features, and Laurent was pretty sure Ethren froze as the Beauxbatons gently grasped his hands to show him how to move them accordingly.

He thought she wouldn’t take his hands, but then, their fingers were intertwined together. His heart practically stopped inside of his chest, and the lump in his throat only became bigger.

“Move your hands like this, Laurent” she instructed with a smile on her lips.

And gently, she stepped closer to him, whispering into his ear with a giggle filled voice:

“Vu que tu es français, je suis certaine que tu as ça dans le sang”

A shiver electrocuted his body, and he could only nod and try to reply something.

“Je oui”

He then accidentally bit on his tongue, pulling out the tip briefly for a second while hissing with pain.

Idiot.

Soon enough, the young girl was done with her explanations, and as she regained her place next to Madame Maxime, she proudly puffed out her chest and threw her shoulders to the back.

“Voilà ! I taught them everything I could, Madame Maxime”

“Well now, the only thing left to do is for them to try out ! Why don’t you do it first, Whitecross ?”

A snicker was suddenly heard, and gazes were turned to Merula Snyde, who has been witnessing the scene along with Tulip Karasu.

“My, I would pay to see that. Your credibility would turn to ash... if you had one to begin with”

Whitecross threw a glare to the young Slytherin, and he briefly glanced at Aurélia to giver her his most charming smile.

“Allow me” he said.

And so, he strutted through the Great Hall, hands clasped behind his back and moving his hips as accurately to Aurélie’s instructions as possible. Soon enough, butterflies emerged around him, and students were quick to stare at him with a mesmerized look... except for Snyde, who only sighed with disgust.

Before Lau could realize, it was his turn, and Aurélie gently patted his shoulder.

“Allez, Laurent. You can do it !”

Oh boy, can I ?

He started walking anyway, placing his hands behind his back and swaying his hips gently, fluidly, as if he was made to do this...

Well, maybe I am. It was supposed to be my school, after all.

As he progressed through the Great Hall, he gently extended his arm, releasing pale blue butterflies that swirled around him, and a smile was quick to curl on his lips. Maybe everything will be alright, after all, and maybe Aurélie will even be impressed !

And then, I can ask her on a date, and then we’ll go stargaze together and-

Ah ! Focus ! Alright, now, onto the next arm-

He moved his arm swiftly, however nervously glanced behind his shoulder.

And noticed that Aurélie was looking at him, only him, her hands gently pressed against her chest and her smile filled with admiration and pride.

Oh shit oh shit oh sHIT

Before he could think, he leaned over and swayed his arm in order to release these damn butterflies. Laurent only realized he was moving way too fast when-

S L A M

His hand whacked the face of a Slytherin from his year. Not any Slytherin. One of his roommates. What was his name, already ? The one with the brown spiky hair and prominent cheekbones ? Bernard ? Barnabas ?

Barnaby Lee. That’s his name.

And I just slapped him. Right on the face.

Lau’s body refused to move, to obey to any order his brain was sending out. He could only remain still, his arm extended, a terrified look on his face. Frankly, Barnaby looked as terrified... and also terribly confused.

Merula started to laugh. Liz, who has been sitting next to Barnaby, could only gaze at the two boys with pure astonishment. Lau, meanwhile, was struggling to find a way to quickly get out of this situation without having any bad blood with Barnaby.

Gently, he reached for his hair, gently patting them and doing his best to smile. His lips, however, formed in a rather ungracious twisty form.

“Bonjour”

With that, he ran out of the Great Hall as fast as humanly possible.

[todorokiaimee]

Blues In The Night  5. I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm

Previous Chapter | Chapter Song

Shoto waited with a cool nervousness as he knocked on Aimee’s apartment door. Tonight was going to be perfect. He knew how he felt about Aimee, hell pretty much everyone he came in contact with knew he was completely smitten. After their lunch date at the school, he at least had a good idea that she felt the same. Why not tell her? He took a moment to adjust his red wool coat and scarf, so that he looked neat and put together, despite his apprehensive thoughts. After a few moments, the door opened to reveal the woman of the hour, Aimee. She wore her signature high-waisted jeans that showed off her wide hips and resulting small waist. Her hot pink off the shoulder sweater caught his eye, a black choker rested around her delicate neck. This silhouette was really growing on him, as he tried to surpress the urge to trace his calloused fingers across her ever alluring collar bone.

Aimee grinned sweetly at him as she slipped on her brown coat. “Hey there, shall we?” Shoto nodded, taking her hand and leading her down the stairs to his car. After a short car ride, they walked into a local ice skating rink filled with children and other couples enjoying their night out. As Shoto paid for their tickets and rental skates, the reality of the moment sank in. This is it. Be cool. Aimee eyed the peppermint haired man carefully, an unusual look in his eye. Is he actually nervous?

After the pair each put on their rented skates, they hobbled over to the door opening to the ice. “Ladies first,” Shoto said with a small smile as he ushered Aimee ahead. “Such a gentleman,” she cooed as she stepped out onto the ice, carefully skating forward, waiting for him to join her. Todoroki stepped out onto the smooth surface, only to be met with shaky legs. Balancing on two thin blades verses his boots was proving to be more difficult than he anticipated. He continued to wobble forward on the ice, in an awkward squatted position, hands outstretched in front of him, in a feeble attempt to maintain his balance. Aimee tried her best to stifle a giggle, watching him struggle. “You ok there, hero?” “I’m just fine,” he muttered as he tried to continue forward. A moment of panic flashed across his eyes as he felt his feet slipping out from under him. He grabbed onto the rink wall for dear life, just barely staying upright. “Uh huh sure…” Aimee snickered as he pulled himself back upright. This was not going how he planned at all, his face growing warmer by the second. “Let go of the wall then.” “I’d rather not.” She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped as she continued to watch him. Oh my God, is he actually pouting? “I’m sorry but you are just too cute. I picked this because I thought you’d be good at it. Your quirk is half ice after all!” Shoto cheeks flushed a rosy pink as he tired his best to skate forward. “Yes, but it’s not MY ice,” he huffed with a determined expression on his face. Well, at least she thinks I’m cute, although I would prefer handsome. Damn it, Shoto it’s fucking ice!

Just when he was about to let his inner monologue get the best of him, Aimee offered her small hand to him. “Oh mon cher, come on I got you.” Sheepishly, Shoto took her hand, looking into her glowing brown orbs. Moving to stand beside him, Aimee gently pulled him forward with her. “There you go. Just keep your feet about shoulder width apart, and try not to lean too far forward or back.” Shoto nodded, applying her advice as they slowly glided on the ice. “You’re getting it! Just one foot in front of the other!” Smiling brightly at him, Aimee squeezed his hand, earning a smile from Shoto as well. Even in all of my embarrassment, this woman is a complete joy. Thankfully, Todoroki was a fast learner. They gradually made their way around the rink with Shoto only flailing about like a chicken around five times, falling two. “May I ask you something?” Aimee nodded signaling for him to continue. “You called me ‘mon cher’ earlier. What does it mean?” The dark-skinned beauty let out a soft hum, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. “Oh, it’s a Cajun-French term of endearment. Like ‘my dear’ or… ‘my love’.” Now it was Shoto’s turn to blush yet again. “Oh.” he paused, shyly squeezing her hand. “I like it.”  

Just when Shoto was about to really gain some confidence, he leaned forward too far, causing him to trip on the toe pick of his skates. To keep himself from falling forward, he jerked himself backward, only to fall flat on his back, pulling Aimee down with him. A scream filled his ears as he watched helplessly as she fell straight on her full bottom. She bounced. Shoto scrambled onto his hands and knees, feverishly crawling over to the fallen beauty. “My apologies, that was entirely my fault. Are you hurt?” A positively giddy belly laugh left Aimee’s lips, making her whole upper body jiggle, as Shoto looked on dumbfounded. “I’m perfectly fine!” she said between giggles. “Besides I have plenty of cushion back there if you haven’t noticed,” she smacked the side of her ass jokingly as she moved to stand back up. Of course, Shoto had noticed. He had tried many times to be a gentleman and not notice, but once again, impure thoughts had crept into his mind. As Aimee brushed off her jeans she looked over at the duel quirked hero, still sitting on the ice. His face was a deep red and she could see steam coming up from the left side of his body. Uh oh. I broke him. “Careful now.” She took both his hands, pulling him up to his feet. “We wouldn’t want to turn the ice rink into a swimming pool.” Crap, now I have an image of her in a swimsuit in my head. Even more steam escaped his left side at the thought, Aimee carefully angling herself to his right. Calm down, Shoto. What are you, a horny teenager?  “How about we take a break and grab something from the food court?” Aimee suggested with a kind smile. He nodded as they skated to the edge of the rink, stepping off of the ice.

After taking off their skates, Shoto was relieved to be back in his own familiar boots again. Having regained some of his dignity, he offered his arm to Aimee, which she gladly linked with hers. They walked over to a food stand in a comfortable silence and Shoto ordered some negima yakitori for the two of them to share, paying before Aimee could even reach for her wallet. He carried the food and two green teas over to an empty booth, the two sliding in opposite each other. The juicy thigh meat of the chicken was just what the doctor ordered, Aimee not realizing how hungry she actually was.

Shoto cleared his throat after he took a bite off of his own skewer. “How did you learn to skate? You seem fairly confident on the ice.” He watched her carefully as a sad look washed over her eyes. “My mom taught me. We used to go all the time when I was little,” She paused taking a sip of her tea. “I stopped going as much after she died.” Shoto hummed suddenly regretting his topic of choice. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Aimee smiled softly and shook her head. “No worries. It was a long time ago. I still have my Dad as well as my cat Mochi. My little bit of family.” He nodded, taking another bite of his food. “Ah yes, the comically large cat.” “How did you know Mochi was fat?” Shit. I’ve said too much. No use in lying to her. “I may have… looked you up on Instagram.”  A cheeky smirk, grew on Aimee’s face as she watched Todoroki shift nervously in his seat. He looked me up, huh? “Well, you gotta know who you’re dealing with, right? I’ll let it slide considering I may have been reading articles about you ever since you went pro,” she admitted, not wanting the sweet lamb to suffer for too long.

Shoto raised his eyebrows in surprise, “You read articles about me?” He watched as a beautiful blush crept onto her cheeks. “Well, yeah. You are my favorite hero after all,” She said in a hushed voice. I’m her favorite? Shoto couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. “I’m honored.”

The pair continued to talk in effortless conversation until they noticed the rink and food court was starting to close for the night. Completely enamored with each other, the time had simply slipped away from them.

The two left the rink hand in hand, walking toward Shoto’s lone car. Looking around the now empty parking lot, Shoto got a fantastic idea. “Wait. Stay here just a moment.” Shoto walked further into the parking lot as Aimee eyed him questionably. He took a deep breath, activating his quirk, coating the parking lot with a sheet of ice, creating his own personal ice rink. Gliding back over to Aimee, he outstretched his hand with a small smile, “Take my hand.” Aimee hesitated, looking down at her boots. “I can’t, I don’t have my skates on. I’ll bust my ass.” Shoto let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Trust me. I won’t let you fall.” “Okay…” Aimee smirked skeptically as she slipped her hand into his once again. Holding her hand, Shoto gently guided her onto the ice, pulling her back to press against his chest, his other arm wrapping around her waist to keep her steady. A familiar warmth gathered on Aimee’s cheeks. She had never been this close to him before. She closed her eyes taking in his subtle scent of cedarwood and mint. Is this heaven?

