#she graduated college she graduated YALE

[emmafallsinlove]

recently i’m thinking about how both of rory’s lovers left her on her graduation day. first it was jess who literally went without saying goodbye, end up not taking her to prom and didn’t showed up for her graduation. but he was 17 and he didn’t know better. and later it was logan, who proposed and when rory had told him “i love you, i love the idea of being married to you but i can’t do it right now at this moment” literally gave her an ultimatum - marry me or else. he was 25 but acted like a literal child at this moment. and i hate it because rory worked so hard for both of these moments, especially for the second one, after having a meltdown and taken a time off and yet, her boyfriend, the person who told her “you base your decision based on what you want for you” left her because she didn’t wanna marry him right at 22 when she graduates, and it sucks.

[omni-scient-pan-da]

OMGCONGRATS ON GRADUATINGGGGGGGG!!!! COLLEGE BOUNDD!!

THANK YOUUUUUU I somehow did not see this until now but I appreciate it!!

[wesstars]

crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

masterlist

“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound.

“He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.” 

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus. 

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind. 

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened. 

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out. 

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of roll, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo. 

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch? 

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air. 

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry. 

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted. 

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back. 

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled. 

“Cairo, isn’t it?” 

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed. 

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

--

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[oceancentury]

Working at @vogue; Like grandmother, like grandson. Jacquline Bouvier and John ‘Jack’ Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg photographed for American Vogue. 1951 (1 day) -> 2024.

Vassar College and George Washington University graduate, Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy beat 1,279 candidates to win a Vogue junior editor position at the age of 21. However she quit at midday on her first day as she thought the role wasn’t a right fit for her. Her next job was as a columnist for the Washington Times-Herald and where she met her husband, John F. Kennedy.

In July 2024 Yale University, Harvard Law School and Harvard Business School graduate John ‘Jack’ Bouvier Kennedy Schlossberg, aged 31 became the new political correspondent for American Vogue.

[nicole-timey-wimey-stuff]

Pretty Little Letter’s

Dbf Negan Smith x Fem Reader

Synopsis - After finishing college you decide to on a gap year to take a breather after many years of hard work. Setting out to travel the country, you promise to write to your dad every week, what happens when his best friend Negan makes you promise to write to him too.

Warnings- No apocalypse AU, dads best friend, large age gap, feelings, love confessions, adventures, reader travelling, reader described as female, mentions of cheating, Negan is the one cheated on in this fic by ex wife, struggles with feelings, I took the John Winchester idea and made Negan a mechanic, obviously not canon at all, vague mentions of sex, but no actual smut in this chapter. There will be in later chapters though so 18+ only please.

Let me know if I’ve left anything out

Word count - 6.6K (sorry it’s a long one)

This is part one of two chapters in this mini series.

_______________________________________

Tomorrow was the day, the day you’ve been waiting for, the day you were leaving for an adventure. After 4 years of hard work and dedication, you had graduated Yale University with honours. You’d surpassed anything you felt you could accomplish, with the amazing support of your dad, who had raised you single-handedly. He has supported you throughout your life from scrapped knees and boo boos as a child, to finishing school with the grades you needed to get into Yale.

It was a dream you’d always had, even as a child. You’d pinned up pictures of the college on your wall, telling your dad ‘one day I’ll be here!’ When you received the letter you’d ripped it open with such ferocity, your dad was sure you’d shred your hands. Only to crumple to the floor in floods of tears, walking towards you he settles next to you pulling you in for a big hug, “Hey don’t worry baby girl, it’s not the end of the world we still have other letters coming, other options. No matter what I’m soo proud of you my darling girl” he cooed. You shook your head no, trying to steady your breath “No d…..ad” you stuttered “We did it, I got in, I did it dad! I got in” you continued through staggered breaths, he reached over and pulled it from your grasp reading the words carefully, his hand clamped over his mouth in shock. He started crying too, pulling you in tighter, letting his tears fall freely.

Being the amazing father he was, hours later he was on the phone with his oldest and closest friend Negan, explaining you’d got in, you’d done it, and if Negan could look for a house up there for you both, Negan lived in a small town in Connecticut not too far from Yale. He’d instantly agreed, finding you a lovely 3 bedroom home only a street away from himself. Your dad had been there behind you every step of your life, and he wasn’t about to let this one be any different.

So you packed up your life, making the lengthy trip from Virgina to Connecticut.

The experience has been amazing, you’ve loved every second of college. You came home every night excitedly animating your days to your dad, and many days to Negan too. He would be over often for dinners, you guys also going over his frequently too, the three of you spent many evenings together BBQs, football games, board game nights, you name it. You’d spent a lot of the last 4 years with Negan, he was a great friend to your dad. They’d kept in contact when he had moved from Virgina with his wife, because she wanted to be able to commute to New York easily. She took to the big corporate job like a fish to water, but she began coming home to Negan less and less, giving excuses about early starts and having to stay in some fancy hotel. Unfortunately one day when he made a trip to the city to surprise her, he’d found her rolling around the bed with her boss.

He called later that day to tell your dad what happened, your dad being the great person he is dropped everything and came up here to be with him, leaving you with your grandma for a few weeks.

After a lengthy divorce he’d stuck it out in the sleepy town, deciding he didn’t want to upheave his life once again. You hadn’t known Negan too well then, your dad called him often and you knew his voice, that deep rumbling voice, from their calls. You’d even answered the phone to him a few times, making polite small talk until your dad could take over. But he’d moved to Connecticut when you were only 2 years old, so you’d never really gotten to know him.

That all changed when you moved to start Yale, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t developed an enormous crush on the older man. Gods was he beautiful, he was funny sometimes making you actually cry from laughter. He was kind, loyal, owned his own mechanics garage, he was an all round great guy, and you had no idea why no one had snapped him up yet. Though secretly you were thankful no one had, because the mere thought stirred an ugly pit of jealousy in your stomach.

But tonight things were perfect, you were having a farewell dinner with the two men in your life, sat around the coffee table on your living room floor, eating pizza, heads thrown back in laughter as you whoop your dads ass at monopoly.

“Oh come on y/n not another hotel” your dad pleads playfully.

“I’m afraid so dad, told you the light blue were worth buying, the houses are cheap to buy, I can get as many as I want” you goad in giggles.

“She has you there man! I’d add another to Euston Road if I were you sweetheart! Finish him off” Negan jests.

“Don’t encourage her!” Your dad grumbles, causing you and Negan to roll in laughter even more.

“You know what I think I will” you reply adding another hotel.

Your dad takes his next roll landing on one of your hotel properties,

“Oh shit man! That’s you done isn’t it” Negan teases. Your dad stands then playfully tips the board over, making you gasp in mock shock before falling into giggles once again, in the moment you end up leaning your head against Negan’s shoulder.

“Right that’s it I’m done with this silly game, who wants another beer” your dad laughs.

“Me” you say, Negan nodding in unison his breath slightly shaken from your head still leaning against his shoulder, like it belongs there which in his mind it does. Man he’s dreading you leaving for a year, every time he thinks about it, there’s a constricting feeling in his heart. He brings his arm around you pulling you closer for a second, taking a moment to bask in your warmth. He gives you a quick squeeze, before moving to start packing away the game.

You watch him with a warm smile on your face, my goodness were you going to miss him. But you needed this, you needed to stand on your own two feet and experience some living. You also needed to get over this silly crush, he was 20 years older than you for Christ sake, he probably looked at you like a niece. He definitely wouldn’t return your affections, so you should go and clear your head. See some of the world, meet people and have experiences.

They always say you discover yourself while travelling alone.

You wanted to see if that was true.

But leaving these two behind would be hard, even if it wasn’t forever a year was still a long time. “So sweetheart your really leaving us tomorrow?” Negan asks, “Yup! Just like Bilbo Baggins I’m off on an adventure” you giggle, trying to make light it it, when in fact your heart is sinking at the thought. “Not gonna be the same without you here darlin’” he affirms, there’s a smile on his face but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and those beautiful dimples aren’t showing. For a second you wonder if he returns your feelings, but that wouldn’t make any sense so you push the idea out of your mind.

Your dad arrives back 3 beers in his hands, “I can’t believe my baby girl is going out into the world tomorrow, you promise to write to me every week yeah??” Your dad asks. “You know I can just text you? And call you right?” You answer, “Yeah you can call too, but I want hand written letters to have a part of you still coming home every week” he replies voice sounding emotional, this was a big step for him you had never been away from your dad before. Getting up you give him a big hug, “Ok dad I’ll write to you every week and I’ll send you postcards, so you can see where I’ve been!” You promise. “Yeah that sounds great baby girl” he affirms.

After your dad passes out snoring on the couch, you clean up the pizza boxes with Negan. While you’ve moved on to clearing up the kitchen he stands in the doorway watching you, “You know sweet cheeks, I’d love for some of those hand written letters too” he expresses. Looking up at him in shock, you ask “Really?”, “Yeah I want to hear everything your doing, plus it would be nice to have a part of you here with me too, like I said sweetheart it won’t be the same here without ya” he replies stepping closer, gently brushing a hair out of your face, hazel eyes bearing into you. “Ok Negan I’ll write to you too”, “Good” he sighs, leaning in he kisses your head wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. “Gonna miss ya kid”, “Yeah I’ll miss you too” you reply.

Letting him out the door you say your goodbyes, before tucking a blanket over your dad.

This was going to be hard……

_______________________________________

You’ve been travelling a week now, slowly making your way down south to Florida. You made sure to stop for a few nights at your grandmas, you loved spending time with her, just like your dad she was a sweet soul, and you’d really enjoyed some long chats and a homemade meal.

The last morning of your stay you popped by taking a look at the house you grew up in, you always wondered if your mother had ever stopped by to see you. Missing you because you’d moved away, would she be proud that you’d made it to Yale, probably not. She’s never cared enough to call, she upped and left the day after you were born. Just left you in the hospital, for your dad to find when he came back in after some rest at home. Leaving your dad to step into both parents roles, which he took on without complaint bringing you up in a home full of love and laughter, you were beyond blessed to have been given him as your dad.

With that you tucked those thoughts away, your dad and grandma love you, are proud of you and support you. You didn’t need anyone else, well except maybe Negan.

By the end of your first week you’d made it to the Croatan National Forest, in North Carolina. You decided to stop here and see the sights, maybe do some hiking, some swimming on the coast. You found a cute little beach rental you booked for a few nights, it looked out to the river which joined the ocean. It was peaceful here, kids had all gone back to school and the soft autumn breeze was setting a chill in the air. So the beach was practically empty, with the exception of a few dog walkers.

Dark skies started settling in, greys and blacks filling the vast space, the clouds looked as if they were rolling towards you. A storm was coming which emitted some excitement in you, to sit there and watch them was one of your most favourite things to do, especially if the lightning was close and you could see it crack across the sky.

Settling in the bay of the bedroom window, you looked out at the water, pulling out your notebook you got to writing your dad his first letter. Folding it up you sealed in in an envelope, adding your home address and a stamp. Then you began to write Negan’s,

Dear Negan,

I’ve made it to North Carolina, to the Croatan National Forest. I’m staying in a really cute little beach house, which was cheap due to the holidays being over. I’m currently sat watching a storm roll in, windows open enjoying the breeze.

I stopped to see Grandma on the way down, she sends her love to Dad and you. She still hasn’t changed bless her, I also stopped by my old neighbourhood to see the house. I didn't feel as sad seeing it as I thought I would. I think that’s because you’ve made our lives so much more incredible. I miss you both it’s odd being without Dad for the first time, but it’s also strange being without you too now. You’ve ingrained yourself into my life now and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I think I’ll take a swim tomorrow if the weather allows it, I may even swim in the rain if I can. So there you go, you can picture me dancing under the storm.

Yours truly

Y/N

Xx

You sealed the letter, writing his address and placing another stamp. Maybe you poured a bit of how you feel about him in there but it felt good to let some of it out, like it was healing a small part of you.

You ran down to the post box before the rain hit, dropping the letters in and running back to your temporary home. Closing the door just as the torrential downpour started. “Phew that was close” you giggle. That evening you sat in your window watching the storm, the bright lightning cracked above illuminating the beach. Rain pouring and winds blowing, while you stayed cozy eating your soup admiring natures fierce show.

When morning came around it was still raining, though the storm had passed. You threw on your bathing suit and braved the weather, running into the water with a loud gasp as the cool liquid surrounded you. You laid back watching the rain fall from the sky, in that moment you’d never felt so free.

_______________________________________

Back home Negan received his letter a few days later, he’d been checking his post box every single day, like a man deranged. ‘Finally�� he thought tearing open the envelope before he even made in back inside. Sitting down at his dining room table he read your words, smile adorning his features, dimples pulling deep. ‘Ingrained himself into your life, and you wouldn’t change it for the world’ for the first time he allowed himself to hope, that just maybe you returned his feelings.

Was this your way of telling him so? He didn’t know but he needed to find out, he’d have to play this safe though, edge it out of you slowly, god only knows what would happen if he assumed wrong, you’d tell your Dad no doubt, he’d loose you and his best friend in one go, he couldn’t risk that.

Pulling out his phone he sent you a message,

‘Hey sweetheart,

Thank you for my little letter, I hope you had fun swimming and dancing in the storm, though I also hope you stayed safe.

You’ve also ingrained yourself into my life angel face, came into it like a spitfire but I wouldn’t have it any other way either. Enjoy your next week, just make sure you stay safe.

Negan

Xxx

He sent the text, and waited under baited breath for a response. He almost jumped out of his chair when his phone pinged.

Hi Negan

Your welcome, I can assure you I am staying safe, I’m checking my oil and water levels too, as promised. Car is running smooth still :)

‘Spitfire’? I wouldn’t say that! But I’m glad you wouldn’t have it any other way because your stuck with me now.

I’ll send you your next letter same time this week, till then ……

Y/N

Xxx

He smiles to himself once more, you most certainly are a spitfire. But you’re also the best thing to ever come into his life, he hopes one day he’ll be able to tell you so.

_______________________________________

End of your second week, it’s rushed by so fast and you can’t believe your already in Jacksonville Florida. Today your sat on the beach it’s much warmer here, no sign of any autumn breeze and the sunny weather bringing many people to the beach. Your currently writing to your dad again while listening to the soft waves crashing onto the shore. Finishing his letter you once again start writing one to Negan,

Dear Negan,

What a week I’ve had! Can you believe I’m already in Florida? Today I’m sat on Jacksonville beach watching the waves crashing. It’s much busier here and much warmer, apparently there’s a swell coming in tomorrow so I may try surfing. I’ll be sure to send you both some hilarious pictures, of me falling on my face.

I’m staying two nights here in a hotel overlooking the beach, the buildings here on the coast are like mini skyscrapers. I think they may be too tall, it ruins the feel of the place. My next move may be Orlando Disney, I’ve always wanted to go! May even get made into a Disney princess! Because hey you only live once, which one should I go for?

I’m starting to really miss you both, how’s my dad coping? I hope my boys are looking after each other,

Well I’m going to go find somewhere for dinner, speak soon.

Y/N

Xxx

Getting up you brush the gritty sand off your legs, setting out on a mission to find somewhere to post these letters. After exploring a few busy streets, you see it, Bingo! You spot the blue metal of the US postal boxes, slotting in your letters before finding a diner to eat dinner in.

Back home 48 hours later Negan received your second letter, “my boys” he reads, the thought of being yours makes his cheeks flush, and his heart quicken. He feels like a teenage boy again at 52 years old, he’d be yours in a heartbeat if you’d ask him. But he knows it’s out of the question, your his best friends kid, and what would you want with an old man? Your so beautiful and he doesn’t feel he’s got much to offer you at this point of his life. Even so he will allow himself to enjoy these letters, living in a little daydream for a while.

