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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

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Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous #the new post editor is weird but I like that I can make things pink

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carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory · 4 years ago

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The Story of Oil in Western Pennsylvania: What, How, and Why?

by Hannah Smith

I am a fries-on-salad, haluski dinner, dairy farm heritage kind of Western Pennsylvanian. I grew up near Venango and Crawford County and had a rural childhood. I went to a small school with about 300 kids in K-6th grade. Around 4th grade, I remember taking a field trip to Titusville, Pennsylvania. I remember seeing the familiar road signs and buildings as our bus gassed along the back roads. I had family in the Titusville and Oil City area, so it was a familiar route to take with my parents. I remember thinking, even at that young age, that the area looked worn and just, well, tired. But I was too young to grasp how this tired little town’s geology had changed the global economy and course of human history. When I was older, I pursued a degree in geology and began to understand more about my local community.

Our field trip took us to Titusville, Pennsylvania to visit Drake’s Well, the first commercial oil well in the United States. The site is named after the well’s driller, Edwin L. Drake who in 1859 struck oil outside of Titusville for the Seneca Oil Company. The company took the name from the Seneca Nation, one of the original Five Nations of the Haudenosaunee or Iroquois Confederacy, who had long made use of the resource Drake sought by skimming naturally-occurring slicks of petroleum, or unrefined oil, from the surface of local waters. These Indigenous people, who were removed from their native lands in the 1700s, 1800s, and 1900s, did not benefit from the Seneca Oil Company.

In the early 1800s oil was an unwanted by-product from salt wells (wells used to mine salt), and before that, a traditional medicine. In small doses, oil was used to treat respiratory diseases, epilepsy, scabies, and other ailments¹. Even today, chemicals made from the refining of petroleum are responsible for many of our modern medicines. Ointments, antihistamines, antibacterials, cough syrups, and even aspirin are created from chemical reactions created from petrochemicals².

However, the purpose of Drake’s Well was to produce oil for refining into kerosene for lamps, and thereby provide an alternative to the whale oil then used to illuminate homes and workplaces. Salt wells used water to dissolve salt source rock, and then carry the resulting brine through piping to the surface where it would be evaporated to leave salt as a solid residue. Although this method works for producing salt, it was far less efficient for producing oil. Productive oil drilling required new techniques, and one of Drake’s most important innovations was the “drive pipe,” sections of cast iron pipe driven into the shaft to protect the drill bit from water and cave-ins. Through experimentation and innovation, on August 27, 1859, Drake struck oil when his drill reached a depth of 69.5 feet.

While Drake’s Well was not the most productive, or largest oil well, the Titusville site is globally significant because it kick-started the petroleum drilling revolution that eventually changed global economies and environments. While Edwin Drake lived a hard life even after his discovery, he is still considered the father of the modern petroleum practices and industry³.

When my field trip class arrived at the Drake’s Well Museum I remember seeing an odd looking wooden building with an awkward chimney-like structure on one side. We were led through single-file so everyone could get a look at the steel machinery used in the drill, and the pipes that dispersed oil into wooden barrels clustered in the building. In my 10-year-old brain there is no way I could properly fathom that this discovery was related to many of the comforts and conveniences I took for granted in my life, such as cars, heating, electricity, plastics, medicines, and even the asphalt roads that we drove on. Why was Titusville special? More specifically, why did western Pennsylvania have oil in the ground?

From about 490 to 360 million years ago, during the span of geological time known as the Ordovician Period and Devonian Period, most of what is now Pennsylvania was an ocean basin teeming with life. Pre-Appalachian Mountains systems eroded over time and deposited sediment of sand, silt, and mud that mixed on the seafloor with the dead plant material. Currents at the ocean bottom were minimal, leaving the accumulating sediments and organic material relatively undisturbed and oxygen-free. Without oxygen, bacteria that normally break down organic material could not act. A thick, black, anoxic ooze formed, preserving the organic material. Over millions of years, forces caused by plate tectonics generated enough heat and pressure to compact the sediments into rock and “cook” the organic material into petroleum.

If you’re from western Pennsylvania, you’ve probably heard of the Marcellus and Utica shales. The natural gas extracted from these rock units formed in a similar way to petroleum but was subjected to a much longer period of heat and pressure.

With Edwin Drake’s success, and layers of oil-bearing rock relatively close to the surface, Titusville boomed. The year Drake drilled his first oil well, Titusville only had 250 residents. However, by 1865 the population increased to 10,000. Nearby Pithole City, now a ghost town, had 50 hotels during the oil peak of the area around 1866. This boom was short lived as other drilling companies began operations in the area and excess production lowered oil prices. Companies picked up to look elsewhere almost as quickly as they appeared⁵. While Titusville boomed and busted, the oil industry itself was growing. Drake drilled for a product to compete with whale oil, but the oil industry underwent phenomenal growth because the demand for its product grew as a lubricant for engines and many other types of machines, a resource for heating on a distributed scale, and as a refined fuel for developing motorized vehicles. Two World Wars during the first half of the 20th Century and the population explosion of the 1950s further increased demand for petroleum. During the Century’s latter half advancements in oil drilling technology made ocean drilling platforms a reality, and with them an increase in oil production as well as an increase in negative impacts due to devastating oil spills.

As of 2016, the world consumed over 97 million barrels daily⁶. So what does combusting 97 million barrels of oil a day, a resource from below the surface, mean for the Earth’s atmosphere? The burning of fossil fuels produces greenhouse gases such as carbon dioxide, methane, nitrous oxide, and fluorinated gases. Greenhouse gases absorb heat from the sun that the earth’s surface reflects back out into the atmosphere, similar to how a blanket traps in body heat. Burning fossil fuels causes climate change by increasing the total amount of greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, thickening the “blanket” around the earth, and increasing the global average temperature. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), in 2019 greenhouse gas CO₂ emissions totaled 33 gigatons, or 1 billion metric tons, or about the weight of 1.5 billion school buses⁸. Climate change is responsible for increased frequency and severity of weather disasters, wildfires, and flooding, to name a few negative impacts. The abundant CO₂ in our atmosphere equilibrates with and diffuses into our oceans, causing the water to become more acidic and eroding the calcium carbonate structures of coral and other marine organisms. Climate change does not just affect wildlife, it also affects the lives of Pennsylvanians. In Pennsylvania climate change is likely to lead to increasing home insurance rates, higher taxes to replace infrastructure, longer allergy seasons, increasing heat stroke rates in citizens, rising food costs due to crops damaged by erratic weather and higher temperatures, and decreasing water quality and availability due to large storms causing water contamination⁷.

Early organisms were buried by sediment 488 to 360 million years ago and altered into petroleum by heat and pressure. For thousands of years, Earth’s petroleum reserves were largely untouched. Innovator Edwin Drake changed petroleum’s role by successfully drilling the first commercial oil well in North America that August day in 1859. Petroleum became a global commodity, eventually fueling a fast paced modern life. Now in the 21st century, the burning of fossil fuels, such as petroleum, is causing worldwide rapid climate change.

When I was on that field trip to Drake’s Well in 4th grade, we did not discuss the global or local implications of petroleum. This resource is responsible for many of the day to day conveniences that have come to define contemporary life, but it also feeds environmental change that is forcing a “new normal,” and will cause an existential threat to humanity. I could not have fathomed that this global resource had its start in my own family’s backyard. I think that Drake’s Well is a good reminder that Earth-changing innovations can happen anywhere. I don’t think Drake could have predicted the scale to which his discovery would change society and the environment over the next 160 years, in the same way that most people do not realize how their small individual actions are affecting the larger social-ecological systems, and sustainability of all life on Earth. Although individual actions can negatively affect Earth, they can also be positive. Who knows, the next innovation to combat anthropogenic climate change may be happening in your backyard. Wind and solar farms have been developing and growing throughout Pennsylvania since 2007, providing an alternative option for electric energy use.

I started having more appreciation for the Earth Sciences as I got older. This eventually led me to obtaining a bachelor’s degree in geology, interning with the National Park Service at the Hagerman Fossil Beds in Idaho, and working in mapping for a few years before returning to school for illustration and design in hopes to marry the sciences and arts together. While obtaining my geology degree I met my now husband who has a Master’s in Structural Geology, and worked in the natural gas field for five years before making the switch to environmental geology. Our family's income was supported by the fossil fuels industry for a time, and therefore we understand a decent amount of the ethics and controversy that is in the industry. However we are both very invested in the earth sciences and look forward to more sustainable tech preserving a better environment for the future.