Shoto effortlessly glided over his ice with Aimee securely in his arms. The cool fall air tousled their locks as he took them around the parking lot. Aimee felt almost as if she were flying. This was nothing like how it was in the ice rink. No wonder he loves his ice so much. Aimee’s face was one of pure amazement and Shoto couldn’t look away. She had never looked more beautiful to him, with her eyes filled with a childlike wonder. A sense of accomplishment washed over him, as he held her close. This is how our date should have gone from the beginning. He couldn’t help the warm smile that spread across his face, hearing Aimee’s lovely giggle erupt from her throat. “Oh my God, this is incredible Todo...ro...ki…” The ravenette paused as she looked over her shoulder to peer at Todoroki’s face only to find his steely eyes already locked onto hers. His stare left her breathless and she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She watched as his eyes slowly flickered from hers, down to her lips and back again. Shoto couldn’t hold himself back a moment longer as his hand left her waist and gently cupped her chin, tilting it up to plant a soft sweet kiss on her pink pillowed lips. Her plump lips were even softer than he imagined and tasted faintly of cherry. Aimee melted into the kiss immediately, wanting to live in this moment forever. Her heart raced in her chest, as he slowly deepened the kiss, their lips moving skillfully against each other. Her hand slowly skated up his bicep, gripping it gently to keep herself from completely melting onto the ground.

Shoto reluctantly pulled away, not wanting to push things too far too soon, smoothly coming to a stop on the ice. A knowing smirk tugged at his lips as he took in Aimee’s utterly dazed expression and adorable pink blush. “Please, call me Shoto.” Aimee blinked comically slow, somewhat drunk on her own endorphins as she quipped, “I’ll call you whatever you want if we can keep doing that.”  A chuckle rumbled low in Shoto’s chest as he twirled her around to face him fully. “In that case… how do you feel about calling me ‘boyfriend?’” “Huh?” Aimee must have heard him wrong. Pro Hero Todoroki Shoto couldn’t have just asked her to be his girlfriend. Right? Shoto took both her hands into his, holding them close to his chest. “Aimee, I want you to mine. That is if you’ll have me.” Aimee’s large brown eyes slowly grew bigger as she took in his words, another sly thought taking over. “Bold of you to assume I’m something to be had.” Shit, I fucked this up! Todoroki began to panic, his left side quickly gaining heat from embarrassment. It wasn’t until he looked back down at Aimee that he noticed her ever-growing shit-eating grin before another glorious giggle escaped her lips. “Of course I’ll be yours, Pretty Boy.” This woman. Shoto let out a deep sigh of relief before chuckling to himself. “God, I love that smart mouth.” Before Aimee could give another smart ass comment, her lips were once again captured by his, as he snaked his arms around her, pulling her close. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she happily returned the kiss, the second of many to come.

Commission drawing by @mexi-doodler 

Chapter 6

[thelovethatyouhad]

Tag game!

I was tagged by @rollacoasterkindarush -- thank you!!! <3

Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people you’d like to know better.

I tag @itsjustinyourwildestdreams, @house-in-the-backyard-trees, @jacindyyy, @enchxnted, @jtmaster13, @morganswift .... and I know that’s not 21, I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty of people off the top of my head, anybody else who wants to do it can say I tagged them! <3  

1. Nickname(s)?  Every now and then people call me Evie or Miss Eve, but other than that I don’t really have one.  

2. Zodiac sign?  Sagittarius, just like Taylor :)  

3. Height? 5 foot 5 and a half I think? 

4. Hogwarts house?  I never really got into Harry Potter myself, but people tell me I’m definitely a Hufflepuff

5. The last thing I Googled?  Airbnb & Google Maps for travel planning stuff

6. Favorite musicians?  Taylor Swift of course!  & in general I like a lot of pop music, as well as musical theater 

7. Song stuck in your head?  I just saw Hamilton last week, so the last couple days I’ve had The Room Where It Happens going nonstop in my head.  I’ve also been seeing all this promo for the live-action Aladdin, so right now I’m on even more of a musical theater & Disney kick than usual.  

8. Blogs I follow?  I hadn’t looked at this number in a long time, but it’s over 4,000 now -- if there’s a limit, I don’t know how I haven’t hit it!  In my defense, I have multiple blogs and I’ve been on this site a long time!  

9. Blogs following me?  I hadn’t checked this number in a while either, but somehow over 4,000 people follow this blog????  (*patrick star voice* WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE) (thank you!!!!!)

10. Do I get asks?  Every now and then :) 

11. Amount of sleep I get?  Now that I work more afternoons/evenings than mornings, I usually get enough.  

12. Lucky number?  When I was a kid I used to say that they were ‘7 and 13 but mostly 7′ ( I know!!!) but I don’t remember where those came from originally

13. What am I wearing?  A blue shirt with daisies on it and jean shorts

14. Dream job?  TV producer

15. Dream trip?  anywhere with good friends.  I’ve learned that it all comes down to who you’re with.  

16. Favorite food?  birthday cake/anything sweet! 

17. Instruments?  I played violin growing up but I stopped when I finished high school.  I also got myself I guitar when I was in college but only taught myself a few chords before I had to give it away when I moved.  

18. Languages?  I’m not fluent but I’m pretty good in French, I took it in school for a long time & then spent a semester in France.  Of course my French was really good when I was there and actually using it, but I haven’t used it much since then.  

19. Favorite songs? AAAH I don’t know!  I can’t even pick one favorite Taylor Swift song.  My top few Taylor songs are New Romantics, Mine, Long Live,  YBWM, All Too Well, Dear John, Getaway Car, the list goes on... and that’s just Taylor.  I feel like in 2019 when we all have access to basically all music it’s so much harder to just have one favorite song or even one favorite artist!  

20. Random fact about me?  I love dogs the way Taylor loves cats, but I don’t have one.  If you send me a photo/video of your dog I will be your best friend.  

21. Aesthetic?  I’m not sure I 100% understand what this is asking, but here goes: the old fashioned microphone and the white gloves from the Speak Now performance, the Red Tour performance of The Lucky One especially that dramatic dip, the ringmaster outfit from the Red Tour finale, the little stage with the Broadway sign and the vintage look in the Mean video, the black outfit with the flats in the Shake It Off video, red lipstick, pearls, the vintage dresses she used to wear during the Red era, the entire Blank Space music video, the party she describes in Starlight, the umbrellas in How You Get the Girl and ME!, the references to Mary Poppins and Singin’ in the Rain, Brendon’s flower suit in the ME! video, the lamppost and park bench in the New Romantics performance.  

[sithlordintraining]

So Happy Together

A/N: 9 google doc pages, 5k words. Here’s a TMM that will mark the new years with some changes. (Also it’s Kylo’s birthday tehe).

masterlist

Summary: Greaser Kylo Ren fell in love with good girl Rey Kenobi over the summer. When they unexpectedly discover they’re now in the same high school, will they be able to rekindle their romance? OF COURSE, with a little help from their friends and some singing. But that was Junior year, can their love really stand the course of Senior year, college applications, and other teenage problems?

“So that really happened?” Juney asked with an amusing grin. You simply nodded as you concentrated on the precision of your writing. Another bubbly laugh erupted from his lips, which made you smile. “Oh man, I wish I had you as a friend when I was little. You would’ve really whipped me in shape, Mama.” He smiled at you. “Well, you have me now and we can make up for lost time.” Your pastel colored nails pulled the collar of his leather jacket towards you so you could capture his lips. “And to think,” Juney spoke between kisses. “You didn’t” another kiss, “Want me to come.”  You pushed him back against the plastic seating of the booth and continued writing. “I don’t know why I told you yes.” You said as your (y/e/c) eyes followed the black ink as it swirled neatly worked its way across the page.

The chiming of bells alerted a new customer into Maz’s; Kylo’s dark eyes scanned the empty place for an empty seat or even better: a friend. His eyes landed on your side profile and then to Juney next to you. Juney’s amber eyes locked with Kylo’s as he made his way over to the booth. “Shit, Y/N, Kylo is here!” Juney said as he helped you try and hid the back as you prayed the ink was already dry. Kylo towered over the couple sitting in the booth. He squinted his eyes before sliding in beside you, only for Juney to make you slide further. So the only seat available wouldn’t be next to you. With a low groan of annoyance, Kylo sat next to Juney. “What were you doing?” Kylo asked without skipping a beat. “I was reading.” You answered plainly. “What book? Can I see it.” Kylo put his hand out. “No!” Juney chirped. Kylo gave a side eye to him. “What do you mean ‘no’?” He asked.

“He means, no you can’t read it unless you speak French.” You nodded. Thank goodness you were able to have a quick response. Kylo’s thick eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t know you spoke French?”  “Oui! But just to help me survive.” You simply nodded. “J’ai envie de t’embrasser.” Juney said perfectly, it had Kylo shook. “Juney.” you softly cooed embarrassed. “Je mens je veux faire plus que vous embrasser. Je veux baiser-” His hands gripped at your waist. “Juney!” Your voice shrieking out of embarrassment of the suggestive words that came out of your boyfriend’s mouth. Kylo had no clue what had been said, but from the look on your face and the fire in Juney’s amber eyes, it was something provocative. Kylo’s chest grew tight and felt the need to compete.

“I-I can speak Arabic.” Kylo interrupted this Pepe Le Pew scene in front of him. “Really?” You said enthusiastically. “Mhm.” He nodded with a grin. “Read and write it too,” Kylo said and then proceeded to speak the language. Your glossed lips parted in awe of the beautiful language he was speaking. “Benji didn’t know you could speak Arabic!” Your smile was so bright there were crinkles by your eyes. “You sound so beautiful.” You cooed as a blush hitting Kylo. Juney jumped in, also speaking Arabic. Your eyes almost popped out of your head. “Wh-where, when did you, Juney?” You stuttered out. Juney shrugged. “At the military school, there was some Prince or something from Bahrain, we called him Zoot because he had a missing tooth and when he talked that’s what he sounded like. Remember Kylo?” He nudged his friend. “No, I learned from my Uncle Chewie,” Kylo grumbled. Juney just shrugged. “Eh, maybe it was before your time.”

Kylo crossed his arm and sat back against the booth. Juney had one-upped him as he was trying to impress you and it made him mad. “So what were you two talking about before I came?” It seemed to force out of his lips. You just shrugged your pale blue cardigan covered shoulders and picked at the unwanted fries on Juney’s plate. “Well,” Juney drummed his fingers against the table. “We were talking about Thanksgiving.” “Please no, Juney!” You groaned pulling on his arm. His tan palm laid over yours. “Now hold on Mama, let’s get your best friends opinion.” Kylo rolled his eyes at the nickname. “So you know Thanksgiving is next week and well, her mom-” “Marygold wants me to be with her for Thanksgiving.” You cut him off. Kylo studied your face; the way your (y/e/c) eyes burned with fire, but your lips tugged with sadness. “I think she should give her MOM a chance because you only get one,” Juney emphasized. “I understand that sweetie, but” you began to whisper to Juney as if Kylo didn’t know the whole truth about you and your mother.

“What’s the plan?” Kylo asked indifferently. “Well, she wants to come here and you know to do the traditions: play games, play music, decorate the tree,” You continued to list them as both boys watched as your eyes started to light up from the memories flashing in your mind. “I think you should do it,” Kylo said. “Exactly, thank you, man.” Juney said. You just rolled your eyes. “But, what about Daddy?” You whispered. “Your dad loves you, he wouldn’t mind. I can see you miss her.” Kylo said, hand resting on top of yours. “And it definitely beats mine. I’m going to be alone.” “Alone!” You exclaimed. “No Benji, what do you mean alone?” You grabbed his hand. “My parents are going to be away and everyone else is out of town.” He shrugged. “No, no, no, you’ll have it with me! I’ll ask Daddy tonight.” You said not leaving him to object. “See!” Juney’s arms wrapped around Y/N and Kylo. “You get to see your mom and you get to make sure they don’t kill each other.” He smiled. “Now watch out, I have to pee.” Juney motioned for Kylo to move so he can make an exit. With a huff, Kylo moved out the way and when Juney was out of sight, he slid in next to you.