After pacing his kitchen for a good ten minutes he decides he has to talk to you, the words “my boys” still swirling around his head. Giving in and pulling out his phone he sends you a text,

Hey sweetheart

I remember Jacksonville well, I visited about 15 years ago now. I went to a work conference there. Your right the buildings are too tall beside the ocean, definitely not one of my favourite beaches.

Surfing? How did that turn out I’m still waiting on this photo.

“Your boys hey” I like the sound of that darlin. But yeah I’m making sure your dad cooks for himself, and I fixed his lawn mower for him, so your gardens looking a lot better now!

Make sure you continue to stay safe sweetheart, I hope you enjoy Disney, but you don’t need to dress up to be a princess you’ve always been one.

Negan

Xx

Ping

His heart is beating rapidly in his chest as he opens your reply,

Hey Negan

Actually I did ok surfing, I managed to stand up and everything lol

Xx

Ping

He opens the slightly blurry image of you standing up on a large longboard, big smile on your face. You look so beautiful and so happy.

Ping

So as you can see, not a complete disaster! I went to Disney world yesterday, it was great fun but all in all too many people about. I’ve set off west now aiming in a general direction of New Orleans, as I’ve always wanted to go. I think it may take a week or two to get there though!

And don’t worry I will be careful I promise. You’ll always be my boys

Y/n

Xxx

He smiles to himself you were going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

Ok sweetheart

Look at you! You’re a natural! Well I’ll wait with bated breath until your next letter, I think you should send two a week I Think one a week is just too long to wait for sweet cheeks.

Negan

Xx

Ping

Ok Negan

Two it is, I’m off to bed now

Night

Y/N

Xx

He grins, two letters a week, he feels all important now. He wonders if your dad will also get two letters a week? Or if he really is special enough to be the only one.

_______________________________________

A few weeks pass in a blur, you keep your promise to Negan and write to him twice a week. Not only that you both text constantly and have started video calling frequently too. Your currently walking through the vibrant streets of New Orleans with your phone in hand, on video call to Negan as you show him the current festivities happening. “Look at the colours Negan! I’ve never seen anywhere so bright and colourful, and the musics been incredible.” You ramble off excitedly, “Yeah I can see that sweetheart, I wish I was with you right now it looks incredible” he replies.

“I wish you were with me too, it’s amazing! I’ll have to bring dad here at some point.” You gush,

“Yeah maybe we should all plan a trip” he replies and you nod along, “Yeah that sounds good!”

“So where are you off too next?” Negan asks, “Well I’ve booked to stay two weeks on this women only ranch just outside Austen Texas, so I’m going to enjoy a slower pace for a couple of weeks, I’ll get to go riding everyday and read books in the sun” you answered, “That sounds like a good plan sweetheart, you haven’t slowed down in weeks.” Negan hums, truth be told you were looking forward to slowing down for a bit, it’s been a full on couple of months, and as much as you’ve enjoyed it you’ve burnt yourself out a little.

Back at your hotel room you and Negan chat over video call for hours, you admire him as he throws his head back in laughter, while laying back on his couch. You're sat cross legged on your bed, window open so you can see and hear the ongoing festivities outside, the cheerful jazz music floating around your room.

“I can’t believe I’ve been away two months now, it’s gone so fast”, it hasn’t felt fast to Negan, it’s felt like every hour has dragged on without you home. Nights with your dad are much quieter, and your presence is constantly missed. “Yeah sweetheart” he agrees half heartedly, and you sense the change in his tone. “Everything ok?” You ask, voice laced with concern. “Of course darlin we just miss you is all” Negan admits.

“I miss you too you know, life on my own has definitely been quiet. It’s why I enjoy these video calls so much, it almost feels like your here, like it’s a normal Friday night Just without the beers and pizza” you laugh.

His heart warms at your confession, slowly over these weeks he’s noticed little things. The way you look at him, or the way your face lights up when you answer his calls, your letters have become sweeter too. He allows himself to truly hope, that maybe you return his feelings. He’s in half a mind to jump in the car and meet you on your travels, take you into his arms and lay it all out, tell you how he feels and hope you say you feel them too. But his mind always falls back to your Dad, his best friend of nearly 30 years. How would he take it, would he ever talk to him again? Would he forbid him ever seeing you again? It’s these thoughts that stop him ever taking anything further than flirty remarks, and terms of endearment, but god does he wish he could just take you in his arms, feel your skin against his own as he spends all night worshiping your body like the goddess you are.

“Negan…..Negan are you with me” your voice cuts through his daydreaming, “Yeah sorry sweetheart, must be getting tired it’s past this old man’s bedtime” he teases. You huff out a small giggle “You’re not old Negan” you reply. “I’m 52 darlin, I’m nearly at the end of middle aged” Negan groans, you shake your head in disagree “Nope I don’t agree”, “Well I’ll take that” Negan laughs, “We should get some sleep though, it’s like 1am! Night Negan”

“Night Beautiful”

As the call ends you sit there shocked, that’s new, he just called you beautiful! He’s never used that pet name before, usually it’s darlin or sweetheart. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. You fall asleep that night with the smile never leaving, listening to the distant hum of jazz.

_______________________________________

The ranch is beautiful, picturesque like a postcard. You feel like you’ve stepped into some country and western film, you’re currently sat under a large tree watching the horses gallop about the pens. There’s a few other women staying at the ranch with you, and you’ve enjoyed getting to know them. One is a lot older than the rest of you, her name’s Frances, she’s been cooking for you all and mothering everyone.

It’s been nice, you weren’t used to a motherly woman being in your life. You’ve told her so too, told her about your life and that your dad raised you alone. She’s been a great listener, she brought up her two sons and how she couldn’t understand a mother ever leaving her children, she could never. When she asked if there was anyone special in your life, you’d bitten your lip and done your best to redirect the conversation. After much convincing you’d told her there was a man who held your affections, but he was much older than you. So it wasn’t an easy situation, but she’d told you there’s no age restrictions on love, so long as both parties involved were adults and felt the same.

It lead you to hope, that maybe you and Negan could maybe one day be something. You were starting to also hope that maybe he felt the same way you did, he had called you beautiful after all.

Taking out a pen and paper you began writing your letter’s.

Dear Negan

This ranch is beautiful, even in the sweltering heat it’s like something out of an old movie, there’s other women here too so it’s been nice to get to know them and make some friends.

I’m currently watching this black horse run through the field, he’s almost ethereal the way he moves. He looks so free, no worries in the world, and I fell like I’m witnessing his wildest joys and deepest secrets.

There’s a lovely lady here called Frances, she’s been like the mother hen to everyone. I’ve had many chats with her, especially about mum. She couldn’t understand how she just left me, said she never could leave her children. I do wonder if she ever thinks about me at all? Maybe she does, or maybe she just moved on with her life and never looked back.

I talked about you too, how important you are in my life too. I’ve been thinking a lot recently. Anyways I’ll send another letter soon.

With Love

Y/N

Xxx

After sealing the letter you wondered if you should send it, had you made things too obvious? Maybe you needed too to see if there was something there? With a deep breath you dropped it in the postal box, placing it to the back of your mind for now, before joining the rest of the girls for the activities for the day.

_______________________________________

Just two days later Negan received your letter, reading the words he felt incredibly sad. You were hurting he could tell, he doesn’t understand how your mother left you either, she’d never know how incredible the girl she brought into the world turned out to be.

Because you were, you’re incredible. So kind, loyal, brave with a determination he’s never witnessed before, and you were so beautiful beyond compare. So yeah she was the one who had missed out, missed watching that baby girl become the most amazing woman. Something himself and your Dad had never taken for granted, even only really getting to know you these last four years, he’s seen you change and thrive becoming the amazing person you are today.

He’s glad you’re making friends along the way though, he was worried you were starting to get a bit lonely being alone for so long. Still the thought of coming to the ranch himself and holding you in his arms was so compelling right now, you were sad and he felt such a great need to make you smile, or hold you as you cried. You deserve the world, he hopes he can show you that someday.

His heart lurches at the thought of you talking about him, and thinking about him? Thinking how? Is that a confession? Or just you missing home? He would call you later, see what he can coax out of you.

You were sat on the porch watching the sunset, the sunsets down south were the most beautiful you’d ever seen, the oranges and yellows shine over the whole landscape, painting the buildings and your skin in a warm orange glow. As you were admiring the skies your phone started buzzing, removing it from your jeans pocket you smile seeing Negan's name flash up.

“Hey Negan, how are you? Sorry it’s been a little while since we’ve called, I’ve noticed only certain areas get signal” you explain as you answer the video call.

Smiling at you “That’s ok sweetheart, I understand, you’re out in the sticks no one gets phone signal there. How are you doing darlin? I got your letter today and I thought I’d call you”

“Yeah I’m ok, I felt sad for a little while thinking about mum, but I’ve realised how lucky I am to have the people I do in my life. I have people who love me and some people don’t have that.” You admit.

“It’s ok to feel sad though sweetheart, what she did to you wasn’t right and it’s ok to be hurt by that, but yeah you are loved, sometimes I don’t think you know how much your loved sweet girl, your dad, your grandma, myself, we adore you, you’re not alone not ever and I hope you know that.” Negan assures.

Tears well up in your eyes, you swallow a large gulp before answering him “Thanks Negan I needed to hear that” you admit.

“Anytime baby girl”

A small creak behind alerts you of someone’s presence, “Sorry love I just came to tell you dinners ready, if you’d like to join us” Frances explains.

“Oh yeah please, I’ll just be a moment” you answer, she nods walking back into the barn.

“Well it looks like I have dinner to attend” you laugh, “Ok beautiful, enjoy your dinner I’ll speak to you soon” “Yeah speak soon” you smile, hanging up the phone you stand up and dust yourself off before heading inside.

Frances meets you at the doors with a knowing smile, “Was that him?” She asks, blushing you look downwards, “Yeah that’s him” you admit. She nods before saying “Marry that man girl, if he looks at you like that, and speaks to you like that, you’d be a fool not too”. You gasp “How much did you hear?” She gives a gentle laugh, “Enough. Now come on in and eat” she guides you inside, but your whole stomachs fluttering now, and you don’t know how much you will actually be able to eat.

_______________________________________

It was the morning you were leaving the ranch, you felt sad to be going. It had been such a positive experience being here with these women, you’d made some friends and you have exchanged numbers with Frances, who would love to stay in contact. Hugging everyone goodbye you waved your last farewell as you entered your car, today you’d be starting your trip to Los Angeles. Although you didn’t think you’d want to visit Hollywood, you had mapped out some lovely vineyards and beaches.

Starting the engine you made your way off the ranch and onto your next adventure. Driving down the highway you turned you music up, opening the windows letting the wind whip at your hair, singing along to your favourite song. Determined to enjoy every aspect of your road-trip, including the tedious highways.

You made it as far as the Texas/ New Mexico boarder before pulling into a motel for the night. Once you were settled in your room you pulled your phone out and called your dad, “Hey baby girl! Long time no speak, where have you been! Only one letter in two weeks and no phone calls! I’ve been worried!” Your dad stresses.

“I’m so sorry Dad the ranch had nearly no signal, Negan managed to call once while I was there, I think I found a fluke spot that evening, because I couldn’t get through to either of you again” you explain.

“That’s alright honey, I just worry, you know I do! How have you been? I didn’t know you spoke to Negan, do you call each other often?” He asks, and you can tell the confusion in his tone.

“Umm yeah we talk a couple of times a week I guess, same as you and I talk. I think he likes to know what I’m up too. I’m good yeah thanks dad been super busy though, but yeah I’m having a great time, how have you been doing?” You answer.

“Yeah no complaints here, I miss you though. House is too quiet without you kiddo, and it’s ok I just didn’t know the two of you were talking, he’s never said anything to me. Other then the fact you send him the occasional letter too” your dad explains.

“Yeah I write to you both, as per requested” you laugh before adding “I hope your looking after yourself though dad, and actually cooking? Not ordering take out every night. I do worry about you both when I’m not there, you don’t have the best eating habits” you giggle.

“Hey we are doing just fine! I did a BBQ the other day we even had salad!” You dad defends.

Laughing out loud now you reply “Oh some salad too! Well I don’t know why I was worrying then”

“Oi little miss, I do just fine! I managed to cook for you ok growing up!” He argues playfully.

“Yeah I know dad I know, I’m just teasing, well I’m glad you doing good, I’m going to head to bed it’s been a long day, lots of driving” you admit.

“Ok kiddo sleep tight”

“Will do night dad”

Ending the call you lay back on the bed and sigh, your dad seemed so confused about you talking to Negan, you hope you didn’t give your feelings about the man away? Nah he was probably just surprised. It will be fine, you think.

After getting ready for bed your phone starts buzzing again, you glance at it sat on the bedside table. ‘Video call from Negan’ grinning you answer the call “Hey!”, “Hey beautiful, how is your journey going?” You admire him for a second, dimples showing as he grins through the phone at you, why does he have to be so beautiful, “Yeah it’s going well I’m on the Texas/ New Mexico boarder, in a small town called Eunice I think. I’m in a small motel, I’ll be carrying on towards Los Angeles in the morning” you answer.

He’s walking about his kitchen, tidying up and nodding as you speak. You love the domestic feel to it, you wish you were there with him, just doing ordinary household chores. “That’s good! You’re making great time sweetheart. And at least now you have signal” he laughs, “Yeah there’s great service here, so what have you been up too?” You ask, “Not much darlin, just work. Some poor guy came in last week with a blown head gasket, it’s taking a lot of time to fix it. So I’ve been at the garage long hours this week. Other than that not a lot, Bill is trying to set me up on some date with his wife’s friend, but I’m not too sure” he admits.

Your stomach sinks at that, a date, no don’t go on a date you think, especially not when I’m thousands of miles across the country and can’t do anything to help stop it. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but you try to keep yourself together. “Yeah?” You ask, voice sounding way more strained than you hoped. “Yeah, you ok sweetheart?” He asks looking at you full of concern. “Yeah I need to umm go get some sleep it’s late and I’m exhausted” you blurt out in haste.

“Yeah ok darlin, goodnight”, “Night” you answer before quickly hanging up. Tears sting your eyes as you lay back on the bed, harshly rubbing the tears away you sit up, sod this I’m going for a drink, you determine. Pulling some jeans and a jacket on, you cross over the road to the local bar.

Entering the building the smell of stale beer and smoke hits you, wrinkling your nose in slight disgust you sit at the bar, “A beer please” you ask the bartender, who nods at you placing a bottle in front of you.

Across the country Negan can’t get your reaction out of his head. He was thinking maybe the date would be a good way to move on. Because you probably didn’t feel the same as him, he was delusional right? Thinking he saw signs that you wanted him. But you went from cheerful to distressed in seconds, now he doesn’t know, he could always ask you, he knows this. But he also knows he couldn’t deal with rejection, not from you. He sits down on his couch placing his head in his hands as he tries to make sense of it all.

You on the other hand have just stumbled back into your room after a few drinks, and you feel in your drunken state that your heads so much clearer. With the new found confidence the alcohol has given you, you pull out your phone and send Negan a text before passing out on your bed.

Don’t go on that date Negan, please don’t …I love you

The buzzing of his phone he’s pulled out of his thoughts, reading your message he’s sat in shock. You love him? Gods you love him! That’s it he needs to see you. Jumping up he rushes to pack a bag, throwing as much as he can fit in the duffle. Moving to grab his keys, phone, charger and passport. A flight to you will be the quickest way!

Leaving the house he sends you a message back,

Don’t go anywhere sweetheart, I’m on my way! Xx

[shyguygubbs]

I was thinking about kotlc recently and how the Black Swan originally wanted to wait to bring Sophie into the Lost Cities until way later, probably when she turned 18, and how different of a person Sophie would have been if that were the case.

