#pros: affordable. friday night so i could probably get there

[sophieebridgerton]

i’m just one bad idea away from buying a gracie abrams in manchester ticket

[marischimmer]

Vignar - Chapter 1, Part 2

– You are...? –

– Princess Lisette, of course! –

– Princess? You have kingdom? –

– No... –

– Then we make one! –

She woke up, hating herself for dreaming about that stupid girl again. Why should she keep seeing her in her sleep, when she was nothing but some disloyal subject? Yes, she may have been one of her first friends, and she may have waited for her to come back for months, but that had nothing to do with this! She was a nobody, a really annoying nobody.

She started her makeup routine, still complaining. Who was she kidding? Of course she’d dream about her, she used to be her best friend. Deep down inside, she hoped nothing bad happened to her. Maybe she just moved away without notice, or something. It didn’t matter. She shouldn’t give it any further thought, she concluded, brushing her shiny, black hair. After some minutes of choosing what to wear, she headed to the canteen, wanting to have breakfast before the students started showing up. She should go to the town later to get her own food, so she didn’t have to eat that commoner food.

Gosh, she could be so arrogant sometimes.

Shaking the thought off her head, she avoided every single person until she got in and out of the dining room. The juice and the cupcakes weren’t that bad anyways.

Back at the dorm, she decided to tidy everything before the new girl showed up. She couldn’t understand why she had to share the room, she specifically said she wouldn’t accept it back when she enrolled in the school. Well, at least they were sensible enough to pair her with another girl; that weird genderless policy wasn’t for her. But anyways, if she was going to have a roommate, at least she should give a good first impression, even if she didn’t plan to talk to her just for the sake of it, less being friends.

It didn’t take much time. Her room was always spotless after all. Soon she was out again, headphones on, straight to town. It was too small for her; she could run into other students too easily, it was annoying. Still, it was good enough for the main purposes: shopping the basics, hanging around and escaping school. Probably the best thing to do would be to stay the whole day there, window shopping and walking at snail pace. Just to avoid going back to the dorms.

But just as she was reaching the main avenue, a familiar, friendly face ran into her.

– Up so early? – she asked as a greeting, smiling, headphones off. The purple haired boy chuckled, rolling his eyes.

– Nope, I ain’t slept at all. I’ve been working, y’know, I always work Fridays and Saturdays’ nights, remember? That guy’s probably ending up in my pros’ list tho, he wasn’t bad at all – he joked, knowing there was nothing to fear in talking freely with her.

– How much this time? –

– Enough to pay for the next three lunches – he beamed, and she let out a chuckle – This one’s been a good one. Bet the purple suits me, ain’t it? But anyways, what are you doing here? Escaping the common subjects? –

– What else would I be doing here? –

– Enjoying life for once, maybe? Oh, right, too simple for your majesty –

– Very funny, Damon, very funny… If you stop fooling around, I’ll have breakfast with you; my treat, of course –

– Royal breakfast? Sweet! I’d never miss one! –

– Especially if it’s for free… – she joked, teasingly. Damon surely ate a lot, but she didn’t mind it. He was her only friend after all; she had to accept him as he was. And if that meant buying food all the time, then why not? She had enough money to afford it. Who said money didn’t buy friendship?

– Princess, are you listenin’? –

– Oh, sorry. What were you saying? –

– The new classmate. Word says you’re sharing rooms with her. They must be crazy if they thought pairing a haphephobic, kindness-needed girl with you was a good idea –

– You say that as if I were-! Wait, how do you know that? –

– Tracy is my roommate –

– Oh. Right. Still, I’m not a monster –

– Well, I guess you ain’t one. My bad. I apologize, your highness – he teased, messing her hair up – Where are we going to anyways? –

– You know where –

– Palazzo? Sweet –

– Damon… Do you… Do you think she’s gonna hate me? – she asked, worry eating her. There it was, her real voice. Not the fake, arrogant one. For once, he gave it deep thought before answering.

– Well…  That depends a lot on what she’s like. But I don’t hate you, right? She may as well see you ain’t just an arrogant piece of shit, like everyone thinks you are. But we can’t know till we meet her, so don’t worry about that, ‘kay? It’s gonna be fine, promise – he reassured her, striking her hair slowly to calm her down – And if she ain’t nice to you, I’ll get one of my guys to make her –

– …Thanks, Dei –

– Heh, what are friends for? You’re welcome –

Having breakfast with him was nice. Damon usually ate so much she just took bits from his plate. They kept on rambling about random things until they decided two hours in a café was more than enough and left, heading back to school.

– Very well, princess, I’m off to the canteen. Can’t go without my third breakfast! You’ll be okay by yourself, right? –

– Yes, it is not a problem, you can go, Cookie Monster – 

– Sweet. See you later, princess – he chuckled, patting her head, far from getting annoyed for the nickname.

Now that she was back at school, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go back to her room to load her phone’s battery, maybe even start doing that awful Math homework; it would take her years to finish it, anyways.

Headphones on again, she headed to the dorms, glaring at anyone who looked in her direction. Common subjects didn’t deserve to. 

There it was, the arrogant princess again. She should work on that. Some time. Not today.

Soon she was opening her door… and closing it again to check the number. Yes, it was the 216. She opened it again and looked carefully at her roommate’s side, for she obviously had already arrived.

Anything slim enough to tie something around it was covered with branches. Branches. The bed frame, the desk, even the curtain bar looked like trees. And that wasn’t all, oh, no, it wasn’t. Both the bed cover and the curtains were green. Leaf-patterned. Bet the sheets were, too. Were those stones on top of her drawer?? Just what kind of girl could this be, turning her room into some kind of forest?

And why did it look so good?

She stormed out of the room. Her phone didn’t need charging anyways. And she could do the homework in the library. She suppressed the tears trying to take over her eyes.

Of all the people she could have as a roommate, it had to be a nature-lover. 

[ssson-of-sparda]

A Dozen Ice Cream Cones (Dante x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Patty wants to know what happened to the girl who offered Dante his very first strawberry sundae. But to know the rest of the story, she must erase the dozen ice cream cones from Dante's tab. (Part 2 of A Tab To Erase) (Part 1)

Tags: Pre DMC3 Dante / Dante is Tony Redgrave / Flirting / Lost Friends to Lovers / Implied Sexual Content / Explicit Language

Author’s note: You wished for Part 2, there it is ;-) If you want to place this part of the story in the DMC timeline, I'd say that it is shortly before DMC3. Dante is roughly eighteen (and so is Reader) and still goes by the name Tony Redgrave. Again, the Dante who is talking to Patty is definitely post DMC Anime. I decided not to give many details about him so that he could be the one of your choice. Can definitely do a part 3 if you want.

MISSION 2

Dante was about to get fleeced. He could feel it in his guts, which had somehow developed this strange ability to knot tightly in his stomach each time he was about to lose. Probably the result of so many years of bad luck in gambling. And yet, Patty’s eyebrows were weirdly furrowed as she was quietly eyeing all of the cards in her hands. She had to have a straight flush. Dante had no doubt about that. So why wasn’t she playing? “You know, Dante. I was thinking …”       “Not again.” The man grumbled, wondering why she was taking her time. But Patty had learned to ignore Dante’s sudden irritations long ago, knowing they were always brief and harmless.       “You didn’t stay friends, right?” Dante arched an eyebrow and stared at the girl in front of him as she was sitting still, big blue eyes fixed upon his face, patiently waiting for the answer to her unexpected question.   “What are you talking about?” A sigh escaped his mouth. He knew what she was talking about. He just wanted to elude the answer. But the little blonde was not one to easily give up. “With the little girl. The one who made you first strawberry sundae. You didn’t stay friends. Why?”                   “What makes you think that?” Using a question to avoid an answer. Yes, could work.             “Well, if you had a friend making you strawberry sundaes for free, then you would not spend an unreasonable amount of money on them. So, I’m guessing she must not be around anymore.” Patty was perceptive. Dante could give her that quality, for sure. Though right now it was more a bother than anything else. “What happened?”       “She moved on with her life.” was the only thing that he felt like answering as he quietly stood up to take a beer in his fridge, certain that this was just the beginning of another long questioning.               “So you never saw her again after that night in the diner?” Patty asked as she watched Dante slouch back in the couch, taking his cards back in his hand to cover whatever expression Patty was trying to spot on his face.       “Yes, I did saw her again.” He finally confessed, eyes on the dog-eared Queen of Hearts he was grazing with his thumbnail.             “Then tell me!” The girl begged, unable to resist the excitement growing in her body any longer. “ Why would I? Don’t you have any stupid soap opera to watch?”       “ The TV’s broken… AGAIN.” She complained but he couldn’t care less. He had no money to afford buying a new one or fixing this one. Plus, there was nothing worth watching on TV so …“Come on. I’ll erase the dozen ice creams cones from your tab if you do.” Dante looked away from his cards with a sudden tiny smirk as he noticed Patty on the edge of her chair, impatiently waiting for the new part of his story to begin. “Now you speak my language, Patty.”         “ You never do something for free! It’s annoying!”       “Are you kidding me? I do a lot of things for free. That’s why I’m so broke and live in this hellhole.” He waved at the place with open arms before taking a gulp of his beer with a grimace. Yuck, it’s hot! And of course it was. He hadn’t paid the bills yet again.           “So we have a deal, then. Now tell me.”

A DOZEN ICE CREAM CONES

                 It was the nineties – perhaps the most awful period for anyone who had even just a small sense for fashion or music - and as the city of Red Grave was still lovingly dancing on ridiculous love ballads on Friday nights, wearing tight crop tops, colourful scrunchies and platform sneakers, Dante – now named Tony Redgrave - was trying to make his place as a young mercenary in the rough areas of the city, hanging in bars serving some drinks stronger than strawberry sundaes (though he would always order one at some point) and in clubs where women would gladly take their clothes off if asked too, mind a few bucks of course (except for Venus. Venus would always flash her breasts for free for her sweet Tony).

“Not sure I want to know that.” “ Oh yes. Forgot the story must be PG-13, sorry. Anyway …”

He was looking for jobs, something that would help him pay for a proper roof over his head and the fancy long red leather coat he had just bought (five hundred bucks but worth every single dime) and luckily for him he knew the perfect man to find him that.

His name was Enzo Ferino. A short and chubby Italian-American broker, probably the best informant in the neighbourhood, one who could smell high-paying jobs for miles around especially those Dante loved to refuse.

“Where was Morrison?” “Can I tell my story please?”

“Come on Tony! You can’t refuse that job. Not another one. Not again.” He almost threw a fist on the counter before he remembered the last time he did so. Two bullets had whizzed the top of his black curly head and he had had thanked his mama for making him so short. “Haven’t you heard the reward? Don’t you see all the zeros on that check, my friend?” Yes, there were four and enough to pay the bail and few rents of the place he wished to rent to create his own agency. But Dante didn’t want that check nor did he want that job.             “If he wants to recover a stupid necklace, he can call the cops for that … or a bailiff. I don’t go after silly poker players. I have better things to do.” He took a sip of his whiskey, the third of the night, not even looking at the two men sitting next to him and begging him to take that damn job with pleading eyes.               “You have nothing better to do!” Enzo shouted, throwing his hands in the hair like a living Italian cliché. “Please Sir. It’s my girlfriend’s necklace. One she offered me on our anniversary. It’s very precious to her.” The man who wished to hire him declared as he started rummaging in the pocket of his designer coat.               “And you bet on it?” Dante scoffed. “Damn. What a perfect boyfriend you are. But that’s still a no.”

The man pressed a piece of paper next to Dante’s drink. A photo, a polaroid, judging by the quality of the paper, carefully placed face down like a poker card, showing that that man was most probably a pro-gambler or at least was used to card games. Another reason not to help. He would probably lose the damn necklace right after recovering it.         And yet, Dante took the picture in his hand. Though he didn’t really know why he did. Certainly the curiosity to know what kind of chick that prick could have in his life or maybe the will to use the picture to taunt him about his taste in women. He imagined a prude church girl, some daddy’s girl probably as rich as him, not very pretty but fancy, wearing pearl earrings and silk headscarves matching her shiny shoes. The type of girl that swaggers in the street and roll her disdainful eyes when they see men like Dante (though they might secretly wished he would rumple their sheets).  

Patty cleared her throat. “What? Every girl loves some good bad boy once in a while... And how do you even know what that means?”

He couldn’t be more wrong. And he couldn’t be more surprised. He would recognize those big (colour) eyes and that sweet smile among thousands, despite the time apart, despite the years that had turned a fearful little boy into a daredevil mercenary and an adorable little girl into a magnificent young girl. He would recognize them always because they were the first that had made in smile when he thought he would never smile again.                 “Her name is Y/N. She’s the sweetest girl in the world. Innocent. Pure.” Dante cringed at the man’s words, finding them rather repulsive and somewhat perverted. Something in the way they were rolling off his tongue.       “Come on, Tony. You can’t say no to a sweet girl.” Enzo’s sentence was met with a glare that made him shiver but when he saw his partner stand up and empty his glass of whiskey, he somewhat relaxed. “You’re pieces of shit. Both of you.”         “Does that mean you take the job?” Dante didn’t bother answer.

                 But he took the job. Not for Enzo. Especially not for his shitty client. And even less for the cash. For her. Just for her. To finally return the favour after so many years. Because he owed her one. Because she was possibly one of the few humans he’s always respected in his ten years wandering the nighty street of Red Grave. And because she didn’t deserve an asshole like the one she dated to lose something apparently so precious to her in a silly game of cards. An easy job for someone like him but one he despised nevertheless. He hated to deal with humans. They were sometimes worse than demons and you can’t fix problems with them by using a sword.

“Don’t tell me you won the necklace back?” “ I did. Fair and square. Well … almost. I ended up using my sword. Turned out the Mafiosi who had Y/N’s necklace were a bunch of demons who had made a few bars in downtown Red Grave their lairs.”

But once Dante had Y/N’s necklace in the palm of his hand he did something only Dante could do. He refused the reward, refused all the zeros on the check and the chance to finally buy that agency he wanted so badly. “The things you do for beautiful women.” Gunsmith Nell Goldstein had said when she had given him back his guns, all polished and fixed, after he had wrecked them on the job again. “They’re your weakness, Tony. Always leading you around by the nose … or something else.” Perhaps, but he never minded.        

And as he watched Y/N approaching the door to her home out of the corner of his eye, a bunch of books under her arms, looking for her keys in her bag, Dante knew he would not regret his weakness for women or his decision to refuse the money.      

She looked as sweet as he remembered, as delicate as in the picture if not more. And just as her shitty boyfriend had said, she indeed seemed rather innocent and pure. Almost fragile. Nothing like the girls he had met before, especially those he had seen undressed at Love Planet or in one of the magazines he kept in his drawers.       “Goodness grac…” She almost dropped her books as she jumped, surprised and somewhat scared, and put her hand over her heart that had certainly missed quite a beat when she noticed this insanely tall stranger on her doorstep.   But her sudden fear disappeared immediately when she recognized the silvery white hair covering the icy blue eyes of the man before her. “Tony?” She arched an eyebrow and he smiled with the same childish joy she had witnessed on his face years ago. And just like that, she was certain it was him.       “Hello, Y/N” He offered his hand and she briefly stared at it, remembering for a small instant the time she held out her tiny hand to him the same way, the night they met. And so she grabbed it, genuinely happy to see him again and yet curious to know how he had found her and why he was back after so many years.       But when she fell something cold and metallic in his hand she got her answer. “My necklace. How?” “Won it back for you.” He simply answered but that was enough for her to understand what happened. “[Boyfriend] lost it on a poker game, didn’t he?” And even though that didn’t really surprised her as she knew how much he loved gambling despite her telling him not to, it disappointed her anyway. “You shouldn’t date boys who have a streak of bad luck in gambling… Except those like me.” She looked up at Dante’s piercing blue eyes, unsettled by his flirtatious humour, thinking he accidentally let that slip but he definitely did not. Those last words, impulsive and yet somewhat well thought out, had rolled off his tongue with a scandalous smoothness and a self-confidence that had rooted her to the spot, speechless, but in a weirdly pleasant way that made her want to slap herself. “Or especially me. Depends if you like trouble.”     With a smug smirk, he stared at her, deep in her eyes, almost … hungrily? She didn’t really know. All that she knew was that never a man had looked at her that way. Certainly not her boyfriend. And who knew such icy eyes could set fire to her cheeks like that? “But, judging by that place and your guy, you seem to enjoy some well-ordered life.”

Not really. Not at all. Her life was boring, plain and dull. Nothing like in the books she read. Nothing like what she had dreamed of. But exactly what her mother had wished for her.         She was an adorable daughter, a top student finishing up high school, ready to leave Red Grave with her well brought up boyfriend to start a life many would envy but that she cared little about.     She wanted adventure. She wanted excitement. Passion. Frivolity. Freedom. And maybe even some danger. She wanted all that and more.           And as she looked at the self-assured man in front of her, she couldn’t help but believe that he had somehow managed to obtain all that. And she wanted to know how. How did that life feel? How could he live such a life? How could she have the same?         And Dante noticed that small fire, that tamed lonely flame burning deep in her eyes that needed just a drop or two of gasoline to rage and shine brightly. Something he could easily provide if she let him, if that’s what she wanted.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N” He nodded her goodbye and as he shifted to walk away, she opened her lips to say. “Would you like a strawberry sundae?” And she cursed herself for this, so damn loud in her head. You have a boyfriend! A voice repeated on and on, feeling the temptation in her heart and the ideas of what some people would call unfaithfulness seeping in her brain. But as she opened the door to her apartment, ready to finally kick the boredom out of her life for something else, for something more, the voice seemed to fade.           Guess the Devil truly finds work for idle hands to do.

[softy-b]

The making of new friends.

On your way home you run into people.

Pirate People.

Oh no.

—

A fanfiction that highlights the crew a little. Eustass Kidd x Reader if you squint, maybe the beginning of something. Watch these hooligans tear themselves a way into your heart. 

It’s getting dark out, the wind was howling and you were pretty sure it was raining gently. Not actually rain but this weird sheet of wetness that pulled through the air as if it was to remind you that it was cold outside. All in all it was a pretty spooky looking night and you did not appreciate that, even though you were currently sitting inside a building.

That would be because you could not sleep in here. These were your evening classes you undertook to become a nurse. You had lacked the proper degree to give it a shot so now you had to take these extra classes alongside the actual ones to keep up with the others. At least you weren’t the only one.

There were other people in the classroom, staring with a tired intensity at the chalkboard. All of you were exhausted but had the motivation and determination to get this shitty degree to continue onwards in your career. You knew because coming here at this ungodly hour was not something people who didn’t feel like it did.

Everyone here was very serious about graduating, thus, evening classes. But man, the poor teacher. The old, round man with a moustache longer than his arms was currently talking about the pro’s and con’s to vaccine’s, about how the pros outweigh the cons by a very long mile, but he was clearly tired too. It’s not like you could blame him. What time was it, almost 10 pm. Your class ended in a bit.

Even though your thirst for knowledge was endless when it came to this sort of thing, your body needed to rest. Sleep was a curse.. and yet a curse you loved to live. Sleeping was probably one of your most favorite things to do.. if only you could mix it with something productive and you’d never get up from bed unless you had to.

Talking about sleep wasn’t helping, or thinking of it even. Your eyes drooped a little and you had to force your entire body to stiffen and cramp up to wake up a little again to pay attention to the teacher and his ramblings. He’s wrapping the topic up and people all around the room were giving off a collective aura of relief.

You? You wanted to be happy and somewhere you were happy for finally getting to go home but there was the fucking problem. You’d have to go through the forest near the pier to make it home. The.. fucking.. dark and creepy forest. Euuughhh.. You wiggle about a little on your chair just thinking about that horror story about to become reality.

You had evening classes three times a week, monday, thursday and friday so this wasn’t a new occurrence you suddenly had to deal with, you had to deal with it three times a week after all but somehow it never got easier and made your stomach clench so hard you were sure you could make diamonds with the pressure.

You had a flashlight in your bag, pepper spray, a pocket knife and your stuff you needed for school. You liked to say you were well equipped in case a wild animal tried to turn you into a midnight snack. You refused to go out like that. Stupid bears could munch some tree bark!

You combed with your fingers through your h/colored hair absentmindedly, thinking how you needed to take a shower once you got home. You think about you home, it was a nice spot, even if a bit isolated and creepy at night. It was just a normal sized cabin that had belonged to your parents after all.

They have passed away by now, both due to unforeseen health issues but the memories didn’t hurt so much anymore. It’s been years since then. At first you had thought about giving the house away, feeling not very safe all alone, out of sight from the city.. but then you kept it because it was your parents.

They build the damn thing and everything, you couldn’t just give it away. So you tried to get used to it. Kind of did over the years. The dark still scared you severely but now you could stand your ground and check if there really was someone in the living room or if you’ve been hearing the house doing it’s creaking noises.

It’s not like it was extremely big. There were three levels, the upper one, the ground one and the basement. The upper level consisted of four rooms and a bathroom, the ground level had a bathroom, a living room and a kitchen and the basement was a singular storage room.

It was kind of a hassle keeping everything clean, seeing how you were usually busy studying so cleaning was just a bit of a thing you did not wanna waste your time with.. but you had to. Once every week. A full wipedown to make sure there was not a loading of dust ready to pop out spiders.

It’s not like it mattered, seeing how you lived alone, had no pets and usually didn’t get visitors. You had some pals, here and there but they were mostly school friends. You guys didn’t hang out outside of classes and were just hooliganing it whenever you were together. You look up and see lightning in the distance, making a face.

It’s gonna storm and you’d rather make it home before the rain turned from a drizzle into an actual issue because you did not take an umbrella with you, the weather had looked fine when you left for school after all so you did not think too hard on the matter. Now it was a fact you regretted greatly, as you did not wish to be soaked while the wind was howling.

Then again, the wind would probably just blow the umbrella away. So maybe a raincoat would be better.. which you did not bring either. Damn it.

“Alright!” You blink at the teacher, smiling a bit to yourself as you watched him clap into his meaty paws. “That would be all for today! Please stay safe going home and until monday!” Right. It was Friday. The only plus side you had right now was that you could sleep in tomorrow.

People are shuffling to get up, put their stuff into their bags, chatter among each other about what they’d be doing on the weekend but it was pretty much just polite talk. At this point everyone wanted to go home and either sleep or go and party. The teacher sat down at his desk, supervising the people leaving.

You don’t waste your time staring around much longer, grabbing your stuff and shoving it into your bag, pulling out your flashlight and pepper spray, letting the pepper spray slip into the back of your pants. You fistbump gently to hype yourself and march to the door. “Miss L/N, ready for war as usual I see.”

You halt, looking at your teacher and smiling shyly, a little embarrassed that he saw that. “Ah, yeah. Can never be too careful these days!” The old man nodded, petting his moustache and giving you a kind smile that made wrinkles all over his face. You like him. He reminds you of a grandpa you never had. “Right so! Please do take extra caution going home.”

You give a nod and wave to him. “I will! Thank you and you too!” On the way out you ignore the feeling of dread settling within the confines of your body. Hnnhgf.. God this was just horrible on so many levels. You’re about to fricking piss yourself just wondering what creepy crawlers would await you tonight.