The palms of his large hands started to sweat as what he was about to ask gnawed at the back of his mind for days. Ever since the night at the movies, Kylo had tried to formulate something that would make up for everything he has done wrong, to show you how much he appreciated, to win you over, to kill it, to- “Tomorrow’s my birthday!” He blurted out. “I know, little Benji is going to be 18.” You smiled squeezing his cheeks. A blush hit his face the minute you touched him. “And I was wondering if maybe, you and I could hang or something.” Kylo’s eyes watched everything else but you. “Sure, I don’t mind. What do you want to do?” You eagerly awaited his answer. “Um...Whatever you want to do. Honestly, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.” He nervously chuckled. “You’re too sweet.” You smiled which sent him over the edge. “If you want, you can come over and make breakfast like we used to do when we're younger with your Uncle Chewie. And then we could take it from there.” You told him. His mind raced a mile a minute as he tried to think of things to show you and places to take you to. “Yeah, I’ll see you at 8, is that okay?” He asked shyly. “It’s a date!” You smiled and Kylo started to choke on his spit. “You okay man?” A large hand slapped against Kylo’s back. “Yeah.” He turned back to look up at Juney.

Kylo skipped along the stones on your pathway. It was 8:15 and he was running late because he didn’t know what to wear. He changed his clothes so many times until he settled on a semi-wrinkled white linen button down. He was positive that he was sweating through it, as he basically crushed the random flowers he picked from his mother’s garden in his hand. He finally made it to your door only for it to be thrown up exposing you with an excited expression. “Benji I thought you stood me up?!” You joked. Pushing back his raven hair, he gave you a shaky smile reminiscing over the craziness that happened. “Well come in, we’ve already started!” You dragged him inside all the way to the kitchen. Mary’s short figure stood in front of the stove. “Mary, you remember Benji?” Your arms snaked around his waist and he felt that if you let go he would float away. “Yes, Happy Birthday Mr. Benji,” Mary said. “Yes, Happy Birthday Benjamin Solo!” You stood on your tip-toes and kissed his cheek. Kylo peered down at you as his arm wrapped around your waist. “I-I got these for you.” He shoved the flowers in front of her. “Benji, it’s your birthday, not mine.” You cooed and gave his other cheek a peck. He was pretty sure his face would be bright red the entire morning.

He watched as your bare feet quickly padded across the kitchen as you fixed a vase for the flowers and ushering Kylo to sit. He watched your Alice blue shirtwaist dress swing in the breeze. “Look, look what Mary taught me!” You beckoned for his attention. And he watched as you concentrated on flipping the pancake; when you succeeded a smile was painted on both of your faces. His eyes had a fixed gaze on you while you maneuvered your way through the kitchen and flipped pancakes and joked with Mary and he couldn’t help but think how perfect this birthday morning was. “Miss Y/N, you and Mister Benji go outside and I’ll finish up,” Mary said. Y/N nodded and turned her attention to Kylo. They strolled to the patio and soon Mary had placed the pancakes in front of them. “Chocolate chip...you remembered?” Kylo stared wide-eyed at you. You nodded rapidly smiling. “So, what do you want to do?” You bit into your pancakes. “I was thinking we could go to the lake, Old man Fett started renting the boats right?” He said casually. You shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know a lot about Hoth.” His brows furrowed. “What? You don’t know? Well, what do you do around here?” Kylo stopped eating. “I go to school, the drive-in, Maz’s, and Thunder Road when we race. But, I usually hang with Phasma back in Jedha and Juney lives on the border too so,” You shrugged. “Well, that’s what we will do! I’ll show you around, Hoth.” Kylo rejoiced. You shook your head. “No, we could do that another weekend. It’s your birthday, what do you want to do?” Kylo stole a pancake off your plate. “I want to show you around!” He smiled before stuffing it in his face.

The faint sound of ‘Alexander’s Ragtime Band’ grew louder the closer Y/N and Kylo strolled up to the colorful carousel. When it stopped, the two teens got on and made their way through the various decorated and colorful horses. “Sit on this one Benji!” Kylo turned around to the sound of your voice. Your arm draped over a black horse that was draped in jousting gear. “It’s perfect for a Knight like yourself.” You smiled as he approached the house. “And what about you? There has to be one fit for a Princess.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the silly nickname. “I’ll be right here.” You hoisted yourself up and the ride began suddenly. Twisting his head, he gave you a pout. “But, you’re too far.” Another giggle escaped your lips. “I wish I had my camera so I could take that adorable picture.” Kylo swung his body around that now he faced the rear of the horse. You couldn’t help but laugh at your friend. “What?” He asked, leaning back and lounging with his legs up. “You aren’t supposed to be sitting like that.” A small but angry voice had the teens snapping their head to a little boy who was scolding Kylo. Kylo soon sat appropriately still facing you, while you stifled a laugh. The ride continued with the two of you talking, laughing and Kylo receiving dirty looks from the little boy. When it was over, Kylo was off to your side to help you down; a tap was felt on his shoulder and it was the boy asking if he could help him down. As much as Kylo wanted to say no, he helped him not wanting to look bad in front of you.

“I didn’t think you were going to help him.” You said, walking down the path. “Well, I mean-” Kylo just shrugged as he strolled by you. “I wouldn’t he was horribly rude, that ankle-biter.” Kylo laughed at your response; before he could say anything the grumble of his stomach cut him off. “You’re hungry again?” You joked. He ate so many pancakes and some of yours, ‘Leia must go shopping every day!’ you thought. A blush took over his massive form, he felt himself feeling small at your comment. “I-I didn’t mean it like that, Benji.” You noticed this was an insecure subject and held his hand. “What do you want?” It didn’t take long for Kylo to answer. “Ice cream.” He smiled. You squint your eyes at his choice because it wasn’t actually food. “Well...it is your birthday.”

Kylo tugged you along to the ice cream man. Kylo ordered for the both of you and you couldn’t help bite back the blushing smile that threatened your lips when he remembered your favorite down to the very last detail. You were in such a haze you almost forgot to pay the man, until you saw Kylo trying to pay him. “No, it’s your birthday.” You slapped his hand. His response was shoving the ice cream in your face, even though it didn’t stop you. “It’s ok, it’s on the house.” The ice cream man said. Kylo’s face scrunched up; this had never happened to him before, free?! “You sure?” The two said in unison. The man nodded and the two thanked before walking away. “And Happy Birthday, young man, she’s a keeper!” Even though you were far away, Kylo heard the man and turned around and smiled. His heart was beating against his chest so hard he thought it would explode. He looked down at your face to see if you had heard, but you had remained unbothered and completely engrossed in your ice cream. You sat down on the large green lawn and he followed suit, sitting closely with his arm behind you.

After about an hour and Kylo eating your cone, he took you to the lake where Old Man Fett rented out boats for the lake. “I’ve never been on a rowboat before.” You said as you nervously watched Kylo enter to first. “Well, I’ll make sure to make it extra special.” He smiled and held out his hand; taking it, you stepped in feeling the rock and tensed. “It’s ok,” Kylo whispered as he held your hand until you sat down. He positioned himself and took both oars in hand. Getting out onto the lake had you absolutely terrified; the farther you moved from shore the darker the water got from depth. Sitting all alone at one end, you wring your hands deciding to focus on something else. Something else happened to be Kylo’s muscles that were trying to burst through his shirt as he rowed you along and he wasn’t even breaking a sweat! You couldn’t help but notice how his veins protrude at the continuous motion and how large his hands were as his long fingers gripped the wooden sticks tightly. Snapping out of it, you shut your gaping mouth and scolded yourself.

“Here we are!” Kylo smiled. Your face seemed to lose color. “In the middle of the lake?” You nauseous stared into the water. “Oh be careful, you don’t want the Sarlacc to get you.” Kylo pushed you back. “The Sarlacc?” You gulped. “Yeah, supposedly there’s this big giant creature that dwells underneath here. There are so many caves and it’s so deep they can’t find it.” Anxiety started to fill the poor girl after being dragged so far from shore. “But, it’s ok I’ll protect you.” Kylo moved forward and the boat moaned. You tensed when he decided to stay seated and the boat rocked. It took awhile, but you started to actually relax and enjoy the sun. Laughter filled the air as the two reminisced about past memories. “Wait, wait, do you hear that?” You silenced Kylo. “Y/N, it’s probably n-” There was a thumping against the boat, then it ceased. “See it’s-” His words were cut off by a large flash of green in his vision; which sent him scrambling out of his seat and you to scream for dear life as the boat started keel.

Water consumed everything and Kylo scrambled to find you. He saw your struggling form fighting against the water. The boat had capsized so he grabbed you and went under, where he found the air bubble. Kylo brushed the wet curls off your face as you coughed out the water“It-it capsized! And you fell...the Sarlacc!” Your panic voice was muffled as you tried wiping the water and hair out of your face. “It’s ok, it’s ok, I got you, princess.” Kylo pulled her against his chest, keeping her above the water. Cries fell from your trembling lips and he tried to calm you. “Alright, Y/N, Y/N, listen to me. We have to push the boat over.” His hands loosened around your waist and you found yourself clutching onto him. “Princess please, you can do it. I know you can.” Kylo sighed as once again he tried to move to the opposite end of the boat and you obliged. Their arms flew up and the strained against the nature of physics to push the boat over. You were not much help, leaving Kylo to do all the work as his muscles strained against the confinement of his shirt. With a grunt, the boat flipped back over and soon he was pushing you up and into the boat. You started to cough up the water that has slipped into your airways.

When you turned to look for Kylo he was nowhere in sight. “B-Benji?” You whispered noticing you were alone on the boat. From behind you saw one of the employees and Old man Fett coming to your rescue. Simultaneously, Kylo shot out of the water to your right. “B-Benji!” Slippery hands did your best to try and pull your friend up. “Swim over here, boy!” Fett yelled to Kylo. “Get her first!” Kylo said as he swam towards the other boat. Tentatively, you jumped from one boat to the next to be met with a thick blanket as you sat on the opposite side of the boat. The other two was soon helping Kylo out the water and handing him a blanket as well. While the two men rope the other boat to theirs, Kylo walked over to you draping the blanket across your legs. Wrapping his arms around you, he gently pressed a kiss to your wet curls. “It’s ok Princess, I got you.” He held you tight, spreading warmth throughout your body. Once back on land, Kylo carried you back to his car and gently placed you in the passenger seat. He slid into the driver's seat and blasted the heat before he began to drive. “Umm...if you don’t feel comfortable, just say so, but...my house is close to the lake. If you want...we can clean up there. We just got a new Whirlpool!” He looked over at you and saw your shivering body nod.