Like at the start of the series, she's this child prodigy who has to go to community college in the fall at the age of 12 because her parents won't let her go to Yale (a totally valid parental choice btw), and the thing is I think she would have THRIVED in that environment. Like at first she would be scared and hesitant because in all other school environments she has been bullied for being as smart as she is, but now she's going into a school that people choose to go to in order to learn. Community college doesn't just have mean, jealous teenagers who attend, there are people of all ages and all walks of life who are ready to learn. Sure, Sophie would still be the youngest one there, and I doubt it would be super easy with the whole mind reading thing, but she would be in a much more supportive environment when it comes to learning than anything else she's experienced.

She'd be able to make friends with her peers, being able to bond over a shared love of whatever they're studying, and these friends don't think she's too smart or too weird. She maybe finds some way to muffle the voices in her head better than her earplugs did. Yeah, she still gets headaches, but she can manage it. I can see her taking as many classes as she can, figuring out her passions and what she might want to do as a career. She'd be in a fantastic place academically to transfer to any school she wants when she turns 18. I can even see her parents letting her graduate when she's 17 and allowing her to transfer to a four year college to get a bachelor's in whatever she wants to study, whatever she finds her passion for, because she worked hard for this, and doesn't hate school now, and has found a path for herself in life that feels right.

And then the Black Swan shows up and whisks her away from all of that, and she's heartbroken because she doesn't need to be taken away from everything she's worked so hard for. Yeah it feels nice to finally have the whole mind reading question answered, but she doesn't need a new place to belong, she has one. I imagine this Sophie being a lot more confident in herself, but a lot angrier too. She's fascinated by her new world, but desperately wants to go back home, to just live out the life she's been working towards. I can see her working side by side with the Black Swan from the jump, because she's in a world with injustice and she can't just sit back and let this slide, but constantly fighting back this resentment for them and how they took everything from her. I think of how canon Sophie had a brief moment of hesitation when it came to training her Telepathy, and I think this older Sophie would be conflicted between wanting to know more about this abnormality that she's been dealing with her whole life, and wanting to cling to her human identity and her old life as much as she possibly can. Because she's been ripped away from it, and no matter what her genetics say, this Sophie still views herself as human.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Time of Our Lives | Dancer!Jake Seresin x dancer!reader | Dirty Dancing AU

TGM masterlist

Characters & pairings: dancer!Jake Seresin x dancer!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: fluff, light profanity, pop culture references | Female!reader (she/her) | WC: 8.8k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @eternalsams 🩶🥹)

Premise: what happens when two childhood best friends from well off families reunite at a country club leading into a summer that would impact their careers for eternity while dancing around a decades worth of brewing feelings and recreating an iconic dance for the country clubs annual showcase? Here’s a hit, it’s gonna be like that one song Baby and Johnny fell in love to.

Note: I am alive and just know I (quite literally) had the time of my life writing this piece. It brought me back to my 80s movies/dirty dancing hyperfixation 😭 @eternalsams thank you so much for your patience and requesting this gem. I hope I did you Justice and dancer Jake has my heart and soul. Thank you for trusting me with your vision 🩶

————————

“You could at least act like you’re having fun, Y/n,” came the scolding words of her mother when she noticed the unamused expression Y/n possessed.

A natural state she would describe since they arrived at the resort. And what Y/n could not depart from no matter how hard she tried.

Summertime. The best time of year for some folks who are eager to get away from the stress and drama of work and school to relax and have fun. Whether it be a week or two whole months. For high school dance teacher Y/n L/n, her ideal summer vacation would be in the comfort of her own home with a book or chilling at her favorite resultant sipping on Margaritas while enjoying live music. Going out with her small select group of friends to dance was also on her list of summer necessities…but her family had other plans.

To kick off her 2023 summer break—which is to last nearly three weeks if she manages to survive—Y/n and her family were at an upscale Catskills resort located in the Appalachian Mountains not too far from New York, the place she currently called home. A snazzy estate one may add, for it was filled with alumni from the top Ivy League schools in the country.

And Y/n’s personal hell.

Of course she loved spending time with her parents and siblings….to an extent. But, when they’re constantly berating her life choices by becoming a dance instructor—on top of displeased opinions of her love life—-Y/n felt suffocated by them.

It was like she could never live up to the expectation they had of her no matter how much she proved herself and her talent. Not only were her parents highly respected doctors in their community, but her sister graduated Summa Cum Laude at Yale Law School, marrying her college sweetheart before taking a job at one of the city’s top firms. Then there was her brother. He went on to become a naval fighter pilot, distinguished and respected with his place at number one in his class during his year at Top Gun. His wife was a trauma nurse who worked at the same hospital as her parents.

Yet here she was—mind you, a former member of the New York City Ballet Company, Juilliard Alumni, performed at the Super Bowl, toured with Rihanna in the mid early 2010s, appeared in several music videos, and teaches at the Frank Sinatra School of the Arts—unable to adhere to their standards.

Parents…they want what’s best for their children. Right?

Yeah she found that hard to believe.

If only they saw her in the Ballroom. And no, not talking about the kind you see on Dancing With The Stars. She’s talking about the Ballroom that calls New York its home.

But also ballroom dancing. Her sister would have a heart attack if she discovered Y/n danced Bachata with Prince Royce at a New York latin club.

“Fun?” Y/n scoffed, sipping at her glass of champagne resulting in a light cringe at the taste. For rich people one would think they’d have the best there was. What just hit her tastebuds was something out of a box container imposing as fancy liquor. “I don’t see how anyone could find this type of rendezvous fun, mother.” She received a scolding glare.

“Keep your voice down,” the older woman kept looking around to see if anyone heard, “these are our friends.”

“Your friends,” Y/n corrected. There was no way in hell she’d consider any of the fake people in front of her friends. No matter how long their families have been acquainted. None of them liked each other, and were always trying to one up whenever someone voiced an accomplishment.

Instead of answering, Y/n’s mother simply walked away with an annoyed huff. No longer in the mood to argue. Rolling her eyes, Y/n downed the last of her champagne before making way out the french doors of the lounge and into one of the many patios. The sunshine greeted her with its vibrant and warm rays. Chatter from the guests sitting under umbrellas and beside the pool filled her ears. Y/n placed her sunglasses and booked it across until she was on the pathway leading to the guesthouse she and her family were staying.

“Y/n!” Had it been anyone else the woman would’ve mentally signed, but the voice behind the greeting was none other than her childhood best friend growing up, Natasha. A genuine smile appeared on her face as she turned around.

“Hey, Nat!” the two embraced in a hug, “Been a while, huh?” In truth the two hadn’t seen each other face to face since 2019 when Natasha moved to California to base her talent agency. Despite this, Natasha still traveled every year to Caskilles around this time to see her family, whereas Y/n remained in New York due to shows and gigs.

“More like four years,” a playful nudge was sent her way, “girl you left me here to fend for myself. I should feel betrayed,” Nat smirked, “but I can’t blame you. The only reason I keep coming to this place is to please my mom. It’s the only time all of us siblings are under the same roof.”

Natasha was the oldest of four and the only daughter to three sons. Her father had been the Mayor of New York City while her mother was the former District Attorney. All of her brothers had achieved prospective careers. Antonio, the second oldest, had been drafted by the MLB and currently played for the Washington Nationals. Dominic, the middle brother, was a nuclear engineer who rarely ever got time off but always managed to get a week in the summer. Lastly the youngest of the bunch, Victor, was a professional photographer who went on tour with artists like Journey, Lionel Richie, Daddy Yankee, and Stevie Nicks.

For Natasha, she had fallen in love with the fashion industry at a young age. After graduating from the Fashion Institute of Technology Natasha received an intern position at Vogue Magazine before becoming a product and brand marketing manager at Louis Vuitton, for which she got the opportunity to live in Paris, France for four years. There she got to work closely with Virgil Abloh, who unfortunately passed away in 2021, and Nicolas Ghesquiere.

As of 2022 Nat relocated to San Francisco and developed her own talent agency for aspiring models and fashion photographers who come from low-income backgrounds, LGBTQIA+, people of color and disabilities. With its success Nat’s had several clients on the face of Vogue and walking runways at every fashion week.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n said, the two beginning to walk down the path together, “Life’s been hectic. During the pandemic there were little to no gigs so I had no idea what to do.” Unfortunately being in the dance industry meant competitive opportunities with a maybe 10% success rate if lucky. Y/n’s last big break was dancing with Lady Gaga and Ariana Grande in their ‘Rain on Me’ music video. Y/n occasionally attended the Balls in New York, but hadn’t walked a category in ages.

She did have a following on social media, which bought in a reasonable amount of income. Over 100k on YoutTube and roughly 2 half a million on TikTok. Instagram had close to 3 million since it had been the primary platform in the 2010s and several of her dance videos went viral.

“I understand,” Nat nodded solemnly, “It was like that for me too. It’s nice the world is slowly going back to normal. Although,” she paused to chuckle, “the amount of damage control getting bookings back to their normal pace was probably the most stressful point in my career.”

“Has it been easier now?” They stopped at a little bench overlooking the lake, “I saw you were at fashion week.”

Nat instantly brightened. “Much better than before I will say. We’ve got a great wave of new clientele—I just landed this fella a cover with GQ so I’m pleased with that.” Y/n congratulated her before the agent changed the subject, “But enough about me, what about you?”

The woman scoffed, “Well my last big thing was the Lady Gaga music video—and that was going on three years now,” the thought made her frown. It wasn’t like her to go so long without a gig. “I auditioned for a spot on Beyoncé’s tour.”

“The Renaissance tour,” Nat nearly gagged. It was all anyone could talk about since tickets went on sale earlier that year. Nat managed to snag two for her and her boyfriend for the Los Angeles show. “And?”

“I’ll know in about a month or so if I book it.”

“You so got it,” Nat assured with a tap on her shoulder, “You’re one of the best dancers in the world. You danced with Madonna at the Super Bowl,” her gaze became pointed, “and toured with Rihanna. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Nat,” Y/n laughed, though deep down she felt the hope in her rise.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha leaned back against the bench and was about to comment when someone in the distance caught her eye. “Is that who I think it is?”

Peeking over her shoulder, Y/n suddenly straightened her posture upon seeing the blonde man grinning from ear to ear as they made eye contact. Jake Seresin certainly landed on the right side of the puberty coin. With his tan, muscular frame, gorgeous green eyes, blonde hair and smile that belonged on the cover of a magazine, he was a sight for sore eyes.

“Ladies, fancy seeing you two here on this beautiful afternoon.”

A wave of butterflies simmered in Y/n’s tummy, a shy smile forming as he approached the bench. It’d been several years since the two saw each other despite being friends since childhood. “Jake,” she greeted, moving to accept his hug when he opened his arms. Natasha followed before the two sat back down, “It’s good to see you. Is your mom with you?”

Like Natasha and her family, Jake’s were part of the same circuit in terms of highly respected, sometimes influential people. His mother, a doctor, was a colleague of Y/n’s parents, and his late father was one of Texas’ Congressmen during the 2000-2010s. Jake’s only sibling, his sister Krista, was a young adult novelist with over ten publications.

Jake on the other hand was like Y/n: a professional dancer and known in the industry as a real life Ken Doll. He had a massive following online, choreographed music videos and tours—even went on tour with Bruno Mars, Justin Bieber, & Ariana Grande—and was a guest judge on ‘So You Think You Can Dance,”. During the pandemic a lot of his dance sequences went viral and became trends, Y/n even posted on to which he reposted with the caption, “you know I had to shine the spotlight on my favorite dance partner. Miss you Y/n/n.”

You can bet Y/n experienced internal fireworks.

There was no denying she had a crush on Jake growing up. The two were inseparable whenever their families stayed at the resort. They’d even make trips out to each other during winter break, eventually attended Juilliard at the same time, and collaborated early in their careers. Jake and Y/n used to sneak out of the country club when they were younger to dance on the dock while blasting music from the boom box they’d stolen from the lounge. They learned ballroom together, competing in competition without Y/n’s family having knowledge of it.

Unlike Y/n’s parents, Jake’s mom and dad approved of his career choice. Though skeptical in the beginning, they grew to be very supportive and attended his showcases at school, the concert he was performing in and kept up with what he was doing.

Because of their disapproval of her pursuing dance, Y/n believes their learning of Jake’s endeavors resulted in them no longer coming to the country club if he and his family were there. They also never asked about him or worked with his mother despite being in the same field. It’s like they blamed Jake for Y/n not becoming what they wanted her to be: a doctor or a lawyer.

“She and my sis are settling in,” he gestured down the path he came, where several cabins were located. “We just got in about an hour ago.”

“How long are you guys here for?” The question came from Nat, who threw a look at Y/n.

Jake didn’t notice, “a couple weeks. Needed a break from the world—and Mr. Collins asked me to help him with this showcase he’s putting together.” Y/n raised her brow.

“Showcase?”

“It’s more for the youngins,” Jake explained. “He asked if I could help teach some dance lessons for those interested.” Though it physically hurt not to react, Y/n somehow managed to remain neutral. Even putting a semi-fake smile.

How come Mr. Collins didn’t ask her?

“Stop it,” the voice in her head said, “it’s not a competition and you know Jake would never be upset if the roles were reversed.”

“Wow, Jake, that's great!” She was happy for him. And scolded herself mentally for the childish thought she had. Jake was an exceptional dancer and a great teacher. Y/n had watched some of his YouTube videos in passing and had no doubt he could get the job done.

“Say if you have the time I’d be happy to have you join in,” he flashes a smile that would have any girl weak in the knees. “I’d say you’re more of an expert in certain areas that I’m not really well acquainted with.” Warmth fills her chest.

“I’d love to. Thank you, Jake.”

The second he departed Natasha was on Y/n. “Girl, if you do not hop on that—.”

“Natasha!”

“What?” She whispers shouts after being hushed, “you’re into him, he’s so into you,” Y/n’s expression is that of, ‘You’re delusional’. “Skip the previews and start the movie.” Now that was a metaphor Y/n had not heard before, but clever nonetheless.

“Jake and I have been friends for years,” Y/n brushed her off. “I am not going to risk ruining what we have because of some middle school crush.” The brunette rolls her eyes.

“But it’s not, ‘some middle school crush.’ You’ve had feelings for him for over decades now—which is a conversation for another day,” Y/n makes a sound of offense, but does not deny the woman. “It’s time to put on your big girl panties and get your man.”

She’s quiet for a moment, glancing to her feet, “What if it’s not meant to be. My family would never approve—.”

“Like you’ve let them dictate what you do in life.”

“My point is—,” Y/n cuts back, “I’ve already disappointed them with my career path. Call me naive or delusional, but I don’t want to have to deal with constantly being berated for my choice of partner. Jake is wonderful in every aspect, but what he does will just set my parents off again for another twenty years if by some miracle we start something up.”

Natasha sighs, placing a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder, “Sometimes you have to accept that parents are always going to have their opinions that are unchangeable. And you have to let go of the hope they’ll come around. Y/n, you’ve dealt with this since you were seventeen, maybe it’s time to distance yourself from it.”

“And if it all backfires and I end up alone?”

“You’ll never be alone,” she nudges her, “I’m here. And even if it all blows to hell, then at least you can say you tried.”

The next day Y/n found Jake at the little studio room the club used to teach waltz lessons. She was met with his gorgeous smile and an army of preteens in the middle of showing off who could do the best tik tok dance. “I see I’ve interrupted a very important matter.”

“None wanted to do the one I created,” he dramatically pouts, “saying it was too complicated.”

She laughed, “Well they’re not wrong.”

“Hey!”

For the next week, Y/n and Jake spent four hours a day--two in the morning and two in the afternoon--with the kids teaching them different styles of dance. Of course the crowd favored breakdancing, hip hop, modern, and vogue, but would request to watch Jake and Y/n perform routines they used to do back in the day. Swing was a popular one, as was quickstep and jive because of its upbeat and face paced. One day Jake busted out his tap dancing skills while Y/n displayed some ballet.

“How can a person do that?” a kid commented as she stood on revelé. Jake leaned down, whispering, “she’s secretly an alien from another planet.”