If you got lucky, maybe you’d see a hedgehog.. Something told you that you were not going to be getting much luck. The bad weather would probably make them hide in their burrows and what not to not get totally soaked. Like you were going to be if you didn’t hurry up already!

Once outside, you take in the town square that presented itself in front of you. The street lamps were lighting up the place but that was only within the town itself, sadly, the path leading to your home was left completely dark and empty. You swallow thickly at the thought and begin to walk.

Most stores were closed up by now, only a bar here or there still open, the noise of people laughing and singing filling the air. This was a happy place, usually. The people were nice to each other and often willing to help someone in a tough spot. You’re reminded of when your parents died and you were left alone.

Everyone had put some work into helping you support yourself. You’ve been fifteen at the time and since this was a small town there was no such thing as an orphanage. People kept coming by, giving you money and food and other stuff you needed to live until you managed to graduate.

You got a paid scholarship for the nursing job, which you were thankful for. You were still getting support from a lot of people, they were happy to help out until you could afford your own living. It was kind of something your parents left behind, didn’t they? Everyone had loved them. You being their kid probably made a lot of people feel responsible.

Maybe a bit shady but you would not fight their kindness. It was a gift from your parents, at least that is how you saw it.

Your footsteps carry you throughout the empty, dark streets, closer and closer to the forest. Once the treetops come into view you feel your heart sink all the way into your butt and hide there. ..You want to wait in a hotel or something but that’d be an expense you couldn’t afford. Hhff You’re so fucking scared.

There’s thunder rolling above you, a fat drop of rain landing right on your nose. Ah, snails and nails. Damnit! You pick up your pace as the sound of the wind howling got louder, the rustling of the trees shaking the giant branches, making it look like demons were growing out of them.

You do not like the look of it.. not like it would change anything, you still had to go home at some point and rather now than later because the rain was picking up now that it really got going. Your walk to your house is maybe ten minutes if you hurry so you tried and take comfort in that.

You do not wish to jog though, worrying about attracting the attention of an animal or whatever else was creeping around in that fucking forest. You remember you saw a boar there once. During this time of year they had babies and got even more aggressive than usually. Hnnghff.. it was tough to get around them once they blocked the path.

One time you had to climb a tree to hide from them after they hunted you for what felt like five minutes through this shitty fucking forest. Eugh..

You reach the edge of the woods and step onto the path that had formed over time from people walking along here. It made you feel only worse thinking about the next ten minutes of cold, wet horror. You’re tense, listening as you quietly sneaked along the middle of the path, unwilling to get too close to the bushes or trees lest something might grab and drag you in.

You could hear the ocean from here, the waves splashing aggressively against the stones that were poking out from under the surface. God, the water probably looked like a black nightmare of horror right now. Eugh, the thought of drowning in that mess was another nightmare of yours.

You didn’t like the ocean that much, seeing how you were not exactly a strong swimmer. You learned how to do it once and then after that you’ve been so often in deep waters you could count the events off on one hand not even using all your fingers. You’d definitely drown.

“-can you stop fucking pushing?!” You flinch and automatically click the light off from your flashlight. The thing was loud and the ‘click’ echoed almost in your brain, clearly signalizing.. surprisingly you didn’t get noticed apparently though. But those were the voices of people. Men, to be specific.

“I’m not pushing shit, you prick! Stop stepping on my toes. Can someone just try and relight a fucking torch this is ridiculous!” Travelers? You duck down as your eyes slowly started getting used to the dark. “Trying. No use. They’re soaked.” Yeah.. with the rain, no doubt. God, they’re so close to your home too.

Should you chance it and try and sneak past or maybe run back..? You didn’t really know the answer to that kind of question, you’re too worried that these might be robbers or whatever. Maybe bandits. Those were common since you guys were connected to the main lands which were full of mountains and what not.

“Boss- Boss your arm is slamming right into my side.” “Then fucking move!” You heard a loud crunching noise and then yelling and cursing as something whizzed past your head, gracing your hair actually and slamming right into the ground behind you. You’re frozen.. carefully turning your head and stare at the scythe lodged into the ground.

“Kidd, what the fuck?! Throw your own, goddamn weapons!” Oh god, was he coming closer? “Where did it even go? I can’t see it anymore.” Oh god, he was coming closer! You scramble to the side and press into one of the bushes to hide in it, ignoring the fact that there might be bugs.

They had weapons, they were definitely bandits and you were officially super scared, grabbing your pepper spray tightly and pressing it into your chest. You could probably make an escape if you ducked deeper into the forest and away from the path. You’d have to circle back and go back to town to tell the police department about this though.

Heavy footsteps walked past your hiding spot and you squinted your eyes with no luck. There was no way you’d be able to actually see anyone in this darkness. The trees were blocking out the little light from the moon that did make it past the clouds. It was basically pitch black..

You crawl backwards and through the bush quietly, trying to ignore the fact that these men were really fucking close and could probably see you if they had nightvision. Please, just let luck be on your side right no-ough!

You get a foot right into your side, but not because someone kicked you. “Ah- FUCK!” You hear someone cursing above you right before a heavy body fell right over you. You can’t help but shriek in panic and bolt forward, trying to scramble away. “Who the hell was that?!” Oh shit.

“Wasn’t me- sounded like a broad.” “A woman, here? I’m sure.” “Are you deaf? Of fucking course that was a woman! Someone fucking grab her!” There’s a few choruses of ‘yeah boss’ or ‘got it’ or, your personal favorite, ‘okie dokie’. The rest goes to chaos.

You heard footsteps everywhere now and you’re pressing against a tree to try and stay out of reach. You had to climb- climb! You turn around and begin to hamper your way upwards, only to feel a hand on your ankle. “Gotcha.” The angry growl of whoever had you made you tense your body as you got jerked downwards.

Your fingers dig into the bark and you kick out with your free leg, hitting someone in the shoulder but it only resulted in them catching that foot too and pulling down. Your grip slips and you slap like a wet piece of meat onto the muddy ground. “Ah! Stop- Get the fuck off of me!”

It’s no use. You’re overpowered pretty quickly and you felt the man lean over you, his breath on your face. He was probably trying to see you but good luck in this darkness. But you had the upper hand now. You reached out, grabbed blindly around and actually got the man by a well defined chin.

Then, with knowing where his chin was, you aimed your pepper spray where you assumed the rest of his face was and hit it. “Shit-“ You’re let go as the dude jerked back and yelled something in rage, you roll away just in time to not lose your head. You heard the ground crack underneath his boot. “You fucking cunt! Get the hell back here!”

Oh hell no. You don’t answer and just run into a random direction as chaos exploded behind you. You felt like something was right on your heels and you barely manage around a tree you felt with your hands, since you were running with your arms in front to not hit your face, when you felt the whole tree shake with the impact.  Oh fuuuck!

You flick your flashlight on because you needed to be able to see to be able to get away and you realize in horror you were running towards your home. Oh god- they’d see where you lived. Your thoughts are cut short, you slip and land in the mud. Gross. But then there are broad hands onto your arms, pulling you up. “No! Don’t kill me! I just wanna go home- Oh my god get off you’re wet!” The man sounding behind you had a deep baritone, suddenly he was holding your flashlight, shining it into your eyes. “Everything is wet. It’s raining.”

You’re dragged back by your left arm, fighting all the way until you were jerked forward and almost hit the chest of another man, staring up and not seeing anything until the blonde shined the light right at his buddy. Your blood runs cold.

It’s Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd. The captain of the Kidd Pirates. Oh.. god.. His eyes were red and clearly strained, he’s drenched otherwise. Suddenly your life flashes past you as you stared at the man. You shot pepper spray into his eyes and now he was going to kill you.

“..You little bitch..” He growled lowly and grabbed you by your hair. “The hell was that about? You wanna fight?” Don’t say yes- you didn’t wanna fight this man. “N-No..” You swallow thickly again and just let him jerk you around a little bit until he was interrupted by one of his men.

“Boss. We’re freezing our nuts off out here. Can we find shelter first?” Yeah, you do not doubt that for even a second, it was very cold out here. But. Opportunity came knocking just at that sentence. “We can make a deal!” You feel eyes burning in your general direction. The dude who had caught you grunted. “A deal.”

It’s a question to elaborate. You talk quickly. “I live in a cabin not far from here! I’ll give you shelter and food and in return you won’t kill me or the townspeople?” It came out more like a question. “Hell no.” Oh god. The redhead was jerking your head around again as if he was going to break you neck- You felt the man behind you let you go and then Eustass Kidd got a flat palm to his face.

“We’re taking this, Kidd. I’m not sleeping in a puddle tonight.” The dude grumbled and handed you your flashlight. “Lead us there.” He sighed, forcing his partner to let you go, to which you stumbled pathetically before almost kissing the ground beneath you. “Killer, what the hell?! I said no!” You heard the men start to argue behind you but you’re too focused on your luck.

Oh thank fucking god they took that offer. “I’m not repeating myself.” Killer grunted, following you closely as you picked up your pace a little to get out of the rain faster. People were shuffling and bumping into each other behind you, talking about various topics you could hardly understand from the front.

Killer and Kidd were just arguing all out in the open now, almost at each other’s throat as they were shouldering each other with their massive bodies from time to time as if to make a point. “We’re not sleeping in the middle of the rain just because you need to let your ego out.” The blonde growled at his captain, shoving at him when Kidd gave him a pinch slap in the side.

“I’m the fucking captain, what I say should fucking go-“ “Cry me a river.” You’re surprised, honestly.

You thought for sure that they would be on the same page of murdering people, seeing how high their bounties were and everything.. but that wasn’t the case. They.. reminded you of an old, married couple. Bickering and yapping at each other like it was going out of style.

They were clearly comfortable with one another, they kept barking like dogs but underneath it was a layer of stubborn affection one would miss if you didn’t look for it. It.. surprised you was a bit of an understatement. Your home finally comes into view and you pray to every high entity that you would please, not die tonight.

“Just.. a moment please.” You mutter and unlock the front door, barely making it in and turning the light on and then suddenly you’re being overrun. You shriek as huge bodies forced their way into your home and you hit the ground, getting stepped on in the process. The weight squeezes all of your air straight out of you and the only saving grace you had was someone dragging you backwards by your ankle and then lifting you by your shoulder.

“I’m herding fucking cats..” It’s the Massacre Soldier. The man put you back onto your wobbly legs and waited until the rest had filed in until he closed your front door. You need to sit down a little. Taking in what the fuck was even going on an this point. Your gaze drifted around, spotting the awkward tension.

The dudes were soaked. Just as soaked as you were. Some were pulling their shirts off to dry off quicker, some just complained about it. Eustass Kidd looked like a poodle that went into a bath, his fur coat not nearly as impressive while it was sticking to his body as if it was a second skin he needed to shed. The man threw the thing over your couch, possibly ruining it in the process. What a fucking asshole.

“Found the food!” Oh great. They broke into your basement where you stashed all the preservable food and some meat. It had been a habit to stash this stuff in case people stopped helping you out. Now those pirates were cleaning out your basement..

Well, better your basement than your corpse, you suppose.

You were sitting on the staircase, just pressing against the railing to be out of the way was the men were making themselves comfortable in your home, so you didn’t notice it at first but then there was a huge man that reminded you of a zombie standing right in front of you. “Uh.” He sounds so awkard.

“Thanks for letting us in here.” Your mouth almost dropped open at the fact that you got thanked by a pirate. You swallow thickly. Technically.. you should be the one thanking them. They could have just killed you, taken the keys to your house and let themselves in. You suppose none of them came to that conclusion at the moment.

“No problem.. just.. please try to not break anything..” You get a thumbs up from the blue haired male before he sauntered off, probably to also eat. They were bringing everything to the living room and you’re already missing the blanket of security the food’s existence had given you. You’re going to have to start all over again, don’t you?

The idea of it doesn’t really irk you but some things can’t be changed with willpower alone.. like how they were currently tearing your curtains apart to use them as towels. You stared at the mess and just put your face into your hands.. Oh my god. This was just.. asking to escalate. Maybe you should slip out while they were eating.

You wonder if that was a smart move, seeing how armed they were and how fast the blonde dude was even in the rain. He’d definitely catch you before you had the chance to reach the town to warn everyone.. “Here.” You look up. It’s another dude you didn’t know. Orange Iro Haircut and black glasses. He’s holding a bottle of wine at you.

“We’re already taking all your shit, you’re gonna need this tonight.” You grab the bottle and pop the cork out after a bit of thinking, making a face at him. “Gee.. thanks..” You mumble and lower your voice. “How generous, you assclown.” His eyebrows went up all the way.

Then, before you could panic, he broke into laughter and slapped his knee. “Ah shit! First you spray the fucking captain and now you’re throwing insults! You have no bone in your body that wants to live, do you?” That was a very casual statement to make that sounded way too much like a threat.

“Lay the fuck off. She got lucky.” The dude turned and snickered at the oncoming figure, that you, to your dismay, recognized as Eustass Kidd who was currently rolling his shoulders and combing through his hair with his organic arm. The metal one loose at his side. His eyes looked better but he still seemed pissed.

“Give me that-“ He snatched the bottle out of your hand after shoving past his crewmate, proceeding to down the whole thing while establishing angry eye contact with you and just confusing the hell out of you. What.. Nani the fuck? Was this.. was he trying to establish dominance or something?

Suddenly you felt like a dog that was about to get a smackdown with a bunch of newspapers. “Boss, I just gave her that.” The mohawk cut murred and crossed his arms, giving his boss a blank stare before looking at you. “I’ll get you a new one.” How kind. But now he was leaving you alone with his shitty captain. Who still seemed angry.

He threw the bottle onto the floor, where it shattered and the pieces went flying everywhere. Oh god. Weirdly enough, he does not kill you immediately, just giving you an evil glare and leaning in, making you lean back. “..Scuse me. Please, personal space.” The space where his eyebrow would be twitched.

“The hell are you mouthing off for?” He’s looking for a fight, you faintly realize. The dude was probably agitated from getting pepper sprayed and was not looking for an excuse to go against what his blonde buddy had told him. Which would be to leave you be and not go ham on your home.

“..Sorry.” You grit out, now pressing fully against the stairs to stay the hell away but fuck, he just leaned in closer. By now the man was towering over you with his huge form, basically blanketing you completely as he continued to glare at you. He’s clearly trying to get you to shove him or something.

Fuck iiiit. You do not move and you hear absentmindedly the laughter of the other crew members. You can feel the dude’s breath on your face and it smelled like the wine that he just exed like a drunkard. Breath somewhere else! You felt like this were dangerous waters. If you didn’t watch out, he’d grab you and drown you… as in he’d beat the hell out of you.

“Say it again. Beg me to forgive you.” Oh fuck this guy. You can see a sadistic glimmer in his eyes as he grinned like a bastard at you. Something within you told you that no, you were not going to be begging this piece of shit for anything. Say something though, anything really. “..Your eyes remind me of gold coins..”

You were a fucking idiot.

The man recoiled from you and looked at you as if you were insane. Seeing what you just said, you might as well be. Both of you are staring at each other, ignoring the commotion that was going on around you from people drinking cheap juice and eating up your supply stash. Ah fuck.

The man stared onwards and then he actually let go of the railing from the stairs and stood back up to his full height, narrowing his eyes at you as if he was trying to analyze whether you were real or not. You felt unreal too, not gonna lie. “You think flattery is going to keep me from tearing you apart?”

Not what you were trying to do. His eyes were just so amber and cold, it reminded you of a cold, golden coin. No warmth there to be found except for now, but it was the heat that anger brought. “I was..” You cough awkwardly and just avert your gaze. “Sorry.” It’s not like you could explain your reasoning without making even more of an idiot out of yourself.

The man scoffed in disdain and, miraculously, he left you where you were sitting and to your own devices. His body easily parting the sea of men that was getting rowdy with each other. You’re kind of sweating just thinking about all the cleaning you’d be forced to do once they left.. on your own.

If you made it through the night. Who knew when one of them thought they could grope you or whatever and then? Then you could not guarantee for them to not get shoved. You wouldn’t actively dare to hit someone. Not right now where you were surrounded by pirates.

“What the fuck, girl.” Your solitude does not last you long, unfortunately. You’re faced with two men you do not, obviously, recognize. “You can’t tell me you only have this wine.” One of the scoffed at you and you just made a face. “..Sorry. I don’t really drink alcohol.” You were apologizing a lot today for no reason, weren’t you?

You’re being crowded, you faintly notice. First it was two, now it was four. “No booze for you? Are you.. like.. allergic?” There’s a collective groan going through them. “Idiot, she has wine, she’s not allergic to alcohol.”

“Seriously.”

“Getting smarter everytime we hit land, aren’t you?”

Now they were bickering among each other, throwing insults and shouldering people before settling again as you became the central point of their attention. The hell was with them? You felt like you were surrounded by a group of curious puppies.. Noo wrong example, try a bunch of pushy goblins.

“I just don’t like it.” You shrug, only getting deadpan stares. “So you’re like, all proper and shit?” The dude talking to you stuck his pinky out and some were jeering and laughing at the gesture. You resist the dying urge to roll your eyes. “Nahh.. Not really. I just, like, don’t enjoy hangovers.”

That seemed to be some common ground because the men were collectively groaning in agreement and nodding their heads like they were students and you were the teacher. “Oh yeah, those can suck my huge di-“

“No one would want to touch your baby carrot.” “Yeah, you’d have to pick a prostitute and pay her extra.” There they go, jeering and laughing again at the expense of one of their buddies.

“Shut your fucking mouths!” Now they’re back to bickering and shouldering at each other. You were so out of place right now. The railing creaked a little and you looked up to see a huge man.

And if you say huge, you mean fucking hugelicious. That dude was at least two heads taller than his captain, currently sporting a yellow cloak and black trident, his clothes, the little bit he was wearing, were also colored yellow and the dude just gave you a deadpan stare. “I see you found out what quality company we can be.”

“As high quality as my huge-“

“Shut up! You need to stop trying to sell that everytime we’re around a fucking woman!”

“It’s getting embarrassing.”

“Ridiculous-“

“Fuck you guys!”

The bickering was arting out a little. Now there were actual punches going around and you shriek and dodge a body hitting the stairs, scrambling up and out of reach as the guys that had been talking to you were getting into a semi friendly brawl. Semi friendly because no one was sporting any weapons. Until someone took a plate with potato puree and threw the damn thing from the living room.

It hits the man with the cloak, who’s eye twitched and he spun around. “You little shits!” Oh hell. This was escalating so fucking fast- Now there’s food going everywhere and not just food. There goes your wardrobe. Just flying away and kissing the world goodbye. You could hear that the brawling was slowly spreading from the living room and hallway to every other part of the house.

Not good. With a despairing inner mind you watch them tear your home apart as they went at each other like wild animals, throwing shit around as if it belonged to them, throwing each other around? You saw the Massacre Soldier walking through the mess, people avoiding him like a plague as he made his way to the stairs and came up until he could sit down next to you.

“THE HELL?! GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!” That was Eustass- a huge part of your wall actually bent suddenly before metal strings you didn’t even know where in there tore out and started wrapping people up like gifts. Now it’s raining into your kitchen. You grit your teeth..

“Sorry about that.” You didn’t expect anyone to give you an apology, so when the blonde man next to you did, it startled you into looking at him. “I’ll give you some money when we depart to help cover the expense as a sign of gratitude.” You do not know still why they are grateful. They could have easily taken this place by force..

You do not mention it.

“The house was old anyway..” You mutter to yourself, staring at the hole with a blank expression. Mom, Dad, please forgive this. You’re sure they’d be able to ignore this wreckage if only you’d be able to live another day. Oh god- there are gunshots coming from somewhere and the men were now jeering and yelling loudly.

“Y-You..” You halt and collect yourself a little, swallowing thickly. “You guys sure are lively.” You mutter and watch as Eustass tore through some people, having two by the necks and then throwing them at the dude with the blue hair, who dodged both bodies and kicked a chair at his captain, who got hit and yelled angrily.

Yet, among all the anger and aggression that everyone seemed to excel, no one was getting mauled to death. But there were loud gunshots and clear carnage going on around you and it was hard to think that no one in the town would notice them destroying your house.

They were loud. Extremely loud. The walk took ten minutes because you were a slow walker so there was no doubt that at least some of the people living at the edge of the forest would catch wind of this, despite the rain and wind. These weapons were loud. “Still, having your home destroyed by pirates..” The blonde hummed, putting his chin against the palm of his hand.

“..has gotta suck.” You grit your teeth. Because he was right. This fucking sucked and you wanted for them to go and take a fucking hike. Still.. People were laughing and screaming and oddly, it made you feel a bit better about this whole mess. As if this could be something you’d be able to look back on fondly in years to come.

Once they fucked off and all. So you and the massive man just sat next to each other, staring at the chaos below you in silence as you wondered if the police would come to check out the commotion. Hopefully. You did not want to get shot tonight.

As if on cue there was a row of gunshots sounding out. “Hank got shot!” You heard someone yell. “Doc! Doc get over here!” “Fuckers- I told you not to shoot these fucking-“ It’s drowned out by the noise of splat as a wet rag hit you right in the side of the face. You blink and cringe in disgust, slapping it away and robbing a bit further up the stairs.

Killer was following you with his face, tilting his head a little and letting his shoulders shake a little as if he was amused.

“Scared of water? That’s-“ And then slap, his whole mask is wrapped up in a towel and the dude froze in his spot. You glance behind him and see Eustass laughing his ass off, almost crumbling from the strain as he just shit himself over having hit his first mate with a wet rag.. That seemed really tame, seeing how the dude threw his men around like ragdolls otherwise.

“Fucker..” Killer hissed between, apparently, clenched teeth and pulled the rag off his head, getting up and then jumping over the railing like a lion on the hunt, tackling the redhead to the floor and getting into a grapple with the other man. God above, they’re aggressive. It was like violence was a turn on for these people.

And then suddenly there was the huge dude from earlier at the bottom of the stairs, heaving and covered in sauces and what not.. was that blood? He was clearly looking around for something he could be throwing right now and then his gaze landed on you. ..He’s grinning at you.. Oh.

Oh hell fucking no-

You shriek and try to dodge the large hand grabbing you by your ankle and yanking you down. “Scuse me.” He grabbed you under your back and butt, lifting you easily over his head. “Boss!” “No- Stop!” Both Killer and Eustass looked up and you could see their body posture tense comically at spotting what was about to be thrown at them.

Killer got onto his knees and Eustass’s eyes looked like they were about to pop from his skull, so wide he had them.

And then you’re flying and screaming your head off. It doesn’t take a second before you’re colliding with two warm, broad bodies and all three of you are send rolling around on the floor like toddlers. Eustass yelling and Killer cursing his head off- someone had his hand on your fucking chest and you slap out of instinct, hitting the material of the blonde’s mask.

“Ah, shit. Sorry-“ The dude actually seemed somewhat embarrassed at having grabbed you by accident but then you two are slammed down when Eustass used both of you as leverage to propel himself up. “You want my foot up your ass?!” He yelled at his companion, who flipped him off and just laughed out loud.