Hannah Smith is an intern in the Section of Anthropocene Studies. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

References:

1 Early Medicinal Uses of Petroleum 2015

https://daily.jstor.org/petroleum-used-medicine/

2 Modern Uses for Petroleum in Medicine 2019

https://context.capp.ca/articles/2019/feature_petroleum-in-real-life_pills

3 Drake’s Well History of Petroleum 2016

https://www.aoghs.org/petroleum-pioneers/american-oil-history/

4 Description of petroleum formation 2014

http://elibrary.dcnr.pa.gov/GetDocument?docId=1752503&DocName=ES8_Oil-Gas_Pa.pdf

5 The boom and bust cycle of the oil industry 2015

https://www.nytimes.com/2015/04/23/business/energy-environment/oil-makes-a-comeback-in-pennsylvania.html

6 World Oil Statistics 2016-Current

https://www.worldometers.info/oil/

7 List of the Effects of Climate Change on People and how to protect yourself 2019

https://blogs.ei.columbia.edu/2019/12/27/climate-change-impacts-everyone/

8 International Energy Agency 2019

https://www.iea.org/articles/global-co2-emissions-in-2019

9 Drake’s Well Museum

https://www.drakewell.org/

10 Seneca-Iroquois National Museum

https://www.senecamuseum.org/

11 Seneca Nation Oil Process in New York State

https://nyhistoric.com/2013/10/seneca-oil-spring/

#Carnegie Museum of Natural History #Drakes Well #Pennsylvania #Oil #Petroleum #Fossil Fuels #Anthropocene #Climate Change

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heyhey-heyward · 4 years ago

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WHAT WE WANT | part one

THE INVITATION

summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with JJ Maybank. Complicated in the sense that JJ has always had a crush on you and is unable to express it in other ways than shameless flirting.

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

If you’re a tourist on the Outer Banks looking for some place to eat, you’re probably going to end up at The Wreck. If you’re a strapped for cash teenager named JJ, Pope, or John B looking to score a free meal, you’re also probably going to end up at The Wreck.

Which is where the three found themselves as their fourth member, Kiara, the daughter of the owner of The Wreck, finished her shift. They were at a table in the back, halfway through lunch and trying their hardest to not be too rowdy and get kicked out. Kiara told her dad she was taking a break and shoved herself into the booth with the boys.

“Kegger tonight?” John B questioned out of the blue, pausing his game of throwing fries at Pope as he tried to catch them in his mouth. So far, they had been unsuccessful—evident by the way the ground around them was littered with fries.

“That’s a good idea.” JJ pointed at his best friend since the third grade with a grin that seemed to always spell trouble. And without further deliberation, it was settled. The Pogues would throw a party in celebration of absolutely nothing.

The door opened and a new customer entered, though that didn’t catch the attention of the group. JJ, who was seated in the same side of the booth as John B, both had their backs to the door. Neither bothered to turn around, assuming that it was just another tourist stopping in to escape the summer heat. That was, until, the newcomer spoke up and JJ recognized the voice immediately.

“Hey, Mr. C.” The cheery voice called, and JJ spun around so fast in his seat his friends were genuinely worried that he might have given himself whiplash.

Y/N Y/L/N. A name more renowned on The Cut than Maybank or Routledge or Heyward, you knew everyone and their mother on the island. If something broke, they called you and within five minutes you’d be able to tell them what’s wrong and how to fix it. You learned from your father, who owned the best auto shop on the island.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” Mr. Carrera asked as you approached the counter that he stood behind. He had called you to take a look at one of his old generators that hadn’t been working properly, and you had been out back working on it.

“One of the parts rusted so bad it stopped working, but I’ve already called to order a new one. I’ll let you know when it arrives.” You explained, giving him the short version of what you had accomplished.

“You’re a lifesaver, here’s lunch as payment.” Mr. C grinned, putting a container of your usual order on the counter. Usually, you charged Kooks, but his cooking was good enough that you overlooked it. You grinned, thanking him before turning to leave. Before you could get too far, someone called your name. You recognized the four faces that sat around the table that the sound originated from, and made your way over to them with a smile.

“Hey, guys, what’s up?” You asked as approached. John B had been the one to call out to you. You knew him from school and hung out together at parties every once in a while, but you were never the closest. Across from him sat Pope, who you had studied with on a few occasions and even helped his dad deliver groceries when you needed the extra money. Beside him was Kiara, who you didn’t know all too well since she went to the Kook Academy. Still, you liked the girl from what you had seen of her.

And then there was JJ, whose stare you were actively avoiding. It wasn’t that you had anything against him, it was just the fact that each time you crossed paths he would flirt with you if given the chance. And you were trying really hard to not give him the chance.

Because as much as you had a reputation on The Cut, so did JJ Maybank.

Looking past his family tree of smugglers and whatnot, he had made a name for himself among the tourist girls that visited the Outer Banks. He was famous for his one night stands with Tourons that would leave in a week and he’d never see again. Ever since you had met him, he had been trying to get you to be one more of his conquests.

And as tempting as his bright blue eyes were, you were determined not to let yourself be just another notch in his bedpost.

“Are you busy later today?” John B asked, ignoring the way JJ elbowed him. You shook your head, mentally running through your schedule for the day. The Carrera’s generator had been the last thing booked for the day, knowing you needed to run some errands for your father before heading back home, leaving your evening free. “Could you look at the HMS Pogue? Something is wrong with the engine and I can’t figure it out.”

“No problem.” You waved him off. It wasn’t unusual for you to work on John B’s boat, it probably would have been scrapped for parts if it weren’t for your repairs. You were a saving grace among the old equipment that many Pogues owned.

“We’re throwing a kegger after, so if you want, you can come with us after.” John B offered. You grinned, it had been awhile since you had let loose, too busy working to help keep your parents afloat like most teenagers on The Cut.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ve got to run, but text me when you want me to come by.” You called as you started backing away from the table. After receiving a nod from John B, you moved to smile at the other three sitting around the table. Before you could stop it, your gaze locked with JJ’s and in the split second it took for you to turn around, he shot you a wink that made your heart rate spike. As you left the restaurant, you couldn’t help but wonder just why the blond had such an effect on you, even when you so adamantly wanted to avoid him.

“How can you do that?” JJ turned to John B with an incredulous look on his face as soon as the door shut behind you. He was met with an amused and slightly confused look from his best friend, who was having a hard time figuring out what was so out of the ordinary.

“What, talk to her?” John B questioned, a look of realization crossing over his face. He’d seen the way JJ looked at you, and he was quickly connecting the dots.

“Talk to her like, I don’t know, she’s one of us! That’s Y/N Y/L/N, practically Pogue royalty.” JJ gushed, waving his hands around dramatically to drive home the point that he thought you were something spectacular. “I’ve been trying to get with her for months, bro, and she won’t give me the time of day.”

“That’s because she’s smart, J.” Kiara teased, reaching across the table to ruffle his already messy hair for added annoyance. JJ scoffed, running his hands through his hair dramatically to try and get it back to its previous unstyled style.

“And she’s really nice, and offering to fix the boat for free, so you better not ruin this for me by sleeping with her.” John B threateningly pointed a fry at JJ as he spoke. The blond surprised the whole table by flushing at the brunet’s words, glancing down at the table to try and hide his embarrassment.

JJ Maybank had a reputation of being a player. And yes, he did hookup with Tourons after most parties—but he thought you were different. Ever since he had seen you for the first time at The Boneyard laughing loudly at something someone had said, he was done for. You were the first girl that he wanted something more with, the first girl that made him not make fun of other couples because you were the first girl that made him realize he wanted what they had.

“Shut up, does my little JJ have a crush?” Kiara cooed, and John B went to pinch JJ’s cheeks, but the blond was faster and slapped his hands away.

“No, I don’t! She’s just cool, I wouldn’t do something like that to her.” JJ mumbled. He wondered why he couldn’t just stop himself from talking, but then he pictured your smile once more and the corner of his lips quirked up subconsciously.

“Yeah, JJ, that’s because you have a crush on her.” Pope joined in on the teasing, and JJ decided that he had enough and tossed his balled up napkin at his friend.

“Don’t we have a party to get ready for?”

—

taglist:

@pixelated-pogues @bailspogue @delilahandshawn @annedub @shawnssongs @beautyandthebleh @kylosleftbuttcheek @sunflowerbecca @maybankiara @mimithefangirl25 @deviouscharitos @drewstarkeyobx @starryblueeyesandstarryblueskies @ihatemyself21 @sunwardsss @kayak-huesgen

tags with a strikethrough didn’t work

let me know what you think !!