“C’mon I wanna show you something,” Jake grabs her hand one night after dinner. He leads her to a cabin not too far from the main resort where members of the staff have started a party. On the speakers were some 2000s hits that summed up the millennial crowd. Jake waved to some of the guys who ran group activities in the corner, Y/n spotted the culinary department at the food table. And if she were to glance at the door on the opposite end of the cabin, she’d see the housekeeping passing around an object containing a certain plant.

“What’s this?”

“The only place where the workers get to catch a break after spending all day with those uptight rich folks. They call it ‘Dirty Dancing’,” Y/n’s expression becomes amused, letting out a soft laugh.

“Like the 80s movie with Patrick Swayze?” Jake beams.

“The one and only,” taking her hand once more, he leads her to the makeshift dance floor. “Let’s show them how it’s done.”

To say the two became the life of the party was an understatement. Jake spun Y/n to the sound of her laughter and Elvis ‘Jailhouse Rock’. Jumping up and down with a crowd around them to Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything.”

“Tonight, I want all of you tonight,” They pointed to each other, “Give me everything tonight.” Y/n pointed to the girl beside her, “For all we know we might not get tomorrow. Let’s do it tonight.” Jake fist pumped with some guys around him, “Don’t care what they say, or what games they play. Nothing is enough, ‘til they handle love.” people in the back shouted “let’s do it tonight.”

“I want you tonight, I want you to stay,” Jake gave Y/n a look, “I want you tonight,” she squealed upon him pulling her toward him, “Grab somebody sexy tell ‘em hey.” the entire house exploded into the chorus. Everyone having the time of their lives, it felt like a scene from a movie.

Y/n pulled girls into the middle during Beyonce’s ‘Single Ladies.’ Then they carried the party when ‘Year 3000’ by the Jonas Brothers came on. “He said, ‘I've been to the year 3000. Not much has changed, but they lived underwater. And your great-great-great-granddaughter is doing fine!”

Some staff who happened to be part of the New York Ballscene recognized Y/n, leading to a vogue battle to commence. “This is what I wanna see!”

Let’s just say….that was the moment Jake knew he was in love.

“‘Cause we are living in a material world. And I am a material girl,” The next morning Y/n was rudely awoken by her ringtone. “Hello,” her groggy voice answered, hearing Jake on the opposite end sounding equally as tired.

“Are you busy this afternoon in between lessons?”

“Not that I know of. What’s up?”

“I just got off the phone with Collin,” his tone shifted to one she couldn’t decipher, “He’s asking if you and I would be interested in performing at the showcase.” Jolting from the bed, Y/n was fully awake.

“Come again.”

“You and me. Me and you,” Jake repeated, “we put on a little number for the finale.”

Fiddling with her pajama top, Y/n suddenly became nervous. The night before she was on Cloud 9 with the way Jake was looking at her. They danced the night away and those feelings she desperately tried to hide were slowly becoming difficult to keep down. “What did you have in mind?”

“Time of My Life, really?” The two were at the studio dressed in comfy attire they usually danced in. “Don’t you think that’s a little cliche.”

“I thought it was fitting,” the blonde rebutted. Jake suggested the two perform the iconic dance sequence at the end of the 80s classic. “What, you got something against it?”

She rolled her eyes, “Only that my parents blame my childhood obsession with it as the reason I didn’t follow their dreams for me.” Jake made a face.

“They’re still not over that?”

“Nope,” She popped the ‘p’. “In fact they still remind me every chance they get about it.”

Jake finished setting up the song loop, standing from his crouching position, “Well, let’s prove just how wrong they were when you blow their mind with your talent at the showcase.”

Between the giggles and constantly finding any moment to procrastinate, it was a miracle the two managed to choreograph a routine. It wasn’t an exact copy of the iconic dance Baby and Johnny performed, but they kept some elements in.

Including the lift.

“Jake, I don’t know about this,” Y/n shivered when her body hit the cold water, following him until their waists were submerged. The whole idea made her nervous. It was an intimidating maneuver.

Jake, however, did not show any sign of hesitation. “Worried I’d drop you?” he teased, “I thought you trusted me? We used to do this all the time as kids.”

“Exactly. I do trust you, but we’re not fifteen anymore. I’m not--,” he cut her off gently.

“Don’t say what I think you’re about to say,” his look was soft but serious at the same time. “You have nothing to worry about. And besides, we’re out here taking precautions instead of being in the studio where if something did go wrong, we’re not as likely to end up in the ER.”

Sighing, Y/n rubbed her eyes. “Fine, let’s just get this over with, before I drown in embarrassment..”

About two and half hours of non-stop repetition of Jake lifting Y/n in the air passed. Sometimes he purposely lost footing so they both planted into the freezing lake water and other times he genuinely faltered. “Jake!”

“I’m sorry!” Thankfully at least one out of every ten attempts were a success. By that we’re talking they were able to hold the position for more than four seconds. “Okay, we’re done for the day.”

As the sun started to set, Jake climbed onto the dock before pulling Y/n up. “Thanks,” she took the towel he handed her, immediately squeezing the excess water from her hair. “Well that was fun.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, grabbing his towel. “I think we made some great progress. We’ll go through the whole routine tomorrow and see what needs adjustments.” The showcase was in just over a week, meaning they were crunching down on time.

“Sounds like a plan.” Stars painted the sky, the two eventually sitting on the dock with their towels wrapped around them. Soft music played from Jake’s speaker.

“How’s it been for you?” Jake was the one to break the silence, “thinking about it, we haven’t really got the chance to catch up. New York still treating you well?”

“Oh uh,” Y/n swallowed, unsure of how to answer without sounding too pessimistic. “It’s been alright. I’ve been teaching for the last two years.”

“A teacher you say? Where at?”

“Frank Sinatra School of Arts.” Jake’s smile grew.

“That’s amazing!” Butterflies erupted at his praise. “I’m happy for you, Y/n, really. You’re inspiring the next generation.”

“Thanks,” she looked away, unable to keep eye contact when her heart was beating so fast. ‘Geez, why am I like this? He’s making me feel like I’m fourteen again.’ “I’ve enjoyed it. My students were amazing.” Jake raised a curious brow.

“Are you not teaching anymore?”

Y/n bit her lip, “well, I haven’t renewed my contract for the upcoming school year yet,” she paused before adding, “I’m waiting to find out if I got a spot on this tour I auditioned for.” Now Jake was super curious. Lots of artists were touring that summer. The Jonas Brothers, Big Time Rush, Kesha, SZA, and of course the much anticipated Era’s and Renaissance tours of Taylor Swift and Beyonce.

And Jake was going to be involved in one.

“Is it okay if I ask which one?” his tone had an underlying hint of excitement at the thought the two might work together. Traveling across the country in what would be one of the best experiences in their lives.

Her eyes narrowed with suspicion, “something tells me you have a secret, Jake Seresin. Would you like to share with the class what’s on your mind?”

Scratching his head, Jake answered, “I’m not really supposed to say…..but,” she held her breath, releasing with a low gasp, “I’ll be touring with Taylor Swift.”

“Wow,” the woman was speechless, breaking into a massive grin. “I-uh, wow, Jake that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

“Thank you,” he accepted her hug, not caring that their clothes were still damp. “I honestly didn’t believe I’d get it.” a playful slap landed on his arm.

“Please,” came her scoff, “You really thought Miss Americana herself would not see the talent in front of her?” Y/n mentally cheered in victory at the sight of his blush. “She’d be foolish to not have you as part of her time.”

“Okay okay,” he swatted her hands away with a chuckle. “Now answer my question.”

Once revealing who’s tour Y/n auditioned for, the two embarked on an hour long conversation about their careers and life. Jake mentioned how he had been in a relationship but it didn’t work out. Y/n vented on the ongoing emotional feud with her family--to which Jake told her, “It’s their loss for not seeing you the way the rest of the world does.”

Yeah, that made her melt.

By the end of the night there was a shift in the atmosphere. Both felt it, glancing away when they held eye contact longer than usually without a word passing by. They had suddenly become quiet, only the crickets singing through the trees.

“It’s getting late,” Y/n rushed out, moving to stand. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Jake mirrored her movements. “Same time.” Heading back to the cabins their families were staying at, they arrived at Y/n’s first.

Opening her mouth to say goodnight and avoid an awkward moment, Y/n’s words paused upon seeing Jake’s expression, “You look troubled.”

“I--,” he began before stopping, causing Y/n’s nerves to rise. “It’s nothing.”

The dancer wasn’t having it, “No, no no,” she playfully raised a hand, “you can’t leave me hanging like that, Jake. I thought we were friends.” Suddenly it became quiet again. Next thing Y/n knew was Jake softly grabbing her hand.

“You know I adore you right?”

Her heart skipped, “Not really, but I do now,” the light chuckle was obviously embedded with nerves. “I adore you too.”

“And we’ve been….rather close for a long time.”

“Yes,” the word trailed off her tongue, somehow managing to hold the eye contact Jake was giving her. She was practically pinned where she stood.

“I realize this isn’t the best time or way to say this,” his cheeks become rosy, “but I’ve really enjoyed these past couple weeks catching up and being able to dance again like we used to. And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bring back some feelings I tried to ignore for fear it would ruin what we have.”

Y/n couldn’t believe what was happening, “Bring back?” Did the man she secretly longed for since they were teenagers want her too? After all this time? She nearly pinched herself.

Jake looked away, bringing his other hand to scratch his neck. “Yeah. Look, I understand if you don’t feel the same and I’m sorry for dropping this on you but after the party I felt like my world was finally on its axis. You…” he struggles finding the right words, “I can’t stop thinking about you and what we could be. You’re my best friend, Y/n. And I view you as someone I wanna dance with till we’re old and gray.”

“Jake,” his name was the softest it had ever been coming out of her mouth. Here was the moment she had been dreaming about. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

His reaction was immediate, “You--you feel the same?” The tone was that of disbelief and hope. Heart pounding beneath his skin.

Y/n cupped his face in her hands, grinning ear to ear, “There is no one else in this world I’d rather dance with than you, Jake. I’ve felt this way about you for as long as I can remember.”

Not wasting a second longer, Jake leaned down and captured her lips in a sweet kiss. Fireworks exploded between the two, the butterflies escaping their stomachs to swarm around them. Jake's lips were soft against hers, moving slowly as though to commit them to memory. When they pulled away, he kept his forehead against hers, “wow.”

She giggled, repeating, “wow.”

“Is this what Could 9 is supposed to feel like? Because I’m getting those vibes.”

Y/n threw her head back, laughing before covering her mouth when she remembered her family was asleep on the other side of the door, “You’re not the only one, hot shot. If this is what cloud 9 feels like then I never want to lose it.”

In the days following that magical night, the two continued their practice session. Perfecting the dance to where they didn’t even hear the music to be able to hit the steps right. When it came to the lift, however, Y/n was still worried of a disaster. Thankfully after several successful attempts at the studio she was able to let go of her doubt.

Plus she was tired of hearing Jake’s teasing.

Each night after parting ways that afternoon the two would meet up at the docks. Spending hours laying on the wood to watch the stars twinkle and talk about life. Then Jake would walk her back to the cabin, saying goodbye with a sweet kiss. With every minute they spent together, every dance, every kiss, both Jake and Y/n were falling more and more for each other.

One could go as far as to say it was love.

One could say they were having the time of their lives.

But of course what is life without a little drama? Y/n silently prayed drama would be avoided. Once in her life could things just be great? Without the everlying feeling of something going wrong?

Yeah, it was too good to be true.

“Jake!” a voice interrupted the peaceful morning, ripping the two apart from their kiss. They had gone for a jog together that morning around the lake, stopping at their usual spot of the docks before heading to the studio to practice for the night's event. Turning to the direction of the voice, Y/n’s eyes landed on a fiery redhead storming up the path. Her attention was on the man beside her, not hiding the obvious fact she was furious. “Who the hell is that?”

“Tatiana?” Jake’s tone was of shock and confusion. He let go of Y/n’s face he had been cradling, but kept a firm touch on her arm. “W-what are you--.”

“Is it so much to ask for you to answer your phone?” stopping in front of the two, her blazing hazel eyes locked on Y/n. “Who are you? And why the fuck were you making out with my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” she stammered, glacing at Jake who now looked pissed off. ‘He’s had a girlfriend this whole time?”

“I haven’t been your boyfriend since December, Tatiana,” he raised a pointed finger, casting a look to Y/n with pleading eyes that he was telling the truth. “We’ve been broken up for a while now.” he turned back to his ex, “You made that clear to me when you had me choose between the career I’ve spent decades building and you.”

There was anger in his tone, not pleased with her claims. Y/n didn’t know what to believe, all she could feel was a weight clamping down on her shoulder.

“Oh really,” removing her phone from her back pocket, Tatiana tapped the screen a few times before pushing it in Y/n’s face, “Does that seem like it to you.” Leaning forward, Y/n gulped at the sight of text messages indicating Jake and Tatianna had been in contact a few months prior. From the looks of it, Tatiana was hoping the two could pick up where they left off and Jake replying, ‘I’ll think about it,’ then it was silent until this past week where Tatiana sent texts asking when they could meet up. Jake, however, responded it wasn’t a good time and believed the two should stay friends.

“Y/n,” Jake started, glancing back between her and Tatiana, which only made her more perplexed. Unable to decipher what he was thinking. “Just please, wait right here.” He gently squeezed her arm, brushing their fingers together as he let go. Then before she could say anything, Y/n watched Jake gently escort Tatiana away from the docks. They went a good distance away to where Y/n was unable to hear the two. With Jake’s back to her, Y/n’s view was of the red head’s angry expression as she pushed her finger into Jake’s chest.

She saw him gently raise his hands, stepping away to escalate the situation. Y/n’s head spun, feeling a wave of nausea and the woman grabbed her water bottle from the ground. In a fast pace, Y/n stepped off the dock and onto the path leading back to the clubhouse. Once a distance away she broke out into a run, unaware if Jake saw her leave considering his back was to her. This was confirmed when she didn’t hear him call out for her.

Sprinting past the clubhouse, Y/n made a beeline for her cabin. Throwing the door open she moved past the living room not caring if anyone was there and straight to her bedroom where she locked the door behind her, pressing her back against it and sliding down to the floor to finally catch her breath.

Her water bottle had been drained, sweat coating her forehead and tears threatening to spill. Covering her mouth, Y/n refused to let the sob forming in her throat to release. There was no time to let her heartbreak. Not when the showcase was fast approaching.

The showcase.

“Fuck,” she sniffed, kicking off her shoes in the process. Of course it had to be that day all blows to hell. The perfect world she thought she finally obtained crashing down.

Of course she was being dramatic. Her life was shy from perfect, and this was another dent in the walls she tried to build.

She kept thinking of Jake. Willing herself to not jump to conclusions. He was clearly taken aback by Tatiana’s appearance. Even more when she called herself his girlfriend. Jake appeared rather offended by the accusation they were still together. Bottom line of the story: there was tension--especially animosity--between them, unfinished business if Y/n had to guess.

Whatever it was, she couldn’t bear to witness it. Right now she needs to think with a blank mind. And with Jake already spamming her phone, the solution for peace and quiet was to turn off her phone. Going as far as to power off her apple watch and not have music play while she showered.

The tears slowly cascaded while Y/n stood beneath the water. It was eerie with the silence, but it assisted with the clearing of her thoughts. Once clean Y/n dressed in comfy clothes and decided to nap for the remainder of the day. The morning had drained her, and until it came time to get ready for her dance with Jake--which she already dreaded--Y/n willed herself to sleep imagining what the day had been if his ex had never stepped foot on the docks.

“Need some help?” Y/n jumped, the hair clip falling from her hand. In the mirror she found Nat staring back at her with a sympathetic smile. “You look like you could use a hand.”

“Thanks,” she picked up the clip, holding up for Nat, who took it in her hand and stood behind Y/n. Gathering her hair up, Nat styled it in a messy but pretty updo.

“You seem tense for someone so used to the spotlight by now.”