“Oh you little fucking-“ He cut up, jerking his head around and looking through the hole in your wall. The blonde groaned, sitting up and rubbing his neck but noticing the demeanor of his captain. “Kidd?” At first you didn’t hear it but now that you tried to listen closely, you did. There were voices.

It’s the fucking popo. You knew they’d notice the fucking ruckus if it went on long enough. “Twelve men coming over here. Guess we’re going to be killing townspeople after all-“ “No!”

Eustass had been in the progress of getting up but you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to try and jerk him back down again. “You promised! You gave me your word!” You point accusingly at Killer who seemed completely unbothered at how upset you were, yet, he did speak.

“I did kind of agree to her terms.” He supplied, looking up at Kidd, who was now trying to get you off of him by shouldering you roughly with his metal arm which, honestly, felt like you were being rammed by a bicycle. “I didn’t agree to shit.” “You ate her food and broke her home down.”

“You say that as if we don’t do that shit on a regular basis.” You remember something. ‘Beg me.’ To be specific. “Please! Whatever you want, just don’t hurt them!” Eustass’s head jerked down and his eyes bore into you. Killer put his face in his hands. There’s a moment of silence.

“..Fucking fine.” You’re surprised how easy that was, all until he grabbed you around the waist and lifted you over his shoulder. “Men! We’re fucking off! Gather at the ship!” You heard someone complain. “The ship is a day’s trip away though!” So that’s why they were here, to scout? .. No it didn’t make sense. You’re too confused to think about it.

“What are you doing, Kidd?” Killer grumbled, poking you in the cheek and making you stare at him like a frightened lamb. “Taking a souvenir.” The redhead grunted and then squeezed your waist a little. The blonde crossed his arms and huffed. “..Alright then.”

“What?! No! I don’t wanna go! I wanna live!” You shriek and struggle against the man’s grip, hearing a faint, familiar voice of a police officer you knew. “MISS L/N?” Oh god. “We’re not killing you, calm your tits.” And then the redhead turned around and bolted straight through one of your walls, busting it open like he was a jackhammer.

His men were hollering and laughing still as they scattered into the night. You’re wet again, the rain falling against your body as you were carried off. It felt like your life, the way you had known it, was over. You don’t know what to feel about it right now, it was too much all at once.

You did not know this at the time, but today would be the start of a life you never knew had been an option, or a life you never knew you needed.

A new adventure.

[midwestmess94]

Queer Mental Health: A June Discussion

It is Day 2 of PRIDE month. Major corporations have already changed their logos to the rainbow flag, the circuit gays are out on the beaches in their speedos, posting thirst traps on Instagram, the Ru Girls are teasing their wigs and stoning their body suits for the plethora of gigs they have coming up, PRIDE celebration planning is underway if the event has not already happened. It is the gayest time of the year. 

I feel that, while we are drinking our vodka sprites with a splash of cran (and PBR ((yes, I am a gay who drinks cheap beer. Who gonna check me boo?))), we need to talk about queer mental health. 

I feel that this is a topic we shyly talk about. After years of being viewed as outcasts and weirdos, I feel that we sometimes get scared to talk about the thoughts in our head. We’ve been told being ourselves was such a problem that the stigmatism behind mental health bogs us down. We don’t really talk about going to see therapists, or crying for reasons we don’t understand, or the on-going battle of what our bodies look like.  

Every morning I wake up at 2am to go to work. I work until 12:30 p.m. Then, I come  home and sit on my couch and just aimlessly watch Netflix until I have to repeat the process. I do that Friday-Tuesday. On Wednesdays and Thursdays, I just sit around my house and watch more tv. 

I love my job. I’ve had amazing opportunities in my career and I’m thankful for the great people I’ve met, who’ve helped me. I’ve truly grown from those experiences. 

I hate leaving work. It’s the most socialization that I get outside of my house. I sit and battle my anxiety and depression at home by myself. Because of my weird schedule, I don’t get to see people much. My friends try to come out but they work normal hours so they can’t really do anything on my days off. On Wednesdays, I go to the local gay bar and play bingo by myself. It’s quite sad but I made friends with the bartender, who has had to save me from a couple rough days. 

---- PRO TIP: Never have your bartender drive you home. You then will live with a bunch of regret of making a pseudo-stranger see you in your worst----

Everyday, I wake up before dawn and get in the shower. My first thought when I wake up is “what will I fuck up today?” Then, I think about what I have to do for the day. Through that, I debate going to the gym after work and I usually let my inner saboteur win the argument. I always convince myself: what is the point? I never have the motivation to stick with it. It would just be a waste of time and all I want to do is lay on the couch.  At some point in the day, my anxiety kicks in. It is usually around the time I check my bank account. This is where my anxiety convinces me that I am a fuck up.  Then, I look up the number to my therapist because I feel like that might help. Well, my anxiety, who I’ve named Chad, tells me that it won’t help because it never does. I just feel like I want to escape my anxiety and that it will go away. Unfortunately, it never does. You can’t escape your brain and your feelings.  Then, I realize I’m spiraling. I think about texting my friends about my issues but I haven’t known them that long since I’ve known them for under a year. I can’t really talk to them about my issues because it’s also robbing them of their time. It’s not fair to constantly seek help when you are probably just dealing with the same repetitive shit. I get afraid that I’ll just scare them away because of the issues I’ve dealt with since I was 16. My anxiety drives me to feel like I’m just a thorn in everyone’s side. It’s bad to the point that I repetitively apologize to everyone for basically existing.  There are days where I just lay in bed and scroll through social media, wishing I was someone else because I let myself believe I can’t change to be the person I want to be. I look in the mirror and really hate the social decisions I’ve been making in the last year. I’ve been getting super anxious about the things I’ve said to people when I’m drunk. I get anxious about DMing people I’ve met because I think they’ll think I have feelings for them when in reality I just want to be sociable.  My depression comes in waves on top of this. I constantly think about how I’ve made awful financial decisions in my early 20s and now I’m paying for it in my late 20s. I’m living with family at the age of 27 and I didn’t plan on that for myself.  I see what people are doing on social media. I know people never post their worst but it makes me feel like I’m doing my absolute worst. It’s not fair of me to do that to myself but also I’d like to formally introduce everyone to Chad, my anxiety and Darryl, my depression. 

I then think that my friends, the very few I have in Florida, think that I’m just too much and only deal with me because we end up in the same social situations. Want to know why? Because I’m everything that would annoy me as a person. I wish I wasn’t but I am. I know it is that whole conversation of working on yourself but this is happening to me right now. Not the end goal of working on yourself. Stop fucking telling people they need to work on themselves. Someone going through something probably knows that but this is happening in the now. Dismissing their shit and saying it’ll be better down the road is the fucking worst thing ever. 

Then, I’m gay on top of all of this.  Being gay is great but unconventionally hard. People want to tokenize you. They want to put you in a box and say you should be this and not that. I have gotten, specifically from my fraternity brothers in college, “you are cool but just like tone it down dude.” The first time I heard that was in reference to me posting a picture kissing a boy’s cheek on Instagram. Some of my fraternity brothers didn’t think it would look good for the chapter’s image. But, they publicly cheat on their girlfriends and do whatever they want.  Oh, lets talk about how they’d ask me to wing man them with my girlfriends so they could get laid.  Or, my favorite, is when women say I should act a certain way. My close girlfriends are not like this. One of them says “yes queen” but that’s about it. She has never tokenized me and she’s let me be whatever version of myself I am that day.  But straight women love to say we should love shopping. If we’re femme presenting or there is an ounce of feminity in our presence, then we get asked if we like mani-pedis or assume we have style. Not all of us do. I don’t even identify with a feminine or masculine identity. I didn’t know I needed a label to be myself. 

Then there are the boxes gay guys put other gays in.  First thing is first, if you are slightly overweight, not fit and not stylish... You can go fuck yourself.  Gay dating is like having a Ruth Chris budget but you can only afford the McDonald’s $3 McDouble Meal. Every gay man, thanks to porn and the American media’s take on what gay men look like, thinks they need to date the hottest guy in the room. The minute that they realize that guy will never go for them, well that is cataclysmic. You may call that once in a blue moon but I call that a Saturday night at a gay bar. 

Then, there is the judgment in how you dress, who you hang out with, what you do and what you drink (I am the only person at my local gay bar that drinks PBR and the amount of comments about calories and bloating I’ve received is way too much).  It’s rough. 

I know this was a long journey and most of you probably didn’t read all of this but I wrote this to get things off my mind. This is what I deal with every day of the year. I never know what my mood of the day will be when I wake up. Will I win my battle against my anxiety and depression or will I lose it and let it run everything? I feel no matter what we look like, what do we do or who we hang out with, this is something every queer person deals with. I think we need to have more of an open conversation about it amongst ourselves. I think there is some comfort there. We all present and hold face in different ways. If you ever saw me in person, you could tell how I am doing by how I present myself. I never really hide anything. It’s dumb. Just be yourself. 

I know I wrote this for me but I hope it starts a conversation amongst the queer community. I hope it helps someone reach out to seek help or I hope you just related.  Anyways, thats it. 

[awkwardplant]

Sci-fi/Misc Short Story: Diorama

Weary travellers entered a building to escape from the zombies that had been chasing them. Night-time drew closer and only a little bit of sunlight filtered through the large dusty windows at either side of the room. Despite the dust, everything here looked pristine, unsurprising as it didn't seem the materials here were much use to survivalists.

"Is that an easel?" Johnny the Veterinarian wandered over to the contraption, lifting away a greyed cloth covering it, revealing a canvas with a few marks of brown oil pastels.

A younger member of the team who refered to himself as the Tailor (everyone else called him Ed, or the Cosplay Guy, or That Teenager) dove into some drawers and boxes. "Please tell me there's a non electrical sewing machine, or fabrics, ooh I'll even take sequins at this point! Anything I don't have to make from scratch."

"Don't think this type of place will have those kinda things, Ed. Looks like a kindergarten's arts and crafts room." said Johnny. "Might have glitter though."

Paul the Farmer rolled his eyes at his group. "No point lookin round 'ere, let's settle down, find somethin soft, and kip for the night." He shrugged off his backpack which carried the all the bare essentials it could hold, and popped his spine with a groan. "Food chain these days is all outta whack I tell ye."

At the entrance, Melissa the Engineer boarded up the door with some convenient planks of wood, nails, and a hammer she carried everywhere. "Oughta keep them out. Phew. Bit cold in here isn't it?"

Melissa's daughter, Isla the six year old, stood in the middle of the art studio, eyes filled with wonder at all the creations. Clay sculptures of graceful torsos, pencil drawings of still lifes that looked more or less exactly like the sketches, completed oil paintings of landscapes hung on the wall next to colorful, abstract ones.

Isla spied a light still on behind a door to another room left slightly ajar. "I see a light, do you think someone lives here?"

All the adults tensed and raised their weapons, eyes peering in the direction Isla curiously tiptoed towards. Paul hissed at her to slow down, firmly grabbing her shoulder and pulling her back behind him as he stared ahead. The air was silent aside from the floorboard's weak groans that sounded like a sigh of relief at the return of humans gracing its surface.

Johnny tapped lightly on the door which opened without any creaks or spooky noises, and revealed a warm orange glow of a desk lamp. The desk was cluttered with tiny objects you would expect to see at much bigger sizes such as doors and furniture. Several drawers of multiple sizes surrounded and sat on the desk filled to the brim with paints, glue, craft knives and other materials. A single mug rested on a green cutting board with some stale coffee inside.

Isla squeaked in delight as she darted across the room. "Mommy! There's dollhouses here!"

Melissa strode towards her daughter, blinking in surprise when seeing there was in fact what appeared to be multiple dollhouses meticulously displayed in glass cases on many shelves.

"Some strange looking dollhouses," Ed said. "Why would a kid want to play with a dollhouse that looks like a swamp?" He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes at the minature shack on stilts that sat atop fake greenery and resin water.

Paul chuckled. "And this ane's even got tiny critters from my farm! Now tell me that isnae just the spittin image of my wee goat." He tapped the glass of a mini farm with toy animals placed in the field.

"I think, uh..." Johnny clicked his fingers, brow furrowing. "I swear I remember... Ah well, I don't know the proper name of them but I've seen train sets that have these kind of things, do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah!" Melissa chirped. "This is how they used to make movie sets isn't it? Because back then they didn't have CGI to make places they couldn't afford to go to when filming."

"And humanity has reverted back to that time period." sighed Ed, who greatly missed his Friday night Star Wars rewatches with his friends. "Maybe even further back than that. Losing the internet was like losing the Library of Alexandria."

All of them wandered around the shelves to look at all the miniature sets. Mountains formed purely by plastic foam, a landscape of a picnic inside an open altoid tin, a greenhouse cluttered with plants no bigger than a pinkie finger. Some miniatures sat on the floor, the ones that were massive compared to the other sets yet still very tiny versions of medieval castles and gothic architecture.

Melissa stopped in front of a small library room that had holes in the ceiling with trees growing beneath them, books and furniture meticulously littered everywhere. Flashbacks to her days studying in her hometown's library filled her mind.

"This is what they thought the apocalypse would look like." she said, with tears welling up in her eyes. "They thought- they- they made art of stuff like this because they imagined it would look beautiful. How could they romanticise such disaster?"

Johnny walked up next to her, crouching down to see inside the library. "Hauntingly beautiful, maybe. I do remember certain types of people were fascinated with the idea of nature reclaiming the lands that humans built on."

"And that idea was dumb," said Paul. "Because now the deer are overpopulated and they destroyed the forests, and who knows what other animals are causing chaos without conservationists."

"There are pros and cons to everything that happens." Johnny replied. "But yes, it doesn't help that the handful of humans that are left don't know how to handle this... resurgence of nature."

Isla looked around, peering back through the door to the main room of the art studio. "This library dollhouse looks just like real life doesn't it? It's like we're little dolls too."

Melissa smiled sadly, stroking her daughter's hair. "It does put things in perspective." She hoped things would settle down enough for her to be able to teach Isla things she had learned in school at her age.

"The Earth is the size of a pinprick compared to the sun and we're all just ants in the grand scheme of things." Ed said, and one could guess he was trying to imagine how small he was compared to the Starkiller base.

Paul snorted. "But bigger than regular old ants and smart enough to put together nicknacks that make ladies cry." He nudged Melissa teasingly.

Eventually, the group finally realized that the lamp was connected to a solar powered generator with a back up of energy reserved and they attempted to recharge their walkie talkies. After a few near-electrocutions, they finally connected to a radio station broadcasting a rather laid back distress signal.

"This is DJ Smooth calling out to anyone, God, just anyone out there, from the abandoned military base in Alconbury. Been out here for uh, 3 months now, there's not been any zombie sightings for a while and I have been sooo bored. Come find me and we can hang out, maybe fight over my remaining supplies so I can remember how to feel something that isn't dissociation. Stay tuned after this music break for the co-ordinates to my location, and my heart. See ya soon cuties. Over."

Later that night everyone created some makeshift beds out of the cloths that had covered some artworks and easels, which Ed would repurpose at some point during their travels to make some new socks. They all lay on their backs in the dark, close to each other to conserve warmth. If there were any zombies outside they didn't hear them, only the rush of wind and rain pattering on the windows.

"Mommy," Isla whispered. "I liked the song that the man on the radio played."

"Yeah sweetie, I liked it too. It was... something from the 90's? I think? Probably not age appropriate but you didn't understand it so it's fine, I guess. Something funny to look back on one day."

Isla rolled over onto her stomach to look at her mom. "When we go back to Paul's farm I want to play the guitar we found."

"We can't go... Tell you what Isla, we'll go see the music man from the radio, and he'll help us cure the zombies, and then we can get everyone an instrument and all make music together."

"Yes! That's a good idea!"

"And we can do plays in theatres and make movies again." Ed added shyly.

"Movies that don't involve zombies and will make us forget this shitshow ever happened." Johnny sighed, unable to close his eyes and dreading the nightmares.

Paul growled and hushed the others, but then he said "Doesnae matter if zombies are out for us and we've got no artsy stuff, we can still sing."

They all sang Country Roads quietly (Isla could only sing the chorus yet sang with such sincerity), with gentle echoes of their melody bouncing off the walls of the art studio until they fell asleep.

The next day they left to find the military base and made up new songs along the way, with renewed and desperate hope that they might find a cure for the zombies someday soon.

The end.

[raleighliving]

Pros and Cons of College Life in Raleigh

Last time I wrote about colleges in Raleigh generally and how it’s not like other college towns. This time, I’m gonna be speaking a bit more about the pros and cons so it should be a little more specific.

Before that, however, I wanna make this clear: Raleigh is not somewhere you should move to for college unless the school you’ve applied to is your dream school.  

In terms of academics, there are better choices than NC State or WPU. If you wanna study biology or medicine, schools like UNC-W or Duke would probably be a better fit for instance. If you live in Raleigh, don’t pick a school just because it’s close; if you live in another part of the states and you want to attend an east coast school there are options all along the east coast that you should consider.  

Raleigh is a great place to live and work, and there are plenty of friendly people here; but a degree from the right university can make or break your career (depending on the field and other aspects of course).

As a person suffering from anxiety, the question “Do you want the good news or bad news first” has always been a terrible one for me. Up until I hear the bad news, it could be literally anything regardless of what the person asking was doing or how much of the task they were on I’m familiar with.

Similarly, living in Raleigh (or really anywhere for that matter) is going to present a lot of subjective pros and cons. Please keep in mind this is gonna be super subjective, but I hope you enjoy reading this even if we disagree.

But you didn’t come here to read three paragraphs of disclaimer. So lets start by listing the good stuff.  

Raleigh is a city full of vibrant color, culture, and cool shit. You can find cool things almost anywhere you look, regardless of where you are in Raleigh. I mean, all of the pictures (including those in this article) I use for this blog I’ve taken in Raleigh or nearby it. As a result, the first pro has got to be the beltline highway system.  

The beltline is a highway system composed of I-440, I-40, and parts of I-540 that encapsulates all of Raleigh. It connects north and south Raleigh while having downtown in the center, letting travelers easily reach nearly any part of Raleigh. 

I’ve lived on the border of Durham, Cary, and Rolesville at different points in my life. I’ve had to make trips to Garner and Apex for various reasons. At no point in my 20+ year stay have I ever had to make a city trip that lasted longer than a half-hour (one way). It makes working in Raleigh especially easy, since the abundance of highway access points and the convenience of the loop design means I’m never too far from that loop. 

It even helps with adjusting to your new environment if you move here (for school or other reasons) since if you’re ever lost, the highways can act as a point to re-orient yourself by. I know I’ve had to do it plenty of times in the past, and it can really save you from looking like an idiot if you excuse your lost-ness by just saying “Oh yeah mate, I was just tryna get on the highway. Saves so much time.”

Does this mean Raleigh has the best transportation network of any city? Hell no. Does this mean that Raleigh has the best highway system? Not even close. But it’s still super nice, especially for students. You’ll run into the problems any urban place has like rush hour or crash delays, but this is mitigated by the fact you’ll be using it for our second pro: Everything happens in Raleigh. 

Well, not EVERYTHING everything but as I’ve ranted about before; there’s plenty to do and see in the city of Raleigh (even if you’re a student). 

For instance, according to raleighnc.gov, Raleigh is home to over 200 public parks. Not a fan of parks? Into more electronic entertainment? Then visit our very own “Arcade of Thrones” downtown and get your game on with your fellow nerds

Boring stuff like restaurants and night clubs aside, Raleigh is home to literally thousands of businesses and social clubs for you to partake in. Farmers markets, gun and knife shows, fishin’ holes and public church barbecues are available for that classic southern charm; but don’t forget to make use of our barcades, art festivals, concerts, comedy clubs and sport centers. 

The only reason why I’m not going into more detail about examples like First Friday, the downtown cultural festivals, PNC arena or other more specific events is because I want to write about them in-depth in the future.  

Of course, students having things to do and places to go is only part of the college experience. If you’re gonna come to Raleigh for college, the best pro I could possibly mention is the support network.  

Not to say that we’re exactly all one big happy family here, but in Raleigh you get that nice blend of metropolitan city life with your rural state. Orgs like the LGBT Center, Goodwill, Raleigh Missions, and more support locals in need constantly and provide for the many different groups around here.

Libraries and civic centers share the same city as mosques and churches which neighbor women's shelters and LGBT+ advocacy groups. If you’re a republican or democrat, that’s fine but be prepared to meet the other members of the political spectrum since groups like the Democratic-Socialists of America (DSA) are active downtown as well.

If you need help or want to help others, there’s a 98% chance that you’ll find someone or something out there that meets your needs. Join a community through Facebook or Nextdoor and you’ll see every diaper drive, garage sale, and community recommendation pop up whenever one is needed.

Of course, this brings us to our first con. Raleigh may be home to some of the nicest people I’ve ever met but it doesn’t mean you won’t run into some problem people sooner or later.  

There’s of course the typical collegiate douchebags, the upper-middle class young scions of no import who fumble through life with no regard for others because mommy and daddy will perpetually care for them, but being a red state you’ll also run into the more colorful republicans.

Every year there’s an anime convention called “Animazement” downtown and every year there’s a small herd of fundamentalist Christians warning all the otaku who’ll listen that they’re going to hell. Drive around town long enough and you’ll find a few different businesses that have made their opinions on things like masks and social distancing clear, not to mention there’s no shortage of QAnoners and alt-right sympathists. 

Of course, you shouldn’t let others dictate the quality of your life or the area you live in but you should be aware that these people exist. Raleigh is more liberal than other parts of North Carolina for sure but it’s not the leftist paradise those other parts would say it is.

Other than the coinflip that is neighbors, Raleigh is kind of a pricy place to live. The cost of living is on average higher than other cities in the US, cheaper still than New York of Californian cities, but pricey nonetheless.

Rent in Raleigh for a one bedroom apartment is on average $975 according to bestplaces.net and can go as high as $1200 depending on the complex and location. 

That, with a federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour, means you’ll need 

>Multiple jobs >Multiple roommates >A good paying job

or any combination of the two to be able to afford rent, utilities, and food beyond cup ramen. There’s housing programs like Section 8 and military housing initiatives to help, but for students you’re looking at some pretty steep housing costs for anywhere that’s not student dorms. 

You can get a good job that pays decent, of course, nothing’s impossible. However, finding one that won’t require roommates would demand full time hours (which might be difficult to make on student scheduling) or a degree (which you’re probably at college to get). Most living spaces require you make at least 3x the advertised rent to even be considered as well, which may limit students to seedier student living complexes like University Village or The Proper (Formerly Vie, formerly wolf creek).

Finally, if you move to Raleigh for college be prepared to drive. A lot.

As I mentioned earlier, the beltline is a god send for students and people looking to explore; but it’s also practically mandatory for moving around Raleigh. Public transit in Raleigh isn’t non-existent but it’s pretty damn close.  

Live between 10-15 minutes from your desired destination? Taking the bus is gonna be anywhere from half an hour to a full hour, and that’s if you even live near a bus route. If you’re like myself and habitually on the edge of Raleigh, be prepared to drive for a bit before you even see a GoRaleigh bus let alone a stop. 