#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank series #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outer banks series #what we want series

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project-rosewood-476 · 3 years ago

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The Long Way Home

Yet another side fic for ERHIT.

I'm so sorry all I know how to do is angst.

SUMMARY: Tabby and her mom drive home the long way around after a day out. Tabby tries to have a heart-to-heart with her mom but it doesn't go as planned. Leaving Tabby more alone than she could ever imagine

The way home seemed much longer to Tabby than what she remembered—passing through trees that all looked the same with few houses in between. They were driving through the town of Applewood Creek. After this, they would be entering the town of Maplehood Creek and then...home.

Tabby scoffed at that notion. Home? Home is where your real family is. The people who loved and cared and taught and accepted you for you. The people she lives with don't do that, and they're just going back to where they live. The closest thing she had to a home and family was with her friends. But now, she doesn't even have that anymore.

She rested her head on the cool glass window with her knees pulled up to her chest, facing away from her mother, who was driving the car. The miserable child had a dull look in her once wide eyes filled with hope. The only things that brought her brief solace were the rustling of the bags of groceries in the back and the low rumble of the engine that lulled her to the long-awaited sleep.

The older woman at the wheel kept casting pitying glances at her child mixed with concern that only a mother has. She looked to be in her early 30s and looked like a much older version of Tabby. Only she was slightly on the big side and had worse bags under her eyes than Tabby does from working long hours. She wore a lime green tee shirt and ripped faded light blue jeans from years of wear and tear. She had her red-brown hair that was littered with gray strands from stress. Same wide eyes that Tabby does, only hers was green.

Her mother often liked to bring Tabby along for grocery shopping since her "loving boyfriend" repeatedly refused to let Tabby out of the house. So to attempt to make up for the lack of...everything, she tries to take her out for errands, and they go out to eat and talk. It was their weird form of bonding during her mom's limited days off and away from the house, where Tabby was slightly more relaxed. She knew that Tabby hated going home, so they took the most extended way possible back. It was the least she could do.

But that's not enough.

Tabby could feel her mother's periodic gazes on her. She knew something was wrong with Tabby. Tabby grew irritated of her mother's pity constantly on her.

"If you have something to say to me, say it," said Tabby bluntly through closed eyes.

Her mother sighed. She knew she would have this confrontation sooner or later.

"It's just that...Are you okay? I haven't seen you happy in a while. You used to smile so much and had that lightning in your eyes. I'm just worried for you," she stated slowly and awkwardly.

Tabby snorted," You haven't seen me at all in a while."

She turned to face her mother.

"And for your information, no, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay in a long, long time. Why are you asking now?"

She sighed at Tabby's bitter attitude towards her.

"Look, I know I'm not there much. I just thought that for right now, while I'm here, I could help you with what I can."

"Well, for starters, you can find someone else who is more willing to play the part of the parent who doesn't make the 12-year-old do all of the work. What? Do you think he does any of the work? No, I do the cooking, cleaning, and taking care of Adam,"

Her mother went quiet for a minute. She knew who she was referring to.

"I know that your father can be a...difficult person to live with, but he does love you. You know. He... doesn't know how to show it. He's never had a daughter before, so he doesn't know what to do. He has high expectations of you, and that's why he's so hard on you. He sees himself as a failure, and he doesn't want you to end up like him," she explained while beating around the bush.

"Love me?! LOVE ME?! HE DID THIS TO ME! HE DID ALL OF THIS TO ME!" Tabby yelled as she showed as much of the multicolored bruises and scars that she could.

" I promise you it's not just from fights at school. Now I don't know much about love, but I know you don't beat your loved ones nor don't do anything to protect them."

"It will be over with soon. Things will get better. Tomorrow is a new day-," she started.

Those phrases made Tabby snap.

"WHEN WILL IT END?! HUH?! WHAT?! YOU THINK THAT THE MOMENT I TURN 18, YOU THINK I'LL BE ABLE TO UP AND LEAVE?! DO YOU THINK THAT HE WOULD LET ME GO THAT EASILY?! IF HE'LL HAVE HIS WAY, HE'LL KEEP ME LOCKED UP IN THE APARTMENT UNTIL HE DIES! TOMORROW IS NOT A NEW DAY; IT'S THE SAME BULLSHIT DAY IN AND DAY OUT! THINGS AREN'T GETTING BETTER; IT'S GETTING WORSE! YALL ARGUE ALL THE TIME, ADAM IS STARTING TO ACT OUT NOW, AND I HAVE NO FRIENDS LEFT! I'M AT MY WITS END HERE! I CAN'T KEEP ACTING LIKE YOUR HUSBAND, HIS WIFE, ADAM'S MOTHER, STUDENT, SOLDIER, SISTER, DAUGHTER, LIVED IN CINDERELLA, LEADER, AND FRIEND! I NEED HELP!"

She was breathing heavily at her outburst, with her eyes flaming with hatred but slowly softened when she saw her mother cower and flinch a little at her yelling. Tabby realized that she was almost afraid of her and what she's capable of. Tabby knew exactly what given the events that happened towards the end of August. But the thought of her mother being afraid of her and loving her less? It was enough to make Tabby cry. She doesn't want to be seen as a monster.

Her mother sat up straight a little bit and sighed, annoyed and tiredly.

"I'm trying here. I'm trying to be a good mother. I'm sorry I'm not there often. I have to be the one to provide and put food on the table! Most of our arguments involve you; I'm trying to fight for your freedom! But I also have to do what's best for your brother, too!" she explained exasperatedly.

"Then try harder!" Tabby snapped back

"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME TABBY?!," she yelled.

"EITHER MAKE HIM TAKE RESPONSIBILITY AND DO HIS FUCKING JOB AS A PARENT OR DROP-KICK HIS ASS TO THE CURB. OR HAVE SOME BACKBONE AND STAND UP FOR YOURSELF AND YOUR KIDS!" yelled Tabby in disbelief that her mom would ask a stupid question like that.

"YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHY WE CAN'T DO THAT!"

They both looked at each other for a moment before sighing in defeat and saying the answer at the same time.

"Adam"

Even though the abuse wasn't good for Adam to be around, it was still stability, even if it was a nasty form of stability. Tabby would rather have Adam around what he's used to instead of getting rid of his dad, which isn't fair to him and having her mom bring in another man who could be just as worse as her stepdad. She was willing to do anything to keep Adam on a good path and provide some stability for him. So he doesn't end up like her. They both don't have the luxury to be selfish.

"You're so selfish; you know that? And you should at least hold some gratitude towards your dad. He saved you and us, and he made us better. We have a better lifestyle now," she scolded her.

Tabby fucking lost it.

"I'M SELFISH?! I'M SELFISH?! I HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF THE HOUSE, ADAM, HIM, AND YOU! I ALSO MANAGE AND TAKE CARE OF THE WELL-BEING OF MY FRIENDS WHILE I HAD THEM! I KEPT THEM ALIVE! AND I ALSO HELP OUT THE OTHER KIDS AT ROSEWOOD WHEN I CAN AFFORD IT! I AM NEGLECTING MYSELF SAVE FOR MY GRADES TO MEET MY RESPONSIBILITIES THAT YOU BOTH REFUSE TO TAKE! BUT SURE, CALL ME SELFISH BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO GET BEAT FOR EVERY LITTLE THING I DO, AND I WANT MORE FREEDOM INSTEAD OF BEING TREATED AS A SLAVE IN THE APARTMENT AND WANTING WHAT'S BEST FOR ADAM! YOU'RE THE SELFISH ONE! YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING TO STAND UP FOR YOUR KIDS. I HAVE TO DO THAT FOR ADAM AND MYSELF! THERE IS SO MUCH MORE THAT GOES ON AT HOME, BUT YOU EITHER IGNORE IT OR YOU'RE NEVER HERE BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO BUSY HIDING AT WORK FOR AS LONG AS YOU CAN LIKE THE BITCH ASS COWARD THAT YOU ARE-," Tabby felt as a sharp crack against her cheek. She looked at her mom with disbelief that she hit her.

The woman was crying as they pulled into the driveway and parked.

"Tabby, I'm- I'm sorry...I-I just wanted you to stop…."

Tabby began to unbuckle and opened the car door hurriedly.