In less than ten minutes, the pair was strolling into the Solo house. Kylo led with the key in hand as he took you to the main bathroom. Helping you to the towels and how to work the shower. “I’ll go see if my mom has anything you can borrow.” Kylo rushed off to let you get situated as he haphazardly looked through his mother things. After not being satisfied, he went to bring you the news. His knuckles rapped against the bathroom door and you answered wrapped in a yellow towel. “Yes?” Your voice was soft and the chattering of your teeth started to subside. He fumbled with words as the sight of your bra strap had his mind getting hazy. “Uh…my m-mom doesn’t wear, have clothes, I’ll take-take yours.” His large hands were pushed out in front of you as you laid your dress in his hands. You turned around to unhook your bra when you felt fingertips gaze against your back. “I got it.” His voice was quick and quiet.

You were tense under his touch, you didn’t even know if you were even breathing! Slipping it off your shoulder, you gently laid the bra in his hand. Kylo saw your hand twitch at your hip before he boldly moved to his knees; his hands gently slid up under the towel and up to your thighs. All the blood rushed to your ears as you watched him pull down your underwear. Regardless if there was a towel, you felt exposed in front of him. He shut the door behind him and practically ran to the basement. Kylo couldn’t believe what he just did; did he really just undress his best friend! He threw your clothes into the dryer and began to pace the cemented floor. He couldn’t believe how today was going so well and he had to ruin it by doing something so...inappropriate. He stripped himself of his wet clothes and stuffed them in the dryer. A wet slap hit his ears as he was making his way to the bathroom, he turned to pink panties with lace trim staring back at him. He gulped as he heard the start the of the shower. Rushing, he scooped them up and ran to the bathroom.

You exited the bathroom to see a dressed but flushed Kylo. “H-Hey!” Kylo ran his fingers through his hair. “Did my clothes dry?” You asked him. Kylo bit his lip as he didn’t know how to tell you he shrunk the clothes because he forgot to turn the dryer on and he thought high would help. “Um, well I thought-” “You put it on high didn’t you?” You placed your hands on your hip. And you standing in the doorway of his bedroom fueled the hunger he felt after the things he just did while you were two floors above him. “Your underwear is fine!” He blurted. An embarrassing smile crept onto your face. “Thanks,” He only handed your bra. “Uh...it didn’t make it.” Kylo lied, if your panties were on fire it would set ablaze to his pillow. “Well, can I just wear something of yours?” You asked. He nodded. “If you can find something that fits.” In under minutes, you found a t-shirt and gym shirts. He smiled as you descended the stairs in clothes he hadn’t worn since middle school. Shyly you approached Kylo to thank him. He just shrugged because you were his best friend; what’s yours is his. “Can I-I braid your hair?” Kylo looked at your now dried hair. “O-okay.” You nodded, settling yourself between his thighs as his large hands worked their way through your hands. The silence blanketed the room with the only sound being the noises that escaped from Kylo’s lips. “Done.” He sighed. You rushed to the mirror to see two short braids held back by the bow tie he was wearing. “It looks amazing! Where did you learn this?” You smiled at him. “My mom, but I couldn’t walk with your nest looking like that.” He joked. You lightly shoved him. “Let’s go, so we can have your birthday dinner.”

It was silent but bright in the Manor until he turned the corner. “SURPRISE!” Kylo stood shocked at the sight of his parents, Uncles, and cousins. Leia rushed up to him planting kisses on his face. You just stood there and smiled, as Leia made her way to thank you. “You-you knew about this?” Kylo smiled. You just nodded as Leia explained how it was all set up. A smile was present on his pink lips, he couldn’t believe that you did all of this for him. He hugged you tightly and pulled you to meet all his family members. “Y/N, I want you to meet my cousins.” Five glamorous looking chocolate women turned around and your mouth flew open. “This is Louise, Lillian, Lena, Lucille, and Lorelei.” Kylo smiled. “They’re Lando’s daughters.” He whispered. Your mouth flew shut from embarrassment. “Hi!” You waved and the girls swarmed around you. ��Benny she’s beautiful!” “She’s so cute!” “Is she the reason you haven’t visit us?” They cooed and complimented you, kicking Kylo out of the circle.

Kylo walked over to his Uncle Chewie, who happened to be talking to his father. “What’s with the get-up?” Han nodded towards Y/N. “We went to the lake and she fell in,” Kylo said. “So you took her back to our place instead of hers?” Han squinted at his son. Kylo went to defend himself before Chewie jumped in. “Han, leave the boy alone. It’s his birthday! If he wants a little fun, let him have it.” A deep laughed erupted from his Uncle and he turned beet red. “It...it wasn’t like that!” He rushed over beside your smiling form. “Yeah, we used to put him in the baby carriage and tell people he was our sick sister,” Lena told you. Kylo grumbled. “Are you ok?” You said turning to him. “Yeah, it’s just-” “Daddy!” You yelled running past him and to your father. He watched you and your adorable face. “Benny, why didn’t you bring her around more? She’s absolutely like crazy, like wow!” Lorelei said. “Yes, she’s so beautiful and smart, Benny I know we tease you a lot but good job.” Lillian patted him. “Yeah, your girlfriend is amazing!” Lucille smiled. “You definitely have to bring her around.” Louise chirped. Kylo felt the heat rise on his cheeks as he turned back to where you were supposed to be standing.

It seemed like hours, which was actually half an hour before he saw you descend the stairs in an emerald green dress. He stood their mouth agape as you made your way towards him. “You have to stop before you get drool everywhere.” You teased and he blushed for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “Sorry it took so long, I had to find this.” Kylo watched as your finger pointed to your hair; holding your braids together was no longer his bow tie, but the butterfly barrette he made when you were younger. “You still have it?” He gasped. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Of course! I told you I did, silly.” Kylo introduced you to his Uncle Chewie and Aunt Maz, which you couldn’t believe he was related to Maz and literally got free meals! His Uncle Ackbar and other people that worked closely with his family. “And this is Uncle Lando.” Lando turned and you were starstruck. “Oh is this beautiful princess you were talking about Ben?” Lando kissed your hand and you made an inaudible noise with a large smile. “Yeah.” Ben blushed. “It’s nice to meet you, I hear you’re a big fan.” He smiled. “Yeah,” you said exasperatedly. “I just don’t know if I love you or your daughters more.” Lando laughed and you didn’t know it was possible, but you smiled harder. “That’s usually what happens.” He nodded before he was being called off.

Slowly you turned to Ben, who was laughing at you. “I-I can’t believe...Ahhhhh!” You jumped up and down. “He touched me and called me beautiful. His daughters touched me and called me beautiful. My life… is complete.” Kylo watched the sparkling smile and gleam in your eye. He did that, he caused this happy moment and it made his heart beat faster. The pair mingled and danced with all of the guests until Y/N pulled Ben onto the patio to give him his gift. He looked her over with a soft gaze as she begged him to open the gift. His long fingers ripped at the paper to see a book; he observed it seeing that there was no title. Its leather was brown and the gilded pages, it was seemingly new. “Open it.” You whispered. He opened it and flipped through pages of familiar handwriting. After briefly ready a page or two, he furrowed his brows. “Did...did you write this?” He asked and you nodded. “Is this about us?” You nodded once more. Everything clicked. This was what you were writing at Maz’s. “Y/N...Princess!” Kylo engulfed you in a hug and swung you around. “You’re the best!” He placed chaste kisses all over your face. You giggled, pulling back and seeing his glossy chocolate eyes staring down at you; he gulped when he set you down. God, he loved this girl.

“Juney?!” The name that fell from your lips left Kylo confused. ‘Juney?’ He thought to himself. “Juney!” You pushed yourself out his arms and ran past him. He turned to see Y/N and Juney entangled in each other's arms. “W-what are you doing here?” Your (y/e/c) roamed his body, noticing the Hoth varsity jacket on his shoulders. “Why are you wearing this?” You asked. “Well,” Juney shrugged. “Every Saturday, you know I told you I was with Finn? Well, I was and well, he’s been helping me get onto the wrestling team. So, I thought I’d stop by and-” You cut him off with a squeal. “YOU MADE IT ONTO THE WRESTLING TEAM?! JUNEY I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!” Your arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing him tight. “Ah thanks, Mama. Maybe you can become a permanent paper shaker and cheer at my matches.” He smiled. “Of course!” You grabbed his hand and jumped up and down.

Kylo stood their, heart literally breaking as he watched her direct her happiness towards Juney.  A tight feeling was felt in his chest while he watched the couple interact with each other, all smiles and laughter. He was practically in the shadow of the night sky as he watched you two from the patio. He shifted to his other leg, as he tightened his fist. Juney’s amber eyes flicked towards the darkness, putting a protective hand over Y/N. “Oh Kylo, it’s just you.” Juney relaxed. ‘Yeah, just me.’ Kylo thought. “Man, Happy Birthday. Did you give him the gift Mama?” Juney asked, you nodded and Juney stared lovingly into your eyes. “Isn’t she amazing?” Juney said. “Yeah...she really is,” Kylo whispered, biting down on his trembling lip. “Let’s tell Daddy about the good news!” You pulled Juney’s hand. “Oh, and Daddy said you can spend the night with us for Thanksgiving!” You turned back to Kylo. “Thanks.” His voice threatened to break as he watched them run off. He was a fool thinking he could break up two people that were so happy together.

P.S.: You can scream at me via dm, comments or anon lol.

[letsplayscrabble-blog]

feels like the first time. [ch. 3]

author's note: hi all, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your continued support of this writing. now that introductions are out of the way we can start in on the story a bit and though i have ideas up my sleeve i'd love to hear what you guys want to see! as always, leave me a review and let me know what you think. enjoy (: [@halsteadpd]

"Just a beer whenever you get a second," she heard the blue-eyed man remark before the door of the kitchen had swung closed behind her and she assumed the kind-hearted old man was back out and bullshitting with the lot of them while the burgers were grilling up, finding much more enjoyment in the company the soldiers brought along with them than her grunts and occasional nod of the head whenever he would attempt to strike up a conversation with her bedraggled self. Truth be told, she couldn't really blame him. The only human interaction she was accustomed to anymore were the drunk screeches of her mother if she ever wandered home or the foul groans of a man she'd just sold and offered her body up to.

Erin Lindsay was now left with a dilemma, however, as the soldiers were seated far too close to the old man for her liking and she silently cursed herself because she'd forgotten to ask where he kept the mop because he was getting old and forgetful and it varied from day to day but there wasn't a chance in hell she was about to let herself be seen by a single one of their prying eyes again. The one in front had caused her to lose her nerve for a fraction of a second, not liking the way his eyes found her face and her eyes and the puffiness and the bags because let's be honest she hadn't had more than a few hours of sleep a night for the past three years because the towels she snatched out of the laundromat from some nearly blind old lady one lazy afternoon didn't really serve as blankets in the winter and the bricks near the dumpster of a deep-dish style pizza joint didn't really serve well as a pillow.

She began to fidget with the string on her sleeve again, resisting the urge to yank on it and to maybe let out a harsh chuckle as it came further apart, a perfect metaphor for her life because it'd been three years out on the streets and all she'd done for herself was find a kind old geezer who probably wouldn't be around for much longer to give her a meal and sometimes she had a wad of cash big enough to buy a warm cup of coffee for a few mornings and if she was lucky a new pair of jeans from the Goodwill for approximately thirty-two cents but she was getting tired and fed up and more than once she'd thought about reaching out to Hank and taking her chances and maybe sending up a quick prayer because that damn prep school had taught her something at least, but she had a sinking and a sick feeling that her luck had run out with him and he could still bust her and put her into prison for years because she'd broken their deal but at this point maybe a cell and her own cot and the putrid smell of a toilet were all she was gonna get in this lifetime and maybe she had to learn to be okay with that.

"Oh, this isn't the bathroom?"