The buses do at least run pretty late (Closing normally around 11PM), but the lack of public transit lines and bike-able roads means that you’ll be adding to the urban congestion more likely than not.

Okay with driving? Hope you’re okay with paying another arm and a leg, because at most schools down here tuition doesn’t cover your parking pass. 

NC State prices range from $105 to over $400 depending on your credit hours and where you’re staying at. Other schools like William Peace only charge a flat $130 for their parking decal, but most of the schools require you throw them an extra Apple Pencil or two for the privilege of being able to park your own vehicle close to the actual campus.

There are workarounds, like parking off-campus nearby, but those carry risks and penalties that can add up over time. The audacity these schools have to take thousands in tuition and then demand that you pay and additional fee to just use the parking lot.

Hopefully, though, regardless of my thoughts if you live in Raleigh or North Carolina in general and you’re considering attending one of the fine establishments here; I’ve provided you some food for thought. 

College can be a scary experience for many, and the area around it can really make or break your experiences. We don’t have the biggest party schools or the most glamorous cityscape; but if I had to go through the collegiate system again I honestly couldn’t imagine doing it anywhere else.

Next time I’ll be talking about some alternatives to College though, so stay tuned for that.  

Special shout out to the DSA of Raleigh as well. They didn’t help write any of this or communicate with me during the production of this article, but they’ve been doing some amazing work downtown with the homeless during the pandemic.  They are some of the most amazingly hard working individuals who care immensely for the community and you can check them out on dsanc.org.

[elliemarchetti]

Would write selection version with red queen characters

I wasn't waiting for anything else to fill my sleepless nights.

The Selection AU

Words: 1357

When she found the envelope in the mailbox, Ruth Barrow almost passed out from happiness. It was the end of their problems, and although Mare was decidedly adverse to even the idea of trying to marry a Silver, moreover the future king, it was definitely better than going to the front. Not that they would ever have chosen a Red. There were thirty-five places in the Queenstrial, and she was fairly certain that they would all be taken by Silvers, even if they said the draw was random. However, even if a Red had arrived at the palace, she would’ve been sent home within a couple of days, and that was precisely what she hoped for: those who participated in the Queenstrial were paid, and in order not to offend Silvers the wages had to be high, exactly what her family needed. In addition, the families of the participants were suspended from service for their entire stay in the palace, it had something to do with interviews and specials about girls' daily lives at home, and this also included those who were at war, which meant that Bree, Tramy and Shade could come back, at least for a while. Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do for Kilorn, but he had his job as a fisherman, and that would’ve been enough to save him from the front. The benefits for the possible future queens didn’t ended there: obviously having occupied, even for a short time, a place in the palace could make you earn a good job for you and your loved ones, and according to her mother, the discarded competitors, even the Reds, always found rich husbands, not to mention the fact that they were exempt from the call to arms, another pro that she couldn’t ignore, given that she was almost eighteen and had no prospect of finding a job. The truth was that the only con to fill in and send that damned registration form was her hatred for the Silvers who had taken away her brothers, who continued a senseless war, who had made her father the pale shadow of the man he had once been, but for her family and Kilorn, she would put everything aside. So she filled out the form, to Gisa's amazement.

"As you know well, mom can be very convincing," she replied sardonically, and headed straight to the Service Office, which wasn’t so far from her home, but everything in the Stilts wasn’t far. Obviously, she hadn’t been the only one to submit the application on the first day, and the place was already crammed with young women, many of whom lived close to her, arranged in four rows. Mare examined her possible rivals, as an innocent past-time. Immediately behind her there was girl wearing an overall. It was unlikely the mud-strained boots would’ve ended up in the picture they would’ve taken once they verified that the form had been filled in correctly, but the dirt on her clothes couldn’t be hidden. A few feet away, another girl was playing with a tool belt. Mare wondered if the photo would’ve been a close-up or a half-length portrait. Some seemed to have bet on the first, but those who sported deep necklines and dresses that squeezed their waist making them look like a swarm of wasps had to hope for the latter. Mare felt passable, but it hadn't taken her long to get ready, mainly because she didn't have many clothes and had no intention of putting on make-up. The only thing she had done was wash her hair and make sure they were well combed, so that the gray tips weren’t that obvious. She probably should’ve cut them, but she had no intention of losing her place in in the line that was rapidly diminishing in front of her or changing her appearance too much for a guy, she didn’t care if he was the future king. Either way, he worried anyway, but she couldn’t understand why: she did it to convince her family and herself she had done everything she could to save them from poverty and escape the call to arms, nothing more. She certainly didn’t believe she could get to marry the prince: probably she would’ve just seen him on television during the obligatory broadcasts that her mother had told her about, the news they gave once a week in the Report as a summary of what happened. The Silvers, who could afford to do it, would follow every second live, but the Reds had to work, take care of the house and the children, and Mare had the feeling that there would be many more things to steal than usual. However, her mother, who had witnessed the previous one, had told her that it was interesting and that even the most skeptical ended up getting passionate. Mare doubted that something organized by the Calores would be to her liking: who was the queen didn’t made any difference for the Reds, and the whole kingdom would’ve only been a better place if those thirty-five vipers were never born, and the fact that her mother didn't understand it left her speechless.

"Form?" asked a bored voice, snatching her from her thoughts. Mare handed over the sheets she had carefully compiled and went to the adjacent room, where she was seated on a beautiful bench, which looked suspiciously like a throne, for the photo. They must’ve looked like queens, after all, so Mare brought out her best resolute gaze. Throughout Norta there must be no girl who looked as stubborn as her.

                                                           ---

It was Friday, Report day, which started at eight o'clock. Ever since she was a child, her life had been punctuated by a routine with well-defined schedules, and although it wasn’t mandatory, especially for the Silvers of the High Houses, who already knew many of those things, the Friday Report that started at eight o’clock was something that couldn’t be missed in Volo Samos’ house.

“Are the winners going to be announced tonight?” asked Ptolemus absent-mindedly, putting a forkful of potatoes in his mouth.

“The possible candidates still have nine days to submit the application, so it’ll still take a couple of weeks, but don't worry: your sister has a place secured,” replied their mother in a seraphic tone. She hadn’t seen her so calm in year, but it was probably because she finally got something that was vital for her.

"This wait is unnerving," muttered Ptolemus. There wasn’t only Evangeline’s possibility to marry the future king, at stake: just like the prince, her brother had to find his future wife within the candidates too, although this wasn’t known to the public. Their mother had married father like this, and it was clear how little their union was based on love, but at least they were allies on their evil plans, which was the best their children could desire, given their condition as heirs of a High House. If anyone could think that it was a blessing, they were wrong: nobody approached people like them for who they were but only for their money, and after Tiberias VI Calore, Volo Samos was the most influential man in Norta, therefore his heirs were very desirable preys, even if she was sure that no one would’ve defined Ptolemus as such, at least not in front of him, as long as they didn't want to risk their life.

“Here’s your boyfriend, Eve,” Tolly teased softly when Tiberias VII Calore appeared on screen at the end of the national anthem. Even though she was sure he couldn't interest her, she took a closer look at the prince: he was handsome in his own way, but nothing comparable to her brother, that certainly didn’t go unnoticed when he entered a room with his statuesque figure, the hair of a blond so light as to appear white with silvery shades, inherited, just like her, from their father, and eyes as black as wells. If only she liked boys, she surely would’ve wanted someone who was up to his standard, but she liked girls, although nobody in that house seemed to care.

[manumigoya]

A regular guy’s experience with a military graded phone and why you might want one

The Ulefone Armor 7 Pro is a smartphone designed for adventurers, construction workers and people who are routinely exposed to conditions that would endanger most modern devices. I’m not any of those things, but I still think it was the right choice for me, and it might just suit you too.

What use has a normal guy like me for a phone built to withstand such extreme conditions? I’m no couch potato, I regularly ride my bike to work and back, enjoy the occasional trekking and camping trip and walk around my city a fair bit. Even so, that is a far cry from the kind of person this phone was designed for. 

After all, the Ulefone Armor X7 Pro has a IP-68 and a MIL-STD-810G rating, which means it can literally survive for a day buried under a meter of concrete, withstand half an hour under 1.5 meters of water, its completely sealed to dust or sand, and a bunch of other characteristics you can read about here. Essentially, it’s build to last. 

About this review

This article is not intended to be a thorough technical review of the phone, but rather a list of reasons why I think it might suit you even if you are not the intended target for it. Therefore I will only go through some of the most important specs, highlighting what I personally consider relevant. 

If you wish to know the full technical details you can visit the official Ulefone site or search for a traditional review. If you wish to skip to my conclusion, where I explain why this is also a great phone for normal users, scroll to the end.

Ulefone Armor 7 Pro specs

CPU: Mediatek Helio A20 1.8GHz

RAM: 4Gb

Storage: 32Gb (expandable)

OS: Android 10

Screen: 5’’ 

Back Camera: 13Mbx

Front Camera: 5Mpx

Battery: 4000 mAh

Size: 150 x 78,9 x 14,6 mm

Has NFC

Micro-usb charging

Okay, now that we listed the technical details, let’s consider what each of them brings to the table and how the final product behaves.

Slow and steady

If you are looking for a fast snappy phone with which you can simultaneously scroll through Instagram, watch a video with picture in picture mode, and have a graphic intensive game waiting for you in the background, this isn’t it. Nor is this the price range you should be aiming at. 

The Armor Mediatek Helio A20 processor, with a frequency of 1.8GHz, isn’t anything to write home about. And the 4GB of RAM, though an improvement on previous models, pales in comparison to what even mid-range phones pack these days. 

And you know what? That’s actually perfectly fine. The purpose of this phone isn’t to win any race, but rather to get the job done. And that it does.

I need my phone to perform what has become over the years a pretty basic list of tasks: social media, document editing, internet browsing, music and video streaming, taking some pics, and basic photo and video editing. 

The Ulefone Armor 7 Pro is able to do any of those tasks without issues, even when I need to open two or three apps in the background. Yes, it does get a bit slow or even freezes for a couple of seconds from time to time, but not enough for it to interrupt my experience. 

Battery life

Back when smartphones were a new thing, we used to complain about their battery life bitterly. Habituated to our old not so bright devices whose batteries lasted for days, we felt that the tradeoff wasn’t always worth it. Yes, we were now the proud owners of mind-boggling phones that could perform amazing tasks for us. But use them for a couple of hours and you better find somewhere to charge them (and have the time to wait for that to be done).

Luckily, smartphones are getting better at this by the iteration. With its 4000mAh battery, the Ulefone Armor 7 Pro is just another contender in the race for autonomy. 

According to my digital wellbeing app, I’ve been using it an average of four and a half hours per day. That’s a lot. It actually puts me in the top 20% of screen time, but being excited for my new gadget and having to do this review I feel a bit justified.

Even so, I usually have at least 30% of the battery left when I finish my day, if not more. And, on the occasions I don’t use it as much, I can go two days without having to think about charging.

At a time when we are seeing affordable phones with 5000mAh of battery that can last up to three days without charge and that have better performance, the Armor X7 Pro’s battery life certainly won’t make any headlines, but it’s still a great perk for the price.

The Ulefone X7 Pro camera

As I said, one of the tasks I need my phone to perform on a daily basis is taking pictures. With a 13 megapixels main camera, a 5 megapixel front camera, and pro, night and underwater modes, the Armor X7 Pro it’s barely able to keep up with today’s standards.

I know, I know, nobody is buying it to start a photography career. But still, I was expecting a bit more, even from those low specs. Truth be told, the night mode usually just ruins the colors in most pictures and the pro mode feels terribly lacking. I still haven’t tried the underwater mode.

The first picture is taken on normal mode, the second with night mode. This kind of open dimly light landscape is the only instance where I found the night mode actually improved the result.

Pro tip: make sure to disable the Ulefone watermark, as I clearly didn’t.

Normal mode:

With night mode:

If your only purpose is to take casual photos for your personal social media, then the Armor X7 Pro will do the trick, but anything more than that and you will need to look somewhere else.

Other details and utilities

There’s a lot to say about this phone. From its unique set of apps to its thick rubber encasing. But, for the sake of brevity, I’ll just go through some of the features that I have noticed more in its daily usage.

Custom button

After using Motorola -and it’s amazing gestures- for years, I was afraid I would have too much of a hard time getting used to another brand. Luckily the Ulefone Armor X7 Pro comes with a custom key on its left side that can be programmed to do up to three different tasks. I have it set just to two: opening the camera and the flashlight. Simple, but incredibly useful.

NFC

A surprising number of middle-range phones lack this feature. But not the Armor X7 Pro, and I’m incredibly grateful for it. 

Headphone Jack lids

In order to withstand an hour under 1.2 meters of water, the phone is completely sealed off. That includes the headphone jack, the charger plug, and the sim tray, which are all protected by thick rubber lids. Unfortunately, said lids are difficult to open without the dedicated tool Ulefone includes in the package. 

This tool, while useful, is rather small and prone to getting lost. I have resorted to knives, forks, screwdrivers, and other such tools to open them, including my own nails (which I do not recommend). 

Sadly, on a couple of occasions where my nails were trimmed and I had nothing pointy with me, I could open the headphone jack at all and resigned myself to just listening to the surroundings. 

Though I understand the importance of this protection, I wish Ulefone had thought about some way of opening these lids without that tool. Or maybe even a way to carry it in the phone itself without fear of losing it.

Speakers

Oh my god are they loud! I really haven’t used my wireless speakers since I have this phone. Of course, it doesn’t have the same quality or sound level, but it’s more than enough for most situations.

Why I recommend the Ulefone Armor X7 Pro

Simply put, this is a phone for people that don’t want to worry at all about their phones. Which isn’t a new concept at all. The market for minimalist phones is growing as people realize that some device’s specs are so good they end up getting into the way of life.

And, while the Armor X7 Pro probably wasn’t designed with this in mind, it achieves it in an awesome and unique way. 

First of all, its specs are good enough for the vast majority of tasks people normally need their phones to perform, while at the same time not being so appealing that they demand your constant attention. 

Use it normally and you’ll have no problems, use it intensely and its shortcomings will start to annoy you. It might not be ideal, but it’s a great way to reduce your screen time (at least when you don’t have to write a review about it).

On the other hand, its ridiculous resistance to water, falls, pressure, and temperature, makes it so I don’t have to worry about breaking the thing. I’m not a particularly clumsy person, but I have been known to break a phone or two, so this is important to me. 

Now, with the Armor X7 Pro, I just leave my phone anywhere, with almost no worries about its safety. If it can go through the 29 tests needed to get the  MIL-STD-810G certification, It can withstand a fall while I’m riding my bike, the playful (and sticky) hands of my nephews, or having a pint of beer accidentally poured over it on a Friday night.

As long as it doesn’t get stolen, it will probably be with me for however long I want it to. 

And I got all of this for just over a 100 euros on eBay -you can get it cheaper in Banggood, if you are willing to wait a bit longer. Really, I don’t think theres another phone that can deliver all of this by that price.

[mor-beck-more-problems]

An In-Spectre Calls || Cassie and Morgan

Set before the potw. Morgan meets Cassie for the first time and asks for some slightly spooky help. 

There was something pathetic about drifting through Eye of Newt alone. Around Morgan teenage witches squealed over crystal balls and bundles of sage, handmade fliers for a Tarot Tuesday covered the table, taper candles of every color stared down their wicks at all the fuss, and so many purple spined books gleamed out from the shelves. It was all so curated, so proud, so...much nicer than the mess of wax and leaves around Morgan’s kitchen table where she made her own wares. Even Vera, Vera, could afford gilt labels for her smudge sticks. Bitch. Worst of all was knowing that few self respecting witches dared to roll the dice here. They had other, better outlets to send for. But Morgan had left a chunk of her self respect somewhere around trying to connect with her ancestors through a three dollar slice of birthday cake. And the shame of all this, re-stocking from her own competition, watching teenagers exercise more freedom and skill with their gel pens than she had bothered to muster lately--settled around her like the heaviest of blankets. At least if she was miserable, she was safe. Probably. 

And so Morgan lingered, bitterly taking mental notes on packaging and pining over books she would not be able to afford for another month or more (Vera saw right through any cash she tried to conjure, every time). She had almost tortured herself to the point of boredom when she spotted a familiar face. 

Oh. Oh no. Was this some kind of cosmic trick? Was that--the pro bono exorcist girl? The moon was still in Capricorn, so that was in her favor, and Friday was her lucky day, but having an expert fall into her lap, or at least someone else’s storefront, was not the kind of gift that generally came her way. Morgan stopped and stared at the girl more than was socially appropriate.

Fuck it. 

Morgan marched up to her, wares still in hand, and leaned over as unobtrusively as she could into her line of sight. She smiled brightly, too mystified at the possibility before her to contain herself. “Hi! This might be a really strange thing to say, but you’re--Cassie, right?” She lowered her voice. “Exorcist Cassie? I hear things around town. And the targeted ads in my mailbox are just--well, anyway, I could really use an expert’s help with summoning something. Someone.” 

If you couldn’t make your own grave dust store-bought was probably fine. Wincing at the price tag mark-up compared with the last place Cassie stopped at to stock up she scanned the rows of jars and tinctures for the last couple of ingredients that had been trashed in transit. Fresh out of ash and with no way to make the stuff without either looking like a serial killer or setting the smoke alarm off. Although, on second thought considering the place she was staying, whatever weirdness she brought with her was likely only the sixth strangest thing in that hotel. Speaking of, the four-dollar hole in her pocket was still stinging from shelling out for those Cheerios late last night. Next stop had to be for something that had actually seen the inside of an oven. With that thought in mind she guessed her next stop would be finding someplace to eat some point. The Thai place she passed last night seemed like a good bet.

Like most of its sister stores around the country this place might have been full of wishful thinkers, but maybe there were a couple things that could do in a pinch. Either way she was limited on options and she doubted there’d be anywhere else offering anything any different. Stooping down to read the price tag of a jar of black salt that caught her attention she registered another person in the vicinity. Assuming it was the owner stopping by she straightened up from her crouch by the jars to stand at full height and grabbed up a jar, about to ask if she had anything a little more specific when she registered her name being mentioned followed by the familiar hushed tones, exorcist. That caught her attention as she seemed to peer over at her interestedly. She seemed earnest enough. It was the eagerness that surprised her. Word got around fast, real fast. Anywhere else the whole thing, the whole business really, was a clandestine operation. The routine, ‘Hey thanks for your services, but get out and let’s never speak of this again’ followed by a swift exit was the norm. Not here though. Here it was practically encouraged almost.

“Uh, yeah. That would be me,” she nodded uncertainty, eyeing the store inventory she was holding. “A summoning? You mean to, you know, deal with something?” It was easy to get lost in translation so she tried to follow it with a gesture that she hoped implied giving the boot, “then I can check into it, sure.”

Morgan couldn’t believe her luck. A real exorcist. A real, helpful, exorcist. She bounced on her feet, resisting the urge to clap her hands with excitement. “I thought I recognized your face! And, whew, that would have been really embarrassing otherwise, accosting some poor random person with words like  ‘exorcist’ and ‘summoning.’” Was she being funny? The image played hilariously in her mind in a terrible sort of way: the total lack of understanding on the stranger’s face, the painfully awkward attempts at saving face. After so many big setbacks, the reach of this stupid, strupid curse, Morgan found herself hard pressed to believe in lucky breaks or happy cooincidences. 

(Did that mean her plan was doomed? Oh god, it might be doomed)

“Oh, but, not like--” she mimicked Cassie’s gesture, growing red and speckled with anxiety. Maybe she should have stayed home and brooded over her hot glue gun situation in quiet isolation instead. Sure,  her cat would have still given her judgement eyes from her nest in the bookshelf, but that wouldn’t be half so bad as having this blow up in her face. But like a bad piece of gum on your shoe, Morgan stuck and kept talking. 

“I mean, I’ll want them, you know,” She gestured again, “Eventually. But first I want to bring something here. After I’ve gotten the information I need, it should probably go back to wherever, I guess,  but I need to get someone first.” 

If Morgan had only sensed the ghost judging her from behind, she might have appreciated how funny her request already was, Cassie’s help or not. 

Cassie tilted her head a little, “right,” she nodded with a small laugh. “Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

She watched as Morgan repeated the gesture, still trying to wrap her head around the request.  Okay, so she did mean summoning something, inviting it. It wasn’t totally unheard of, trying to make contact. Mostly for any lingerers that were already there, but actually folding out the welcome mat? That was still a new one, but she still felt that pang of curiosity that something like that would even work, or why anybody would even want it to. 

I need to get someone first.

Looks like you already got them, she mused not unkindly, finally acknowledging the second shadow nearby. Cassie hadn’t made eye contact with the figure lurking in the background until then, but when she did it made her stop in her tracks for a second. They were there alright, but weak. Whoever they were, she couldn’t make anything out past the general humanoid shape and occasional incline of their head as they listened in. Like they were stuck in some halfway point. Weird.

They were here, but they weren’t thrilled about it, but what else was new? Cassie gave them a look that she hoped implied later and turned her attention back to Morgan as she weighed up the options. What were the chances here that whatever she said she was going to do it anyway? Pretty high she was willing to bet. Putting the jar back on the shelf decidedly, “you know what...sure,” she agreed. “I mean mostly I’m there pointing out the exit sign, “she admitted, “but can’t hurt to be around. Let you know if you’re getting warmer”, and to step in in the off chance the invisible man back there had any ideas she added after a second glance. 

“Hell of an icebreaker, right?” She offered. “Either that or they’d just tell you to call in Zak Bagans,” she mock grimaced.

“Just ‘little white crest things,’ huh?” Morgan replied with a laugh. “I do promise I’m not like this all the time. Sometimes I say things like how are you, and, I don’t know--what nice, normal weather we’re having!”

This was...nice. Almost fun. Morgan began to sweat behind her ears at the thought Fun was the sort of thing she felt she had to trick her way into. Fun was the kind of feeling that hatched big, wild bursts of ‘come and get me while my back is turned you lousy curse’ energy. And, Christ on a cracker, wasn’t she getting ahead of herself? She was talking with Cassie about what amounted to a work thing, not about making friendship bracelets, or going to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Not exactly the stuff of tragedies, even in her own family tree. Could be safe. And if she had managed to shake certain doom for awhile, and since it was doomed to catch up, maybe she should hold it together and enjoy the reprieve. Pretend to be a less disastrous version of herself until later. Hopefully much later. After they found Agnes. 

When Cassie agreed to help, Morgan reigned in the impulse to tackle her with relief. “Thank you, so much! You are amazing, and I will compensate you...somehow. I know conjuring money is pretty high on the questionable morality spectrum, but I can also fix things! If it’s in the broken vase category and not the complicated mechanical one, I can definitely fix it. Or with the right material I can make you something really nice. But, again, not too complicated. I’ve spent more time at the archive than my old alchemy books lately, so. And, drinks, or several, burgers even.” Morgan could feel herself running too fast away from her personal disasters. So fast she almost missed what Cassie added, quietly, as not to set any alarms. Invisible man? What? 