"No. Great talk, mom. I can always count on you for anything now, can I?" Tabby said sarcastically as she slammed the car door and opened the other one, and slamming it before carrying the groceries up the stairs. The older woman just cried at the steering wheel.

Tabby entered the apartment. Her stepdad got out of his chair to see what was up. He just stopped in his tracks to analyze Tabby. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had a red blotch on her cheek. He could feel the anger radiating off of her; He just raised an eyebrow at her expecting an explanation. Tabby paid him no mind and began to busy herself with putting away the food. She didn't owe him an answer. Not yet anyway.

Tabby's mother came through the door a few minutes later. She looked distraught, and her eyes were red and puffy as well. She hugged her boyfriend for comfort, and he led her into their room to talk about what happened. That's just great. Tabby sighed. Already she knew that this was going to be a long night with more fights and beatings while she struggles to explain why she acted out the way she did. And then they would both demand an apology from her which she'll have no choice but to give if she wants to go to bed at a reasonable time. Nothing ever changes. Her mother yet again chose him and Adam over her, and she was left to fend for herself.

That left Tabby more alone than ever before.

#every rose has its thorn #erhit au #tabby #tabbyanderson #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #original character #original work #angst #mommy issues

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years ago

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Chapter 3: Home Is Where The Heart Is

Mark Tuan X Reader

Part 3 of the “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” Series

Word Count: 10K

Genre: Angsty Angst (This chapter is actually the saddest one of the five chapters but don’t worry, it gets better soon)

Summary: Distance makes the heart grow fonder—or does it?

A/N: Hey guys! So this part sounded better in my head(it’s kind of all over the place) but so is my life hahahaha please enjoy! (Italics are past tense but I bet y’all already knew that)

“I’m sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable. Please try again later—“

The frustrated groan that fell from your lips was expected. This was the sixth time you tried to get in contact with your boyfriend tonight but all your attempts went straight to voicemail. You knew being in a long distance relationship was going to be difficult; not having Mark around anymore was driving you to the brink of insanity more and more each day.

It didn’t help that there was a seven hour time difference between the two of you. When he would be waking up, you were in the middle of class and if you were about to go to sleep, he was getting ready to go to soccer practice. As much as you tried to make sure that Mark heading off to college wasn’t going to affect your relationship in any way, there was only so much you could do to stop yourself from worrying about what the future really held for the two of you.

From the beginning of your relationship up until now, you and Mark experience distance on multiple occasions. However, the twenty-minute distance between your elementary school and his middle school was nothing compared to being stuck in California while he went off to study at New York University.

You remembered the day he found out he was accepted like it was yesterday. Not only was Mark extremely talented in almost every single sport any college had to offer, but the grades he maintained all throughout his high school career was unbelievable. It was only natural for all these colleges to reach out to him; offering many different kinds of scholarships and even full rides to some of the universities Mark could only dream of being able to attend.

When you were younger, the older boy would always fantasize about traveling to New York. He would watch all kinds of shows, documentaries and anything kind of tour program that the travel channel had to offer. At the time, you thought it was extremely adorable. Any time Mark seemed very passionate about something never failed to pull on your heartstrings. But when the many acceptance letters began coming in the mail, you wanted nothing more than to rip them all up.

You’d be lying if you said the breathtaking grin on his face each time he opened up one of the letters didn’t make you happy yourself. You were extremely proud of Mark for being able to excel in almost every single thing that he put his heart in to. To this day, it boggled your mind at the idea of how perfect he genuinely was. There was not one letter of rejection and it wasn’t shocking to you. Mark was the kind of student athlete every school wish they could have.

He had acceptance letters from almost every university in California and you tried to indirectly hint towards wanting him to choose from one of them. At the same time, you forced yourself to accept whatever it was that he wanted. After all, it was his life—his future. You were being selfish for wanting to get in the way of that. Unfortunately, everything you’ve been worried about since you’ve realized Mark was going away for college at the beginning of your sophomore seemed to come true.

Fights began to occur whether you liked it or not. Deep down, you knew it was harder for him because he was thousands of miles away from his friends, his family and his favorite person—but that was his choice. His schedule and your schedule tended to collide. You were both extremely busy at the same time and it was evident that making time for one another was harder than you both thought it would be.

He called you every single day for the first month that he got settled in and he never failed to mention just how much he hated it. The campus was huge; your parents allowed you to go up with him and his family to explore New York City together while helping him set up his dorm. It was honestly one of the best experiences in your entire life. Just like Mark, you’ve always dreamt about traveling the world and the longer you two were dating, all you ever really wanted to do was experience going on trips all around the world with him.

For the most part of the trip, the Tuan family had an itinerary of what they wanted to do while in New York but they did give you and Mark some free time to do whatever it was that your hearts desired. You found yourself at Central Park having a cute little picnic that he planned out prior to landing in New York and he also took you to the skating rink in the middle of Times Square. Watching him fall on his ass multiple times made you come to the realization that maybe Mark wasn’t perfect at everything—but that didn’t matter. He was still flawless in your eyes; and it was one less activity for you to get jealous over.

The days seemed to fly by to both his and your dismay and soon, you and his family were just hours away from heading back to California. You deemed yourself old enough to say that leaving Mark had to be the hardest thing you have ever done so far in your entire life. You’ve never seen him cry so much before and you didn’t know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Sure, the idea of not having his family around really upset him; but the fact that he was no longer going to be able to see that breathtakingly beautiful smile of yours—nor would he get to hear your contagious in person really broke his heart. If it were up to him, he would’ve held you captive and prevented you from going on that six-hour plane ride home. His grip on your hand as you all drove over to the airport was tight while his face was hidden in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck—I made a mistake didn’t I?”

You gently pulled him away from your nape in order to look at him and you could’ve sworn you’ve never felt a pain in your chest like you did when you saw his eyes so swollen and red from all the tears he cried. Out of force of habit, you cupped both his cheeks and tried to give him the best fake smile you ever put on before.

“No, you didn’t make any mistake babe. If anything, this decision had to be one of the best ones you’ve made so far. Four years will be over before you know it. Trust me, you’ll be over the moon when you finally become a successful engineer and you’ll learn that it was all worth it.”

“Will it be worth it though? Leaving you—no longer physically being with you. Not being able to kiss these pretty lips of yours, not being able to hold you as much as I want to, not getting to hold these dainty little fingers of yours that seem to fit mind so effortlessly; like they were made for me. God y/n, I’m going to miss you so fucking much. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t live without you.”

The tears were practically burning at your eyelids. Then don’t. You wanted nothing more than for him to change his mind and those two little words were on the tip of your tongue—but it was too late. He was already registered; he had a jersey for all three sports teams he was going to be a part of. His dorm was filled with all his items—this was going to be his home for the next four years and you just had to accept it for what it was.

“This is your future Mark—“

“You’re my future baby. All I want—all I could ever need, for the rest of my life is you y/n. I’ve known it since I was seven years old and I’ll know it when we’re eighty. Promise me, we’ll be okay. Please. I know it’ll be hard; missing you is probably the only thing really fucking me over right now. I can’t promise you that things are going to stay the same between us as much as I would hope it could, but don’t give up on me. Okay? I love you y/n, more than I could ever fathom in to words. We’re going to be okay.”

His words from that night came back like a slap to the face. It was like they were taunting you. The two of you were definitely not okay. Although his college experience was off to a rough start, things seemed to fall in to place for your boyfriend during the second month. When football season began, he had something to do to take his mind off of how much his heart was longing to be with you.

You felt at ease knowing that he was finally getting used to being so far away and that he was actually enjoying his college escapades. He informed you on all the new friends he was making, how practices were longer and more grueling, how the campus food was nothing compared to his mom’s cooking and how people in New York would walk like they were on steroids.

If only you could say you were having as much of a fun time with school as he was. Junior year wasn’t all that you thought it would be—but you also blamed yourself for your disinterest in anything that didn’t regard your boyfriend. Your life revolved around Mark and it was something you never wanted to admit out loud in fear of sounding pathetic. What person in their right minds would spend the only free time they had sitting around with their phone in their hand, waiting for a call from their boyfriend? Only you apparently.

Your family were quick to pick up on how you were no longer yourself; everyone and their mothers were well aware of how much Mark meant to you and equally aware of how much you meant to him. The two of you were magnets; where you would go, he would follow. Nobody could separate the two of you even if they tried.

There was a gravitational pull between you and your boyfriend and everyone knew that his absence had to be the reason you were always so out of it. You might have been there physically; whether you were at school, hanging out with your friends or just sitting at dinner with your family—but mentally, you were with Mark.