Erin whirled, her fiery hazel eyes landing on those damn beautiful blue ones belonging to the dimwit that had just sauntered in through the kitchen door, knowing without a doubt that this wasn't the bathroom because she was going to believe the best in him for a second and presume he could tell the difference between a stove and a shitter.

"I don't know why you sound so surprised," she shot back, the steadiness of her voice catching her off guard a bit because being alone in the room with a person of the opposite sex had never gone smoothly for her over the course of her twenty-one years of living and even though he didn't strike her as her typical cliental she had learned not to trust men a long time ago and this beautiful one wasn't going to change the sudden sinking of her stomach as he moved a step closer. Her eyes darted off to the right, trying to find even a fucking spatula to use as a weapon because she was well aware of the muscles more than likely rippling underneath that uniform of his but damn it she wasn't going to let him do what he wanted to her without a fight.

"I don't know why you look like you're about to piss yourself," he replied smoothly, holding up his hands to show her he had picked up on her body language and picked up on the fact that him moving closer to her wasn't going to do anything for either one of them. Expect maybe work in her favor because he was fairly certain he'd be walking away from the encounter with fingernail scratches all over his cheeks and probably down his arms if he made another single movement in her direction because she looked that ferocious and deadly and if it weren't for the darting of her eyes and the way she took one, tiny small step backwards with her left foot he wouldn't have even been able to tell that she was afraid in the first place.

"Fuck off," she growled, though she was thankful he'd stopped moving closer because she'd run out ideas and had landed on her best bet of screaming and biting and maybe thrashing until he let her go and she could get the hell out of dodge but he looked too strong and too built for that idea to get her very far so she'd also settled on the fact that she was going to have to let him do whatever it was he needed to do do her before splashing cold water all over herself from the sink to give her the false sense of being clean then slipping out the front door without finishing her french fries.

His perfect eyes widened then, maybe in offense, maybe in shock, but she had a feeling it was the latter. He probably had this idea stuck in his head from his suburban childhood and adolescence and his prim and proper mother that women needed to be gentle and soft and not rough around the edges and downright repugnant like she was. He probably had this idea that women weren't quite this ghastly and hideous and revolting but she wasn't going to apologize for shattering his fantasies because with eyes like that he could've landed about six women down the street at Molly's by now but here he was in the middle of an exchange with her.

She was worse than the villagers back in Afghanistan, he had decided while his eyes discreetly studied her as he could feel her doing the same. She was worse because she showed not an ounce of curiosity or trust or anything really towards another and at least they gave the soldiers a chance when they came around asking questions and at least they didn't look like they were about to pounce and recoil and then strike again and he was also sure she was worse because at least those people had each other to lean on and depend on and stand with when it all went to shit and this girl had absolutely no one except herself and he had a feeling it had been a long and dark path for her to end up at this point.

"Did you need something?" He heard her counter, snapping out of his inappropriate thought process because who the hell really cared about this stranger of a woman he met in a bar back in his hometown who he was more than likely never going to see again. So what if her hazel eyes were the most exquisite he had ever seen? So what if he was desperately lonely and craving the affectionate touch of another and so what if he just wanted to reach out and graze the pad of his finger across her cheekbone just to see what she would do? Nine months of being in a dark hole of death and obscurity could really damage a person and Jay Halstead was certain he was certifiably insane but he wanted to keep talking to her and he was going to take a shot in the dark here and see if he could get her to stick around because he was pretty certain he knew what she did for a living.

"Yeah. Whatever it is you're selling," he shot back and he couldn't stop a corner of his mouth from turning up in a grin at the sight of her bewilderment because she wasn't able to get a handle on it quick enough.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Erin hissed, her eyes blazing in the soldier's direction because he had figured her out in a matter of a mere three minutes. Then again she wasn't going to give him that much credit because she still had her pride and in some other life where she was wearing pearls around her neck and swinging a Kate Spade purse on her wrist if she saw herself from the outside looking in at this very instant with her ripped up jeans and her sopping wet off brand fur boots and her bedraggled Cubs sweatshirt as a winter coat but most importantly the puffiness of her eyes and the sallow look of her cheeks she would've pegged herself as a dealer too. Or at the very least someone who had been using. She watched him raise an eyebrow and she found herself digging into her pocket because hell, she'd already made a decent sized wad today but what was one more customer and maybe she'd get that bottle of red wine after all. "One-fifty. For this baggie and for me giving up a half hour of my day to let you entertain yourself." She'd flipped a switch so she was the version of herself that she absolutely couldn't stomach in a matter of two seconds, the dirty girl who sold drugs on the street to get by and the one who sold her body for money because she may not trust men but they were all hungry for that feeling of power they only found when fucking a woman who didn't protest and who pretended to enjoy herself and she wasn't going to discriminate if this guy was willing to join them.

He watched her dangle the plastic between her thumb and her pointer finger of her right hand, all traces of decency he had found speckled in her hazel orbs as he had been staring at her disappearing because now she was doing what she did best and he hated how angry it made him feel that she had to do this to survive but normally he wouldn't have a problem with taking a woman up on her offer to sleep with him because all he really wanted to do was numb himself and alcohol and another body and a quick lay were the only way he really knew how to do it. But this instance, this tiny and fierce woman standing before him and offering herself up to him at a price pissed him off and he found the eruptive and uncontrollable anger his father had passed down to him rising in his throat and it was then he took a few long strides to cross the room and snatch it from her, silently agreeing to her proposition although he already had an idea formulating in his head and there wasn't a chance in hell she was going to find out about it before he got her exactly where he wanted her.

Her feet remained firmly planted in position as the soldier moved closer to her because she already felt disgusting enough and if he wanted to get the show on the road already she wasn't going to put up much of a fight because in these instances that was never a wise decision. But he simply took the bag of pills and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket, handing her the ridiculously overpriced total without so much as a second glance before extending his hand for her to shake.

"Jay Halstead."

She raised an eyebrow without really acknowledging his outstretched fingers before slipping past him towards the restaurant and past his friends who began to hoot and holler as he emerged from the kitchen behind her obviously well into their hard liquor for the night but could she really blame them because she'd never known war but it had to be pretty fucked up and terrifying and it made sense they'd want to forget about what they'd done and what they'd witnessed a lot like she wanted to forget about her sad excuse of a life and what she and Jay were on their way to do.

The cold air hit her harder than she liked and as he let the damn bell ding again and the door close behind him he also caught a glimpse of her shiver but he bit his tongue and kept his comment to himself because this girl was ferocious and he didn't want her bolting because when it came down to it she was probably the most genuine company he'd had in nearly a year and he'd only been speaking to her for six minutes. She cast a questioning glance over her shoulder at him then and he was struck once more at how breathtakingly beautiful she was under the smeared eyeliner and the grey tinge of her skin and he couldn't help but wonder why she kept doing this to herself because he obviously wasn't her first customer.

"Follow me," he commanded and she found herself trailing after Jay Halstead's footsteps in the snow and biting back a few tears because she was already dreading having to ruin the way she felt about his dazzling blue eyes and the slight hope she'd had that he was different from the rest.

[thisdaynews]

How Buttigieg's childhood pal ended up managing 2020's breakout campaign

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/how-buttigiegs-childhood-pal-ended-up-managing-2020s-breakout-campaign/

How Buttigieg's childhood pal ended up managing 2020's breakout campaign

Mike Schmuhl, the Buttigieg campaign manager, has never worked for a candidate outside Indiana. | Lyndon French/POLITICO

Before the Democratic presidential debate in Columbus, Ohio, Mike Schmuhl ventured into the city to get his mop of red hair cut. It wasn’t so much that Schmuhl needed a trim — but Pete Buttigieg’s campaign manager wanted to make sure the barbershop was up to the task of a presidential shave.

Thirty minutes later, after the Royal Rhino Club Barbershop & Lounge passed muster and Schmuhl made an appointment under the name “Max Harris,” another aide who got his hair trimmed, Buttigieg appeared for a fresh predebate cut.

It’s not the type of assignment you’d normally associate with the most prestigious job in politics.

But Schmuhl — an even-keeled, attention-deflecting 36-year-old prone to telling staffers up and down the org chart that they have “the most critical” job on the campaign — has taken an unconventional path into presidential campaign management. Schmuhl has never staffed a statewide or national political run, unlike most other presidential campaign managers. The biggest campaign he managed before taking charge of Buttigieg’s presidential bid is a House race. In fact, he’s never before worked for a candidate outside Indiana. When he briefly lived in Washington, D.C., he worked at The Washington Post, not on Capitol Hill. He’s not on Twitter.

“I’ve worked for Pete, for Joe Donnelly, for Mel Hall, for Shelli Yoder,” Schmuhl said, rattling off the names of Indiana congressional candidates. “It just so happens that one of them is running for president, and honestly, if one of them wasn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this. And it just so happens the one I know the best, the one I’ve known for the longest time, is the one who is running.”

That is Schmuhl’s greatest qualification for shepherding the $50 million startup that is this long shot-turned-frontrunning campaign: He’s the Buttigieg whisperer — the childhood friend who has one of the biggest jobs in the 2020 primary. Schmuhl’s résumé is modest for his position — something he shares with his boss, who’s running for president at 37.

Schmuhl, who managed Buttigieg’s 2011 South Bend, Ind., mayoral run and became his first chief of staff, and Buttigieg, who is deeply involved in his own political strategy, share a shorthand that aides and former staffers likened to a secret language — a depth of trust that you only “have with somebody you’ve known for so long,” Buttigieg said in an interview.

Occasionally, Buttigieg and Schmuhl will literally communicate in another language, dipping seamlessly into French when they want to speak privately in a car packed with other people.

Schmuhl, Buttigieg continued, “shares a lot of my instincts, but can also press or nudge me when I’m kind of veering off where I need to be. … He uniquely understands both my story and my city’s story, and those two things are so important to each other and they’re so important to this campaign.”

Trust with the candidate is “the most important part of the job” of campaign manager, but another “important part is being the truth-teller,” said Jim Messina, who managed President Barack Obama’s 2012 campaign. But “that’s the challenge with friends. Are they able to have those tough conversations?”

‘Some catching up to do’

Schmuhl isn’t a familiar face on the national political scene, but at a union hall in South Bend on a chilly fall night, everyone knows him. Schmuhl cataloged nearly all of the people attending a vote for the St. Joseph County Democratic Party chairman: a state representative here, a city councilman in that corner, former Sen. Joe Donnelly’s wife over there, the former fire chief stopping by for a hug.

“This is a good test for me,” Schmuhl joked.

It’s been a year of tests. Buttigieg rocketed into the group of contenders for the Democratic nomination earlier this year thanks to a flair for composed answers with a knack for going viral to interviewers’ questions, among other raw political talents. Whatever his flaws, which rival candidates are now litigating daily on the campaign trail, Buttigieg was ready to seize the opportunity. That left Schmuhl scrambling to keep up with his friend, as the campaign rapidly multiplied in size and attracted scrutiny.

In a few months, Buttigieg’s email list grew from 24,000 people to over 1 million, the campaign headquarters expanded from one room with donated furniture and WiFi hotspots to 60 offices throughout the country, and the payroll has grown to over 500 staffers from just a handful in January.

But the process has not been one smooth upward line, and some of the missteps along the way exposed the campaign’s inexperience, starting with Buttigieg and Schmuhl.

Buttigieg, who has struggled to gain traction among African American voters, was painfully slow to get organized in South Carolina — an early problem that has become a recurring negative theme on the trail. His campaign later stumbled over releasing a list of disputed endorsements of Buttigieg’s Douglass Plan, a policy proposal that targets systemic racism, and the use of a stock image of a Kenyan woman.