A frown appeared, “It’s always nerve racking going on stage in front of people no matter how long you’ve done it.” Nat wasn’t buying it.

“Wanna talk about it? I know it’s more than a few nerves rustling your feathers, Y/n.”

Biting her lip, the dancer shrugged. “It wasn’t meant to be, Nat. Simple as that.” Sadness washed over her for the millionth time since that morning. She hasn’t seen Jake since, only replying to his several texts after a dozen unanswered calls to confirm she would still do the showcase.

Although part of her thought about backing out.

“What exactly happened?” Nat softly asked, moving to now help Y/n on her makeup. She was going for a simple look so she lightly concealed, blushed, highlighted and added some minimal eye makeup.

“Everything felt so amazing” she started, looking up as Nat dabbed the beauty blender under her eyes. “After we did the lift at the lake, we talked for hours on the dock and when he walked me back to the cabin….he told me how he felt about me,” Y/n could still feel the tingles on her lips, “and we kissed.”

Nat withheld squealing, knowing it was a bad moment considering it didn’t end the way she hoped for her best friend. Now she was conspiring on how to get payback on Jake. Filled with sudden disdain.

“The next few days went by--like I was walking on cloud 9. The way he looked at me, Nat,” Y/n connected their eyes, “It was magical.” Nat brushed powder onto her cheeks, followed by light blush and highlighter.

“And then what happened.”

Y/n’s shoulders dropped, making her slouch, “Jake’s ex showed up this morning.” Nat’s hand froze, a second passing before continuing its movement. “They broke up last year, but I guess they were in the works of getting back together. Because she was very vocal about it--not shy of asking who the fuck I was and why was I with her boyfriend.”

“And what was Jake’s reaction?”

Y/n waited until after Nat finished sweeping a thin coat of eyeliner to answer, “He denied it--was very shocked when she showed up out of the blue. Said that she ended things because he refused to choose her over his career. Then she went on about how they were talking things out--that a few months ago he said he’d think about it.” Y/n thought back to the texts, “She showed me the messages from this week. He rejected her invite to meet up and said that they should remain friends. Then he pulled her aside to talk where I couldn’t hear. I sorta left after that.”

Nat grabbed the mascara, “You didn’t wait for him to explain?”

“Could you blame me?” Y/n rebutted, a little on the defense but not saying it in a mean tone. “I was dealing with a hundred emotions. Confusion, embarrassment, shame, sadness, anger. I wanted to cry, I wanted to yell. But the only thing I could do was shut down and walk away.”

Nat said nothing, spraying Y/n’s face with a setting mist before handing her the tube of her favorite lipstick.

“I know,” Y/n groans, “I should’ve stayed--to at least hear him out. But I didn’t want to face the humiliation if it were true.”

“And if it’s not true?” Nat suggested, “What if he was genuine and they really are done? Where does that leave you two?”

Blotting the color onto her lips, Y/n capped the tube and threw it into her makeup bag with a shug, “I don’t know, Nat. We’ll find out tonight I guess.” Taking one last glance in the mirror, she added, “That’s if he shows up--which I doubt he won’t. He wouldn’t want to let Collins down.” leaning back in the char, Y/n turns to her friend. “Thanks for the hair and makeup.”

Nat patted her shoulder, “anytime. You look beautiful. That dress was made for you.” Y/n bore a light pink dress with a flowy skirt and corset styled top. It was similar to the one Baby wore in Dirty Dancing, ironically enough, but unique in its own way. She paired it with simple dance shoes.

“Thank you, Nat.”

A thought suddenly came to the brunette, “Hey, did you ever hear back from that audition?”

There was no hiding her grin, Y/n looked like a child having just received a gift from Santa, “I got a call back. They’re having me fly to L.A. next week to dance for them again.” Nat jumped from her seat, squealing and pulling the woman into a hug.

“Ah that’s amazing! Congratulations--I’m so so happy for you!!”

“Thank you,” Nat’s happiness was contagious, making Y/n giggle as they swayed side to side. “I can’t believe I’m so close.”

“I knew you’d get it,” Nat maveled, playfully pinching Y/n’s side making her swat at her hand.

The happy moment was interrupted right on cue as Mr. Collins rushed in. “There you are!” He was frantic, clipboard in hand. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Have you seen Mr. Seresin?” Y/n’s heart dropped.

“No,” was her response, heat coating her skin. “I thought he was here already.” Collins took a peek at his watch, groaning in annoyance.

“You guys are the last ones so that gives me hope he’s just running late,” Motioning for Y/n to follow him, the man leads the two out of the makeshift dressing room. “You’ll wait by the end of the side stage while the other performers have their turn. Then I’ll announce--hopefully both of you--and we’ll call this showcase a success. Which by the way,” he spins around, stopping Y/n in her tracks, “Do you happen to have a backup plan by any chance if our friend decides to be a no-show?”

Y/n stuttered lightly, hands up in a ‘Not really?’ She goes, “I mean I can whip something up--Not to toot my own horn but I’m pretty good at what I do and will dance to any music you give me.”

“Fantastic,” Collins snaps his finger, “We’ll work with that.” Spinning back again, Collins high tails it to the stage, Y/n taking claim to a chair a few paces from the steps. She spotted Nat seated with her family, Y/n’s own folks at a table in the far back. Almost like they were hiding from the rest of the guests, causing her heart to sink further.

Collins opened the showcase with an animated greeting to the audience. After some announcements and thanks to staff and sponsors who helped put the showcase together, he introduced the first of 10 performers on the list. Nearly all were the teens and children Y/n taught with Jake, the woman standing from her chair to cheer them on. At the eighth performance she froze at the sight of the blonde man behind the curtain. He hadn’t seen her yet, so Y/n ducked back to her chair, peeking slightly to find him conversing with Collins.

‘Well looks like I’m not getting out of this one,’ she thought to herself.

When the second to last performer appeared, Y/n found Nat in the audience. The two shared a look, Nat able to see the unease seeping off Y/n, and throwing her thumbs up in hopes to relieve some of it. The (y/h/c) shook her head slightly, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless with a small smile.

Mr. Collins glides to the stage one final time, “And now,” a quick glance to his clipboard, then to the side of the stage opposite of Y/n, a smile curling on his lips. “We have a very special presentation from two people who were kind enough to help me put this whole shabang together,” raising a hand out he announces, “Please welcome the beautiful and ever so talented, here to bring you the time of your life, Jake Seresin and Y/n L/n!!”

There was a light applause from the adults overshadowed by the children, teens, staff members, and Natasha. Y/n’s parents were unreactive, glancing at her siblings wondering if they knew to which they received shrugs.

Still sitting in a chair just off the stage, not moving despite the lights flashing on her, Y/n’s head was down. The door was not far. She could easily make an escape. But she felt eyes on from those within view and felt trapped. To run now would be a lifetime of embarrassment and shame.

“C’mon, Y/n,” she scolded under her breath. “It’s just one dance.” "Then you can go back to New York and pray this whole thing never happened.”

As the thought left her mind, footsteps came toward her, and Y/n glanced up to find Jake, dressed in black slacks and buttoned down enough to make a girl weak in the knees, staring down at her with an expression that took her breath away. It was as though they were the only two in the room, much like in the studio. Everyone else simply disappeared. Leaving two people who danced around feelings for years only to come together at that very moment.

Whatever hostility Y/n had for Jake was gone. She saw the pure love in his eyes. Pleading with her to give him a chance.

Simply holding his hand out to her, Jake held her gaze and spoke clearly for everyone to hear, “Nobody puts Y/n in a corner.” Had her heart not been beating at 100 miles per second, Y/n would’ve laughed at the reference. Considering how fitting it was to their situation.

The beginning lyrics of the song echoed as Jake led her to the middle of the stage. Already igniting applause from the audience who recognized it. “Now I’ve had the time of my life.” An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her to him. Never once straying eye contact “No, I’ve never felt this way before.” Y/n dipped back, Jake keeping her from falling to the floor until she was upright, “Yes I swear, It’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.”

“‘Cause I’ve,” Jake came around to her left, Y/n bringing up a hand which his own followed the trail of her arm. She caressed the side of his face. His group of friends hooting and hollering, “had the time of my life. And I owe it all to you.” A gentle kiss was placed on her nose.

Cheers from their students erupted when Jake spun Y/n, bringing a smile to both their faces as they began their routine. “I’ve been waiting for so long. Now I’ve finally found someone to stand by me.” Natasha whistled from her seat, “Yeah!”

“We saw the writing on the wall. As we felt this magical fantasy.”

All through the dance Y/n never once stopped grinning. Jake’s aura, the nostalgia of the song, and the love she had for dance were contagious. “Now with passion in our eyes, there’s no way we could disguise it secretly.” Unbeknownst to the woman, her parents and siblings were watching in awe. Having been the first time they truly watched her perform. “So we take each other’s hands,” Jake spun her again, Y/n throwing her arms in the air, head swaying back and forth. “‘Cause we seem to understand the urgency.”

“Just remember,” the pace picked up. “You’re the one thing. I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something,” Y/n was lifted, dress flowing as Jake twirled them in circles. The audience applauded with glee.

“I’ve had the time of my life. No, I never felt this way before.” The cheers heightened when the two pressed against each other, the sight very intimate. “Yes, I swear, it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.” Jake snuck a kiss to her cheek, moving away to leap off the stage. “Hey, baby!” Y/n tilted her head back in laughter, fingers on the hem of her dress skirt and swaying to the beat.

“With my body and soul, I want you more than you’ll ever know. So we’ll just let it go, don’t be afraid to lose control, no.” It was Jake’s moment to shine. He fed off the energy of the crowd, winking at his boys in the back hyping him up. Y/n caught Natasha’s thumbs up, the two sharing a silent victory. “Yes I know what’s on your mind. When you say, ‘Stay with me tonight’.”

“Stay with me. Just remember,” Jake danced up and down the aisle, “You’re the one thing. I can’t get enough of. So I’ll tell you something,” locking eyes, they gave each other a nod. “This could be love,” staff helped Y/n off the stage, the woman bolting toward Jake, “because--.” Squeezing every muscle in her body, Y/n exhaled in relief as she was successfully lifted in the air.

“I’ve had the time of my life. No, I’ve never felt this way before.” It was a spectacular scene around them with everyone jumping from their seats, in awe of what they were witnessing. “Yes, I swear (yes I swear), it’s the truth. And I owe it all to you.”

Y/n giggled the whole way down, arms sliding over Jake’s shoulder who shared her happiness. “‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life. And I’ve searched through every open door,” Several people joined in the celebration. Spouses dancing together, children off beat but having the time of their life like the song called for. “‘Til I found the truth. And I owe it all to you.” Even Y/n’s parents managed to get on their feet.

Finally seeing their daughter for who she was.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, the first words spoken between the two. It made her heart skip, filled with an overwhelming surge of happiness.

“I feel like I’m on cloud 9,” the response had Jake chuckle, pulling her closer to him as he voiced, “me too, doll.”

They kept their gaze on one another, swaying chest to chest, the tune became softer, “Now I’ve had the time of my life. No I never felt this way before (never felt this way),” Jake’s hand caressed her cheek, Y/n leaning into it. “Yes, I swear, It’s the truth (It’s the truth),” the two leaned in at the same time, Bill Medley’s voice belting the final lyric of the bridge, “And I owe it all to you!”

The kiss set off a million fireworks. Just like it did the first time. They didn’t know if the cheers around them were intended for the two, but they didn’t stop the kiss to find out. Y/n’s hand covering Jake’s on her face, brushing her fingers over his knuckles, “I’ve had the time of my life. No, I never felt this way before (never felt this way). Yes, I swear, it’s the truth (it’s the truth). And I owe it all to you.” Pulling away, Jake’s touch remained.

“Be my dance partner,” were his words, pushing through the ending chorus. ‘Be mine,’ “Forever.”

“‘Cause I’ve had the time of my life. And I’ve searched through every open door.”

Y/n brushed her lips against his. Uttering nothing more than a simple, “Yes.”

“‘Til I found the truth. And I owe it all to you…”

…………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris @kmc1989

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hey! Do you know of an fics that are similar to Lord of the Manor by Divine Lady91? Please and thank you!! =D

Hello, I am assuming that you want the historical/lord/rich storyline? Here is the fic you mentioned, as others might want to see it. I've never read it myself, so have added it to my list!! Also below are the options for similar. ~Jen

Lord of the Manor by divinelady91

Blaine is the mysterious lord of an estate in the English countryside, rumored to have been inherited under mysterious circumstances. Announcing his intention to marry, he comes to the Hummel household, it is assumed, to claim the eldest Hummel child - Rachel - as his spouse. Once upon a time, her younger brother, Kurt, had been in love with Blaine, and he thought Blaine had feelings for him as well. Sure that those feelings have been thoroughly forgotten, and with his own intention to marry another man yet to be made known, Kurt helps to prepare his sister for the loveless match that awaits her. But what happens when Blaine arrives and tells them that they have all been mistaken?

~~~~~

A Match Well Madeby MeriKG

AU. This is the dramatic tale of two pair of star-crossed lovers. Lord Kurt Hummel III, heir to the great Barony of Lima, is the single most eligible bachelor in her Majesty’s kingdom. Lady Rachel is an aspiring daughter of the Baron of a successful territory. Lord Kurt has no interest in marrying an appropriate Lady, but his father has finally put his foot down. When Lady Rachel, along with her half brother the minor lordling Blaine, arrives at Blackbird Castle in an attempt to ensnare the reluctant young Lord, sparks fly…in all the wrong directions.

~~~~~

23 by felix-felicis33

Blaine doesn’t think he’ll ever fall in love, or get the chance to, but that all changes when he meets a man with blue eyes and a beautiful smile at a coffee shop. The world seems a brighter place when Kurt enters his life. The only problem is, he doesn’t belong here with Kurt. He belongs ninety-one years in the past, back in the year 1923.

~~~~~

This Earthly Paradise by GlassParade

In Victorian England, Kurt Hummel is a struggling artist and contemporary of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, an organization of painters, poets, and critics who strive to turn the art establishment of England on its very head. His mentor, one Dante Gabriel Rossetti, has grown tired of Kurt’s reluctance to grow as an artist, and so enter Blaine Anderson, an artists’ model of Bohemian disposition and eye-catching good looks. Can he, using rather unorthodox methods, succeed where Rossetti has not?

~~~~~

Haute Couture by LPBekka

In the year 1889 a young fashion designer by the name of Blaine Anderson is about to meet the love of his life, the most beautiful woman in Paris only to discover that she is not all she seems. Klaine, Warning: Lemon, Cross Dressing, AU

~~~~~

Whether Near to Me or Far by drunkonwriting

In 1937, Kurt Hummel, son of a rich family, and Blaine Anderson, part of the Hummel staff, have little in common beyond a shared education at Yale and a childhood friendship. The summer after their college graduation, Kurt and Blaine find themselves growing more and more attracted to each other. However, before they have a chance to be together, one night’s events and a chain of misunderstandings change their entire history and pulls them apart. As they struggle to find each other again, they’re hindered by war and the shadow of the events that ruined their lives. Klaine, Atonement!AU.