Your mom was actually the one who talked you in to either getting a job or joining a club. Seeing as how you weren’t someone who liked to interact with anybody you didn’t really know on a personal level, you decided to go with the former and found yourself applying to many different jobs. Unlike a lot of your classmates who chose to work at coffee shops or at the state library, you accepted the job at a grocery store ten minutes away from your house.

It wasn’t the most ideal job, but you could use some extra money. The first day of work was pretty simple; it was more of an orientation to get you prepared for your next shift. Your manager went over what was expected of you as a cashier, how you were supposed to wear your uniform, where you could find items if customers were to come up and ask you for assistance and other necessary information about your responsibilities.

Right as you were packing up your things and preparing to head home for the day, it was then you walked in to the break room and noticed someone sitting on one of the couches. That someone just so happened to be one of the biggest pains in your ass.

“Jaebeom, what the hell are you doing here?”

When you first were introduced to him a little over five months ago, you didn’t think he was going to get under your skin like he has been for the last few weeks. In the first week of his arrival from Korea, your teacher gave you the responsibility of showing him around the school. Not only did you not feel as if you were personable enough to be the one to actually give a campus tour, you cringed at the idea of having to be alone with him.

At first, he attempted at small talk with you; he wanted to know what your favorite food was, how your high school experience was so far, if you were in any extracurricular activities and the kind of music you listened to. You decided to not give him the time of day and tried to limit any interactions with him specifically because you didn’t think Mark would be too fond at the idea of you befriending another guy. Especially one he wasn’t all that familiar with.

You also felt that there was a chance Jaebeom took a liking to you. Although you never really thought too highly of yourself nor did you want to assume that he had developed feelings for you, he always seemed so eager in wanting to talk to you. In fact, you had yet to see him try and pester anyone else the way he would with you. It was if he was picking on you purposely.

A part of you felt as if you were being extremely rude towards him; he was nothing but friendly and patient towards you and you were nothing but hostile with him. His kind personality only lasted for so long. When he realized that you had no intention on being friends with him, his considerate nature took a 360 degree turn.

Out of nowhere, his flirtatious compliments soon turned in to insults. He also started picking on you; throwing paper airplanes in your direction to get your attention, always selecting the good supplies before giving you a chance to and even hiding your things while you were away from the table. You knew you were at fault for his behavior; your hostility towards him when he was nothing but nice to you was unfair on your part. But you knew guys like Jaebeom—you had a feeling he was like most of the guys at your school. As much as you enjoyed hanging out with Mark’s friends, they obviously only chased after girls for sex.

Your boyfriend was the only one with genuine interest in relationships and being in love. Jaebeom didn’t seem at all different; it’s as if his aura screamed trouble and the last thing you needed was someone to meddle with your relationship in any way. The older boy looked up at you incredulously; he was wearing the uniform you were just given and he was sitting in the break room—obviously that meant he was an employee and you were well aware of that.

It was just that you had a hard time processing; or accepting rather the fact that you were going to be working alongside someone you considered an enemy. Out of all the places—why did he have to work at the same grocery store that you just got hired at? He already gave you so much stress at school, you could only imagine it was going to be worse now that he was your coworker. You found out in that same week that he was a stock member, so you wouldn’t have to deal with him at all which you were glad to say the least.

The less time you had to spend around him, the better. To your dismay, your contact with Mark went from a couple times a day to only once or twice a week if you were lucky. That wasn’t the worst part; the distance seemed to be getting in the way of everything. For the last three years in high school, you were good with keeping up your grades. You were also very good whenever it came to participation and answering any questions your teachers would ask you.

You didn’t realize just how unhappy and dejected you were until you and your parents were called in to the office by your counselor to talk about your grades. Not only were you failing two classes, you were one letter grade away from being on probation. Your parents wanted to be understanding; although you never involved anyone in to your relationship, they were well aware that your behavior was the subject of Mark’s absence and his failing to call and text you. You began to feel like he no longer loved you the way that he used to—the way you still did with him.

If he did, wouldn’t he use every minute of his free time, no matter how exhausted he was to talk with you? There were countless nights you’d stay up past midnight because it was the only time he’d be able to contact you. Here you were bending over backwards in order to even get a glimpse of him and yet—he couldn’t; or didn’t even think about doing the same for you and it sucked. It sucked because all your biggest nightmares were coming to life right before your eyes and there was nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t help but cry every time you thought about how he practically begged you to never give up on your relationship, no matter how hard it was.

Where was the boy who claimed to love you more than life itself? The same boy who would call you up at 2 in the morning just to cry over how much he missed going to sleep with you in his arms? Where was the boy who was willing to give up his entire college career if it meant being able to see you every day and who was this stranger who couldn’t care less about how you’ve been doing?

A part of you felt as if you wanted to confront Mark and tell him about how you felt, but you never got around to it because if he ever did get in contact with you, it was to complain about what he was suffering through or how his life was going. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be there for him; you were so grateful that Mark trusted you with all of his worries and problems, but you missed being able to do the same with him. You didn’t want to accept it, but your boyfriend no longer cared about you and it was a hard pill to swallow.

As irresponsible as it was for you to cry while at work, there was one day in particular that you just had enough. You stayed up the entire night before, contemplating your relationship with Mark and wondering if it was even worth fighting for anymore. Keeping up a long distance relationship was a team effort and you knew you were the only one putting in your heart and soul to make sure it wouldn’t fall apart.

Your manager had a feeling something was off with you that day as soon as she saw you walk in with your shoulders slumped and tear stains on your cheek. When you were ringing up customers, you had zero energy and you weren’t even trying to put on a fake smile—you just did not want to be there at all. Most of your friends felt like giving you your space even if they were extremely concerned with your well being. But they didn’t feel like there was anything they could do.

Your sister moved out of the house to live with her boyfriend a couple of months ago and both of your brothers were away at college. It was just you and your parents and even then, they would both work up until late. You felt so alone—and it wasn’t like you had Mark to run to. Everything in your life was falling apart and you were so unhappy. You loved Mark, more than you wanted to; and more than he deserved as of right now.

There was nothing more you wanted than to fly up to New York and knock some sense in to him—you also wanted to kiss him for as long as time permitted you to. Only one hour in to your shift, your manager pulled you to the side and asked you if everything was okay.

Honestly, you didn’t know how to respond. You were definitely not okay; nothing was okay. By the weary expression on your face, she knew something was wrong and instead of trying to force it out of you, she allowed you a fifteen-minute break just to take a little breather.

Sure, you have been working there for quite a while; but you didn’t want to take advantage of your manager’s kindness. She already had done so much for you; whether it was switching around your schedule so you could study for your midterms or finding someone to cover your shift if you called in sick so you didn’t have to, you knew she was an employer who genuinely cared about her employees and it was something you would be forever grateful for.

Once she told you to head to the back, you found yourself releasing the quietest whimper before you broke down in tears. You didn’t care whether or not someone were to walk in on you crying, everything was just too much for you to handle. Your chest felt tight and your throat grew sore with every sob. Why was all of this happening to you?

Just months ago, you were living out your best life. You had your entire family to come home to every day, your grades were almost perfect, you had both your friends and Mark’s friends to make you laugh and take your mind off of how difficult school could be but most importantly, you had Mark. You were so busy wallowing in self-pity that you failed to notice that you were no longer the only person in the break room.

You felt Jaebeom before you saw him. He glided his hand gently along your back as a way to get you to slow down your heaving. When he noticed that you leaned back in to his comforting touch, he took that as a sign to hold you even closer—and he did. Jaebeom had brought you on to his lap and began to run his fingers through your hair while rocking you back and forth.

Although he knew he was getting in to dangerous territory; there was no way he could just let you cry by yourself. There was a chance you would be mad at him for taking advantage of you while you were in such a vulnerable state, but he didn’t care. He’d accept whatever you were to throw at him once you realized what he did to help console you.

What you weren’t aware of, was that he did in fact have a crush on you. It may have been a suspicion on your part, but it was true—and he made it painfully obvious that he liked you. On his first day when your science teacher had him sit with you, he was captivated by your beauty. Sure, Jaebeom has seen many pretty girls in his lifetime, but something about you stood out to him and he could explain what it was because he didn’t know himself.