In October, the campaign cut ties with donor Steve Patton, a Chicago lawyer who tried to block the release of footage of the 2014 police shooting of Laquan McDonald, sparking a warning from David Axelrod, Obama’s former chief campaign strategist, to “hire one more” staffer and “put them on vetting.” 

“There were some glaring missteps by the campaign, especially as it relates to the most reliable voting bloc in the Democratic primary,” said J.A. Moore, a South Carolina state representative. “Our politics in South Carolina is all about relationships, and they are new.”

Schmuhl acknowledged that it’s “fair to say we had some catching up to do.” But, he said, “we literally came from almost nothing to where we are now, so it just took a little bit of a lag time getting there.”

It became clear by June — after Buttigieg blew past senators and governors in fundraising and early polling — that Schmuhl had too much on his plate. He had nearly 20 people reporting directly to him, and “that was unsustainable,” he said.

Schmuhl brought on reinforcements, building a campaign staff, 40 percent of whom are people of color, and filling out the senior team with seasoned hands with far thicker résumés than his own, including Larry Grisolano, a messaging consultant who worked on Obama’s presidential runs; Jess O’Connell, former CEO of the Democratic National Committee; Brandon Neal, former DNC political director; Hari Sevugan, another Obama alumnus and an experienced Democratic strategist; and Michael Halle, who played a key role in Hillary Clinton’s 2016 campaign and managed Democrats’ gubernatorial campaign in Ohio in 2018.

“The folks [Schmuhl] brought in, clearly more experienced than him, clearly very smart, talented people, but he’s confident enough to bring them in,” said Jeff Link, an Iowa-based Democratic consultant who’s unaffiliated in the primary. “He’s not trying to keep out smart people who might challenge him.”

Schmuhl freely admits to the imbalance. “The two folks on the campaign who don’t have modern presidential campaign experience are me and Pete,” he said. “I’m pretty up front with people about what I don’t know.”

On David Plouffe’s podcast, “Campaign HQ,” Schmuhl talked to Obama’s former campaign manager about mitigating that experience shortage by bringing “together people who can specialize in their areas so you don’t have to.”

‘The guy knows how to keep you on edge’

Schmuhl isn’t outside the norm as a longtime loyalist managing a 2020 presidential campaign. Roger Lau has been in Elizabeth Warren’s orbit for nearly a decade, helping steer her to victory in both of her Senate races. Greg Schultz served as Joe Biden’s senior political adviser during his second term as vice president. Justin Buoen took his first job on Amy Klobuchar’s first Senate campaign in 2006, sticking with her ever since.

But Schmuhl and Buttigieg’s relationship stretches back much further than most.

They first met when Schmuhl was in eighth grade: Buttigieg, then a ninth grader, led him on a tour of St. Joseph High School in South Bend. Their fathers both taught at the University of Notre Dame and knew each other, but the boys hadn’t met until Buttigieg helped Schmuhl learn where the cafeteria was. They were both only children, “short, pudgy, shy and bookish,” in Schmuhl’s retelling.

The pair took different paths and stayed in infrequent contact after becoming friends in high school. While Buttigieg left for Harvard University, Schmuhl stayed close to home at Notre Dame before spending three years as a producer and a booker at The Washington Post. But Schmuhl, drawn to political work, got his résumé to then-Rep. Joe Donnelly and returned to South Bend as a field representative in the congressman’s office.

Then in 2010, Donnelly, a Blue Dog Democrat in a red district who voted for Obamacare, faced the prospect of losing reelection. But Donnelly picked Schmuhl, who had never worked on any campaign before, to manage his race because, Donnelly said, he “doesn’t worry about who gets the credit, just the getting it done.” Joel Elliott, Donnelly’s former chief of staff, assigned it to Schmuhl’s “preternaturally calm” disposition.

Donnelly scraped together a narrow 2010 victory. Buttigieg, who ran for Indiana state treasurer, got crushed in the general election. But Buttigieg and Schmuhl kept running into each other on the trail, and in the “aftermath of both races, we started talking about what’s next,” Schmuhl said.

What happened next runs parallel in some ways to the 2020 presidential primary, said Dan Parker, a former Indiana Democratic Party chairman. Buttigieg, then 29, cut through a crowded primary of familiar party leaders to become mayor of South Bend, running an upstart campaign based on the themes of economic revitalization and generational change. And Schmuhl managed it.

“The more I think about it, the more the 2011 primary race for mayor mirrors the kind of campaign they’re running for president right now — a newcomer with an optimistic tone,” Parker said.

Schmuhl became Buttigieg’s chief of staff and did a brief stint as the district Democratic Party chairman, but he left after 1½ years to go to graduate school in Paris. His going-away gift from Buttigieg was a “hand of the king” pin from “Game of Thrones,” which now sits on Schmuhl’s desk in South Bend. “I don’t exactly wear it around,” Schmuhl said, flashing the badge, a symbol of the second in command in the show.

One day while Schmuhl was in France Buttigieg dropped the news that he was gay over Skype. Thinking back on it, Schmuhl, one of the first people Buttigieg told, said he wasn’t “crazy surprised.” He’d always just assumed Buttigieg “didn’t really have time to date or anything — I thought about it that way.” The conversation turned quickly to how Buttigieg would make his sexual orientation public in Indiana.

Schmuhl observed that when Buttigieg drops big news on him, it usually starts out casually.

“‘Hey man, I’m thinking of running for mayor.’ ‘Hey man, I’m going to Afghanistan.’ ‘Hey man, I’m gay.’ ‘Hey man, I want to be DNC chairman.’ ‘Hey man, I think I might run for president,’” Schmuhl said.

“The guy knows how to keep you on edge.”

Building a long-shot campaign

By the fall of 2018, after a few years at the Democratic consulting firm 270 Strategies, Schmuhl returned to South Bend again, this time to lay groundwork for Buttigieg’s presidential campaign alongside Lis Smith, who started serving as a senior adviser to Buttigieg when he ran for Democratic National Committee chairman in 2017.

Smith — a fierce New York-based Democratic operative — admitted that she “didn’t know exactly what to make of [Schmuhl] when we first met because our styles are so different and he likes to sit back and observe,” she said, describing her and Schmuhl as a yin and yang-like force. “We probably had tense moments, but I can count them on two fingers.”

“It’s a little offcast for people who would traditionally run presidential campaigns,” said Jeremy Bird, who served as the Obama reelection campaign’s national field director and hired Schmuhl to work at 270 Strategies, his consulting firm, in 2015. “In a political world where people are often focused on chest bumping, hyperbole and being louder to be heard, Schmuhl is not that. He listens.”

Schmuhl and Smith hashed out Buttigieg’s strategy over beers at the Rusty Knot, a bar in New York’s West Village, and over board games in Buttigieg’s living room in South Bend. “It was hardly a cast of thousands around a big conference room table,” Smith said, calling the early days of the Buttigieg campaign “a pipe dream and a bit fantastical.”

But Buttigieg soon outgrew the small beginnings of his campaign. Sitting in the green room backstage after a mid-March CNN town hall, Schmuhl was approached by a producer with an iPad who said, “I want you to look at something.” The screen showed online engagement during the three-hour broadcast, which featured Rep. Tulsi Gabbard, former Rep. John Delaney and Buttigieg.

“It’s two hours of a completely flat line, and the final 45 minutes, it’s just this —” Schmuhl swept his hand steeply upward. “That was the first kind of inkling something was up.”

While Buttigieg’s fundraising and his attention from voters and the media rose rapidly in the spring, the campaign’s infrastructure was slower to grow in the early states. “It still didn’t seem real then,” said Grant Woodard, a longtime Democratic operative in Iowa, describing some “staff types who thumbed their nose at Buttigieg’s campaign” as it was trying to expand.

A lot of that fell on Schmuhl’s plate, as he sought to build on-the-ground infrastructure and a senior leadership team. “When you throw 450 people into a project in a tight amount of time, it’s a lot of people, it’s a lot of personalities,” said Schmuhl, who admitted to only getting “hot” three times during the presidential race, though he declined to explain further. “There’s going to be quirks.”

Over the summer, when the mayor began to sink in national polling after his early splash, Buttigieg’s top staffers were at odds over coordination between the campaign’s two main offices in South Bend and Chicago. The group was “intractably split over what to do,” said one senior Buttigieg official. “But we were not working well not being in the same place.”

Schmuhl took in the arguments and made the decision: Everything would be in South Bend. Staffers moved soon after.

Buttigieg staffers said Schmuhl is tasked with the hard conversations, often “riding in the car alone with Pete before big events, before debates,” Smith said. “If there’s something that Pete needs to hear, and just one person alone, Mike’s the designated person.”

As Buttigieg faces more heat and pressure, there will be more of those moments. At last week’s Democratic debate, Amy Klobuchar skewered Buttigieg’s experience, questioning whether a candidate who couldn’t win his state could lead the Democratic ticket against President Donald Trump.

But Schmuhl is aware that anytime someone questions Buttigieg’s experience, the same question applies to him: In the most consequential Democratic primary in recent history, was he prepared to handle the job?

For all the times he’s heard the question, asked or implied, he still struggles with an answer.

“I think that Pete is —” Schmuhl said, breaking off and tearing up over ramen at the Crooked Ewe, a brewery on the banks of the St. Joseph River.

“Pete is somebody who makes people around him better,” Schmuhl went on. “He’s the kind of MVP who makes the whole team better. He makes me better.

“I’ve completely realized that I’m not a traditional campaign manager, and I think the things I’ve done in my life and how well I know Pete, I think we’re a good team and we’re a good package,” Schmuhl continued.

Still, when asked for a moment when he and Buttigieg disagreed — a moment when a friend who also happens to be your campaign manager could deliver a much-needed hard truth — Schmuhl blew out his cheeks and thought for 30 seconds. He declined to share those thoughts.

“I don’t know,” Schmuhl said.

Buttigieg, for his part, reached into a past campaign and described a moment in his 2011 mayoral race when his friend sat him down and said, “I need to know if you want to win this.” Skimping on additional details or conflict, Buttigieg said he and Schmuhl “needed to sharpen a lot of things in the campaign, and we did.”

“And we won.”

Read More

[gryffindormischief]

Hi! I'm a female artist from Texas. I hate it here though because it's like summer weather tries to take over in seasons where it has no business being. (Also I'm not very Texan in the way people expect me to be. like they expect me to listen to counry music [i hate the stuff] and talk in a certain accent [i speak pretty standard american] amongst other things) I want to move to Europe someday. I have so many places I want to go *v* [1/4]

Anon! I’m putting the rest of the messages under a cut along with my answer!  Ah!  I love hearing about your lives it’s so fun!  Feel free to do it any time :)

[2/4]I know a little bit of Japanese and a tiny bit of some other languages. I'm super interested in languages and I want to learn ALL OF THEM. haha I'm mostly into Japanese, Russian, and Swedish though. I know a teensy bit of French and German. Growing up my mom would use German here and there. Mostly just some phrases. She's not very good at speaking it, because she hasn't for so long, and she can't read or write it, but she grew up being able to understand it with family.   

[3/4] So unfortunately we weren't really taught it much growing up and can't speak it ourselves. Anyway I like a lot of colors. Like pale yellow, and foresty shades of green. I lot of times when I think of colors I like I actually think of color combinations rather than a single shade. But in the end I'd probably have to say red. Classic, gryffindor red. There's this brand of ice cream called Blue Bell that's only in certain parts of the states but it's known for being really super good.      