~~~~~

Westerville Abbey Verse by @hkvoyage

Blaine is the second son of the earl of Westerville, and is considered the spare heir. After his 18th birthday, he attends the London Season to fulfill his duty of finding a wife. He soon realizes he is more attracted to the new footman. Kurt, who has just arrived at Westerville Abbey to work alongside his father, becomes equally as smitten with the earl’s youngest son. Will Blaine and Kurt be able to overcome their class differences in 1910s England? Will their forbidden love survive WW1? A Downton Abbey inspired historical Klaine AU.

~~~~~~

Gilded Cage by @canarian

In the winter of 1895, Blaine Anderson, the son of a wealthy doctor, and Kurt Hummel, the son of a middle class mechanic, cross paths at a luxury hotel in the quiet seaside town of St. Augustine, Florida. With everyone and everything working to keep them apart, can they find a way to be together?

[funemployed-fangirl]

Modern Bridgerton AU

Benedict & Sophie

Benedict does the “good second son thing” and goes to Yale (where his dad went), gets his MBA, and goes to work at the family company to help his brother. But it’s not really what he wants to be doing. And even though he’s miserable at the company, he sticks with it to support his brother. He starts to develop a painting hobby, though no one in the family knows.

Sophie has a rough background, having been through the not-so-great parts of the foster care system. Once she graduates high school, she works her ass off to put herself through college, mostly working as a nanny for rich New York families. Once she graduates, she gets a job as a live-in nanny for one of those families. It’s not what she wants to be doing, but this is New York City and taking care of rich people’s kids is good money, especially when your other expenses are practically zero.

After a couple years, she runs into Colin Bridgerton in her employer’s building (it happens to be the same building where the Featheringtons live, and Colin is heading in to see his college bestie Penelope while on break), and he invites her to a party that’s happening that night. While at that party, she meets Benedict. They spend the entire night together in a quiet corner of the party, but she ends up leaving abruptly after spotting someone who will know who she is.

A couple of years later, Sophie is now a household manager for a new family. When heading home one night she gets accosted by a couple of drunk frat bros, only for Benedict to step in and help escort her home. They recognize each other from the party two years prior, and perhaps despite better judgement, start seeing each other. 

Benedict has never been much of a relationship guy, so keeps insisting/acting like this thing with Sophie is a casual hook-up situation. But casual hook-up situations rarely include midnight rooftop dinners, or private gallery showings, or meeting members of the family (look, the man is clearly head over heels in love, and not being particularly subtle about it). Finally, Sophie puts her foot down and tells him to get his head out of his ass or they're over. Benedict panics, insists he’s only looking for something casual, and they break up.

He makes the mistake of telling his family about the break-up. His mother is devastated. Daphne and Kate are pissed when they find out about the break-up. Hyacinth is inconsolable. Everyone loves Sophie, and they’re not going to let Benedict make a stupid mistake like break-up with the woman he is clearly in love with. It’s at this point Benedict gets a call from Sophie - she’s been arrested, and “I didn’t know who else to call. I need your help.”

Her employers are going through a nasty divorce and can’t afford to keep her on, so they decide to fire her. But in the shuffle, something goes missing from their apartment and Sophie gets arrested for theft. Benedict comes to her rescue, bailing her out of jail and reminding everyone that “My sister-in-law is a lawyer!”. Turns out, whatever was “stolen” has actually just been misplaced in the shuffle of moving the husband’s stuff out of the apartment.

Benedict promptly leaves the family business (though he maintains his seat on the board and almost always shows up for board meetings), and he and Sophie move to some adorable small town in Connecticut, where Benedict takes up painting full-time (turns out he’s pretty good) and Sophie runs a small art gallery. They’re just far enough away from the city that the family doesn’t visit too often (“You’re like 2 hours away. We have to drive!”), but the nieces and nephews LOVE going for long weekends at Aunt Sophie and Uncle Benedict’s house. They have a pool!

more (x)

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

All right then this is, I mean, that is like some whacked up logic. I mean, how it's so self justified, right? Like, well, how can it be wrong if, if because I'm in love and if I do something out of love, then it can't be wrong, therefore it's not wrong. It's, you know, it's like if, how can it be bad if love can't be bad and I love you, therefore I can do nothing bad. Right? It's like, this is really not healthy. But the show bends to it for the rest of, I mean this is, this is the escalation that we set up now. There's no way out. She has to go, not go to Yale. They have to get married. Like, you've, you've changed the rules of the show. You've said from now on, Cory is, you know, this love is going to defy all the adults. It's going to defy reality and and that, that is just, and it's like, whoa, okay, now you can do nothing wrong. But I, if you're doing it for love. But the point of this episode is that every adult bends like every, and then the whole reality bends. -Rider 

But they, they, they don't bend because they agree. You're right, you're in love, And, you should be together. They bend because the idea that Topanga has lived here her entire life and has grown up here, and it's only one year before she's gonna move for college anyway. And so they end up agreeing kind of like, not because you should be with Cory, but because really it's there it is a lot to ask of a 17-year-old kid to move the last year of high school and uproot their entire life if there is another solution so that she could stay. Not because I think she should stay because you and Cory should be together necessarily, but because it is an uprooting of your life. -Danielle

 The point is that they are empowered through their love, and they are, they are better than the adults. They're better than the world and they're gonna make it no matter what. And that's just, that's a romance. It's a romance story. And they're gonna and, you know, now we've set ourselves up. That's why I thought maybe God, you know, it's kind of shortsighted because now the show has to keep insisting Cory and Topanga and it has to keep digging in deeper in order to rationalize. -Rider

But it gets even crazier because if they're juniors in high school, they're engaged in a year, right? -Will

Yeah. Oh yeah. I proposed at graduation. -Danielle 

They're engaged in a year. -Will

How can it be crazy if you're in love? -Rider

You also notice that your hair your hair keeps getting wetter and then it's dry. And then it's wetter and then it's dry. - Will

It was bothering me the whole time. It's like, just stick with the fact that her hair's dry now. It's been enough time that her hair has dried Please. Or that I dried it with a hair dryer. We do not need to keep going back to having wet hair. -Danielle

So When, I say, your hair's wet. You're wearing Cory's clothes. That's like my next line.So I think that's why they had to like, oh wait, her hair's not wet enough. Go. -Rider

Make it. Her hair's a mess. Something. -Danielle

It was several levels of dampness. -Will

It was so it went, it went back and forth so many times. -Danielle 

It did. It did. -Will

I didn't notice. -Rider

Then Shawn puts two and two together. Your hair's wet. You're wearing Cory's clothes. You ran away, didn't you? She nods and he laughs She gets that from me then.... I love the drive by involvement. -Danielle

Drive by Shawn. -Will

I wonder if there's ever a draft where they tried to keep me around for any of this discussion. -Rider

[essektheylyss]

Ten Books to Know Me

@aboxthecolourofheartache reblogged her version of this from ages ago but she'd tagged whoever saw it and it sounds very fun and difficult so let's do it!

Tris's Book by Tamora Pierce - I had a habit as a kid of always picking up the second book in a series, so this was the first of Tamora Pierce's books I read. Emelan had an effect on me on a microcosmic level, I'm pretty sure. Anyway, the protag of a whole world of mine is named Tris now, in homage to Trisana Chandler, so. the particulate is still kicking around in my brain.

Ptolemy's Gate by Jonathan Stroud - Another childhood FAVE. This series as a whole started fucking with what I understood a book to be. Also the ending of it has a vice grip on me to this day, and it is probably why so much of my writing is very vibey and favors ambiguous endings.

Cyrano de Bergerac - This was the first assigned reading I had in high school that I utterly LOVED. I love this play so much, I love the tragedy, I love the quiet sorrow. This was also the first proper tragedy that I remember really loving.

The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan - This is a book of poetry and short stories by a Yale creative writing student who was killed in a car crash very soon after graduating, compiled by her professor after her death. I read it repeatedly in college; it is really quite lovely.

Underland by Robert Macfarlane - Apologies to Box who wanted reading recommendations, but she is who introduced me to this book if I remember correctly, and I have spent the two years since I read it habitually picking up Macfarlane's writing without even realizing it. Absolutely phenomenal writing.

Staying with the Trouble by Donna Haraway - @ professor Haraway I know you are a semi-retired scholar and also in the most expensive college town on earth but are you looking for research assistants cuz uh

The Mushroom at the End of the World by Anna Tsing - I actually read both Staying with the Trouble and this book on the same weekend in the start of 2021. I compromised on not including Entangled Life by Merlin Sheldrake, which I felt was very cliche of me, by including this book, which had as much of an effect. Read those three and Pantheologies by Mary-Jane Rubenstein and you will have some semblance of an idea of what the spiritual portion of my brain looks like. In the interest of not writing the same blurb four times I left the latter two off but know they make up a little microcosm of 'you could make a religion out of this' for me.

The Cat Who Saved Books by Sosuke Natskukawa - A Japanese novel about a cat who appears to a teenager after the death of his grandfather, a bookseller. I read it when I was very frustrated with trying to read contemporary fiction and it was a bright spot among that. (I am still very frustrated with the state of contemporary fiction and this book remains a light.)

Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer - Okay I read this one most recently out of this list (over the summer) but it had been on my list for a long time and it really does live up to the hype because it is just so luminous in every sense.

Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer - I had to put this one last simply because HOLY HELL. Rewired my brain. This is the goal I aspire to, this is the dream I dream, this is the highest peak among the mountain range of writing aspirations that I climb. If I can one day write anything even akin to the Southern Reach trilogy I will be ready to die, but that is an utterly unachievable goal so God's just gonna have to let me live forever, I guess.

[alyheartsjess]

what i would do if i was a gilmore girls writer:

april storyline:

i feel like instead of the april storyline liz could have given birth a bit earlier and and luke and lorelai would have to step in to help raise doula a lot. first of all we’d get to see them with a baby, which is cute. but there’s also a lot of room for conflict in deciding how to handle the situation. aka conflict that makes for good TV (”should we even have kids together if we can’t even do this?”, ”we have to make these decisions together, we’re getting married!” etc.) but isn’t life altering enough to ruin the couple. it also draws parallells to the jess storyline (which was a huge part of the earlier seasons), luke’s established family issues and his earlier disagreements with lorelai which makes luke’s character arc and the show as a whole more cohesive and satisfying. i could see this drama lasting for all of season 6. in the end because these characters have grown, they would actually figure it out somehow. and then they’d have season 7 to settle down and be happy. i actually do love april but they could have made her a young sheldon type of guest character at yale and paris could have developed a soft spot for her or something.

literati in season 3:

so i feel like they wanted to show us that this is rory’s bad boy phase. they made their relationship about dean a lot and most of the episodes centered around them were like ooooh jess did this sucky thing and dean never would have. and i get that maybe they needed to try something new and didn’t want to just recreate the boyfriend storyline with a new guy (aka see how he fits into her grandparents world, saying i love you for the first time etc). they already did the good stuff with dean so they decided to make this rory’s bad decision and only came up conflict to show us. but they didn’t even fully commit bc rory didn’t change with jess the way she did with logan. that was her bad boy phase, literati was always supposed to be something more. so instead of showing how bad of a couple this was compared to dean/rory, they could have drawn different parallels. because dean/rory was not a perfect relationship and they could have shown how in some ways why this is better for rory. what does she want? not her grandparents and not her mom. after all the buildup literati was the audience’s favorite and most anticipated couple, so i really think painting it as an unexpected but positive change of direction in rory’s journey would have been worthwhile.

like show us how when they go on dates they want to do the same things (as opposed to donna reed or rory just watching dean’s games). show us how they both want their alone time and them not calling each other every day because rory wants to study and jess has to work can be an OK thing (as opposed to the infamous 14 calls a day). show us how jess maybe doesn’t fit into lorelai and rory’s flow as well as dean did BUT how that’s also ok because rory is getting older and going off to college so this makes sense. but then also show us some god damn character development and lorelai and jess actually learning to get along (pls make that an entire episode’s storyline actually. have them be funny together and make it emotional). and show us nice scenes with luke, lorelai, rory and jess. where was all of this when they were dating??? nowhere to be seen. although i would have liked for luke not to kick jess out (i will make another post of how i would handle jess and luke’s relationship in season 3) i know it had to happen because milo had to leave. and i wouldn’t change major plot points like that because i like jess’ arc too much. but if they had shown everything i wrote here, literati’s realtionship would have canonically been stronger and jess would have at least told rory about not graduating and his dad showing up and why he felt like he had to go before he went.

dean cheating on lindsay with rory:

actually i would have had lindsay push him in the lake luke pushed jess in but oops plot twist, dean can’t swim

[fool-counter]

September first, 1989, dear diary...

I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Sh—s!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-d—! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cr—le! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Yale, or Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, will receive a full scholarship from the University of "dude let's get wasted and light our farts on fire" he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality,

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful!

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful!

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful!

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

....That's not so beautiful!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Yeah! Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Wearin' these rad ass heels!

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

September first, 1989, dear diary...

I believe I'm a good person

You know, I think there's good in everyone, but here we are first day of senior year

I look around at these kids I've known all my life and

I ask myself: What happened?

(Freak! Slut! Burnout! Bug-Eyes! Poser! Lard Ass!)

We were so tiny, happy and shiny, playing tag and getting chased

(Freak! Slut! Loser! Sh—s!)

Singing and clapping

Laughing and napping

Baking cookies, eating paste

(Bull-d—! Stuck-up! Hunchback!)

Then we got bigger

That was the trigger

Like the Huns invading Rome

Sorry!

Welcome to my school

This ain't no high school

This is the Thunderdome

Hold your breath

And count the days

We're graduating soon

(White trash!)

College will be paradise

If I'm not dead by June!

But I know, I know, life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray for a better way

If we changed back then

We could change again

We can be beautiful

Ow!

Just not today

Hey, are you okay?

Get away, nerd

(Freak! Slut! Cr—le! Homo! Homo! Homo!)

Things will get better

Soon as my letter

Comes from Yale, or Duke, or Brown

Awake from this coma

Take my diploma

Then I can blow this town

Dream of ivy-covered walls

And smoky French cafes

(Watch it!)

Fight the urge to strike a match and send this dump ablaze!

Ooops

Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker

And eighth year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick!

What did you say to me skank?

Aaah, nothing!

But I know, I know, I know

Life can be beautiful

I pray, I pray

For a better way

We were kind before

We can be kind once more

We can be beautiful

Ah! Hey Martha

Hey

Martha Dumpstock

My best friend since diapers

Are we on for movie night?

Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail

I rented The Princess Bride

Hohoho, again? Wait, don't you have it memorized right now?

What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending

Martha Dumptruck! Wide load!

Kurt Kelly, quarterback, will receive a full scholarship from the University of "dude let's get wasted and light our farts on fire" he is the smartest guy on the football team

Which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf

Hey! Pick that up right now!

I'm sorry, are you actually talking to me?

Yes, I am, I wanna know what gives you the right to pick on my friend?

You're a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant

You got a zit right there

Dear Diary

(Why~)

Why do they hate me?

Why don't I fight back?

Why do I act like such a creep?

(Why~)

Why won't he date me?

Why did I hit him?

Why do I cry myself to sleep?

(Why~!)

Students

Somebody hug me!

Somebody fix me!

Somebody save me!

Send me a sign, God!

Give me some hope here!

Something to live for!

Ah! Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And then there's the Heathers, they float above it all

I love Heather, Heather, and Heather

Heather McNamara, head cheerleader, her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings

I hate Heather, Heather, and Heather!

Heather Duke, runs the yearbook, no discernible personality,

But her mom did pay for implants

I want Heather, Heather, and Heather!

And Heather Chandler, the almighty

She is a mythic bitch

They are solid Teflon

Never bothered, never harassed

I would give anything to be like that

I'd like to be their boyfriend

That would be beautiful!

If I sat at their table, guys would notice me

So beautiful!

I'd like them to be nicer

That would be beautiful!

I'd like to kidnap a Heather and photograph her naked in an abandoned warehouse

And leave her tied up for the rats!

....That's not so beautiful!

Grow up, Heather, bulimia is so '87