However, when your teacher had you bring him around the school—take him to his classes, show him where all the important buildings and offices were; he learned that you were a no nonsense kind of person. You were also very bold and blunt; something he wasn’t used to in a girl. Maybe that’s why he liked you so much. Unlike other girls, you hardly ever batted an eye to him nor did you appear to desire his attention. It wasn’t something he was used to; Jaebeom was always well-known and well-liked by his peers.

In the few months he’s been at your school for, he grew to be a crowd favorite. Everyone in your junior class either wanted to be him, be friends with him or date him. You however, wanted nothing to do with him and something about that made him all the more interested in you. He didn’t know why, but seeing you cry made his chest feel heavy. He had no idea why you were so upset, but he wanted to beat up whoever it was that made you cry.

Even if it wasn’t towards him, he’d observe the way you were such a bright and bubbly person whether it was with customers, your fellow classmates or your teachers. It was a bit of a stretch to desire a friendship with you, but he at least wanted to be civil. Jaebeom wasn’t going to lie, he got a kick out of teasing you and doing things he knew would get a rise out of you, but it was his only way of really getting to interact with you and he was going to take whatever he could get. When he realized you were no longer crying, he decided it would be best to get you off of his lap. You shocked both yourself and Jaebeom when you stopped his movements and cuddled in to his chest even closer.

“Wait—just a couple more minutes. Please?”

You didn’t know what came over you in that moment; whether it was because you were lonely and felt as if you had no one, or because this was the first time in a long time that someone held you in such a comforting way, but you didn’t want him to let go. You couldn’t help feeling as if it was wrong; being held by another guy who wasn’t your boyfriend—you knew Mark wouldn’t be all too happy if he were to find out that you were the one who wanted to continue being held by Jaebeom, but you weren’t able to find it in yourself to care.

The two of you stayed like that until Jaebeom told you he had to clock in, but once the two of you got up from off the ground, he pulled you against his chest and held you ever so gently. This was the first time you ever felt anything other than disgust for him and it actually felt pretty nice. He could’ve have just left you there; he could’ve allowed you to cry all by yourself and honestly he should have with the crude way you’ve been treating him, but he didn’t. You were evidently hurting and Jaebeom came to your rescue.

From that day on, your friendship with the kind-heartened boy blossomed immensely. Instead of hiding in one of your classes or in the back of your school library for lunch, you were now meeting Jaebeom in the courtyard. It took you a while to come to accept it, but being around Jaebeom felt like a breath of fresh air. Although his presence didn’t completely take your mind off of your failing relationship and what was barely left of it, he did make you laugh with some of the corniest jokes and he also brought you some of his mom’s homemade strawberry milk.

The longer you were friends with him, the more you learned that he was the complete opposite of what you thought he was. First, he was the biggest momma’s boy. Well—other than Mark, but being an only child, Jaebeom was always clingy and overprotective when it came to his mom. He wasn’t embarrassed to answer her calls if he were around you and one day, he brought you over to her café in order to let you try a few of her other concoctions. He was also a huge cat lover.

He was the proud father to five different cats he all adopted from the humane society. The fact that surprised you the most though; was that he was a b-boy dancer. He didn’t give off the vibes of being passionate for dance, but at the same time you didn’t think he was capable of taking care of anyone but himself—let alone five cats. You didn’t want to believe that there was anyone else for you other than your boyfriend—nor did you think you harbored any romantic feelings for Jaebeom; but at the same time, your chest would feel empty every time he would drop you home.

You wanted to believe that the love you had for Mark was enough to fight off the feelings you assumed were growing for the boy in question. It wasn’t until he called you outside of your house on a Saturday with a bouquet of roses in his right hand and a teddy bear in his left. You would never be able to forget how shy and flustered he looked; you never thought you’d see the day Im Jaebeom’s cheeks would be flushed with pink—it was even harder to process that you were the reason.

“Hey—I uh—would you maybe want to—I was wondering if you and I could—Junior prom?”

Shit. You were too focused on everything else going on in your life that you failed to remember than prom was in less than a month. Honestly; you didn’t really care about going. Mark never asked you about it and when you tried to bring it up to him one night, he told you he would be busy on that day so you ultimately decided you wouldn’t go.

There really wasn’t any point in going anyway; you were hardly close with anyone in your year and you didn’t want to waste hundreds of dollars on a night where you’d be alone and miserable. Plus, you already got to experience both Junior and Senior prom with Mark. Both nights were too amazing to even describe. Mark never failed to compliment how beautiful he thought you looked; in fact, most of the night was spent with him staring at you in awe of your beauty. There was no way you would be able to go to prom without tearing up over how much has changed in less than a year.

A year ago, Mark rented out a hotel room for the two of you to return back to once prom was finished and you knew exactly what his plans were for the rest of the night once he pressed you up against the elevator mirror and kissed you with all the energy he could muster. Even if you weren’t really in the mood to go, you didn’t have it in you to tell Jaebeom no.

Knowing the kind of guy he was, you were sure it took a lot for him to build enough courage to ask you such a nerve-wrecking question. The two of you may have been friends; but that didn’t necessarily mean you would want to go with him. As soon as he saw the small smile that he was falling for faster than he’d like to admit rise upon your face while you nodded your head in agreement, he returned back an even bigger and toothier grin. He was quick to hand you the gifts and pulled you in to his warm embrace before your mind could really process what was happening.

“I like you a lot y/n. Would you be my girlfriend?”

Hearing those words made your head spin. At this point, you were confident that Jaebeom liked you. He was so sophisticated and chic around anyone else but to you, he would conform in to the smallest little baby. He was so soft for you and followed you around like a lost puppy. You’d be stupid if you didn’t think there was even the smallest chance that he liked you.

Seeing him with such hopefulness in his eyes broke your heart; your relationship may not have been what it used to be, but there was no way you would ever cheat on Mark—nor did you want to give up on him just yet. You were waiting—what for, you had no idea. But there was a tiny voice in your head begging you not to give up on him just yet. You wanted to believe that one day soon, he would realize exactly what he was doing to you. He would realize how he was breaking your heart and if he didn’t hurry up and get his shit together, he would lose you completely.

“Jaebeom, I’m so sorry—I can’t—I—I have a boyfriend.”

When you watched his face practically drop at your confession, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. Why didn’t you say something earlier? How could you lead him on like this? He was nothing but caring and thoughtfull; everything Jaebeom did was to make you happy. Something that only your boyfriend should be worrying about.

You didn’t feel like you needed to tell him everything about yourself nor did you feel as though that information was all that important. Yet—you couldn’t help but feel as though there was another reason as to why you didn’t tell him. You didn’t think it was because you didn’t want him knowing you were in a relationship just in case he did have feelings for you.

So what was the real reason? His frown was quick to disappear and you felt as if you’ve known the older boy long enough to distinguish his real smiles from the fake ones. The smile he was currently giving you did not reach his eyes. You wanted to reach out to him and give him a hug—but you would only be giving him more confusing signals.

“Jaebeom—“

“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it okay? I should have expected it. There was no way someone so beautiful with such a charismatic and gracious personality was single. Please know that I won’t let my feelings for you get in the way of our friendship okay? Your boyfriend is a very lucky guy; I hope he knows that. I’ll see you on Monday, have a nice day.”

That was the first time you ever cried over someone who wasn’t Mark. Your heart hurt from Jaebeom. It was evident that he wasn’t a relationship kind of guy; nor did he seem to be the kind of person who would buy flowers for someone but he did so—for you. Jaebeom was changing his ways in order to impress you—to be the lucky guy who got to be the one who called you his. But that position has been taken for over ten years now and there was a battle going on between your mind and your heart on whether you wanted to continue your relationship or if you wanted to take a break from it.

That following Monday; you could tell Jaebeom was trying his best to show that the rejection wasn’t affecting him in anyway, but he was only human. You were the first girl ever that he fell head over heels for; so it was a lot for him not only to face rejection, but to hear the reason as to why. He wasn’t as talkative nor did he really show interest in anything at all. You even tried to come up with all kinds of conversations about topics you knew he was heavily interested in, but all your efforts failed.

You broke Im Jaebeom.

Thankfully, things didn’t stay awkward between the two of you for too long. If the only way he could have you in his life was as a friend, he was going to take it. Prom night finally arrived and you knew you should have been excited, but you couldn’t wait to get it over with. You didn’t even tell Mark that you decided to go—you didn’t think he would care anyway. It was disheartening for you to come to the realization that your relationship was causing you more anguish and pain than it was excitement and adoration.