It shattered Morgan’s loop of thought and made her go rigid. She cast her gaze back, head-turning slowly. What did Cassie mean? Invisible? Was she being followed? Maybe she had triggered something in the universe and now she was going to watch this blow up in her face before she’d even started. This might be how she died-- 

Morgan looked. Nothing. Not even a shadow. Then again, that might be the whole point of ‘invisible.’ She turned back to Cassie, suddenly feeling like they needed to get somewhere not in the shop. “Um...what do you mean invisible man?” She whispered. “Like...with some kind of glamour? Or--” It came on her so slowly because until now it had seemed laughably impossible. “Do you mean a GHOST?” She squeaked.

“No kidding,” she laughed, “been here a couple days but this place…it’s something else,” she had to admit. Understatement of the new decade, twenty-four hours in and she felt like she had enough for most of her co-workers to have a field day out here. Difference was, for the most part, she had ethics. “Oh hey, no need. I have a day job,” she waved the offers of compensation off, “you’re good.” The day she accepted cash or handouts for this kind of thing would be the day—wait conjuring cash? At some point, she’d have to ask about that-about all of that, but one thing at a time.

Cassie saw the look that crossed Morgan’s expression and frowned for a second in confusion. It was only after the words were out of her mouth that she realized she’d said that last part out loud and immediately felt like backtracking. Shit, way to scare the crap out of them. She could practically see the alarm bells going off in Morgan’s head. Part of her wanted to bluff, tell her she meant as in the general sense but thought better of it. Better not to start off on a lie. It never ended well.

“Okay so, you’ve got one visitor,” she admitted tentatively, “but you’ve got nothing to worry about, they don’t look like much of a threat.” Cassie cast another glance at them as they continued to hover around nearby like a bad smell. Was that an incline of their head at that last comment? “This’d be a very different conversation if there was, trust me.” She hoped that might take a little of the edge off of it. “I’m free today, least I’ve got nothing much planned. I can stop by, deal with the mystery guest over there, try and get contact properly,” figure out if they’re who you’re looking for,” figure out what they wanted and how they even got there like that she added to herself. The longer she looked at the figure the weirder it got. For a second she thought she saw a pair of eyes take shape before they flickered out again. Interesting. “Or if you wanted to wait,” she blinked and brought her attention back to Morgan, “I can hand over some things to keep them out of your hair for a while give you my cell number and you can text me an address or something. Whichever works.” Cassie pulled her cell out from her pocket and opened her bag out to look for what was left her the black salt but came up empty-handed, “crap, the last of it’s in the car,” she murmured and picked the jar of the stuff she was about to buy again and raised her eyebrows at the price tag. Wow, not for forty dollars I’m not. “This stuff keeps them away,” she lifted the jar back up before putting it back down again. “I have some in the car, but regular salt works, just doesn’t last as long.”

 “Are you sure?” Morgan pressed. “You’re kind of doing me a big favor…” But Cassie seemed pretty sure of her stance. Morgan couldn’t figure out why. There had to be loads of people who would pay a lot for help like this. Now that the weight of making up for her services was off Morgan’s chest, she could admit she would have pushed her powers to limit to make this happen. Why wouldn’t you try and get something out of the deal?

But Morgan didn’t have time to think about this because of what Cassie said next. You’ve got one visitor. She had really done it. Maybe? Hopefully. “A visitor,” she repeated, dumbfounded. “A ghost kind of visitor, following me around.” What if it was Agnes? Or one of Agnes’ children? Morgan looked back over her shoulder again, just in case willpower alone could bring it into her sight and understanding. When looked back at Cassie, her face was glowing with held back excitement.

“I need to find out who it is,” she said quietly. “In case it’s who I’m looking for. But the other stuff would be good too. This maybe-kind-of isn’t my first time trying this, just the first time that it’s worked.” She looked at the salt jar Cassie Hefted and made a mental note to up her game in that area. Forty dollars for a little jar. Maybe she should start charging more for her candles; this family quest was getting expensive. “I’d like to see the kind of salt you roll with,” she added lightly. “I’ve been using mom’s old kosher salt, but that was before I knew I should be upgrading. What’s in your mix that makes it different? And, would it be unprofessional if I hugged you right now?”

“Just the one,” Cassie repeated as if that would somehow make it any better. “They’re hard to make out though, which means either they’re weaker, like they’re new or they’re on the out.” Another glance towards the mystery figure and she was sure she picked up the indignation coming off from their stance alone. “Okay. If I can get some stuff from the car, find somewhere quiet I can try and get a read on them. Figure out if this is your guy.” Cassie’s eyes followed Morgan’s gaze back to the discarded jar, “it’s different for everybody, but I like a mix. A little rock salt-any salt really-” she added quickly on review, “some chalk and some Obit ashes mixed in there. Helps with the ‘ashes to ashes part’ it’s not the main focus though. The main part is the words and the intent that’s there." Morgan seemed so enthusiastic and hopeful, she hoped she wasn’t setting her up for a loss. She could do it, hazy figure aside, but actually summoning something was still out of her wheelhouse. She just hoped she wasn’t about to be a let down. Cassie thought for a moment before answering, “maybe save it for when we actually ID your friend, or at least get some contact on line one.”

Morgan took out her phone and made notes as Cassie explained her salt recipe. There was a cemetery near the Traveler’s Rest, should be easy to come by the ashes. She didn’t trust her alchemy-brewed stuff to do the trick, not when it came to warding off whatever had come out of that cake. Morgan didn’t know much about what she was getting into, but she was aware she had passed the ‘in over your head’ signpost few miles behind packing up her life and moving to White Crest. 

She settled for a thumbs up at Cassie instead of the hug. “Too soon, got it,” she said, laughing it off. “But it’s not about the success. I mean, success would be great, obviously, but I’ve been at this--for good reason!--for three years now, and this is the first time I’ve gotten, like, help from anyone. Even if you have to go back to your very expert drawing board, I’m still appreciative. Really.” Something in her sombered at the truth in those words, three years banging her head against her laptop, three years trying to get out of bed, trying not to derail her life anymore than this stupid curse already had. Three years and now she was at the zero hour. Of course she was grateful for even the illusion of progress. What did she have left to lose this year except her life anyway? Her shitty jobs? But that wasn’t the right mindset. Think positive. Move forward. She pepped herself up and headed for the door. “So! Let’s go figure this out!”

Mulling over what Morgan had said. About this being the first time anybody had offered some actual help rankled a little. If you could kick them out it stood to reason there was a way to call them up. It might actually be useful for a few things. Maybe if they were lucky whoever she was trying to get hold of was actually still around, strange as that was to say considering, they could actually make contact. “Three years?” Cassie felt her eyebrows raise involuntarily at that information. “Well, least you’ve got it now, the help I mean. If at first you don’t succeed get mad and try again,” she joked. Even if this didn’t go down well first time around, she had a more than a little healthy curiosity at the idea of something like that actually working. “You must really need this guy for something.” Not about to pry, but you didn’t spend that time trying over something trivial. Following Morgan’s lead and heading outside and back out towards where her car was parked Cassie took out her keys and grabbed the duffle bag out from the trunk and draped it over one shoulder. She shifted the weight a little and used her free hand and lifted up a piece of the padding covering the spare tyre space. “One second. I just need a couple things.” Cassie grabbed up a few loose items and stuffed them inside the bag, “this might help identify Mr Mysterio. Get a better signal and figure out if this is your guy.” Closing the trunk over again she turning back to Morgan with a smile. “Okay, and we’re all set. Lead the way.”  

“L-lead the way,” Morgan repeated, hoping that repetition would rattle something into place. “To the ghost place, that--would make sense.” She began to walk in the general direction of the traveler’s rest. “But, it’s really interesting you should say that. Because, there’s my room at the Traveler’s Rest where I do most things right now, and there’s Al’s where I did the spell. Or I think I did.” Her cheeks were growing hot again. This had all seemed reasonable, even expected in the moment, but preparing to say it out loud, she suddenly felt like an idiot. “I’m working from scratch with this, but there was a spell on google that seemed to have a familiar structure to it, and I picked the right day, I checked the moon, and all that for maximum potency. But, there might have been...cake involved. And admittedly, that seemed like an interesting ask for a request from the beyond. I don’t know if I should take you to the spot where it happened, or if we just need to duck into my room so the muggles won’t stare at us since they’re supposed to be drawn to me and not the place?” Her voice rose higher as she spoke, struggling to maintain the very logical order of planning she had taken the trouble of going to. “Anyways, it’s...all the same direction. Just a little more--this way. And I can pull up the spell, if that helps.” 

“That’s where I live-well, I don’t live there. I’m staying there, or I have a room there anyway.” Cassie wasn’t staying here she reminded herself. It was temporary like everywhere else. “That works,” she looked back over at Morgan with a nod, “or if you wanted somewhere more out in the open, there’s Al’s.” That one was the least favourite option. She hated an audience to this stuff. Growing up it was something to be buried away, not broadcast in public. It was hard to get out of that way of thinking. Old habits died hard that way. “Not sure what the rules are for summoning ghosts in the diner though. Might be a no shirt, no shoes, ghosts, no service,” she joked. Cake? Wait, how did cake figure into it? Okay, that was a question for a little later. Not the time. There was her least favourite word in this kind of context; Google. Hypocritical as that was, she’d done the same thing back before she put her foot down with her parents and got someone that actually knew what they were doing to step in. Ray was a cantankerous jerk that first day, but he knew his stuff. Saved her getting fried anyway. “Google kind of sucks for anything with ghosts. First removal invocation I looked up there had a chunk of it missing,” she admitted. “I was twenty-two and stupid,” she made a brief grimace, “good thing I asked somebody else or I wouldn’t be talking to you. Looks like something might’ve worked, don’t think your friend has been hanging around here all that long. What did this spell on google look like?” Cassie asked, curious now. Maybe it was some sort of banishment circle gone wrong, like they’d copied it wrong, got the opposite effect. Who knew at this point. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s hard to call that living, huh?” Morgan said. “Home-sweet-not-home it is.” They continued the journey together, and Morgan told her everything she could about the spell. She had recognized one of the sigls as something she’d seen in an invocation book. She couldn’t remember what the book had said it was for exactly, but the sighting had given her hope. The plan had been to harness the energy of familiarity to reach out to other spirits who had that energy in common. So, her birthday, the land where the people she was looking for had lived, and a birthday cake, which commemorated the continuation of her family. A little fire, a few words, a little saliva to create a taste of life and boom, call made, familial tether climbed, ancestors summoned. She hadn’t noticed or felt anything different at the time. She had assumed she had done something wrong, or supernatural google wasn’t quite on par with her needs as she’d hoped. She showed Cassie a screenshot and went on. She was trying to get in touch with some ancestors. She had some unfinished business with them, funny, right? Only her magical department wasn’t so much in parting the veils or whatever as it was turning stuff into different stuff. As they neared the Traveler’s Rest, she fished around in her pocket for her old set of keys. She plopped them onto her pop socket and gestured. The keys shaped themselves into a metal cuff, a robot figurine. She made it float before coaxing the metal back into keys again. “Neat, right?”

Morgan’s things were splayed all over her room, two large suitcases worth, seemingly made larger by the cramped space. Morgan cleared a spot in the middle of the floor. “I have some Arizona Tea in the mini fridge if you want any. But why not first things first? How do we talk to my visitor friend?” 

They were keys. They were keys and then they weren’t and then they were in the air. Then they were keys again and that’s the moment life stopped making sense for a second.

Neat, right?

That was one word for it. Cassie couldn’t even nod, just stood there in stunned silence and stared at the keys in Morgan’s hand as she opened the door out and stepped inside. Talking about that kind of thing was once thing, but seeing it in front of her? Whole different ball game. “…Sounds-sounds, yeah,” she found herself saying, her voice sounding a little far away. Reality snapped back again with a bang and she remembered what she was even there for. Right, focus. The way Morgan had been talking and judging from the picture she saw it sounded more and more like a variation of a banishment circle. An inverted one maybe. First thing was first, making contact.

“Oh, that part’s easy,” right, get it together. The solution to that particular snag was simple. “One second,” Cassie dug out a pen and a scrap of paper and scrawled down the alphabet and placed it on the nearest flat surface she could find. “Just needed some quiet first.”

Thank you Stranger Things, Cassie stepped back and addressed the mystery guest, “if you want to just point to tell me what your-” she didn’t get to finish that sentence before the figure darted to the paper and the pen laying beside it. They jabbed their hand in an attempt to move the Biro and watched as they seemed to grow frustrated in their attempts. Wow, they really were weak. Usually most ghosts could conjure up just enough energy to move a biro a couple centimetre across a page for all of ten seconds. “Or, if you want, you can just point. If it’s easier,” seemed they took that as a challenge and the pen started to shift, “…Okay,” she gestured, giving the go-ahead and waited as they pointed over to each letter.

W.A.N.T….F.R...

Cassie turned back to Morgan once she figured out the gist of it. “They want to know what you want,” when they started up again.

L.E.T.G.O

Oh. Fuck. Morgan took all of her attempts to get in touch with the dead very seriously, it was kind of a matter of life and death at this point, but whatever she had hoped for at the end of each attempt, it didn’t look anything like this. Cassie was sitting with a freaking piece of paper from a notebook and a ballpoint pen, nothing special or consecrated, just practical. And it was moving. Moving all by itself. It was shaking, like the hand holding it was too upset or too weak to hold it together properly. Morgan shifted away from it on the floor. Seeing this invisible force want things, demand things, show--feeling made her uncomfortable in a way she didn’t want to unpack. Wasn’t that what they had always been? And what did it really change about what she needed anyway?

“Um, okay,” she breathed, keeping her voice steady with effort. “That’s nice. Good to know. Sorry you’ve been...here, for so long. But I am going to need some information from you first before we can do that. Okay?” She squared her shoulders back and tried to adopt the kind of voice she used on her freshmen college students. “Now, who are you? What’s your name?”

Watching Morgan move away from the sheet of paper as though it was contagious Cassie realised, she had forgotten how this kind of thing might look to an outsider. What was grade school stuff to her was the stuff of nightmares to somebody else. She recognised that weird waxy looking shade Morgan had paled to and Should’ve just asked them to point. Tell, don’t show this time.

Cassie offered Morgan a look of encouragement as the mystery guest responded, Floor’s all your,s and looked over to their guest who listened and inclined their head as if they were studying her. They folded their arms over for a few moments before answering as thought they were a few moments away from doing the opposite and b an ass. Cassie shot them a look and looked at Morgan again then as the pen began to move again. A lot less stable than before as they slowly spelled the words out.

S.E.A.N…B.A.C.H.M.A.N

Okay, now they were getting somewhere. They had a name. “This your guy?” Cassie asked. She still didn’t understand what she did, but recognising that whatever it was it had worked somehow.

...E.T....G.O…C.A.L.L.E.D…H.E.R.E…..A.P.O.L.O.G.I.Z

Cassie frowned at that last message and now it was her turn to look at the figure, Sean, she corrected herself, her head inclining. 

“Ooh! Sean! You’re Agnes’ nephew, right? Your dad was named Abel?” Not who Morgan was looking for, not even close, and she shook her head at Cassie in a sheepish universal signal of ‘close but no cigar.’ Still, she felt an electric rush of excitement. This was more direct contact than she’d gotten...ever. Ever-ever. The rest of his message was a lot more puzzling. Who was apologizing? Sean hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not that she’d dug up yet. “We’ll get to that Sean, but I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt? If she...kept a secret book of magic maybe? Or if you saw her, or heard maybe…” Fuck it. “If you heard of her doing something bad enough that might make someone curse our whole family?” She felt cold all over and out of breath just from asking. She’d been nosing around ancestry sites and state records for so long, she had picked up her whole life, she had pestered Cassie in the middle of a shop, all for this, all without putting her finger on the big, awful magic button of a reason. And having to ask it out loud now, even in the most common sense of ways frustrated Morgan. It was a reminder that there was a chance the answer might be no. Maybe the afterlife had turned Sean’s memory to custard, or he just hadn’t been the kind of kid to overhear rumor. “Anything, Sean?” She pressed. “Be honest.”

Success? Cassie looked over expectantly and clocked the expression on Morgan’s face and felt her shoulders slump slightly. No, crap. That had to sting. So close, she actually had somebody here and judging by the look that passed her features they’d missed the mark by a few miles.

I’m wondering if you know anything about your aunt?

 Y.E.S

The pen continued to move and while Cassie had next to zero to compare this it seemed like who Morgan had got hold sounded like they were a family member. Close, right? Cassie sat back and kept watch and listened as Morgan reached out to Sean. Her eyes darted up again at Morgan’s words at the end there. Eyebrows raised in concern. Cursed?

…O.W…D.A.R.E...

 “Just answer the question and you can be on your way. Come on, man.” It was round about then that Sean decided to have a temper tantrum and managed to tear the paper a few centimetres in his answer. It seemed to take it out of him. She saw him fade further and stop .“I think he wore himself out with that one.” It was a while before he summoned up the energy to fade back to view again.

…T.E.L.L….Y.O.U….N.O.T.H.I

The light on one of the bedside tables clinked and the TV switched on and off for a second at that outburst.

….R.E.L.E.A.S.E….ME…

What a baby. “Spooky. Very good,” Cassie shook her head and spoke in a deadpan tone. “I know you’re pissed but don’t be an ass, Sean, or we’re going to have a problem.”

Morgan clenched her fists in her lap to keep from shaking. This was getting very real, very quickly, and somehow not at all fulfilling in the way she’d hoped. The paper was making noises all by itself, and it was one thing to look away from the screen when things started getting weird in The Conjuring, but something else entirely when the jump scare was right in front of your face. There was nowhere to go from this. Morgan looked behind her and saw the TV flickering, like some five year old on a sugar high was going crazy with the switch, and the tables were rattling louder without anyone being there. Morgan’s eyes had been stretched open long enough to tear up. She was sure if she closed them she’d make up some excuse for what she was seeing, she’d try to tell herself that this was wrong and definitely impossible. But the only thing scarier than seeing this happen, was to never see it happen. Fuck. 

“Sean, you asshole! Cut it out!” She screamed over the noise. “You tell me what you know!”

But Sean was not remotely interested. Morgan felt down in her pocket to the salt stash she had and threw it near the paper. 

“You wanna stay here forever, Sean?” She asked. “Because I don’t give a shit if you’re stuck with me forever, okay! You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already!”

Cassie shot Sean’s general figure an exasperated look and turned to Morgan and frowned in confusion. Where was he getting this idea he wasn’t free to go here? She really wasn’t about to enlighten them any time soon. Looking at Morgan just as the ‘I want to speak to the manager theatrics’ flared up again she saw Morgan glance around looking rattled. Crap. She knew that look. Cassie saw the clenched fists and shot her a worried look.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Cassie reached over but paused when she realised then that it wasn’t all fear there. There was some anger bubbling under the surface and stopped, sitting back down beside the paper. “Just some grade school level theatrics. He couldn’t blow the fuse on a lightbulb,” Cassie shot Sean a glare. Was it really so hard for the douche to just give Morgan what she wanted so they could just drop kick him back to the beyond like he wanted here? “And if you do, I’m going to have some words you’re not going to like.” Turned out the reassurance really wasn’t needed here. Morgan was holding her own. More than; she was outright making demands, tossing salt she didn’t even remember she had on her at the paper. Fast learner.

You can throw a fit all year for all I care, got it? So spit it out already

“What she said,” Cassie shrugged and looked for a second at the salt Morgan had just tossed in Sean’s general direction, “and if she thinks about throwing any more of that there’s not a damn thing I’m doing to do to stop her. I’ll tell her where to aim. Your call.”

S.K….C.O.N.S.T.A.N.C.E…L.E.A.V.E….M.E

The pen moved, with urgency then, spelling out a name. Now, that wasn’t to hard, was it?

Morgan came back to herself with Cassie’s agreement, what she said. Oh. Shit. She’d really let loose there. Threatened her ancestor, even if he was kind of a dick, wasted some salt aiming at whichever part of the air had looked most threatening. Cassie, for her part, didn’t seem too upset about her seasoning the ghost, and Morgan didn’t know what to make of that, except that she would have to explain a lot more about her situation than she’d had to in a long time. But that could wait. Hopefully. Sean was telling them about...someone named Constance. Morgan couldn’t remember how she fit into her family story off the top of her head. Was she Constance’s mother? Her daughter? It was right on the edge of her recall, but she couldn’t reach it. But it was better than nothing. 

“Fine,” she said flatly. “Fine, go.” She still had some salt in her hand and threw it again. “Fuck you anyway, though. And tell Constance I’m coming for her.” She turned to Cassie for help, holding her sweater close around her chest, flushed with embarrassment.

Cassie watched as Morgan threw the remainder of salt in her hand towards the paper again, but something strange happened in the seconds before the salt even went airborne. Cassie didn’t get the chance to even start to send him away. There second Morgan uttered the word go the ghost that was formerly known as Sean zapped out like an old television. Blipped back to the void as if being pulled back somewhere. “That was new,” was all she could manage then with raised eyebrows. “He’s already gone,” she clarified, shaking herself out of it. What the hell was that?

“Okay,” she spoke again eventually as the quiet descended. “I have no idea what you did,” she admitted, still processing, “but that’s uh, that’s different.” Understatement, the air shifted, she felt that much. Swore she heard a faint popping sound as they went. “Did you get what you wanted? Sort of anyway? A name is a start, right?” Cassie shifted back and let out a breath. “So, um, walk me through what you did here, with the circle. Maybe we can get somebody else.”

Morgan flopped back on the floor when Cassie said he was gone. She didn’t know how she could tell, and without anything to tell by she almost didn’t believe it. This...this was good, right? This was progress...in that it was more ghost she’d spoken to in her whole life, certainly more than she had gotten out of any of her magic experiments. She would have to find out who Constance was, what she had to with all this. Agnes had been the one everyone talked about, but maybe she was just the baby monster. Oh god, if this was going to turn into a Grendel’s Mother situation-- Morgan put her head in her hands and breathed out long and hard. One thing at a time. “I um...I can send you the stuff. I have the webpage saved, but I don’t know if I can do it again, without some meaningful date and a new moon, or maybe not, maybe that was bullshit…” she was mumbling, half in a daze, as she pawed around the messy floor for her computer. She pulled it up and sent it to Cassie’s account on the town social media network. Handy, that. She stood up and dusted off a whole lot of nothing off her jeans. “I got something alright!” She said, scrambling to put her smile back on. “Thank you for helping on short notice. You’re really nice, and I’ll find a way to make it up somehow. Maybe when, um, the adrenaline is a little, uh, less, we can figure something out.” Or not. Cassie seemed like she might make a good shortcut through the mess, but she might also be fast-tracking herself into the danger zone. But if it meant not running from herself anymore, maybe it would be worth it anyway.

[babbushka]

Clyde’s Girl

Hello friends! I had a bit of a rough day yesterday, and decided to live vicariously through our sweet boy in this Clyde Logan x reader insert fic. Please heed the warnings, there’s some angst and violence in it, and if you feel like this fic might bring about some negative memories or feelings, please feel free to skip this one! 