Maybe you should see a doctor, Heather

Yeah, Heather, maybe I should

Ah, Heather and Heather and Heather

Perhaps you didn't hear the bell over all the vomiting

You're late for class

Heather wasn't feeling well, we're helping her

Not without a hall pass you're not. Week's detention

Actually, Miss Fleming, all four of us are out on a hall pass

Yearbook committee

I see you're all listed

Hurry up and get where you're going

This is an excellent forgery

Who are you?

Veronica Sawyer

I crave a boon

What boon?

Hm, let me sit at your table at lunch

Just once

No talking necessary

If people think you guys tolerate me, they'll leave me alone

Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips and absence notes

How about prescriptions?

Shut up, Heather

Yeah! Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast, Heather?

Sorry, Heather

For a greasy little nobody, you do have good bone structure

And a symmetrical face

If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull I'd have matching halves

That's very important

Of course, you could stand to lose a few pounds

And you know, you know, you know?

This could be beautiful

Mascara, maybe some lip gloss

And we're on our way

Get this girl some blush

And Heather, I need your brush

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Let's make her beautiful

Make her beautiful

Okay?

Okay!

Out of my way geek!

I don't want trouble

You're gonna die at 3PM!

Don't you dare touch me! Get away, pervert!

What'd I ever do to them?

Who could survive this?

I can't escape this!

I think I'm dying!

Who's that with Heather?

Whoa. Heather, Heather, Heather

And someone!

Heather, Heather, Heather

And a babe!

Heather, Heather, Heather

Veronica?!

Veronica, Veronica, Veronica

And you know

You know, you know

Life can be beautiful

You hope, you dream, you pray

And you get your way!

Ask me how it feels

Wearin' these rad ass heels!

My God, it's beautiful!

I might be beautiful

And when you're beautiful

It's a beautiful frickin' day!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica!

Heather! Heather! Heather! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica! Veronica!

fool count: 36

beautiful... beautifool... it all starts to blend together after a while...

[dragoneyes618]

The major lesson that reviewer Christine Rosen extracts from Rob Henderson’s new memoir, Troubled: A Memoir of Foster Care, Family, and Social Class, is: “The people who control a great deal of our cultural and political conversations are a rarified elite with little understanding of how most people live their lives.” (I have not yet read Troubled, though I’m eager to do so. What follows draws primarily on Rosen’s review in the Free Beacon and on Henderson’s op-ed in the Wall Street Journal.)

To comprehend the gap between those elites and the vast majority of Americans, consider a recent Rasmussen survey of what the authors call “elites” — more than one post-graduate degree, an annual income of $150,000 — and a subset of those “elites,” who attended an Ivy League school, or another elite private school, such as Stanford or University of Chicago, whom Rasmussen dubs “super-elites.”

Three-quarters of the elites and nearly 90 percent of the super elites describe their personal incomes as on the upswing, while almost none describe their incomes as on the decline. For all Americans, however, nearly twice as many view their income as worsening as view their financial situation as improving — 40 percent to 20 percent.

Despite having eventually made it to Yale as an undergraduate in his mid-twenties and later earning a PhD in psychology at Cambridge University, Henderson most certainly did not stem from the elite class from which so many of his classmates came. Students at Yale from families in the upper 1 percent of wealth are more numerous than those from the bottom 60 percent.

One of Henderson’s Yale classmates, who had attended Phillips Exeter Academy, America’s top prep school, once lectured Henderson on his white privilege — even though he is actually half Asian and half Hispanic. Yet it would take a certain obliviousness to label Henderson a child of privilege. One of his earliest memories is of his drug-addict mother being pulled away from him in handcuffs and hauled off to jail, when he was three. He never knew his father.

After that, he was shuttled between various foster homes, none of them stable, until he joined the US Air Force after high school. The discipline of the military helped him overcome some of the chaos that had characterized his life until then. But many of the old demons remained, including his penchant for self-medicating with alcohol, and he ended up in a detox program, where a talented therapist helped him work through some of those demons.

One of the central messages of Henderson’s memoir is that a non-stable childhood family life is not just bad because it hurts your chances of getting into an elite college or attaining a high-paying job later in life, but also because those raised in such an environment experience “pain that etches itself into their bodies and brains and propels them to do things in the pursuit of relief that often inflict even more harm.”

Given their difference in backgrounds, Henderson found many of the social rituals of his classmates incomprehensible. One example was when the Yale campus erupted in hysteria over an email from Erika Christakis to the students of Silliman residential college, of which she served as co-master with her husband Nicholas, suggesting that they were old enough to work out themselves which Halloween costumes to wear, without asking the administration to issue an elaborate set of rules to avoid “microaggressions” or “cultural appropriation” — e.g., a white student wearing a sombrero. After the childhood and teenage years he experienced, a fellow student in a sombrero did not seem like such a big deal to Henderson.

Erika was eventually force to resign her position in Silliman and on the Yale faculty, much to Henderson’s disappointment, as he had been eager to take her course on early childhood development. Meanwhile, the black undergraduate who confronted Nicholas Christakis in the Silliman courtyard, in an expletive-laden tirade, in front of a group of students cheering her on, was given an award for extracurricular excellence at the next Yale graduation.

Henderson offers an invaluable term to describe the opinions expressed so fiercely and with no tolerance of opposing views by his fellow undergrads: “luxury beliefs.” Luxury beliefs, as Henderson defines them, “confer status on the upper class at little cost, while often inflicting costs on the lower classes.” The conspicuous displays of wealth and leisure activities that broadcast elite status in Thorstein Veblen’s time have been replaced by opinions and beliefs that give proof of one’s elite education. After all, Henderson notes ironically, how many non-Ivy-League-educated Americans can easily toss off terms like “cisgender” or “heteronormative”?

Mantras such as “defund the police” are luxury beliefs because their impact on those living in gated communities or the most affluent neighborhoods is likely to be negligible. Henderson comments about the policies implemented to combat white privilege, “It won’t be Yale graduates who are harmed. Poor white people will bear the brunt.”

He recounts the story of a refugee from the North Korean police state, attending Columbia University, who raised concerns about the anti-free speech movement on campus, only to be taunted with “Go back to Pyongyang” on a social media site for Ivy League students. Normally, nothing will earn faster exile to social media purgatory than telling an immigrant, “Go back to where you came from,” but this particular refugee was deemed deserving of insult, writes Henderson, because she “undermined these people’s view of themselves as morally righteous.”

Incidentally, I would rank as near the top of “luxury beliefs” the familiar chants about Israeli genocide and apartheid. They cost their proponents nothing, yet effectively broadcast one’s moral righteousness and humanity, not to mention elite education, especially when terms like settler-colonialism and intersectionality are thrown into the mix.

Henderson is primarily concerned with the way that bad ideas — e.g., dismissal of matrimony and monogamy as passé, decriminalization of drugs — filter downstream in the culture, where they wreak havoc. As Charles Murray thoroughly documents in Breaking Apart, rates of marriage, children living in two-parent homes, and attendance at religious services have remained more or less constant in the most affluent quintile of the population, while plummeting in the lower quintiles. But on elite campuses, marriage is more likely to be portrayed as a prison for women, just as the same students for whom the words “capitalist oppression” roll trippingly off their tongues can be found the same day lining up for interviews with Goldman Sachs.

But the danger posed by the holders of luxury beliefs lies not only in their pernicious cultural influence. Holders of those views are quite comfortable with the use of coercion to advance their beliefs. Four-fifths of the super elites, interviewed in the Rasmussen poll cited above, would ban gas-powered cars. Just under 90 percent support strict rationing of meat, gas, and electricity, and 70 percent would ban all nonessential air travel.

The impact of these restrictions on the most affluent would likely be relatively small. They can afford electric cars, and would buy carbon offsets to circumvent some of the most onerous rationing or purchase them on the black market. And dollars to donuts that their air travel would be deemed necessary. The impact of such policies on the less affluent doesn’t figure into their calculations.

Elite campuses have been focal points for the limitations on free speech, and over half of the super elites educated on those campuses describe Americans as possessing too much freedom. That goes with a general contempt for markets, which allocate equal weight to the choices of the unenlightened and the enlightened.

That concern with “too much” freedom goes together with a remarkable trust in government among 70 percent of the elites and 90 percent of the super elites. Government is beneficent, in their eyes, because it can force people to do what the enlightened have determined is good. The elites know that their hands will be on the levers of coercion, particularly administrative agencies. (I would wager that the majority of those lower-level staffers staging mini-rebellions in the White House and the State Department over American support for Israel’s war on Hamas are holders of elite credentials.) Ronald Reagan’s quip, “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, ‘I’m from the government, and I’m here to help,’ ” does not resonate with the elites.

Sixty years before Rob Henderson first stepped onto the Yale campus, another man already in his mid-twenties entered Harvard as an undergraduate. Like Henderson, Thomas Sowell came from a deprived background and served in the military before entering college. He was born in the Jim-Crow-era South, in a home without electricity, and served in the Marines during the Korean War, after dropping out of high school.

The 1969 black student riots at Cornell, where Sowell was an economics professor, and subsequent pressure at UCLA to lower his standards for students, soured Sowell on academia, which he left for a position as senior fellow at the Hoover Institution almost half a century ago.

Over 50 years and almost 40 books, most still in print and many of them standard texts in economics, and ten volumes of collected columns, Sowell has leveled a sustained critique at the dominant intellectual doctrines of our day, in particular those of his fellow black intellectuals, whom he views as having spectacularly failed the black masses by advocating for policies that may serve their interests but not those of the large majority of American blacks. (Only about one-third of his writing concerns issues of race, and he has penned classic works in intellectual, social, and economic history.) Jason Riley’s intellectual biography of Sowell is appropriately titled Maverick.

In a short new work, Social Justice Fallacies, which I would commend to every college student and social justice warrior, Sowell fleshes out many of Henderson’s observations, including the detachment of elite theorists from the lives of those whom they purport to advocate, and their sometimes subtle, sometimes not, contempt for those whom they view as their inferiors.

The second chapter compares the Progressive movement of the early decades of the 20th century to present-day progressives. At first glance, it would appear that little connects the two groups, apart from their position on the political left of their day. A strong streak of racial determinism characterized the early progressives, and many of their leading lights fretted about the disastrous impact of an influx of people of inferior races to America. By contrast, today’s progressives start from the premise that there are no differences between races and that all differential outcomes are a result of systemic racism.

In the earlier period, Professor Edward Ross, the chairman of the American Sociological Society, warned that America was headed toward “race suicide” by virtue of being inundated by people of “inferior types.” American universities and colleges taught hundreds of courses in eugenics, defined as the reduction or prevention of the survival of people considered genetically inferior. The most famous economist of the 20th century, John Maynard Keynes, was founder of the Eugenics Society at Cambridge.

Irving Fisher of Yale, the leading monetary economist of the period, advocated for the isolation or sterilization of those inferior types. Or as Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes put it, “Three generations of idiots are enough.” Sowell remarks upon how casually Fisher spoke of imprisonment of those who had committed no crime and the denial of normal life to all regarded as inferior. Not by accident did Hitler yemach shemo term a work on eugenics by Madison Grant, a leading conservationist and advocate for national parks and the protection of endangered species, his Bible.

At first glance, today’s progressives could not seem further removed from their namesakes. They are the opposite of racial determinists. In the modern progressive creed, all differences in outcomes between people of different races can have one and only one explanation: discrimination by the majority group.

Despite the opposite views on race, Sowell finds important continuities between the progressive movement of the early 20th century and that of today. Today’s progressives share, according to Sowell, their predecessors’ aversion to confronting empirical evidence that challenges their fixed verities, and a similar inclination to respond to empirical challenges with ad hominem insults — racist being the most powerful — rather than with counter-arguments and evidence.

And they are similarly inclined to use government power to coerce the less enlightened to behave in accord with their “expert” opinions, and too frequently oblivious to or unconcerned with the impact of their policy prescriptions on those constituting the “lower orders,” in their minds.

Woodrow Wilson, perhaps the leading figure of the Progressive era, served as president of Princeton before being elected president. Like many of his fellow progressives, he was an unabashed racist who insisted that black employees in government offices be physically segregated.

But what joins him to present-day progressives is his enormous confidence in government by experts. He presided over a massive expansion of the federal government and the creation of many of the largest administrative agencies, run by “experts.” He viewed the Constitution as outmoded for a modern age. But not to worry, government agencies headed by experts would usher in a “new freedom,” albeit not quite the freedom of a constitution limiting the power of government and enshrining individual rights.

Today, DEI bureaucracies on almost every campus seek to enforce right-thinking and enter into every aspect of university governance, including faculty hiring. Those mushrooming bureaucracies account for a large part in the explosion in higher education costs.

Sowell takes aim at the racial theories of the early progressives and contemporary ones alike. He seeks to empirically refute the claim that each race has a different “ceiling” for intelligence. (If anecdotes were data, his own genius would serve as refutation.) He met with and debated Professor Albert Jensen, one of the leading modern proponents of that view.

Sowell argues that environment, not inherent ceilings, underlies much of the difference in IQ between races. For instance, those raised in the Hebrides Isles and the hill country of Kentucky, though of pure Anglo-Saxon stock, have IQs comparable to American blacks. And like American blacks, their IQs tend to decline from childhood to adulthood. Social isolation appears to be the key. Sowell cites another study that blacks raised by white adoptive parents had IQs six points above the national average.

As an amusing example of the fallibility of IQ tests as measures of inherent capabilities, Sowell quotes Carl Brigham, who developed the SAT test. Brigham claimed on the basis of army mental tests administered in World War I that the myth that Jews are on average highly intelligent had been refuted. At least he had the good grace to admit by 1930, as Jews excelled on standardized tests, that his earlier conclusions had been without merit, and had failed to take into account that most immigrant children were raised in non-English-speaking homes.

Sowell is equally effective skewering the present-day progressive belief that all differences in outcomes are explained as products of racial discrimination. He chafes at the resultant cult of victimization that stands in the way of examination of cultural behavioral factors that prevent black advancement.

He insists that behaviors count and explain a great deal of the differences in income levels between different racial groups. For instance, black married couples have experienced poverty rates of less than 10 percent for decades, which is less than the national poverty rate for all families. And black married couples have higher income levels than white single-parent families. The problem is that black marriage rates overall are lower.

It is often said that the high illegitimacy rate in the black community is attributable to the “legacy of slavery.” But for nearly a century after slavery, the rates were relatively low. In 1940, they were one-quarter of what they are today. Sowell suggests that the rapid expansion of the welfare state in the 1960s explains much of that rise, as births to single mothers have also risen rapidly in Sweden, the welfare paradise, where there is no legacy of slavery.

Evidence cited to show discrimination against black children by “white supremacists” — e.g., discipline rates two and a half times those of white students — proves the opposite, Sowell suggests. For white students are themselves twice as likely to be disciplined as Asian students. Perhaps, then, disruptive behavior, rather than discrimination, explains differential rates of discipline. To get rid of school discipline in the name of equity leads to schools in which it is impossible to learn, and ends up harming black students, he argues. Attacks on discriminatory school discipline is thus another one of those “luxury beliefs,” like defunding the police.

One of the major causes of the burst housing bubble of 2007, which Sowell predicted, was government pressure on lenders to greatly reduce credit requirements for mortgages. The regulators’ theory was that blacks were being discriminated against in the mortgage market, as evidenced by the higher rate of rejection for black mortgage applicants. The only problem with the discrimination hypothesis, Sowell shows, was that black-owned banks rejected black mortgage applicants at even higher rates.

The hypothesis that different income levels are exclusively a function of discrimination founders on the fact that other minority groups — e.g., Asians — have, on average, incomes well above the medium national income, and dark-skinned Asian Indians earn on average $39,000 more per annum than full-time, year-round white workers.