When did Mark grow tired of having to put effort in to your relationship? When did he realize that you were the last thing he should be worrying about? When did he stop loving you? As much as you didn’t want to think or even believe that your boyfriend fell out of love with you, there was no other explanation as to why he’s been acting the way he has towards you. Sometimes, you felt that the only reason why Mark continued to stay in the relationship was because it was convenient for him. Your relationship continued for a span of a decade.

You were all he has known for the last ten years. You’ve seen it all; the good, the bad and the ugly. The idea of starting over with someone else, having to get used to someone else must’ve been troublesome. While you got ready for your prom, you were quick to pick up on your mom’s unusual behavior.

She was constantly texting someone on her phone and she motioned for your dad to walk over to where she was so she could show him what was making her so animated. You wanted to think it was because she was just excited that you agreed to go to prom, but something in your gut told you there was more to her exuberant exterior. You were just getting the finishing touches of your makeup done when the doorbell rang and your mom wasted no time making her way downstairs.

“Y/n! Jaebeom is here, and he’s looking especially handsome today!”

Your parents were aware of your friendship with the older boy and they seemed to approve of him. They were fond of the idea that he took care of you in the way Mark always did when he was still in California. You decided to leave out the fact that he liked you just in case it caused any unnecessary drama. After you finished putting on your dress and your heels, you started heading down to the living room and you could’ve sworn your heart rate increased as soon as your eyes landed on him.

Everyone with good eyesight could see that Jaebeom was exceptionally good-looking. You actually hated just how handsome he really was; but seeing him with his hair slicked back, wearing a suit and tie was all the more breathtaking. You didn’t think it was possible he could get any more handsome than he already was. When his eyes landed on you, his eyes widened in shock and you even saw his jaw drop a little bit. His stunned reaction was making you feel things you know you shouldn’t have been.

“Wow y/n you look—wow—“

You giggled softly as you playfully pinched his cheek as a way to prevent him from seeing the effect his words were having on you. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself. Shall we get going?”

He placed your corsage on your wrist and gave you his arm to hold while saying goodbye to both your parents. Jaebeom in more or less words, was the perfect gentleman. From the moment you both arrived to the hotel, he opened every single door for you, pulled out your chair for you and helped lift your dress to prevent it from dragging.

As amazing as the night had been so far, you despised the fact that you wished it was Mark there with you instead of Jaebeom; but it was only human of you to do so. No matter how much hell he was currently putting you through, you would rather go through the ends of the earth to be with him than to go to heaven with anyone else.

When your date excused himself to the bathroom, you decided to go on your phone until he was too come back. Right as you saw that you got a text notification, curiosity got the best of you since the only people who would get in contact with you these days were your parents, your siblings and Jaebeom. At first, you just assumed it was your sister wishing you a good time or your mom reminding you to watch your step. However, your heart both fluttered and sank when you finally opened up the message and saw who it was from.

Babe: Hey, are you free right now? Can we talk? 9:23 p.m.

You wanted to laugh hysterically. Out of all the times he could contact you, it had to be the night of your prom. A night where you were supposed to have fun and enjoy your last year and a half in high school. Was he really being serious right now? You wanted to leave his message on read; you told him that you were going to prom and you were sure he must’ve seen a couple of posts on social media from some of his friends in your grade that he still kept in touch with. But your heart was dying to hear what he had to say.

For some reason, you thought it was something negative. Those three words never led to anything good. Was he finally feeling the distance between the two of you? Was it suffocating him as it was slowly killing you? You didn’t know what he was going to tell you, but you couldn’t let it wait.

You: Sure, let me just go outside real quick. 9:24 p.m.

You decided to send Jaebeom a quick message that you needed to make a phone call so that he didn’t worry about your sudden disappearance. Once you made your way outside, you gave yourself a few seconds to recollect your thoughts. The last time you had a conversation with him that lasted for longer than five minutes was almost two weeks ago. It was currently almost summertime, yet the temperature was in the low sixties, so you began to rub alongside your arms to keep warm. After taking in a deep breath, you pulled up his contact and dialed his number.

“Hey baby. How are you?”

You absentmindedly rolled your eyes at his question. What did he care? How you’ve been no longer seemed to matter to him for over four months now, so what was so different about tonight? “I’m fine. What is it that you wanted to talk about? I’m kind of busy right now.”

You didn’t mean to come off so coldly, but you were just so frustrated with the entire situation and you were anticipating something negative to fall from his lips.

“Aw shit—I forgot. Tonight is your junior prom right? Damnit—if it’s any consolation baby, you look so fucking beautiful.”

You were confused at his compliment; when did he get a chance to see you? Since you weren’t all too excited for tonight, you didn’t really post anything—nor did you feel the need to send him any pictures. Maybe your mom sent him photos of you or something. Right as you were about to respond, there were two hands that lightly covered your eyes.

You knew exactly who it was without even having to guess; these were the hands you’ve held for more than half of your life. The same hands that would wipe away any tears that would fall from your eyelids. Mark. He spun you around and immediately placed a searing kiss upon your lips before you could even say or do anything.

“Hi baby, missed me?” Seeing him for the first time in almost five months should have been more thrilling, yet when you looked at him, you felt nothing. No butterflies, no sparks, no increasing of your heart rate—nothing. When you looked at him, you didn’t see the love of your life.

The boy in front of you held no familiarity at all. You wanted to react; you wanted to cry—to wrap your arms around him and kiss him all around his handsome face. You wanted to go in to detail about how much you’ve missed him and how these last five months without him were extremely difficult—but nothing came out. You could tell by his furrowed brows and the way he was biting his lip that he wasn’t expecting such an emotionless reaction from you.

“What are you doing here Mark?”

He frowned. Mark had a feeling he was being such an asshole towards you for the last few months. He knew the distance between the two of you was all his fault. It was killing him as much as it was with you. What you didn’t know, was that he took on a job in order to make some money for a trip back home—to see you. To say he was tired was an understatement.

If he wasn’t at school, he was at work. If he wasn’t at work, he was at practice and the only time he had to rest was right before bed. There was no excuse for not reaching out to you more often; honestly all he wanted to do was to call you and see what you were up to. That’s why all your calls were so short. He didn’t care what the two of you talked about or how long the conversation lasted, he just wanted to hear your voice. It was what kept him going.

No matter how hard college was for him, he knew he was going to get to see you again soon. If only he knew what his absence was going to do to your relationship; then he would’ve just asked his parents to pay for his flight home but it was a pride thing. Mark hated having to depend on people. He was independent from the day he could walk. Your reaction was the complete opposite of what he was expecting, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected.

“I wanted to surprise you. Listen, I can explain why I haven’t been so involved in our relationship these days and I’m really sorry y/n. I’ve been such a jerk and you really don’t deserve that but—“

“I think we need to take a break.”

You couldn’t even look at him; you were sure the two hours of makeup that the makeup artist work so hard on would get ruined if you were to see his reaction. It took you a long time to come to that decision; not once in your ten years of knowing him and loving him for would you have ever thought you would want to take a break from him. You never wanted to be away from Mark—ever. But he was never around anyway and waiting on him only interfered with what was going on in your life. It was also taking a huge toll on your mental health and you no longer wanted to give him that power anymore.

“Y/n, you don’t mean that. Baby you’re just mad and you have every right to be. But please, hear me out—“ You let out a scoff of disbelief.

“Hear you out? All I ever seem to do is hear you out Mark. Everything is always about you! Go check your messages. It’s always me—I’m always the one reaching out to you. I’m always the one initiating the calls, I’m the one staying up till the wee hours of the morning and going to school so exhausted just so I can talk to you. I—I can’t help but feel as though you fell out of love with me. Don’t get me wrong, your happiness, your health and your well-being is all I care about. But you don’t seem to give two shits about me or anything that goes on in my life Mark. I got a new job—I tried to tell you, but I never get any word in before you have to leave for school or for practice. I’m also on probation—my grades are shit right now and if I don’t get my act together, they’re going to hold me back an entire year and guess what Mark—it’s all your fault. I’m tired Mark. I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

“So that’s it? You’re going to give up all these years—these wonderful, amazing and unfathomably perfect years together because you’re being stubborn and refuse to hear me out? You’re giving up on us so easily y/n! You claimed that I fell out of love with you—you and I both know I am still so madly in love with you and I’m always going to be in love with you Damnit! What happened to all our plans huh? What happened to forever? You and I are soulmates y/n—did you forget that?”