[4/4] Cherry is a really good one.. coffee too. I'm not sure I have a single favorite. It's been ages since I had any though. And no I don't have a cat. We used to though! Her name was Mittens and she was the sweetest thing in the world. She was very lazy and chill and always super well mannered. Rarely playful, but she was quick to come cuddle if we were upset and she'd fall asleep with you. We'd carry her like a baby, tummy up. She was precious. And she was very tolerant of us tiny children xD      

(Sorry for getting carried away, this was probably way longer than it needed to be)          

FIRST don’t be sorry this was so interesting and I’m so glad to learn about you!

That’s super impressive that you know any Japanese!  I’m working on Spanish right now.  Much less exciting ha.     

I know how you feel about the seasons thing, I grew up in a state where its pretty much just HOT always.  But now I’m going to school where it’s colder in the appropriate months but that hasn’t actually held up?  Very mild winters except for random snow storms that last like a week so that’s fun ha.  Maybe you can try living somewhere else for school or something?  It’s a good way to test out what you like and don’t like. 

I’ve only been out of the country once but it was like a European sampler for a study abroad trip and it was amazing.  I hope you get to go to all the places on your list.

The German thing!  That’s awesome.  Is your mom from Germany I guess?  My parents use random phrases from some of their background cultures but aside from that no learning in the home stuff.

GRYFFINDOR RED YAASSS.   Same.  When I go to Islands of Adventure I’m like “how much themed and color coded garb can I wear before it gets obnoxious?”  My answer is probably ‘as much as humanly possible’ bc I bought robes but eh what else is vacation for?     

I’ve had Blue Bell ice cream!  Only vanilla though, because people tend to buy it for events where a ton of people will be making sundaes and vanilla is pretty generally acceptable.  Coffee flavored ice cream yum, the best.  I love when it has little chocolate chunks or fudge-y SWIRLSS.  Now I want ice cream :(

Mittens sounds adorable!  I’ve never had a cat, but my friends tend to get them so I pet them sometimes.  But they usually hate me so I go with dogs which generally like me?

[kepesh-yakshi]

My life story.

My earliest memory was around the age of three, when I was staying at my father's mom's house for  the weekend.  Gran got home from work, and I was so excited that I bolted from the couch to give her a huge hug.  On the way to her wide-open arms, I tripped over something on the floor (probably my shoe lace) and bit a hole in my lip that required a dozen stitches in several layers.  There's an image of a memory before that, too.  I think it was my first birthday, because I remember feeling the annoying rubber strap around my chin when I recall the image.  Anyway, I was sitting in the floor of my mom's mom's house (I call her "Gran," too), and there was a plastic red and blue ball with a yellow handle, and some plastic yellow shapes all over the floor.  Of course, I didn't know that was "plastic," back then, but I recall the memory enough to know it was plastic.  I think they still sell those things at toy stores.  Probably at Wal-Mart, too.

I only have a scar from something I don't remember that almost changed my life.  I nearly cut my left thumb off while playing outside around sheet metal (where Mom told me not to play, of course -- that suddenly became the place to play).  They sewed it back on after resetting everything, and the doctor told my mom I'd never be able to use that thumb, again.  Glad to prove them wrong, as I am left-handed.  Incidentally, when I was five, I closed the car door on the same thumb.  It didn't hurt until Mom opened the car door.  We found out I was a pitch-perfect soprano at that point.

By the way, did I mention that I am accident-prone?

Church-wise, I split my time between the Church of Christ on the mom's side and the Baptists of my dad's side.  My mom's side didn't attend church regularly (if I remember correctly, they weren't active in any church), and my dad's side was loaded with clergy and elders and Sunday school teachers...and Uncle Erwin, who drove the Jolly Green Giant Sunday School bus for First Baptist Church of Abilene.  (on a side note, my dad's side is also loaded with military veterans.  So far as I know, nobody in my family is presently active duty).  I went to church because it was fun, and not  yet because I understood what it was about.

My life before second grade wasn't special, aside from all my early-stage clumsiness and multiple trips to the doctor for repairs. But in the second grade, everything changed, both for the better and for the worse.  I remember coming home to Gran(ny Hall's) house, and when I got off the bus, I looked up at the sky and said "God, are you real?"  Or something like that.  But I remember asking Him something like that.  Because all these kids and people and old people were always so happy to be at church and sing to this God guy, and I didn't get it.  Who's God?  Or, in my seven-year-old mentality: why the heck are all these people singing to some guy I've never seen at church? Doesn't he need to be there, too?  Maybe he needs the bus to come get him.

I got my answer in an unconventional way.  Shortly after my mom remarried a now-awesome guy (you'll understand what I mean by that, soon enough), I started attending a non-denominational charismatic church with his parents (who, by the way, I have a lot of love and respect for, as they taught me the power of embracing the way you perceive Jesus Christ as opposed to following the masses to the biggest church in town just because everybody else goes there -- I go to one of the biggest churches in town, so I'm not judging big churches).  Something else I noted at this church was the fact that people who claimed to be speaking in tongues during prayer were, in fact, speaking French.  I knew this because I watched Pinwheel's Playhouse specifically to see the segment that had Chapi Chapo in it.  (that was slightly sarcastic, but they were speaking French).

On one Sunday, a prophetess by the name of Nita Johnson came to give a "word of knowledge" from God to anyone who wished to receive it from her.  Not being bashful, I stood up almost immediately, and she started crying as soon as she touched my forehead.  This woman was getting upset.  Like breaking down in tears as if whatever she was hearing from -- again -- this guy named God who I'd never seen, before -- was telling her something that I suddenly wasn't sure I wanted to hear.

In a nutshell (I have the printed copy of what she said, somewhere, and when I find it, I will share it on here in the form of a separate post), she told me that I was about to endure tremendous pain at the hands of many, and I would not understand why they would do these things to me, and that I'd even taste death.  But somehow, I would learn to use what I went through to spread the Word of God.  That I'd come back to recall what she was telling me that night, and be blown away by what she said (this happened about 10 years ago), and that I would still not be shaken enough.  That I would have to witness His overwhelming spirit one more time before it finally hit me hard enough to seriously desire to seek Him.  He would hit me so hard that I'd be unable to speak.  This actually happened in mid-December of 2012, again, in the most unconventional of ways.

Life is good, right?  Well, not after this Word of Knowledge.  See, Nita, if you look her up on Google, has a lot of apologetics calling her out as a false prophet.  I am only going on what has happened to me, but so far, she is pinpoint accurate.  A week after this "session" with Nita at the now-disbanded Church on the Rock was the first time I experienced sexual abuse.  Not just by one person, but by two.  One of them is currently serving a sentence in Ohio for exposing himself to children.  The other one was a lengthy ordeal that happened on an almost weekly basis.  I won't say who did this, specifically, but I am sure you can gather by "weekly" who had access.  This one was also an alcoholic, and was fine until he was drunk.  I remember the details of what happened vividly, and I'm sure if I sat here long enough, I could recall all of the times they happened.  "Just do it and get it over with," I remember thinking.  I don't think it was the abuse that caused the emotional damage, though.  I think it was the fact that he kept saying "I love you," while it was going on.  That's not the kind of "love" that is supposed to happen in that kind of relationship.  And this is probably why I am still a virgin to this day...so maybe it has affected me more than I let myself believe.  Single for life, but only as a form of self-protection.

And...then there was the physical abuse that started about two weeks after that, when the dog got out and I was the easiest to blame.  This particular person is now one of the strongest supporters in my life, right now.  So I will again refrain from pointing out which "he" I'm talking about.  You can draw your conclusions if you know me, personally, but disclosing names of people who had problems some 28 years after the fact can be traumatic for those people, and this is my story, not theirs.  (in other news, 28 years ago, I was seven years old).  I was thrown about my room, beaten with a stick, and left immobile on my floor until mom came home.  Later that year, I was chased out of the house with a shot gun (some people deny this, but a bus full of witnesses -- including the driver -- saw it).  And in the winter time that year, I was made to stand outside in the snow until Mom came home for a reason I don't really remember.

All of these are from the first six months after that Word of Knowledge.  The sexual and physical abuse both carried on until I was old enough to leave the house.  But there were other abusers, as well.  When I was eight, the lady at the day care center chewed me out for not claiming kindergarten homework that belonged to an "ADAM" (name clearly written on the page).  The gas station attendant locked me in a closet until I agreed to do unmentionable things for him.  I was able to unlock the back door and leave.  A friend's father tried to lure me into his house.  The kids at school, who I'd been really good friends with, up to this point, suddenly became very aggressive toward me.  Even my softball team mates were rude and uninviting.  It was like everyone around me started shunning me.  And all of this started after that Word of Knowledge.  Which I'd completely forgotten about by my tenth birthday.

The funny thing about all of this is that I was already a natural loner. I spent a lot of time writing, drawing, listening to music, singing, playing video games, but I wasn't much of a socialite, though I loved to meet new people and make small talk.  I was, and still am, horrible when the conversation gets deep.  My conversations become massively one-sided, and come across quite like the words I am writing now.  Everything is like a grand story that needs to be told, no matter how mundane the topic.  I was fixated on the details of things.  For instance, with flowers, I loved to look at the pistils and anthers and how the grains of pollen sat in the center of the petals.  With bugs, I loved the ones who were iridescent in the sunlight.  And there was something about music.  I liked to try to dissect the instruments in each song.  I'd listen to a song over and over until I could focus on, for instance, only the bass or only the backup vocals.  Classical music was my favorite.  So, if the pain of dealing with people was a problem, I was, by my nature, making it hard to detect.

I was a straight-A student in school.  When I was nine, I stopped doing my homework.  I told my fourth grade teacher "I did this last year, why do I have to do it again?"  And that pretty much set the tone for the rest of my educational career.  I lost interest, and because of that, never put forth any effort, except for test time, where I aced it and still passed with a baseline 75%, since that is what is required to pass.  I was a teacher's nightmare.  Smartest, most active student in class.  Never did homework.  Never had a reason.  But give me a topic I am interested in, and I will research it into the ground until I am satisfied.  Then, I'll tell you all about it in the form of a six page dissertation.  Sometimes, I wish my fixation on things would be more technical, like cars or airplanes and not things that included people (like sports or cultures...or just people, for that matter).  Maybe I should have been an anthropologist.

Anyway, as a result of my "odd" classroom / interpersonal behavior, I was given several tests in the sixth grade.  I was 11.  The school district's counselor tested me for a lot of things.  Out of the tests came the discovery that my IQ was 147 (157, now) and a statement that I was too intelligent to have ADD or anything on the autism scale.  I swear to you that I have, at the very least, Asperger's Syndrome.  I was given a "PDD-NOS," which stands for "pervasive developmental disorder - not otherwise specified," and sent back into mainstream education, where I continued to rack up goose eggs and ace my tests.  I graduated high school in the bottom 25% of my class, but with a 1580 SAT and a perfect 36 on the ACT, I was among the top 10% in the nation on national test scores.  And even though it took four and a half years to graduate, I have the words "graduating junior" on my diploma.  So it still looks good on paper.