The victimization narrative, in Sowell’s eyes, is not only unhelpful but damaging to blacks, as it shifts the focus from one of encouraging the types of behaviors that are associated with success. In the immediate wake of slavery, and for nearly a century afterwards, almost all graduates of all-black Dunbar High in Washington, D.C., went on to college. Black and Hispanic kids in New York City charter schools are six times as likely to pass city math proficiency exams as their counterparts in the regular public schools. Why? Sowell wants to know.

Focusing on the behaviors that foster success rather than wallowing in a narrative of discrimination — which he personally experienced in his younger years and does not deny still exists today — is for Sowell the key to black advancement. And that requires more empirical study and less airy theorizing.

Many of the panaceas that derive from au courant theories have been conclusively refuted on the ground. Black political power in most of America’s largest cities, for instance, has done little to change the lives of the vast majority of black citizens. And affirmative action has, in Sowell’s view, reinforced stereotypes of black inferiority, among whites and, even worse, among blacks themselves, while doing little to help inner city blacks.

Without a clear-eyed attention to empirical evidence and an openness to debate based on facts and logic, in Sowell’s terminology, we are forever consigned to the realm of “luxury beliefs.”

[dd-is-my-guiltypleasure]

Born in New York City in 1960, David Duchovny graduated from Princeton with an AB in English Literature before earning a Master of Arts in the same subject from Yale. Following a small role in David Lynch’s Twin Peaks he won the starring role of Fox Mulder in 1993 on the global smash hit UFO series The X-Files opposite Gillian Anderson. From 2007 to 2014 – a period which coincided with treatment for sex addiction – he played troubled womaniser Hank Moody in Californication. He’s also written five novels and released three music albums. He has two children, 24-year-old actress West and 21-year-old son Kyd with his ex-wife Téa Leoni.

Best childhood memory?

I think it’s probably just being in the park playing football or baseball with my dad, in New York City, 21st Street and Second Avenue where I grew up. It conjures up memories of being with my dad and enjoying the sort of simple communication that you can have through a game. I did the same sort of thing with my own son, who was good at playing baseball for a while.

Best day of your life?

There’s no one specific day but in my mind’s eye I can see a beach and my kids. I don’t know if it’s a particular day I’m thinking of; it’s just one of those summer days. It could be on holiday, or it could be in the States; it’s really just that feeling of no structure, summertime and no school for the kids; being in the water and feeling the waves and having to protect them a little and teach them about the water.

Best moment on a TV set?

About two or three years after I started on The X-Files, I did the Larry Sanders Show with my friend Garry Shandling although he wasn’t my friend at the time. He didn’t know me, but I loved his show. The producers told me, “Oh, Gary loves you.” Then I got there and it was clear that he didn’t have any idea who I was, which was fine. We did this scene – half written, half improvised, maybe – and Gary said, “How old are you?” I said, “32” and he said, “What took you so long?” and that felt like a blessing as to me he was the king of a certain kind of comedic performance.

Best Hollywood party?

I didn’t really go to many, especially at the peak of the X-Files years. For five years the show was shot in Vancouver and in many ways, it was a blessing to be out of that world, but I had some interesting, if nerve-racking moments at awards ceremonies. I remember going to the Golden Globes and being sat on the same table as a really good friend of mine, director Bart Freundlich and his wife Julianne Moore. My ex-wife Téa was sitting there, and Téa went to the bathroom, and she came back and said, “Did I miss anything?” I said, “Yeh, they announced my award. I won and you missed the whole thing.” Which was not true at all. I only kept her in the dark for a couple of seconds as it became rapidly apparent that I had no statue.

Best moment of self-realisation?

In many ways we remain children no matter how old we get and in many ways a lot of my reactions were based on childhood stuff; not necessarily something that I am ever going to change, but something to be aware of and keep an eye on. It’s the fine line between realising that a lot of your personality was constructed a long time ago, before you were really smart about these things, or knew about these things. And that that’s the same for everybody – but that’s not an excuse to continue reacting like a child. So, for me, life is this balancing act between honouring that kid and also not letting him drive the bus.

Best personal characteristic?

Perseverance. There have been many occasions when I’ve felt like giving up on everything, but I didn’t. I don’t give up. I guess I gave up trying to be a professional athlete at some point. I loved baseball and basketball and before getting to college I still had secret dreams of going pro.

Best decision?

This is going to sound negative towards education, but to leave graduate school and try to find out what else I wanted to do aside from being an academic. Not to denigrate academics but, for me, that was a hard and good decision although a scary one. I was a dissertation away from my PhD. I had done four years as an undergraduate, nearly four years of graduate work. Eight years towards a certain life; a good third of my life pointing towards a certain goal and then saying, “You know what, I’m gonna go do this thing, where none of that matters.” At the time it felt a little like I was throwing it all away. But in the end I think I’ve honoured those academic years and they also fed me.

Worst childhood memory?

My parents’ divorce. I was 12, which wasn’t a good age – but it’s never a good age. It’s hard to say exactly what the impact was on me, but it was profound. And I think having gone through it, as a parent as well, it’s taught me what I might not have been able to process at the time: it really pulls the rug out of a kid’s life. You can sugar-coat it all you want but it’s a traumatic experience. It’s not the end of anything and it’s not like you can’t recover from it but you do have to acknowledge that the world turned upside down. It’s hard to say how my life would have turned out had it not happened but I think I’m thankful for being hurt. I’m thankful for the wound because that’s what makes you human and makes you an artist. If you can survive it and remain empathetic it makes you aware of other people’s hurt. And without that, I don’t think I’d have anything.

Worst moment of your life?

Telling my kids about getting divorced. I still can’t think about it without feeling terrible. It’s actually a memory that I push out if it comes up. I don’t want to think about it. It happened nearly 10 years ago now, so the wound has healed a little but it’s not my wound; it’s theirs. And that’s why I push it away. I’ll never know it.

Worst moment on a TV or film set?

I wouldn’t want to name the project because I wouldn’t want to hurt the people involved. Probably my feeling of being in the wrong place at the wrong time was more about me than it was about the project or them. But, yeah, and that’s just a terrible, terrible feeling. I’ve certainly had periods of self-doubt and I very nearly got fired on an early job. They gave me dailies to take home to see how bad I was. I wasn’t great but I think I was just young and green. I just needed some more gentle direction.

Worst moment of self-realisation?

I guess I have two self-conceptions. One is that I’m really talented and can do a lot of stuff easily. The other is that I’m not very talented at all and I have to work, work, work hard to do anything. And I believe I’m both of those things. It’s a fight when I’m not working. When I’m working, and I have something to work on; to put my perseverance and hard work into, then I’m healthy and I’m good. When I’m not working, I can be a little on edge. And I know this sounds like a humble brag, but it’s my reality. Obviously, I do a lot of stuff, but I feel lazy. I always feel like I’m not doing enough or working hard enough. Whether it’s in work or life, I always feel like I want to go and rest, to switch off and tune out. I also want to give up half the time, which is why that tendency in myself of perseverance is my greatest trait. 

Worst thing anyone has ever said about you?

It would have to be something that I thought was untrue – and there have certainly been plenty of untrue stories written about me. But then, I’m willing to entertain anything. Whatever you say to me, I’ll entertain it for a minute, and I feel like that’s a strong point for me. It’s a painful thing to be that open but whatever is said I’ll consider the source then come up with my own opinion.

Worst decision?

I think even some of my worst decisions have been beneficial. When I took the X-Files job I’d also accepted a small part on a TV movie, and I had to let the director of that project down because the dates of the two projects conflicted. I told my agents and obviously they said, ‘Take the X-Files’, which meant breaking my word, which I wasn’t comfortable with. But, clearly, ultimately my agents’ decision was absolutely correct. If it had been left to me, I would have made the wrong decision.

[hanquokkasgirl]

Will We Last?

Chapter 3

    It was that tall guy from the airport again. What was he doing here. He wasn't alone this time, but surrounded by people talking in their phones, or just texting. Most of them looking really stylish, but wearing masks to cover themselves up.

Before we could say anything else to each other, he was shoved into the elevator and I was pushed out. Did he work here too? No, that can't be possible, there has to be another reason on why he's here. I started walking towards the door once the initial shock of all of this wore off, and Mr. Kim was already waiting for me there.

"Ms. Hart, ready to go?" He said while holding the car door open. "We're just waiting for Ms. Han and I'll take you both to your apartment." Ms.Han huh? I guess she will be my roommate.

We waited for around 15 minutes until a rushed girl, no more than 21 years old appears through the door. "OMG... I'm so sorry." She was dressed like a harajuku girl. Me being from a world where people judge you from the simplest thing that you wear even if you're a complete stranger, this was a complete cultural shock. "I thought I had more time to get here but gosh knows i'm a late person, lol. Hi! I'm Soo-Jin." She said while reaching her hand... I think for me to shake it.

"I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you Soo-Jin." Please don't let this girl be a blabbermouth that won't shut up ever. I need my silence from time to time.

Mr. Kim started driving us to our apartment, meanwhile Soo-Jin and I started to get to know each other a little bit. "Oh, don't mind this. It's just a costume. I was helping out a friend with a photoshoot for his photography class." She said chuckling and taking her wig off. Thank goodness, not to be all judgy but, I can't with that vibe.

"It's okay, I just found it... interesting." I said while looking at my phone. I still couldn't text Clarissa since I had to get an internet connection and a new phone number that will work here. Hopefully our place is close enough to a convenience store where I can purchase a sim card. "How long have you been here?" I just tried making conversation, I was never good at making small talk.

"Oh, I'm from here, but I did study in the US for a few years. I'm in college at Yeonsei University, I'm studying a fashion major with a international relationship minor." Wow this girl is smart. From what I've researched about South Korea is that Yonsei is like the Yale or Harvard of here.

"Oh wow, that's amazing. I graduated from NYU back in the states. Fashion major and Make Up and Special Effects minor. So, you're going to be studying and working?" I said I wasn't good at the small talk.

"Yeah, this is more like a paid internship? I think that's how Americans call it. Well, anyway, it's just a stepping stone into what I want to accomplish. My own fashion line" She said that so passionately that it actually made me wonder. Do I want something like that too? I've always saw fashion as something that came to me easily, but not something that I would've pursued as a long term thing. But it is something that makes me passionate. Have my own fashion and makeup line, maybe my own store that gets to be a worldwide hit someday. I don't know why it never ocurred to me before.

"That sounds amazing. Actually, it's something that I kinda want to do as well, my own fashion and make-up line." I said smiling nostalgically. Clarissa always told me that I could be doing that with what I studied and with her help of knowing her business major,  maybe one day it could become a reality.

"Ladies, we have arrived." Mr. Kim said from the driver's seat. It was a 20 minute drive... I think. "This building is only 15 minutes away from the company or 5 subway stops." I was right more or less.

Mr. Kim opened the door for us, leading us to the building. It looks like we were underground, the parking garage. "Wow, this place is stunning! I can't believe we're going to be living so close to Hongdae." She said excitedely.

"We're in the Ichon neighborhood. This are the Park Tower Apartments. Yours is apartment 2013, floor 20. All your belonging are already there." He said once the elevator came. He bowed and left, meanwhile we were being lifted to floor number 20.

"So... is this Hongdae thing really popular?"

"O-M-G. I completely forgot that you're not from here. So Hongdae is like Party Town, all the best clubs are there. You can even see some idols there from time to time." We got off the elevator on the 20th floor, now searching for apartment 2013. "I once went and saw this one idol from BigBang, a kpop group, that well now he's off to jail so I guess that's not a glory story. Nevermind then, that was a long time ago. A-ha here we are." She put the code in and opened the door for the both of us. This apartment was huge! Like two times the size of what Clarissa and I had back in New York. Each bedroom had their own bathroom, a necessity at this point.

    "wow, this place is so..."

    "incredible." Soo-Jin finished the sentence for me. We looked at each other and chuckled.

    As soon as we each claimed our rooms, I saw that in the kitchen there was a piece of paper with the wifi password and everything we would need for our stay here. Soo-Jin decided to go grab takeout since she obviously was more familiar with the area than I was, and in the meantime I put the wifi into my phone and called Clarissa. At this point it was already 3PM here in Korea, but with the time difference it would have been around 10pm or 11pm of the day before in New York... will I ever get used to this time difference? I hope so.

    "Yelloup?" The voice on the other side sounded a bit muffled and with music in the back.

    "I am gone for less than 24 hours and you're already eating pizza and listening to your emo music, aren't you?" I said smiling into the phone. She always did that whenever one of us left town for a day or two, but this time it was going to be longer than that. Oh gosh, how am I gonna live without this... specimen of a human.

    "hey! I am not gonna pause my life just because you're gone. Also I am BLASTING some Pierce The Veil right now... so fuck you" ah I miss that sailor mouth of hers already.

    "Even though I'm thousands of miles away, put that dollar in the jar. Well, anyway, you won't believe the apartment I got. It's so big and I got my own bathroom. Also a new roommate and even tho..." she cut me off mid sentence

    "New roommate? I was never nothing about this roommate thing, I am your one and only best friend."

    "Don't worry" I said chuckling in the phone. "She's still in college so I don't think we'll even spend that much time together. Plus yes, you're my one and only. Jealous much?" I threw myself in the bed, I just made it but who cares at this point.

    "Not jealous... just cautious. So, anything interesting happening over there yet?" I heard how she was grabbing another slice of pizza. I need to cut her off right now, or else she's capable of eating the entire thing herself and regret it tomorrow. Like a hangover, but with food.

    "Well, kind of. But first go put away that pizza, or you'll regret it tomorrow."

    "Okay, done. Now tell me, tell me." She made herself comfortable in her bed with MooMoo. Oh MooMoo...

    "Well, there was this incident at the airport. When I was getting out, I kind of crushed into this guy and I fell flat on my ass. He did help me up but he was surrounded by bodyguards. And there were a ton of girls screaming for him, with camera people and the flashes made me all dizzy..."

"Oh gosh, you didn't catch epilepsy or something right?" I swear to... how did this girl got two majors, I will never know.

"Uhm... honey, you can't catch epilepsy. That's a neurological disorder." And while I was saying that sentence I heard Soo-Jin arriving with something that smelled incredible. "Well anyway, as I was saying. He helped me up but he was surrounded. Anyway, I found the person picking me up from the airport, and he brought me straight to the company to finalize some of the contracts. And who was there when I was about to leave to come to the apartment? Airport boy!" I say turning around in my bed, now facing the ceiling. I should buy some fake vines as some decorations.

"No way! Does he work there too?"

"That's the thing, I have no idea. He was pushed into the elevator while I was being pushed out once we made eye contact and he was gone again. I don't know to which floor."

"You've been gone less than 24 hours and your love life has already improved. I mean, after what happened with..." I had to cut her off this time. I wanted no memory of said person. Not even his name mentioned. He caused enough pain already close to me, I don't need him causing any more pain from afar.

"You should know better than mentioning his name right now." A single tear managed to escape from my eye. "Well anyway Issa, I gotta go, Soo-Jin brought lunch and I'm starving. I'll call you later." And with that I hung up.

My ex-boyfriend shouldn't have been a topic of conversation at all, not even after... what happened. I've been trying to leave that behind me and not think about it in the past nine months, I'm not going to let it invade my mind now.

"Food's ready!" Soo-Jin had prepared everything over here in the dining table.

"Oh my god, how are we gonna eat all of this?" There were a bunch of small little dishes around the table, and two main plates I suppose is where each of us will be seating.

"Oh! You've never eaten korean food before?" I move my head from side to side. Truth was, I was more a person of habit, that why Clarissa always knew what dishes to get me from which place and exactly the amount of spicyness I needed for each. "Well... this little dishes are called banchans, they are more like side dishes that you add to your plate. This, the main dish..."

"Entree" I said when I saw that she was struggling to find the word.

"Thanks. This is Bibimbap. Basically is rice with some meat and veggies, not spicy because I don't know how spicy you like. And all the banchans are spicy." She explained everything very well.

"I will try everything. I like a little spice on my food just not too much." And we had a nice lunch together. The first of many together I hope.

"Sorry if I was listening before but were you talking about a boy you found in the elevator in the company?" She said after finishing her plate, I was barely halfway done.

"Oh yeah. It was nothing, I had just seen him at the airport and then we crashed into each other again at the company. But it was nothing, really." I truly believed that this was going to be nothing.

"Well, he wasn't nothing. He's part of your assignment. He is part of one of the most successful groups of the entire company. That was Song Min-Gi, from Ateez." She said almost... fangirling?

Please let that not be true, I can't feel attracted to someone I will work for.