Word count: 4600

Warnings: ANGST (harassment (minor character against reader), violence (clyde and minor character), language (minor character against reader) ; smut (oral sex, fingering)

There is fluff in here I promise, but those are the two big warnings!

The bar was jam packed, being a Friday night and all. The whole of Duck Tape filled with regulars and newcomers alike, eagerly laughing and talking with one another like one happy family. The pool tables were being occupied by some real good players, and there was a card game goin’ on in one of the booths in the corner. The jukebox was playing Patsy Cline, and some couples were slow-dancing together oblivious to all the noise.

Clyde was in the middle of it all, keeping the drinks flowing and his customers happy. He was more than capable of it, and eager to do so – the rush of the drink orders kept his mind off of you.

You were sitting at the bar all by your lonesome, for the fourth time this week. You were no newcomer, you’d been visiting Duck Tape for years, and well, Clyde had been nursin’ a little bit of a crush on you for some time now. He tried his best to keep it under control, but damn you were so pretty, and so smart, and funny and so nice…

He shook his head, reminding himself that there were folk askin’ for refills that he needed to tend to.

“Clyde?” You asked shyly from your seat at the counter, almost like you could read Clyde’s mind and know he was thinkin’ of you.

“Yes darlin’?” He asked, turning his warm gaze towards yours while the tap filled up a few glasses.

“Could I get another when you have a chance?” You smiled, glad for the pet name. When Clyde first called you that, he had been so embarrassed, but you assured him that you liked it, and he had called you that ever since.

Clyde simply nodded, not a man of too many words, but the quick smile he gave you back was all you needed to stay in high spirits.

You came to Duck Tape for Clyde, of course.

You weren’t entirely sure if the handsome bartender knew that or not, but it was his company that you longed for at the end of a hard day. You didn’t drink very heavily, often asking for sodas or virgin cocktails to try and save some money but still get your semi-daily fixin’ of soulful conversation with Clyde.

The two of you had so much in common, from the things you liked and the things you both disliked. On slower nights, you would exchange stories of your day, all the ups and downs and in betweens that made life interesting, even if it was boring. Clyde was never boring in your eyes, and you lived for the moments when he opened up about something that was a little more private than he was used to talking about.

You thought everything about him was absolutely perfect, and it made you only a little sad that you knew he’d never feel the same way. How could he? After all, he was a successful business owner and one of the most well-liked guys in town. He probably didn’t have much time for anything outside of running the bar, so you did what you could and spent as much time in the bar as you could, hoping to make him laugh or smile with your stories.

Unfortunately, tonight really was no night for conversation as he was being pulled in ten different directions all at once. But when he reached for your glass and your fingers brushed up against his for an electric moment, you were reminded that even just a second of his attention was worth not getting to talk like y’all usually did.

You sipped your drink slowly, and watched him move around the bar like a pro, happy to simply enjoy the familial atmosphere of Duck Tape like you did almost every Friday night.

 Clyde was starting to grow tired around closing time. He gave the fifteen minute warning to the patrons of the bar, who nodded with understanding and began wrapping up their various affairs. The pool balls were corralled into the triangular rack, the sticks put back in the holster. Couples returned to their tables from the small dance floor, and cards were shuffled before being stuffed back into pockets.

Everyone cashed out their checks roughly at the same time, and began slowly trickling out of the bar, carrying their conversations into the parking lot and laughing with one another before saying goodnight and driving away.

Looking up, amidst the fray you had disappeared.

Clyde walked over to where you had sat at the counter, a pile of cash to pay the bill, and a note in your handwriting.

Keep the change. See you tomorrow!

You had drawn a small heart underneath your note, and Clyde’s own heart raced. The tip was generous, more generous than you probably could afford. He stuck the change in his pocket and made a mental reminder to slip it back into your purse the next time he saw you. It was his pleasure to serve you up anything you wanted – hell he would give you free drinks if it wouldn’t be so desperately obvious.

It was such a stark contrast once everyone was out of the bar, how quiet it was. Sometimes you would stay until when Clyde locked up, talking for a little while just the two of you, and Clyde wished this had been one of those times.

Sighing, he wiped down the counter, when some movement outside the window caught his eye. Instinctively looking up, he abandoned his countertop when his brain realized what he was staring at, and he was storming out the door.

Some guy’s harsh hand yanking on your arm was enough to send him into a rage that nearly blinded him.

“What the hell are you doin’?” He barked, and the guy who had been bothering you let go like he had been burned.

“Clyde – ” You rushed to his side, practically throwing yourself in his arms. He wanted to hold you close but he was shaking with anger and needed to let it out somehow.

“Honey go inside.” He said softly, tucking your hair behind your ears. You didn’t have a minute to process him calling you honey before he was nearly chasing after the guy who had taken his chance to get away.

He was some no-name newcomer from out of town, Clyde had never seen him and he had a good memory so he would know. The man was fumbling with his keys at his car, but Clyde smacked them out of his hand. You were frozen, standing on the patio just watching as Clyde turned into the most intimidating person you had ever seen.

“You don’t ever touch her if she don’t want you to.” Clyde fumed, using all of his six-foot-three-inches to tower over the dirtbag.

“It wasn’t like that – ” The man scoffed, moving to pick his keys up. Clyde moved forward and stepped on the keys, trapping them under his boot.

“How was it like then?” He asked, jaw setting into a deep frown.

The guy scoffed again, as if Clyde was being ridiculous, before turning to you and gesturing to your clothing. Clyde noticed that you hadn’t gone inside like he asked, and watched as you anxiously tucked your arms around yourself. You became hyper aware that the man was probably trying to ogle your body through the clothing you had picked out to look nice for Clyde, and you wanted to hide.

“She was being a tease – got me all riled up and then wouldn’t even give me her number. I just wanted to scare her is all.” He explained, as if somehow that would get him off the hook.

Clyde’s jaw clicked and he crushed the keys under his foot into the pavement of the parking lot as he got in the other man’s face.

“You best say somethin’ to ‘er right now.” Clyde said, giving him a final warning.

The man, clearly not understanding what was about to happen, rolled his eyes and turned to face you, voice dripping with malice when he yelled to make sure you could hear him go, “Eat shit, slut.”

Clyde snapped. Without even a second thought he slammed his fist into the side of the guy’s face, blood spraying hard as his nose crunched under the impact. He couldn’t even stumble through the punch before Clyde landed another one, and then another one.

You were stunned! Clyde had never shown so much outward passion like this before, watching him move as fast as he was moving was mesmerizing.

The man fell to the floor, eyes swollen and bruised badly, but Clyde didn’t let up. He kept picking the guy up, only to knee him hard in the stomach and let him drop again, kicking his side.

It occurred to you that maybe you should say something, maybe you should stop Clyde, but you really didn’t want to. There was something awfully gratifying about the sound Clyde’s fist made when it collided with this asshole’s jaw.

Of course the police had to be cruising past just when Clyde was starting to get carried away, pinning the man in a headlock.

“Shit.” You sucked in a breath, and rushed over to Clyde’s side.

“Honey – ” Clyde was about to tell you to go inside for real, that he didn’t want you to get dirtied up by this man’s blood, but you cut him off real quick.

“Cops!” You winced, the officer clearly taking notice of the events happening in the parking lot, and pulling into the lot with their lights on.

Clyde let the man drop, and you wound your arms around his left one, holding him tight.

“Let me do the talking.” You begged, searching his eyes for his agreement.

Clyde nodded, too keyed up to really say much, and you glued yourself into his side as an officer got out of his vehicle.

“What seems to be going on out here?” The officer asked, his hand on his hip, too close to his gun for your own comfort. He was staring down Clyde, clearly skeptical – his uniform and paint-job of his car made it clear he was from the next town over, so he wasn’t familiar with any of the Logans.

“This man saved my life.” You said immediately, holding on to Clyde and refusing to let him go.

“Is that so?” The officer asked, with a raised eyebrow.

You knew what it looked like, the scene in front of you, but you also knew exactly what to say to get this cop off your backs.

“Yes, I was being harassed by that man,” You said, voice only a little shakey as you gestured to the groaning body on the ground, “And Clyde came to my rescue.”

The cop looked from the man on the ground, to Clyde, and then back to the man on the ground again.

“You’re Clyde?” The officer asked, addressing his question to Clyde this time.

“Clyde Logan, that’s right.” He responded, voice deep, but gentle. As if he hadn’t just been absolutely destroying the guy in front of all of you.

The officer was silent for a long time, and you immediately started to panic. You were thinking up all sorts of things you could do to get Clyde out of going to jail – his life of crime was over, you weren’t about to be the reason he went and served more time.

The officer moved his hand from his hip finally, crossing his arms in front of his chest, before eyeing Clyde carefully.

“You got two first names.” The officer said.

“Yeah I suppose I do.” Clyde replied.

You wanted to explode, the tension in the air was too thick to handle.

“What sort of harassment?” The officer finally asked, and your heart leapt into your throat, taking the opportunity to give all the details.

“He kept brushing up against me while I was in Clyde’s bar, and when the bar closed, he followed me to the parking lot. He kept asking me for my phone number even though I told him I wasn’t interested.” You said quickly, tucking yourself closer to Clyde’s side, your grip on his arm tight. “That’s when he put his hand on me and started jostling me around.”

“Where?” The officer frowned, as did Clyde.

“Here.” You said, showing your arm.

There was a big bruise in the shape of the man’s hand on your forearm where he had yanked you, and Clyde had the very strong desire to beat the shit out of him all over again.

“Clyde must’ve seen me through the window because I was just about to scream for help when he showed up.” You said softly, and Clyde’s heart broke – he was sure that if you had screamed for help that sound would have haunted his every nightmare.

“Is that right?” The officer asked Clyde.

“Yes sir.” He nodded, not wanting to say anything that would get him in trouble.

“Without him I don’t know what would have happened.” You added truthfully, before throwing in, “I’m thankful for those sharp, military reflexes.”

“Military you say?” The officer perked up, and Clyde blushed, but nodded.

“Special forces.” Clyde said, all shy. You hated to put him on the spotlight like that, but you knew it would be the only way to get him off the hook.

“Well thank you for your service.” The officer nodded kindly, before jabbing a thumb in the direction of the loser on the ground who was still oozing blood onto the parking lot. “And thank you for stopping this young man for possibly harming this beautiful young lady. I’ll take him down to the station and let him spend a night in the drunk tank for all this trouble.”

“Thank you officer.” You smiled, glad that he wouldn’t be arresting the love of your life.

“Although, if you ever run into a problem like this again, maybe don’t beat him halfway to Sunday.” He joked, and you laughed.

“Of course officer, thank you.” Clyde said, a quick nod of his own.

“Oh, and if you’d like to press assault charges ma’am, here’s my card.” The officer handed you a small piece of cardstock with the phone and ID number. “Y’all have a good night now.”

The cop hauled the man up from the pavement, and once he was standing, pushed him in the direction of the cop car. You and Clyde remained frozen on the spot, until the car was out of the lot and all the way down the road.

You were both breathing hard, hands shaking from the reality of what just happened, and what could have happened.

“That was close—” Clyde said, but you cut him off, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

His lips were soft against your own, so warm and wide and plush. You kissed him like you would never be able to kiss him again. Clyde reacted right away, sighing happily into your mouth and pulling you close with his metal hand. His other one was covered in blood, knuckles split from repeatedly smashing into the side of that jerk’s, and he didn’t want to get it all over your pretty outfit.

“Thank you.” You whispered against his lips, letting him hold you nearly flush to him in his strong grip.

You two rubbed noses together as you caught your breath, and Clyde sighed.

“I couldn’t help myself.” He said softly, resting his forehead against yours. “I couldn’t stand you bein’ hurt.”

“You saved me.” You said, your mind reeling about all the ways that could have gone if Clyde hadn’t been there to stop that man.

Clyde seemed to have forgotten where you were for a moment, because he suddenly focused on the bruise on your arm and the chill in your skin from the cool night air.

“Can I…” He gulped, so afraid of rejection, even after all this, “Can I take ya home?”

“Can we go to yours?” You asked in response, pleading eyes turned towards his, “I want to stay with you.”

He seemed surprised by this, and frowned only a little bit. His eyes shimmered with hope, and you smiled at the little blush that crept onto his cheeks.

“You do?” He asked. He couldn’t believe it, “Ya ain’t scared of me?”

“You could never scare me honey.” You replied earnestly, placing a comforting hand on his cheek.

He turned into the kiss and smooched your hand, before leaning down to kiss you for a few more moments.

“Well alrigh’ then.” Clyde smiled shyly, blush spreading to turn his whole face bright red. “Come on, my car’s right here.”

He held the door open for you like the gentleman he was, and made sure you were seat-belted in for safety before closing it and rounding the truck so he could climb in himself.

You rolled the window down to let some of the night air in, and Clyde had a hard time paying attention to the road with the way your pretty hair blew around in the slight breeze as he took his time down the winding West Virginia roads.  

You kept one hand on his thigh as he drove, and it grounded him, kept his mind from wanderin’ to the way that man had called you such awful things, how he had hurt you – how he was probably going to have hurt you more.

It was quiet, but neither of you minded.

The drive was short, and soon you found yourself sitting in Clyde’s living room.

Clyde walked into the living room from just locking up the front door and putting his keys in the little bowl Mellie got him after Jimmy moved out. He was filthy – a whole night of work and a fight had him covered in all sorts of gross shit, and he wanted to be able to run his hand over your skin, clean.

“I just need to uh,” He held up the bloodied and cracked skin of his hand with a sheepish smile, “Wash this off.”

“Let me help.” You offered, not waiting for him to say he didn’t need it, and instead going straight to the bathroom. You had never been in his trailer before, but you could see from the couch the door that was slightly open, enough to see the hint of a sink and mirror.

Clyde followed you in, and you smiled at the way he tried to take up as little space as possible, hanging in the doorway so he wouldn’t crowd you in this tiny bathroom. You wondered if he even really fit in it.

“Can I?” You asked, placing a hand on his metal prosthetic.

You knew he wasn’t the most comfortable with people seeing his arm without it, but you hoped to convey to him that you didn’t want to shy away from something that was a part of him, that you weren’t disgusted by it – or by him.

“Yeah.” Clyde nodded, voice thick.

You made quick work of his flesh hand, washing it under warm water with soap, and then applying and antiseptic and an anti-bacterial ointment to the cuts, before wrapping waterproof bandages around the knuckles. They weren’t deep enough that he needed stitches thankfully.

Clyde was in awe of your patience, how you so thoroughly went through the steps of fixin’ him. Your hands were so small in his giant one, he wanted to splay your fingers out against his own and see just how much bigger his really was. He was about to ask, when he caught a bit of a glimmer in your eye.

“Shower?” You asked.

Clyde thought a shower sounded amazing, and was just about to say yes when you started to undress. You stopped halfway through to turn the faucet on, pulling the little tab to direct the water from the tub to the showerhead above, before resuming.

“Oh, uh, yeah – of course, here let me just – ” Clyde started to shuffle away, but he couldn’t really open the door without bumping into you, making you giggle.

“Where are you going?” You asked with an amused smile. Clyde froze – you wanted him to join you?

You were now fully naked, and had moved to step into the shower, and Clyde could have sworn he had been knocked out in that fight and was in some kinda dreamland; there was no way this was real. None at all, but then you were standing under the spray and laughing, smiling at him all expectant.

“Oh! I thought – ” Clyde stumbled over his words, before fumbling with his clothing, nervous excitement racing through him.

“Get in here big boy.” You beckoned him to you, and Clyde had never wanted to shower more in his life.

You made room for him as he stood beside you, careful to not accidentally touch you in a way you weren’t expectin’ or wantin’. It wasn’t easy, that was for sure – this shower was barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Still, he tried his best, and reached around you for the shampoo Mellia gave him from her salon.

“Don’t worry, I won’t try nothin’.” Clyde said, squeezing out a big glob of it into your hand.

You only grinned, and lathered up the shampoo in your hair, your arms raised to your head to scrub at your scalp, turning your hair into one big halo of bubbles. It was the sexiest thing Clyde had ever seen.

“What if I want you to?” You asked, tipping your head back and letting the suds wash down your body.

Clyde followed their trails carefully, licking his lips.

He waited for you to coat your hair in conditioner and wring it out a few minutes later before he couldn’t really hold back any longer.

“Are ya sure?” He wanted to be absolutely certain, especially after the events of the evening, but you just pressed yourself up against him, grasping his hand in yours and bringing it to your chest, encouraging him to squeeze at your breasts.

“Please?” You whispered, voice high and needy, and Clyde’s knees nearly buckled.

“Lemme take care of ya.” Clyde whispered back, and you nodded eagerly, desperate for him.

Clyde naked was even more impressive than you could have possibly imagined. Especially with the way the water from the shower ran in rivulets down the ridges in his muscular chest and toned stomach. He had always been big and wide but something about seeing all the definition on display was intoxicating.

He leaned down to kiss you once more, and you smiled into it, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders once more. His scarred arm held you snugly in place, while his hand cradled the base of your skull as he licked into your mouth.

He groaned softly as you opened your lips further for him, kissing him back with equal passion that had him dizzy. You couldn’t stop little whines from escaping your throat that only got louder as Clyde pulled away.

The shower really was too small to accommodate any kind of lovemaking that he wanted to do with you, so he settled on maneuvering you so he could press your back against his front, and reach his hand down to slide against your cunt.

He latched his mouth onto your neck and peppered it with kisses as he pressed his thick fingers into you, drawing out the most precious moans and sounds from you. Both of your hands grabbed onto his arm to not only steady yourself, but to encourage him to finger you further. It was an awkward position, but he managed to make it work enough to roll and pinch at your clit, breathing heavy in your ear as he sucked on the edge of your jaw.

You came fast, and it caught you off-guard. Clyde smiled against your skin, and you panted, turning back around to face him.

You looked like you were going to say something, but then you quickly dropped to your knees and took Clyde’s raging hard cock in your hand, guiding it to your lips.

You licked the head for a little bit before sucking it into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks. Clyde had to brace himself against the tile of the shower, his hand moving to tangle in your wet hair.  You took him as deep as you could manage – he was huge, every part of him, right down to his dick. What you couldn’t fit in your mouth your hands covered, and your pleased hums mixing with the obscene sucking noises had Clyde shooting his load down your throat before he could even warn you.

You pulled back with a big sticky grin, and stood up, knees slightly protesting the position you had been in. Clyde wrapped you up in his arms once again, and shut the water off.

 Later, after you were both dressed in clean clothes – Clyde let you borrow one of his big shirts and a pair of his boxers to keep you covered, although both articles were so big on you that they kept slippin’ off your shoulder or your hips and making you all kinds of exposed – and curled up in bed, wet hair resting on towel covered pillows, Clyde took advantage of a quiet moment where he could say something he’s wanted to say for a long time.

“You’re my favorite person in the whole world, y’know that?” Clyde said, tracing a nervous pattern on your palm.

“Me?” You asked with a big smile, making him smile a little in return.

“Yup.” He nodded, all shy like always.

You blushed, and shuffled over a bit on the bed so the two of you were practically sharin’ the same pillow. He wound his arm around you, and you did the same to his, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

“You’re my favorite too.” You replied, throat bobbing as you nervously admitted, “I love you, you know.”

“Say that again?” Clyde tilted your chin to make your eyes meet his.

“I love you.” You replied easily, like you’d been saying the words for years and years. You know you had certainly wanted to.

“Again.” Clyde asked, his face red and his smile reaching his eyes and his dimples on full display for you to pepper a kiss onto each one.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” You said, kissing all over his face, his hand, his shoulder, and his lips, again and again and again.

“I love you too.” Clyde said, before giving a rare huff of a laugh, “Been wantin’ to say that for a while now.”

“Me too.” You laughed along with him.

There was something so pure about the way you two were so at ease with one another, it calmed your frazzled nerves being by his side, and you knew that if you had nightmares after you fell asleep, Clyde would be there to calm you down.

“Mel and Jimmy are gonna have a field day when I tell them you’re my girl now.” Clyde said, making you grin.

“I like the sound of that… your girl.” You replied, your eyes slipping closed.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t gonna call you anything else.” Clyde joked, reluctantly letting his close too. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted – he just wanted to keep lookin’ at you for as long as he could.

“Not even ‘darlin’’?” You hummed, resting your head on his chest.

He kissed the top of your head, and a chuckle rumbled through your cheek.

“Of course, darlin’.” He smiled, listening to your breathing even out as you fell into a comfortable sleep.

He could never in a million years pictured his day turning out like this, but one thing was for sure: he was going to love and cherish you forever, his girl.

Tagging some friends! If you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist, please just shoot me a message or comment on this fic! :)  @fullofbees @spinebarrel @oh-adam @dreamboatdriver @bad–bad–man @thecurlycaptain @bourbonboredom @driverficarchive @aweirdlookingtree @rosalynbair @redhairedfeistynerd @adamsnackdriver @glitzescape 

[chibioniyuri]

So, I wanted to share my current medical status with y’all, but only if you want to actively read it, so I’ll be throwing it behind a cut. Plus it’s pretty long. So there’s that.

So, I have a brain tumor.

Only, technically not. It’s within the skull but outside the dura mater, the protective membrane around your brain itself. So, technically not a brain tumor.

But let’s start from the beginning.

Starting around summer of last year, my grandmother was in and out of the hospital. Falling without being able to get up on her own, leading her to spend the entire night sitting on the floor waiting for someone to visit her because the phone was out of reach. Pneumonia extending her hospital stay. Getting home and refusing the home health care my uncle and aunt set up for her. Falling again. Repeat.

Around August-ish, my aunt was cleaning her apartment for her and found pain killers stashed all over the apartment. In bottles. Free pills on her walker. Next to the phone, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, stashed in both nightstands. Turns out she’d been asking nearly everyone who visited her to bring her bottles “because she was running low.” Including us. We could get large bottles of Excedrin from Sam’s Club for cheaper than were available in her country. We’d bring over two extra large bottles. We didn’t think anything of it; our visits were spaced roughly four years apart. But concurrently, some tests were showing the beginning stages of liver and kidney damage that could be caused by self-medicating in the way my grandmother was.

Cut to me. “Wa-oh,” says I.

For like two and a half years, that I could remember, I’d been having trouble sleeping. Beyond the normal, that is. Taking over an hour to fall asleep, sleeping roughly three hours at a time, eventually needing to take naps on my days off just to function safely on my work days. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I was finishing school. Looking for a house. Moving back into my parents’ house so I wouldn’t have to break a lease when I finally found “the one.” Exposing myself back to my dad’s special brand of tough love. I figured it was just stress, and that it would go away when things were less hectic.

They didn’t.

Right around April of last year, my headaches starting spiking. Again, I didn’t think much of it. For most of my life, I’ve dealt with headaches. I’ve become a pro at the art of ignoring the headache away. But suddenly, I was having migraine-level headaches, frequently. I explained it away as lack of sleep. This was about a year and a half into the lack of sleep saga. It seemed reasonable to me. And I was more concerned about the nearly-falling-asleep-while-driving and the crying on the way to work and the endless feeling of “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

But these new headaches were debilitating. So... I started self-medicating. A lot.