The whole church thing was out of the window by the time I was in high school.  My mom started attending a Seventh Day Adventist church, and something about them saying "THE Church" (meaning the ONLY church) of God's choosing turned me off.  That, and the demand of getting baptized without taking time to consider it was odd.  Don't get me wrong, the people were very nice, and the pastor was awesome.  But...I just couldn't buy into what they were selling.  I'd tried out several different churches in Abilene (which was rumored to be in the Guinness Book of World Records for having more churches per capita than any other city at one time) on my own, and almost all of them required baptism into the church.  It seemed too much like "used car lot" tactics to me.  And there were a lot of places that claimed to know angels by names, places that looked pretty and welcoming on the outside, but made me feel very dark and fearful on the inside -- something I'd learn later is a spiritual gift I have called discernment.  Despite the church shopping and denomination hopping, with no success for a longterm fellowship, I stuck with my bible and developed an understanding on my own, avoiding anything that had to do with fellowship, since I just couldn't place faith in places that wanted submersion before submission.  To me, it needed to be the other way around.  Learn, then lean back, so to speak.

Very shortly after I graduated, I moved to Durango, Colorado to work for my uncle at his construction business.  Talk about epic job.  My title was “Executive Assistant,” and my job duties were just about everything one could think of.  I took care of the house boat, the house, the bulldogs, and carried thousands of dollars in cash to the bank for the company.  I’d assist my aunt with various um…personal needs.  By that, I mean I’d go shopping with her and carry all her bags (and get my own outfits, out of the deal, too).  On Saturdays, I’d clean the office and make sure certain supply orders were properly placed.  On weekends, it was almost always at Navajo Lake or Lake Powell, depending on the time of year.  And Lake Powell – wow.  The scenery is so awesome, and the fishing was second-to-none.  I even caught a 60lb striper, there.  Well, it caught me – after a tiresome 45 minute fight, I fell over the rails on the stern of our house boat and into the water, but I got my hands wrapped around the beast.  Just couldn’t save myself and the fish at the same time, so I had to let it go.  I lost my Diawa rod and reel, too, in the whole mess.

But Durango, the year and a half that I was there, was such an amazing experience.  I called the scenery “car crash beautiful,” because you’re always looking up at the La Plata mountains and you often forget to watch the road.  And the residents were awesome.  You knew everyone, and if you didn’t, you almost always had a one-degree connection.  Which, being a small town, meant that if someone got into trouble, everyone knew about it within a week.  I likened it to church gossip.  People didn’t talk to be mean; rather, they talked because they actually cared…and to pass the time.  Or, usually because there was nothing else worthwhile to talk about than other people.  

Anyway, sometime while I was in Durango, and I don’t recall the trigger point, nor do I remember actually doing it, but I “came to” at about 6:30am on a Saturday, and my legs were aching and wrapped in towels.  There was dried blood all over the place, all over my hands, all over the floor.  What happened?!?  I was clueless and scared.  I took the towels off my legs, revealing very long, deep gashes.  Some were still bleeding and in need of medical attention.  I drove myself to the ER and got a hundred or so stitches while the nurses and a chaplain calmed me down and talked with me.  This was my first personal exposure to self-injury.  Actually, up until that day, I hadn’t heard of it.  I didn’t black out due to drinking — I was very much so a non drinker, because I saw how negatively it affected family members, and how it turned a few of them into monsters.  I did not want that lifestyle or problem for myself, so I avoided alcohol like the plague.  But why on earth would I want to harm myself?  I knew my stress levels were through the roof, and had been building for some time, but why would I ever want to do something like this to my own body?  It served no purpose, other than to hurt like hell and leave some nasty scars.  I started counseling shortly after this, but I was far too deep into denial in regards to my problems for anything to work.  After a year and a half in Durango, I left for home.

When I returned to Abilene, I went back to a counselor I was going to shortly before I moved to Durango.  I’ll call her J on here, if she comes up in future posts.  She’s a friend, now, and I’d like to keep our counseling relationship private for that reason.  But in our counseling, I was able to gather some reasons for why I would do this to myself.  We noted that, at this point, I’d done this once.  But through the sessions, it was noticed that it happened every 6 months, usually in April or May and  October or November.  These were when the seasons change.  And it also seemed like I would contain my stresses until I literally could not hold them, anymore.  I’d let these things pile up around my mind until my head would pop.  Being that I was so accustomed to being the guilty party all of the time as a child, I blamed myself for everything that happened around me as an adult.  So when I popped, I ended up punishing myself  and getting stitches for all of it.  It was, then, very important for me to learn to let go of these small problems as they happened, lest they grow into a pile so big that I could not handle them.

The last time I cut myself was April 19, 1999.  I remember the date because it was the day before the shooting at Columbine High School.  And again, I don’t remember the trigger, except that everything was so piled up that I couldn’t handle it, and I popped.  I ended up with over 300 stitches and 127 staples in my arms and legs.  Odds are, the trigger was something small like dropping the shampoo bottle in the shower, but out of the hundreds of thousands of other tiny straws that I’d piled up on myself, it was the straw that broke my inner camel’s back.  And, for some reason, cutting seemed like the proper punishment for all of these small nuances that happened in my life.

I had a friend, who I was very close to, suggest that I go to church with her, which I did.  It was a Church of Christ — and one of my favorite churches to this day, though I don’t go there very often, anymore.  And I wasn’t a “regular,” though I was a member.  Through my own study, along with the sudden influx of really nice people in my life from this church, the whole ‘relationship’ aspect of my Christian faith started to click.  I began to pray regularly (read: all the time.  In the car, when I woke up, hugged people, took a shower, went to bed, etc).  I began to be very open about my beliefs.  Everyone started to take notice of how much I was glowing about it, too.  I felt really good, and it poured out onto others.  Someone said “Suzie, you’re truly filled with the spirit!  Everywhere you go, you light people up!”  I wasn’t so humble to brush it off.  I was proud of myself. But not in a prideful “look at me!” sort of way.  I was doing things right, and it was showing.  This was the first time I wrote a testimony about my life, and also the first time I shared it from the pulpit with a church fellowship (that was scary).

Shortly after this, my workplace had a FISH! Philosophy seminar, and I was reeled in — hook, line, and sinker (pun) — to the whole “leadership” phenomenon.  I started to reflect the four standards of the FISH! Philosophy (among them were “be there” and “have fun”).  I worked at a hospital, and it seemed like a corporately-thankless job — but there was so much mutual gratitude between peers, patients, visitors, and nurses that it more than made up for the lack of attention from upper-management.  The patients must have loved me, because I earned a “You’re A Keeper” award, complete with my own Pete the Perch, which is something the hospital gave out to employees that the patients nominated.  Mine was for customer service and leading from my position (which was far from a leadership role). So far as the self injury was concerned, I had gone from that day in 1999 to July 31, 2002 without any hint of wanting to do anything to myself.  I give massive credit to learning to talk to God about everything, and really putting my faith where He was, which at this point, I placed Him everywhere in my life.  An interpersonal conflict at work forced me to feel the need to quit, which was devastating.  My side of the story is that I trusted a person way too much, and she tried to force me to go from Patient Services to the dish room.  For the first time in my life, I was torn between being the people-pleasing girl who was scared to make anybody mad and standing up for what I loved (helping the patients) and saying no (which meant letting someone down).  I said no, and it went downhill from there.  I ended up feeling so much shame over it that I quit on July 31.  I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting outside with a razor and arguing with myself over whether or not I should condemn myself yet again to that kind of punishment.  I felt like I deserved it.  In desperation, I shouted out “If I am useless, Father, then kill me.  Please kill me.  I am worthless like this.  If I am useful, then make me useful!” I woke up the next morning, and for some reason decided to open to Isaiah, where for the first time I read chapter 53 verse 5:  He was wounded for our transgressions.  He was bruised for our inequities.  The chastisement for our peace was upon Him; by His stripes we are healed.  That was the last time I considered self injury as an option.  I’d already been talking with the pastoral staff of my church, and and through our discussions and a LOT of prayer, I made a commitment to Christ and was baptized on my birthday, August 7, 2002.

With a lot of effort (and a little bit of luck), I landed a great job with the federal government.  It was  September of 2002, with a new administration created in the wake of the 9/11 attacks.  I felt like I was finally able to do my part to keep our country safe.  And after some of my experiences with this admin, I feel like I did just that — there is almost no greater fear than that of when you’re standing next to a bag with a possible IED in it.  I learned even more about leadership, there, too.  Since I loved to write, I started suziehall.com to share what I was learning, translating it to a more personal level, so that anyone could use the skills that were so instrumental to my own development and recovery.  I wrote for my administration’s regional newsletter in a section called “Keep it Positive!” and got a lot of compliments for it.  I also got employee of the year 2006 for my efforts, which I took as a sign that, again, I was doing things right.  All glory to God!  In 2007, I transferred to Denver, where I realized being an introvert in a place that was like Black Friday at Wal-Mart all the time wasn’t so bad; actually, it was kinda fun!  I was right at home in such a stressful environment, and was frequently called on to diffuse tense situations.  I got several awards and recognition for my customer service skills, and was promoted to a real leadership position in 2008.  Everything was going so well!  I was on top of the world doing something that I love to do (helping others in any way I can).

On Christmas Day 2008, several of us were working together to get around a server issue on the computers, and I got the phone call  that would change my life forever.  My mom said “are you sitting down?”  “Yes,” I answered, knowing that when Mom asks this, it means something very bad has happened.  She told me that my uncle David was in the hospital, and that he had a heart attack.  Now, I haven’t mentioned him, yet, but David was my hero.  My best friend, closest confidant, the only person in my family that actually knew me well enough to answer me before I spoke.  We could get into the kind of fights that were full of — pardon my language — “F*CK YOU!” and would end with “hey, wanna get a pizza?”  And we’d gotten into an argument around my birthday that was so bad that we weren’t talking.  On the way to work that morning, I was driving down Pena Boulevard, blasting Chris Tomlin, praising and praying to God, telling him to wish David a Merry Christmas, and that I’d call him as soon as work was over.  I couldn’t wait, because it was a good day to forgive someone and ask their forgiveness as well.  But when Mom said David was in the hospital with a heart attack, she couldn’t bear to tell me that my grandfather found him dead in his house on Christmas morning.  There are no words to relay the immense hole that immediately filled my heart.  Only that I felt such deep sadness that the tears couldn’t climb their way out for another month. His favorite song was New Years Day by U2, and it was almost appropriate that his funeral was on January 1.  I met so many people from his life that I’d only heard of, up to that point, and had several of his coworkers laughing hard – even at his funeral.  One told me I was just like him, with my ability to make even the saddest days slightly enjoyable.  That was a sincere compliment.  David had this unique ability to make the darkest days a lot brighter.  He was a firm believer in Christ, and we’d spent so many nights playing dominoes (aka “bones”) and doing bible trivia, and praying for my very skeptical grandfather’s salvation.  David’s biggest fear was that he’d see my grandfather (I called him Peep) die an unbeliever.

The day David died, Peep began to read the bible, and he started taking it seriously.  He asked me a LOT of questions.  With my ability to retain information like a sponge, I was able to answer the majority of them, and even squelch his ideas about religion being created for the sole purpose of greed.  While I agreed with him to an extent (that people use it as an excuse for war and seizing land and oil rights), that’s not the reason for religion — it’s a method of conveying the dire need for us to have a relationship with God.  A relationship that, up to this point in my life, was on a baby-needing-milk maturity, even though I was on fire for it.  Peep was already saved (at age 13), but he was finally affirming it in his early 70s.  Sometimes it takes that long, but David’s pleas and prayers to God were not unheard — he never saw Peep die an unbeliever.  And Peep did not die an unbeliever.  A year and a day after David passed, Peep died in his sleep of natural causes.  These were the first two deaths in my family — the only deaths, actually — that I was old enough to comprehend.  I’d just turned 30 in 2008, and this was not how I expected this decade of my life to start, and I was not at all prepared for what would happen, next.