I really should have been more aware; I mean, as a medical professional, there were so many red flags. But nothing like that could ever happen to me, right? I was just weak. Attention-grabbing. I just needed to suck it up and get back to work. My dad, after all, had never taken a sick day in twenty years, even if he was sick. He’d had some baaaad headaches, too, and he just powered through. I needed to do the same.

My grandmother was a wake-up call for me.

I finally convinced myself to do something about it September of last year. I thought it was just my thyroid. It controls so many things: your sleep cycle, your metabolism, your temperature regulation. My doctor initially agreed with me, and blood tests corroborated it. My thyroid hormone was low.

Something must have niggled at my doctor though, because she ordered more tests. Then more. First blood tests. I was stuck so many times, it was ridiculous. I counted 9 vials in one sitting, which.... personally, is a record. I can’t speak about the standard levels for anyone else. Then an ultrasound of my thyroid. Nothing too abnormal. Some nodules that were enlarged, but nothing alarming. An MRI of my brain. Just a precaution, she said. Some of my medical history meant that she wanted to fully rule some things out.

I had my MRI on a Wednesday. That Friday, her nurse called me. Said that my doctor wanted to talk to me about my results. That I should just name a time that day and she would make sure it was available.

Oh shit.

I called my mom. I remember thinking that I wasn’t reacting the way I thought someone who received bad news should. I was acting like I had a particularly juicy piece of gossip. Jovial, almost.

“Hey mom,” I said. “That thing I was joking about, back when she first mentioned the MRI? Tumors and cancer? The thing I said wouldn’t happen to me? Pretty sure she found it.”

“What?”

“Her nurse just called. Told me to name a time I can come in today. Whatever time, and it would be available. That only happens with bad news, right? She found it. Mom, I have a brain tumor.”

My mom told me that I had to hear the actual words from my doctor’s mouth before I could worry. And that if it was real, we would deal with it. And that I should call my dad so he could come with me.

So I did. He told me roughly the same thing, that I couldn’t be sure until the doctor said it herself. And that I should schedule it so my mom could go with me.

“I scheduled it for roughly an hour from now.”

“Oh. I guess your mom can’t go with you, then.”

No mention of him going. I was too afraid to ask.

I found out later that he had already started drinking and was too afraid that someone would figure it out. He’s the type of alcoholic that feels like, since he named himself an alcoholic, that’s it, kumbayah, crack open a cold one, but instinctively lies to medical professionals about his level of intake. He excused it away by saying he wasn’t really an emotionally supportive guy anyway, and he didn’t offer because he didn’t think I wanted him there. Plus, he said, he would’ve started crying and that’s not being emotionally supportive. I agree that he would’ve. I also think he fell into a mild depressive state because his employer declared bankruptcy and he was without the job he’d worked at since being honorably discharged from the military in 1995 and was having an identity crisis because so much of his personal identity is tied up into his work, and without it, he’s nothing. But you’re not here to read about my analysis of my dad.

So I sat alone in that room while my doctor told me I had a tumor on my pituitary gland. That it was pretty large and probably the cause of a lot of the lethargy and difficulty sleeping. That I should let her know if I start having headaches.

“I’ve got those,” I said.

“You didn’t mention it to me?”

“No. I mean, I’ve had them since puberty, really. They were more frequent, recently, but I thought it was the not sleeping thing.”

She made sure I walked out with a referral to the neurosurgeon in my hand and advised me to call him right away. Well, as soon as my insurance cleared.

Since October, I’ve struggled to feel it was real. I’ve sort of stepped aside from it, I guess. I’ve viewed it as one of those interesting case studies from nursing school. “Mary’s MRI results show a 2cm growth on her pituitary gland. Her growth hormone levels are __. She complains of headaches, lethargy, insomnia, and weight gain. What nursing diagnoses would apply to this case? What interventions would you consider implementing?”

I’ve analyzed my reactions and compared them to the stories I’ve read, fictional and anecdotal, about others dealing with serious medical issues and found myself lacking. I’ve thought of how I would write this situation. Definitely dread, I decided. Fear. Worry. A sense that suddenly, the world is crashing down around you. And alternately, a sort of freeing feeling. Suddenly, you can go out into the world and really live like it’s your last day.

And then I looked at my bank account. I looked at my insurance paperwork. I decided that I couldn’t afford the surgery to remove it until next year. Definitely couldn’t take the time off to process it. Gotta make that money, pay those bills.

“You’re so strong,” one of my fellow nurses tells me. I want to tell her I’m not. I’m just incredibly aware that I’m financially precarious and that I can’t afford anything else. And it’s so much easier to fall into routine and focus on caring for someone else. Avoidance at its best.

So why am I sharing this all of a sudden?

My surgery is in less than two weeks: April 4. And it’s definitely real now.

Suddenly, all that stuff that I imagined writing is happening to me. The closer that date crawls, the worse I feel. At first, it was mild concern. It’s approaching absolute terror now, though.

I’m about to let someone send some tools up my nose, poke around in my brain, and remove some bits of myself that have gone renegade. I’ll be in the ICU in case of complications. I’ll need someone with me for a while afterwards, when I finally get discharged. I have absolutely no idea how I’ll pay for it, considering my credit card has wracked up a truly impressive balance due to my car breaking down last year, and then all the lab work, diagnostic tests, and specialist visits, which let me tell you, are a special sort of expensive hell. Add on my mortgage and my student debts, and I squeak by every month. I’ll probably pick up a second job to help out with whatever costs I accrue.

One good thing about this is that my dad has stopped asking me “do you want mine?” when I mention I have a headache. But now he’s joking that I’ll be in the hospital for ages because, “I hate to say it like this, but you don’t do so well with the pain thing.” Fuck you.

The truly good thing: my brother got leave from the Air Force to come home for a week. We haven’t seen him since last July, when he came home for our it’s-been-four-years-time-to-go-to-Germany trip. I’m so happy about that, I could cry. I probably will before this whole thing is over.

So, there you go. The full update.

I’ll probably be typing more things up to work through this. Typing all this out has been oddly cathartic.

[vivaindiffrnce]

 GERMANY TOUR: WIESBADEN, LINDAU AND LEIPZIG

probably the best three days of my life. definitely the most adventurous weekend ever.

(more after the cut cause that post would be way too long without it) (but yooo read it if you can it was an Adventure)

(i’m gonna do it in bullet points cause After Tour Sickness is real and i’m pretty cure i have fever lmao)

WIESBADEN:

patrick and i drove from his place to wiesbaden around 10

played werewolves and cards against humanity with derek (he picked my card in his round B) he liked the idea of heaven being full of puppies)

derek smoked my weed and stole brendon’s lighter because he got “inspired”

pro tip: if you’re planning to eat food out of cans for a few days don’t forget to pack a can opener

the show was amazinggggg 

i ripped my pants and bruised my entire butt in the pit 10 seconds into dirty fucker (i officially have the Real punk ripped pants so i’m happy about that)

after the show we waited for frank, he came out suuuuper late (like 1:30) and came up to the small group of people that were still there, we were talking in a group for a couple of minutes

he asked us what songs we wanted on the setlist so patrick and i were like….. BFF and this song is a curse etc and he included all the songs we asked for in the next setlist uwu

after a few minutes he was like…. so does anyone want some pictures or something, it was hilarious

“my hands are too small to sign this record”

when my turn came i asked for my personalized boozey and the convo went something like

me: sooo i wanted to ask you to draw a boozey for me. but. the boozey is a vampire. how cool is that. a vampire ghost. cara: ALLIGATOR ghost (yea she beat me, that’s so much cooler and i’m gonna work on that tattoo)

then our Squad asked frank for a picture 

basically everyone (including cara) was like “FRANK NO” and frank was like “FRANK YES” (you can see the result of this mess in picture 3 and the gif- thank god for live pictures)

LINDAU:

we drove all night to motherfucking bavaria and after that i was so tired i don’t even remember falling asleep, just waking up covered in blankets with my friends around me

tubthumping officially became our tour song

patrick said i was a highlight of the tour cause i was so delirious i was singing britney spears?

i accidentally rickrolled the entire queue, derek, frnk and the patience and dave hause.

later brendon, patrick and i went to smoke a joint (the dutch culture B)) with derek and a few people joined (haha get it, joined for a joint) and among these people was matt olsson, and miles from the mermaid (but he couldn’t smoke with us after all cause he had soundcheck) so that’s the story how we smoked weed with the homeless gospel choir and ¼ of the patience

started a pit before doors to all star and britney spears and taking back sunday????

derek’s set was A MESS, his guitar cable wasn’t working so he went down to the crowd using patrick’s head to support himself and we went on stage so we switched places (you can see that in one of the pictures, i’m the one sitting on the edge of the stage in my death tshirt)

later he forgot lyrics to crazy

LATER his guitar string broke so he played normal with just 5 strings and for why he got to play frank’s guitar

he was super sad about that set later but for me it was the best show of his out of the ones i saw, it was so magically imperfect and everyone had so much fun

the fiatp show was even more amazing than the show in wiesbaden

i hugged the fuck out of patrick during BFF 

started a 5 person big pit in the front row to this sing is a curse, because MYYYYY FRIENDS WE CAN DO ANYTHING WITH SCIENCE EXCEPT SAY GOODBYE

 we were going right after the show cause we had to drive like 6 hours to leipzig

at like 6am i asked nina to play danger days cause it was finally not raining and when planetary go started playing i realised i was going 160 km/h (context: i’m usually too scared to go over 70 in a 90 zone in poland)

turns out it’d be better if i didn’t go that fast cause later i got a speeding ticket for going over 70 in a 60 zone…… hope i’ll get the lower ticket cause i want to be able to afford to live this month

LEIPZIG

the queue was the coolest and chillest queue ever idk it was awesome

i drew some doodles on a poster hanging around the venue and someone thought they were made by frank so they stole the poster lmao now an emo kid has mine and patrick’s matching tattoo hanging in their room

i did entire choreography to the eye of the tiger on top of a random cabinet in front of the venue

a group of Adults following derek on tour asked us if we wanted some food cause they ordered way too much and didn’t wanna waste it and tbh i was so moved but i couldn’t really show it but i hope that’s the kind of person i will be in a few years

THE BEST SHOW I HAVE EVER BEEN TO

almost passed out like twice but the show was so good i’m pretty sure the only thing holding me up was my will to get to the end of the show

it was so good…. we went soooo fucking hard holy shit

nina and i went so hard to helter skelter wtf that was amazing (who’d think the beatles could make us go that hard)

nina caught evan’s picks and gave one to me!!!!!

met evan and cara after the show and evan signed my record and my pick and cara signed my setlist (she signed it as “coffeebutt” i love her)

ok so after the show frank wasn’t supposed to go out but one girl gave her drawing of frank to derek (to give it to frank you get me) and frank liked it so much he came out of the bus just to find her and he just stayed to say hi to us i guess?

patrick and i asked frank to draw friendship tattoos for us and he drew the most amazing design ever and explained it as “poison and antidote” and the designs are perfect for us holy shit

then we got a hardstyling picture with frank so tbh what more could i ask for? i have officially acheived my final form

matt and alex also signed my record (keep the coffins coming) so now i have ktcc with everyone’s signatures 

i think that alex was kinda… intoxicated so he wasn’t happy when i asked him to sign it cause he “doesn’t play on that record. he plays the songs but he doesn’t actually play on any record” and i didn’t know what to say so i just left lmao

then we talked about politics with evan for a couple of minutes it was great, love me some Woke Guitarists

idk it was amazing idk what else to say

so yeah. 5 shows down, 8 to go. the best time of my life and i can’t wait for friday!!!

[deycallmeteezy-blog]

No Excuses, You Required an Expert Poker Set To Play Poker

I'm telling you, if you enjoy poker, there's nothing much better than having a pro poker collection (well, unless you have a professional-looking poker table to support your pro poker collection). Poker is a fantastic game for various reasons as well as looking for as well as finding a professional poker set makes the video game even that better. Simply the various other night, I mosted likely to play some poker at a friend's residence. Mark always has a poker game on Friday or Sunday nights. So, here we are, consuming our beers and illuminating the stogies, and also sitting around Mark's poker table. Mark has a specialist looking table. His other half Jill is available in holding this glossy looking aluminum styled box. She puts the box smack dab in the middle of the table as well as Mark flicks the lock open. It is specialist poker set! Male I am telling you if this isn't keeping your interest peaked then you can not be a real poker gamer. Not a very major one, a minimum of. Let me tell you some more concerning that specialist poker collection. It consisted of 300 casino-grade 11.5 grey composite-inlay chips showcasing 2 locations for your having fun cards. Mark said that he would probably have the cards individualized, also. I was obtaining the feeling of actually being in an expert online casino someplace on the Las Vegas strip. Now, I understand-- you might not share my passion (or would certainly it be much better to claim extreme passion?) for the video game of poker. You could assume this all audios ridiculous. "Why is this person going so insane over a professional or experienced poker established? That overall poker collection probably cost Mark a great deal of loan. Why not buy some cards and also plastic chips down at the regional Buck Tree shop you ask? Well my friend that is sort of like being a guy that accumulates exotic cars and trucks as well as supplying him a Honda Civic for his collection of exotic cars and trucks. It resembles contrasting apples to bananas when it comes time to play the real game of poker. The reality of the issue is that I really like poker, and I truly like the atmosphere of a betting casino site. I actually like the idea of placing that real gambling enterprise atmosphere right into the convenience and convenience of your own home. I don't believe in going cost-effective. Conserving money is one factor, but going affordable is something else totally. Economical things weaken swiftly, as well as are ineffective. You recognize the old stating "you obtain exactly what you spend for." This holds true for expert poker sets also. A specialist poker collection reveals that you have a point of view that you take the game of poker extremely seriously. If you're getting together with buddies for a night, you want to take pleasure in that poker game of poker as much as feasible. You wish to remember it years later on. You do not buy cost-effective alcohol; you purchase the outstanding products like Heineken or Beck's Dark.(Yeah, I realize some people like Budweiser, and as long as that sort of beer is just what they take into consideration top quality then that is all that matters. But I'm leaving track.) You might even break out some bourbon or brandy. You will throw right into the mix some superb Cubans or Colombian cigars. Maybe you will certainly crank some songs on your iPod touch for them to hear. You serve up some remarkable warm food (you understand, the kind that you do not find in the healthy food area of the grocery store). Then you will rest at an outstanding looking poker table, drinking leading shelf beverages, as well as playing poker making use of a specialist poker collection. That's just how it is. See, if you're going to host poker night at your house, you need to make the night enchanting. Give your buddies the total casino experience. This consists of playing with an expert Domino Poker collection. It's more than worth it. Do not offer yourself brief or you will certainly end up completely regretting it.

[uniquequotesonlife]

rhondastephens To Catch A Falling Cactus

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Parenting: Are We Getting a Raw Deal?

Summer 1974. I’m 9 years old. By 7:30 am, I’m up and out of the house, or if it’s Saturday I’m up and doing exactly what my father, Big Jerry, has told me to do. Might be raking, mowing, digging holes, or washing cars. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Summer 2016. I’m tiptoeing out of the house, on my way to work, in an effort not to wake my children who will undoubtedly sleep until 11 am. They may complete a couple of the chores I’ve left in a list on the kitchen counter for them, or they may eat stale Cheez-its that were left in their rooms 3 days ago, in order to avoid the kitchen at all costs and “not see” the list. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); If you haven’t noticed, we’re getting a raw deal where this parenting gig is concerned. When did adults start caring whether or not their kids were safe, happy, or popular? I can assure you that Ginny and Big Jerry were not whiling away the hours wondering if my brother and I were fulfilled. Big Jerry was stoking the fires of his retirement savings and working, and working some more. Ginny was double bolting the door in order to keep us out of the house, and talking on the phone while she smoked a Kent. Meanwhile, we were three neighborhoods away, playing with some kids we’d never met, and we had crossed 2 major highways on bicycles with semi-flat tires to get there. Odds are, one of us had crashed at some point and was bleeding pretty impressively. No one cared. We were kids and if we weren’t acting as free labor, we were supposed to be out of the house and out of the way. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); My personal belief is that the same “woman with too little to do”, that decided it was necessary to give 4- year old guests a gift for coming to a birthday party, is the same loon who decided we were here to serve our kids and not the other way around. Think about it. As a kid, what was your costume for Halloween? If you were really lucky, your mom jabbed a pair of scissors in an old sheet, cut two eye holes, and you were a ghost. If her friend was coming over to frost her hair and showed up early, you got one eye hole cut and spent the next 45 minutes using a sharp stick to jab a second hole that was about two inches lower than its partner. I watched my cousin run directly into a parked car due to this very costume one year. He was still yelling, “Trick or Treat” as he slid down the rear quarter panel of a Buick, mildly concussed. When my son was 3 years old, we had a clown costume made by a seamstress, complete with pointy clown hat, and grease makeup. His grandmother spent more having that costume made than she did on my prom dress. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); At some point in the last 25 years, the tide shifted and the parents started getting the marginal cars and the cheap clothes while the kids live like rock stars. We spend enormous amounts of money on private instruction, the best sports gear money can buy, and adhere to psycho competition schedules. I’m as guilty as anyone. I’ve bought the $300 baseball bats with money that should have been invested in a retirement account, traveled from many an AAU basketball game, or travel baseball game, to a dance competition in the course of one day, and failed to even consider why. Remember Hank Aaron? He didn’t need a $300 bat to be great. Your kid isn’t going pro and neither is mine, but you are going to retire one day and dumpster diving isn’t for the elderly. My brother and I still laugh about how, when he played high school baseball, there was one good bat and the entire team used it. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Remember your clothes in the 70’s? Despite my best efforts to block it out, I can still remember my desperate need to have a pair of authentic Converse shoes. Did I get them? Negative. Oh, was it a punch in the gut when my mother presented me with the Archdale knock-offs she found somewhere between my hometown and Greensboro. Trust me. They weren’t even close. Did I complain? Hell, no. I’m still alive, aren’t I? We’ve got an entire generation of kids spitting up on outfits that cost more than my monthly electric bill. There were no designer baby clothes when we were kids. Why? Because our parents weren’t crazy enough to spend $60 on an outfit for us to have explosive diarrhea in or vomit on. Our parents were focused on saving for their retirement and paying their house off. The real beauty of it is that none of these kids are going to score a job straight out of college that will allow them to pay for the necessities of life, brand new cars, and $150 jeans, so guess who’s going to be getting the phone call when they can’t make rent? Yep, we are. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Think back; way, way back. Who cleaned the house and did the yard work when you were a kid? You did. In fact, that’s why some people had children. We were free labor. My mother served as supervisor for the indoor chores, and the house damn well better be spotless when my father came through the door at 5:35. The battle cry went something like this, “Oh, no! Your father will be home in 15 minutes! Get those toys put away nooooow!” The rest of our evening was spent getting up to turn the television on demand, and only to what Dad wanted to watch. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); On weekends Dad was in charge of outdoor work and if you were thirsty you drank out of the hose, because 2 minutes of air conditioning and a glass of water from the faucet might make you soft. Who does the housework and yardwork now? The cleaning lady that comes on Thursday, and the landscaping crew that comes every other Tuesday. Most teenage boys have never touched a mower, and if you asked my daughter to clean a toilet, she would come back with a four page paper on the various kinds of deadly bacteria present on toilet seats. Everyone is too busy doing stuff to take care of the stuff they already have. But don’t get confused, they aren’t working or anything crazy like that. Juggling school assignments, extracurricular activities, and spending our money could become stressful if they had to work. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I don’t recall anyone being worried about my workload being stressful, or my mental health in general. Jerry and Ginny had grownup stuff to worry about. As teenagers, we managed our own social lives and school affairs. If Karen, while executing a hair flip, told me my new Rave perm made me look like shit and there was no way Kevin would ever go out with my scrawny ass, my mother wasn’t even going to know about it; much less call Karen’s mother and arrange a meeting where we could iron out our misunderstanding and take a selfie together. Additionally, no phone calls were ever made to any of my teachers or coaches. Ever. If we sat the bench, we sat the bench. Our dads were at work anyway. They only knew what we told them. I can’t even conceive of my dad leaving work to come watch a ballgame. If I made a 92.999 and got a B, I got a B. No thinly veiled threats were made and no money changed hands to get me that A. Ok, full disclosure, in my case we would be looking at an 84.9999. I was the poster child for underachievement. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Back in our day, high school was a testing ground for life. We were learning to be adults under the semi-vigilant supervision of our parents. We had jobs because we wanted cars, and we wanted to be able to put gas in our cars, and wear Jordache jeans and Candies. Without jobs, we had Archdale sneakers and Wranglers, and borrowed our mother’s Chevrolet Caprice, affectionately known as the “land yacht”, on Friday night. No one, I mean, no one, got a new car. I was considered fairly lucky because my parents bought me a car at all. I use the term “car” loosely. If I tell you it was a red convertible and stop right here, you might think me special. I wasn’t. My car was a red MG Midget, possibly a ’74 and certainly a death trap. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Look at your coffee table. Now imagine it having a steering wheel and driving it. I promise you, it’s bigger than my car was. The starter was bad, so after school I had the pleasure of popping the hood and using two screwdrivers to cross the solenoids or waiting for the football players to come out of the dressing room headed to practice. Those guys pushing my car while I popped the clutch, is a memory no 16-year old girl around here will ever have, and it’s a great one. Had I driven that car in high winds, it’s likely I would have ended up airborne, and there were probably some serious safety infractions committed the night I took 6 people in togas to a convenience store, but I wouldn’t go back and trade it out for a new 280Z, even if I had the chance. I was a challenging teenager, and in retrospect the fact that it was pretty impressive every time I made it home alive, may not have been an accident on the part of my parents. Go to the high school now. These kids are driving cars that grown men working 55 hours a week can’t afford, and they aren’t paying for them with their jobs. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); And those new cars don’t do a thing for telling a good story. I tell my kids all the time, the very best stories from my teen and college years involve Ann’s yellow Plymouth Duster with the “swirling dust” graphic, Randy’s Valiant with the broken gas gauge, and Carla’s burgundy Nissan that may or may not have had a complete floorboard. A story that starts, “Remember that time we were heading to the beach in Carla’s Nissan and your wallet fell through the floorboard onto the highway?” is so much more interesting than, “Remember that time we were going to the beach in your brand new SUV, filled up with gas that your parents paid for, and the…well, no, never mind. Nothing happened. We just drove down there.” To top it all off, most of them head off to college without a clue what it’s like to look for a job, apply for it, interview, and show up on time, as scheduled. If they have a job, it’s because someone owed their dad a favor…and then they work when it “fits their schedule”. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We all love our kids, and we want to see them happy and fulfilled, but I fear we’re robbing them of the experiences that make life memorable and make them capable, responsible, confident adults. For the majority of us, the very nice things we had as teenagers, we purchased with money we earned after saving for some ungodly amount of time. Our children are given most everything, and sometimes I wonder whether it’s for them or to make us feel like good parents. The bottom line is that you never value something you were given, as much as something you worked for. There were lessons in our experiences, even though we didn’t know it at the time. All those high school cat fights, and battles with teachers we clashed with, were an opportunity for us to learn how to negotiate and how to compromise. It also taught us that the world isn’t fair. Sometimes people just don’t like you, and sometimes you’ll work your ass off and still get screwed. We left high school, problem solvers. I’m afraid our kids are leaving high school with mommy and daddy on speed dial. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); We just don’t have the cojones our parents had. We aren’t prepared to tell our kids that they won’t have it if they don’t work for it, because we can’t bear to see them go without and we can’t bear to see them fail. We’ve given them a whole lot of stuff; stuff that will break down, wear out, get lost, go out of style, and lose value. As parents, I suppose some of us feel pretty proud about how we’ve contributed in a material way to our kid’s popularity and paved an easy street for them. I don’t, and I know there are many of you that are just as frustrated by it as I am. I worry about what we’ve robbed them of, which I’ve listed below, in the process of giving them everything. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); Delayed gratification is a really good thing. It teaches you perseverance and how to determine the true value of something. Our kids don’t know a damn thing about delayed gratification. To them, delayed gratification is waiting for their phone to charge.Problem-solving skills and the ability to manage emotion are crucial life skills. Kids now have every problem solved for them. Good luck calling their college professor to argue about how they should have another shot at that final because they had two other finals to study for and were stressed. Don’t laugh, parents have tried it.Independence allows you to discover who you really are, instead of being what someone else expects you to be. It was something I craved. These kids have traded independence for new cars and Citizen jeans. They will live under someone’s thumb forever, if it means cool stuff. I would have lived in borderline condemned housing, and survived off of crackers and popsicles to maintain my independence. Oh wait, I actually did that. It pisses me off. You’re supposed to WANT to grow up and forge your way in the world; not live on someone else’s dime, under someone else’s rule, and too often these days, under someone else’s roof.Common sense is that little something extra that allows you to figure out which direction is north, how to put air in your tires, or the best route to take at a certain time of day to avoid traffic. You develop common sense by making mistakes and learning from them. It’s a skill best acquired in a setting where it’s safe to fail, and is only mastered by actually doing things for yourself. By micromanaging our kids all the time, we’re setting them up for a lifetime of cluelessness and ineptitude. At a certain age, that cluelessness becomes dangerous. I’ve seen women marry to avoid thinking for themselves, and for some it was the wisest course of action.Mental toughness is what allows a person to keep going despite everything going wrong. People with mental toughness are the ones who come out on top. They battle through job losses, difficult relationships, illness, and failure. It is a quality born from adversity. Adversity is a GOOD thing. It teaches you what you’re made of. It puts into practice the old saying “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”. It’s life’s teacher. Our bubble-wrapped kids are so sheltered from adversity, I wonder how the mental health professionals will handle them all after the world chews them up and spits them out a few times. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); I know you are calling me names right now, and mentally listing all the reasons this doesn’t apply to you and your kid, but remember I’m including myself in this. My kids aren’t as bad as some, because I’m too poor and too lazy to indulge them beyond a certain point. And I’m certainly not saying that our parents did everything right. God knows all that second hand smoke I was exposed to, and those Sunday afternoon drives where Dad was drinking a Schlitz and I was standing on the front seat like a human projectile, were less than ideal; but I do think parents in the 70’s defined their roles in a way we never have.I worry that our kids are leaving home with more intellectual ability than we did, but without the life skills that will give them the success and independence that we’ve enjoyed. Then again, maybe it’s not parents that are getting the raw end of this deal after all. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || ).push({}); https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk Watch: most watched video on youtube source Read the full article

[its-love-u-asshole]

Run and Hide [fic]

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei 

Summary: Kei was never one to turn down a good scary movie. In fact, he and Kuroo loved them, both proudly proclaimed horror junkies and all. However, maybe they'd bitten off more than they could chew with this one...

Rating: T (mild suggestiveness, some cursing) 

Warnings: none

Note: This was my big excuse to write fluff honestly, that’s what this is, useless fluff lmao. Oh, and also kurotsuki acting like huge scared losers. So there’s that. This fic is for @icecreamwithsprinkles bc we traded a lot of headcanons about this that really inspired me <3 

AO3

“Are you sure you won’t need me to cuddle you?”

Kei chucked a pillow right at his boyfriend’s face, hardly needing to aim. He could pinpoint the other’s smug tone anytime, any day.

Kuroo dodged it with practiced ease, springing forward to wrap his arms around Kei’s waist in what he thought must’ve been a surprise attack. Although, some of the coolness (if there was any to begin with) was taken away when Kei noted Kuroo’s Chihuahua patterned pajama pants. The things never failed to make Kei die of laughter, they were so damn ridiculous, but the fact Kuroo owned them hadn’t been surprising in the slightest.

Kei snorted as his boyfriend nuzzled his neck from behind, a hold Kei was quite familiar with after years of dating. As comforting as the embrace was, Kei wasn’t going to give into it so easily, crossing his arms as Kuroo started peppering kisses on any exposed skin he could get to.

It took a considerable amount of effort to keep his breathing under control, given Kuroo’s knowledge of all the spots which made Kei melt in his arms. Despite Kuroo’s dumb pants, his arms and torso looked especially delicious in the tank top he was wearing as well, though Kei would never admit it aloud. It probably was also unwise for Kei to have thrown on Kuroo’s college sweatshirt after his shower, since now the comforting scent was working against him. Plus, it tended to ignite a spark of possessiveness in Kuroo from time to time…and maybe in Kei as well.

Kuroo knew it too, the bastard. Kei could feel the smirk on the other’s face as he mouthed at Kei’s exposed shoulder. Kei hummed at the sensation, tilting his neck to allow for better access. Sue him, it felt good, and he’d get back at Kuroo later.

“Mm, much better,” Kuroo whispered against Kei, lapping and nipping occasionally at the blond’s soft skin. Kei rolled his eyes, turning and grabbing Kuroo’s chin in order to bring him up into a kiss. In the years since high school, Tsukishima had gained a few more centimeters on Kuroo, and he never hesitated to use it to dominate their kisses when it suited him.

Kuroo hummed against his lips, pushing back with equal force to meet the challenge. Oh no, nuh-uh. Kei chuckled as he pulled away, separating them right as Kuroo planned to deepen the kiss.

“Okay, okay, slow down. You’re the one who said you wanted to watch this movie tonight.” Kei laughed at Kuroo’s pout, moving away to grab the DVD case in question.

It was a Friday night, so really, he could afford to mess around if he wanted to. But the whole reason Kuroo was teasing in the first place was because they planned to watch the newest horror movie. Kuroo had somehow managed to get a hold of it in good quality, though it wasn’t actually out yet, and Kei wouldn’t deny he was excited.

“I do, it’s supposed to be the scariest movie of the year,” Kuroo said, walking over to the couch to make sure all their blankets and pillows were in order (they both got cold easily, go figure). Kuroo had done the honor of setting up their snacks on the coffee table as well, and Kei had been eyeing the box of cupcakes for the past half hour. “Perfect for cuddling.”

Kei shot him a flat look, but agreed sharing body heat was one of his favorite things about their movie nights. Not to mention he and Kuroo loved anything related to the horror genre.

He and Kuroo frequently checked out horror movies on Netflix and in theaters, no matter how bad the ratings were. If anything, they would get a good laugh out of the truly terrible ones. Once a month, the theater on campus showed midnight horror movie marathons, with changing themes each time. It had become one of their usual date places, and it had yet to get old.

So of course, when Kuroo had walked home with the new film in hand, promising genuine scares, how could Kei say no?

“What makes this so scary anyways?” Kei asked as he waltzed over to the couch, handing the movie to Kuroo to put into their player. “I couldn’t find ratings anywhere.”

Kuroo smirked devilishly as he pushed the DVD into their player, collecting the remotes as he made his way back to the couch. The look meant no good to most, but to Kei it made things rather promising.

“Well, it’s of course banned in multiple countries,” Kuroo said, waving his hands as he plopped onto the couch.

Ah, you don’t say?

“Wow,” Kei drawled, moving into his usual spot between Kuroo’s legs before he sat back against Kuroo’s chest. “We’ve never watched one of those before.”

They both laughed, because for seasoned horror pros like them, they most certainly had. It felt like more and more movies were banned nowadays, and it meant nothing when it came to measuring the scariness of a film. They’d seen hundreds of ‘banned’ films which ended up being pathetic, but maybe they were just picky.

“I know right?” Kuroo continued, opening the movie’s main menu on the television. The design was minimalistic, accompanied with the usual eerie music. Already pretty mediocre in Kei’s opinion, but he’d reserve his judgement for the film’s actual content.

“Really though,” Kuroo said, pressing the play button before wrapping his arms around the blond and adjusting himself accordingly. “I heard it was hardcore, some online forums swear by it.”

“Hm,” Kei hummed skeptically. “We’ll see.”

The blond never trusted people when it came to horror movies and games alike. People were too easily spooked or grossed out. In all honestly, he and Kuroo hadn’t felt genuinely scared by a movie in a long time, and he wasn’t expecting this one to break the mold. It would take a lot for a movie to be included in their top horror films. Those were movies which had stolen sleep from them, had made them flinch at any noise in the darkness of the night. It was an impressive thing to do, given how dedicated they were as horror junkies. They’d seen some shit, and he wasn’t expecting this to offer anything truly frightening.  

Oh well, hopefully it’ll be entertaining.

Kei reached up to nibble playfully on Kuroo’s earlobe as the movie’s logos passed on the screen, smirking along with his words. “At least if it sucks, we have other things to do…”

As stated before, it was Friday. They could afford to mess around, a lot.

Kuroo hummed, kissing Kei on the cheek in his usual sappy way, damn him. “And they say I’m the perv. Just don’t get too scared babe.”

Kei clicked his tongue, turning to see a creepy looking forest begin to fade in on screen. He dropped his voice to a whisper, reaching for the snacks they’d set out beforehand. “Of course, someone will need to protect you if you get scared.”

Kuroo gave one last laugh, eyes trained on the television. “Sure babe, sure.”

As the setting began to slowly lay itself out on screen, Kei couldn’t help but giggle to himself. This already looked terribly stereotypical and boring. Seriously, a house in a haunted forest? The music was hardly exceptional either.

It looked like this one would be another flop on a long list of rejects.

Whatever, at least it’ll be funny…

-Approximately 45 ½ Minutes Later-

It was not funny.

It was not even remotely funny.

Kei hid his face further into his pillow, letting his eyes peek out to watch the television. He could feel Kuroo’s hands gripping his sides tightly, his whole body tense and wound up like a spring.

Kei watched unblinking as the actor on screen walked through the deathly silent home, knowing any second could be their last. So far, the movie hadn’t relied on traditional jump scares, having the murderers who had invaded the home walk quietly and casually throughout the house in the blind spots of the protagonists. They’d pass quickly in the background, be shown at the top of the stairs, hiding behind curtains, anywhere. It was nerve wracking in the most eerie of ways, and it was so much worse given the film had no soundtrack or instrumentals to signal any attack or sudden event. There was only…dialogue, and footsteps. No music, no warning. It was as if the whole movie was one single tense moment before a scare, and he had no idea how to prepare himself other than to be tense and shield his eyes the whole time.

He felt Kuroo breathing heavily behind him, his boyfriend’s face pressed against Kei’s shoulder, and really, the blond could hardly make fun of him. Not anymore. His heart was racing all the same, and they’d both stopped poking fun at each other after the first death in the movie. It hadn’t been that gory either, just…disturbing. That was the other thing, the characters were more complex and likeable than in a typical horror movie, with interesting dynamics and relationships, only making their ends more upsetting and terrifying.

When the movie had first started, and there’d been a few fake scares, he and Kuroo had teased and laughed as usual. But the fun had ended real quickly.

There as a sudden creak on screen, and the movie seemed almost frozen on a shot of the living room. He and Kuroo held their breath, and for a moment, Kei thought the movie genuinely had stopped for some reason.

And then he noticed. In the frame, to the side, were the two intruders. Apparently, it was all he and Kuroo needed to find their voices, and to drop any remaining dignity.

“NO! Get out of the house now! Fucking go you stupid son of a bitch!”

For one thing, Kuroo seldom cussed, so Kei knew he was damn scared. Kei couldn’t blame him, Kei was two seconds away from throwing his pillow right at the screen, but then he’d be defenseless…

So no.

Kuroo screamed at the television more as the last surviving character walked downstairs, right into the danger zone, his hands shaking Kei furiously out of terror. “Oh my god I can’t watch,” Kuroo said, even as his eyes were glued to the scene playing out.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck…

Kei pulled his legs up to his chest, scooting as far back away from the television and into Kuroo’s arms as he could. It was humiliating, it wasn’t like something was going to jump out from the movie itself, but in that moment it felt real, and suddenly everything in their apartment was freaking him out. Why the hell had they turned off all the lights? Did they lock the door? How did they know someone wasn’t there right then?

There was another creak in the movie which sounded way too real, and as the character made eye contact with one of the murderers, the spell of silence was broken. Kuroo buried his face in Kei’s neck as the chase started, and the sudden loudness of frantic footsteps accompanied by the character’s screaming was way too much stimulation after the tense quiet.

“She’s gonna die, she’s gonna die—”

“Tetsu shut up,” Kei said in a voice way too high pitched to be his own, and fuck it, he threw his pillow.

The character finally reached an exit, a side door of the house which Kei had completely forgotten about. No wonder the opening credits had been a tour of the house, I should’ve paid more attention…

It was so unlike him, but he’d been so ready to be disappointed he hadn’t cared to look for details.

“Yes! Yes, fucking go!” Kuroo yelled as the actor messed with the latch on the door. A latch which had frozen over from the snow. “What the fuck.”

It was futile. There was no getting the door open, and the actor slumped to the ground, defeated as the killers encroached on them. The stupid silence was back too. There were no cheesy last words or taunting from the intruders, only the screams of the victim as they were surrounded.

I can’t watch, hell no.

But he didn’t have to. The movie cut to black right after, and Kei was so close to screaming into the emptiness of their apartment. What the hell? How could they end it like that?

Probably so we could scare ourselves shitless imagining it. Well played.

Well played indeed, since Kei would no doubt do just that.

Damn.

After an unnaturally long stretch of silence, a small paragraph of text appeared on screen against the black frame. Apparently, the film was based off a real crime which had happened. All seven people in the house had been killed, and the perpetrators were never found. It had happened less than a decade ago.

Fuck. No.

As the credits began to roll after the ominous message faded, Kei didn’t know where to start. He wanted to comment on how unfair and sudden the ending was, or talk about the text, or look up the actual crime to know more. But instead, he only felt frozen, sitting in Kuroo’s arms in their now silent apartment.

His mouth hung open slightly, his cautious eyes drifting throughout the darkness of the apartment. He had no idea what to do, he hadn’t felt so high-strung in a long time, the fear slowly consuming him. All he wanted to do was stay pressed against his boyfriend, but that would offer neither of them any protection from the threats his mind was conjuring up.

Kuroo’s arms gave him one last squeeze before one was reaching for the remote, ready to turn off the television, an act which would leave them in total blackness. Neither of them dared to speak.

Of course, rectifying the situation was as easy as strolling to the far wall and turning on the light, but they weren’t thinking rationally. Plus at that point, Kei doubted the illusion could be shattered so easily. They’d just watched a whole movie about intruders hiding in plain sight, like hell would the light help them. The blond looked down at Kuroo as sweat began to form on the back of his neck, and he was aware of how exposed he was in his shorts and flimsy sweatshirt. Kuroo’s scent and warmth provided some comfort, but the anxiety in the air kept rising. They locked eyes as Kuroo’s finger hovered over the power button, forming a silent pact in a matter of seconds.

Kei nodded once, hesitantly, untangling himself from his boyfriend in strained movements. He already missed the warmth, but it wouldn’t be for long. If he made it.

Oh my god, shut up. You’re being stupid, it’s fine…everything’s fine. There’s no one else here.

It was a rational, correct statement, as far as he knew. But right then, nothing in his head was convincing. Kei swallowed, his muscles ready to go as Kuroo bit his lip in thought.

Then Kuroo nodded in return, way too solemnly for his usual fun loving, easy nature. This was it, Kei thought, nothing to fear. But right as Kuroo pressed down on the power button, there was a creak from somewhere in the building, and all confidence jumped straight out the window.

They jumped up from the couch so fast Kei was sure he had sprained a muscle, but he didn’t care. He ran blindly to their bedroom door, flipping on the light as soon as he crossed the threshold. Kuroo was right on his heels (and Kei was pretty sure he had tripped at some point), rushing into the room and slamming the door right after. He locked it for good measure as he leaned against it, breathing way too labored for an athlete such as himself.

The slam seemed to echo forever in the quiet of their apartment, joined by their heavy breaths as they slowly inched away from the door, crawling into bed and into each other’s arms wordlessly. Every creak and footstep was an unpleasant reminder, and Kei gratefully scurried under the sheets. Kuroo’s eyes hadn’t left the door, and he was mildly shaking. Too bad Kei didn’t have it in him to mock his boyfriend, that’s how he knew the movie was horrifying.

The only good thing about it was he could totally recommend it to Hinata and Kageyama, ensuring they scared themselves to death too. If Kei suffered, everyone he knew deserved to as well.

The joy of the plot was dulled by the tightness in his shoulders, and Kei looked at his open closet in worry, slightly relieved to find it empty. Kei resisted the urge to pull the blankets over their heads, like he’d done as a child. Maybe that was going too far…

God, he was ruined. If anyone found out about this he was screwed. Luckily, Kuroo was the only person who knew, and he’d be sacrificing his own pride if he ever told anyone the story. They were stuck in this hell together. Kei was glad they’d been dating for two years and were fully committed to each other at this point. If Kuroo had been a new boyfriend, Kei wouldn’t have felt the slightest bit of remorse in leaving him behind in the living room to save himself.

Lucky for Kuroo, Kei was in love with him, and cared about protecting him from fictional threats. Yippee.

But the movie was based on a true story.

Kei buried his head in his pillow as he finally sank down into the covers, stiff as a board. Shut up brain.

Kuroo moved to lie down as well, still not taking his eyes off the door as he pulled Kei closer to his chest. At least the other’s rapid heartbeat was enough to distract Kei from the occasional creak or noise.

Kei was never used to uncomfortable silences. He enjoyed spending time alone, taking in the peaceful quiet and letting his batteries recharge after prolonged social interaction. But that silence was something he liked and chose. Even with Kuroo, Kei felt he could sit by him without uttering a word and be completely content. They’d always gotten along that way.

But this. This was pure torture. The last time they’d both been successfully scared by a new movie, they’d just started dating. In short, it had been a while, over two years, and Kei had walked home afterwards, free to act scared in solitude. It was almost some fucked up milestone, experiencing this together.

Kei had forgotten what it felt like to be so on edge, how arrogant of him to not see this coming.

He hardly knew what to say, if he should comment on the film at all, or if the mere mention of it was cursed or something. Should he laugh it off? Ask Kuroo if he was alright?

Neither felt like the correct response. They certainly weren’t acting alright, and no shit they were terrified. Kei clutched the sheets tighter, finally absorbing how silly it all was. Out of nowhere, he felt part of the fear inside him dissipate, making room for a warm feeling in his chest. He felt lighter, tingly almost, a happiness he had come to associate with Kuroo. It became clear from the feeling alone, how grateful Kei was about this whole annoying situation.

They were afraid. Since when did Kei let himself act afraid? The answer was never, he would rather die. It was how it was in high school too, his pride was too important. But this was Kuroo, who he loved and trusted. It was the single dumbest realization Kei had ever had.

He didn’t care if Kuroo knew he was scared, if he saw Kei hide under the covers or heard his pleas to keep the lights on. Kei could be as childish as he wanted, and Kuroo wouldn’t care, wouldn’t judge or think less of him. Sure, teasing was never off limits in these situations, but they both felt comfortable enough to express themselves regardless.

Of course, this had always been obvious, it was how their relationship worked. Kei had simply never felt it so strongly in a situation like this, had never experienced it in such a simple form.

A fucking horror movie on a Friday night. Wow.

Slowly, Kei began to snicker into the pillow, unable to fight a grin when he realized he was purposefully trying to keep quiet in case they had serial killers in the house.

Pft.

Kuroo tensed beside him, his confused gaze finally landing on his giggling boyfriend.

“Uh…Kei?” Kuroo sounded almost paranoid, like Kei had lost it and their life was magically gonna warp into a sanitarium thriller. It made Kei laugh harder, and if their apartment was truly under siege, at least he’d die happy.

“Kei…baby, seriously. What is it?”

Hell, Kuroo sounded so damn scared. It was awesome.

Fine, guess I’ll cut you a break.

Kei managed to repress his giggles enough to sit up and bump his forehead against Kuroo’s, a tactic he knew was a surefire way to make his boyfriend’s heart race. Kuroo was weak to how cute it apparently was, and Kei had shed a lot of shame in two years’ time.

Kei stared into his boyfriend’s eyes, having never gotten over their stunning color and the softness in them.

“Nothing,” Kei whispered, his face flushing slightly. “You’re lame, but I…love you.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened, and Kei laughed again as their lips met softly. That was another great thing about Kuroo, out of infinite examples. He was a great kisser.

“Mm, I love you too,” Kuroo said, breaking the kiss and reaching up to hold Kei’s face in his hands. “Where did that come from though? Are you just saying that in case we die?”

Kei snorted, nuzzling his face into his boyfriend’s neck. Moments like this almost made him forget about any impending doom. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

Kuroo laughed, somewhat subdued and tired, but it was one of Kei’s favorite sounds all the same. Kei pulled him into another kiss at the thought, and Kuroo, of course, couldn’t refuse.

Yes, moments like this were definitely fine with Kei, lingering fear or not.

There was another loud creak which echoed through the building, and the illusion of safety was quickly shattered. Both he and Kuroo’s eyes locked on each other’s, bodies tense and frozen once more.

Maybe ‘lingering fear’ hadn’t been the most accurate description…

They were silent for about a minute more before Kuroo could no longer take it, and his voice was so worried it would’ve been comical in any other scenario. “I…I feel way too exposed like this.”

“Same,” Kei replied instantly, already grabbing all the blankets he could. Well, thankfully they knew each other well enough to skip over all the ‘let’s be reasonable’ bullshit and fucking acted on their stupid fears.

Kuroo paused in his move to get off the bed, casting a contemplative glance at the mass of pillows on it. Their eyes met again, the same thought crossing their minds.

“…Pillow fort?” Kuroo asked anxiously, and another creak in the apartment answered. It was all Kei needed as motivation.

“Pillow fort.”

--

At the end of the day, it looked like they’d both ended up needing cuddles. Kuroo was right all along. But whatever, Kei didn’t mind. Regardless of how much sleep he lost, or how afraid he was to go get water from the kitchen, nothing beat sitting in a pillow fort with Kuroo listening to Disney songs until they passed out.

Everything worked out.

Kei doubted they’d find another movie as scary as the one that night, at least not for a while. However, Kei wouldn’t mind this becoming a tradition.

One thing was for sure though, and the thought crossed his mind as Kuroo snuggled closer to him. That movie was definitely going on their list of top horror films.

Guaranteed.