“Of course I didn’t Mark—but don’t you dare play the victim in this. Our relationship is no longer what it used to be. I tried so hard—so fucking hard to get it back to what it used to be but each and every single one of my efforts went to shit because you obviously don’t think anything is wrong. I’m dying Mark. This relationship is going to be the death of me. I’m unhappy Mark. I haven’t been happy in such a long time. I’ve missed you so fucking much—“

“I’m here now baby. Fuck y/n I’m so fucking sorry baby. Please—please, please—let me fix this. I can fix this. I’m not letting you go this easy—fuck I’m never letting you go y/n. Get it through that thick head of yours. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you.”

You hesitantly brought your hand up to cup his cheek and released a gentle breath of relief when you felt him lean in to your palm. You grazed his bottom lip with your thumb before leaving a chaste kiss against his lips. Your heart was begging you to hear him out—stupid heart. Such a stupid—stupid heart.

In his eyes, you could see the little boy who added an extra red piece in the slot when you weren’t looking so that you could win connect four against him. The same boy who gave you his shoes to wear as he walked with just socks on because he saw how much pain your heels caused you at his junior prom. There was not a doubt in your mind that Mark loved you even if you kept trying to convince yourself that he didn’t.

The love he had for you was still there. It just wasn’t as fierce or as strong as it used to be. You wanted to deepen the kiss; you loved kissing Mark. There was nothing you missed more than having his pretty lips meld perfectly with yours—but you knew if you were to kiss him, your entire speech about going on a break was going to be for nothing. You rested your head against his chest before placing a gentle kiss right below his jaw.

“I love you Mark. I truly believe I was made for loving you and I’m always going to love you. I have every intention to getting married to you, starting a family with you and spending the rest of my life with you. But right now, I think we need some time apart in order to find ourselves again. I lost myself loving you Mark—I gave you everything and you took it all without hesitance until there was nothing left. I need to learn to live without you Mark. I’m not giving up on us—I’m just doing what I feel is going to bring us back to each other again. You are my person Mark Tuan and I’m yours.”

The two of you stood there for what felt like hours. His grips were tight on your waist and you began to tear up as soon as his chest began to heave against yours. You knew he was crying and you weren’t actually expecting any kind of emotion out of him; you were still so shocked to hear him grow angry with your decision. When you looked up at him and saw his eyes were now bloodshot red and filled with tears; you were ultimately regretting your decision. You wiped a tears away with your fingers and pecked his nose lovingly.

“Don’t cry baby. In due time, we’ll be fine.”

You were selfish; you were the one pushing him away, yet you still wanted as much time with Mark as you possibly could get. You didn’t know just how long it would take for you to heal, so you wanted to cherish this moment while you still could. Unfortunately, your little reunion with Mark was interrupted and you had a bad feeling that things were right about to go downhill.

“Hey y/n, they’re going to start announcing the king and queen did you want to—oh—uh—hey man, you must be Mark. Nice to meet you.”

Mark’s grip on your waist tightened as his jaw clenched; yeah—this wasn’t going to end well. Mark was the definition of a jealous boyfriend. One time, he almost ended up twisting BamBam’s arm when the younger boy made a joke about how you were in the bedroom. He was extremely protective and territorial over you—but since he’s been absent, he had yet to hear about who this guy was that seemed to know who he was.

His eyes landed on Jaebeom’s tie and how it matched your dress perfectly. It only made him wonder—who exactly was this guy to you and why were you at the prom with him?

“Jaebeom, do you think you could go inside? I’ll be right there.”

He looked at your worried expression then noticed how both of Mark’s fists were balled at his sides. Jaebeom wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t all that bright when it came to his studies, but he could tell that you weren’t as happy as you played yourself off to be. Seeing how tense you and Mark both were, he couldn’t help but feel that your boyfriend was the reason.

As much as he wanted to call Mark out for making you cry so much these days, it wasn’t his place to do so. He was just your friend and if he wanted it to stay that way, he knew it was best to keep his mouth shut. You relaxed when you saw him nod in agreement before walking back inside of the ballroom.

“Mark, I think it’s time for me to head back—“

“Him. Is he the reason why you’re leaving me? Did you fall in love with him? Did you cheat on me y/n? Did you get lonely while I was away—working my fucking ass off at a job I hate in order to save enough money so I could come and see you?—“

“Mark, stop. You know it’s not like that—“

“Needed another dick to keep you satisfied while I was away? Is that what it is? What—did he say all these nice things about you to get you to fall for him? What is it y/n? What’s so good about him huh? What does he have that I’m lacking—“

“ENOUGH! Don’t you dare accuse me of cheating on you. You and I both know I would never EVER do such a fucking thing. My heart—this pathetic heart and what’s left of it, my mind, my spirit, my body—you own it all. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want anyone else but you for you to get it through your fucking head? Stop trying to play the victim Mark! You’re at fault here! Accept it! Jaebeom is just a friend—he was here for me when I had nobody. I had no friends—my siblings are all out of the house—my parents are gone all the time and my boyfriend only calls me when he wants to—when it’s convenient for him. Jaebeom is a genuine friend Mark. You should be happy that I had him to keep me sane. Instead of wondering who he is to me, you should be focused on what you are to me. Good night Mark.”

Jaebeom tried his best to cheer you up in any way possible, but he could tell by your body language alone that you just wanted to go home. He didn’t hear what happened after he left, but the curiosity was eating away at him. However, you already looked so distraught—he didn’t want to add on to it. You felt bad for Jaebeom—this was just as much his prom night as much as it was yours and now you ruined it for the both of you. What you could use was a three-month long nap. When Jaebeom dropped you home, he placed a soft kiss on your cheek before wiping a tear from your face that you didn’t even know fell.

“I don’t know what happened earlier and I don’t expect you to tell me. But just know I’ll be ready to listen whenever you’re ready to talk.”

You didn’t know what it is that you did to deserve such an amazing friend like Jaebeom—if someone were to put you through what you’ve been putting him through since the day you met him, you would’ve dropped that person completely. But here he was—so understanding—so willing to give up and sacrifice anything for your happiness. You made a mental note to make it up to him once you were mentally ready to do anything.

Your parents were shocked beyond words to see you coming back alone—they actually didn’t expect you to come home at all knowing that Mark was going to surprise you. They actually conspired with Mark to go and surprise you at the hotel because they’ve noticed how broken you’ve been for the last few months and they were hoping that seeing him again would get you in a better mood. Your mom was about to approach you, but it was evident that you just wanted to go to sleep.

Only three days in to your break with Mark did you realize you may have made a brief lapse of judgement. Sure, it was as if nothing has changed. You were already used to not hearing from him; but now that you knew the two of you currently were not a couple, it made things all the more difficult. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days and days felt like months. Waking up felt like a chore; you missed him like crazy.

Even if you only heard from him on his time, it was better than not hearing from him at all. Exactly one month after that heartbreaking night at your prom, you found yourself on a plane to New York. Once school was out for the summer, you found yourself at the grocery store almost every single day in order to make enough money to afford a round-trip plane ticket to see Mark with the hopes of mending your broken relationship. In this last month, you came to the realization that you were willing to have Mark in your life even if it was only once or twice a week; it was better than not having him at all.

“A105, A106, A107—A108. Here goes nothing.”

You were afraid that in the last month, Mark could have realized that maybe this break should be a permanent decision. He hasn’t tried to get in touch with you once since your prom night nor did he try to visit you once while he was still in California—but then again, you couldn’t blame him. He was giving you the space you asked for; now, you were hoping and praying he was going to open the door and welcome you with open arms. You knocked a few times and it felt as though you were about to throw up your heart. When you had yet to hear a response, you reached forward to knock again. When the door finally opened, the person behind it wasn’t who you were hoping it would be.

“Y/n?”

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 #got7 mark

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fatandnerdy30 · 4 years ago

Text

Land of the Avengers chapter 1

So, I said I would be posting to tumblr more often, so I figured that I should start with my reconfigured LotA story...so, here we go!

The beeping of an alarm is the first thing he heard the morning of the week that would change his life forever. Peter yawned as he hit dismiss on his app flashing on his phone’s screen, rolling over again.

“Peter! Come on, time for school!” May’s voice called down the hall, her footsteps pounding through the dorm apartment. “Your breakfast is going to get cold!”

That got the boy moving and five minutes later, as he was making his way toward the kitchen, the melody to wake up the entire academy started playing over the loudspeaker. Peter always woke a little early because he hated being startled awake by the annoying good morning song. He slid into his chair and smiled as May gave him a kiss on top of his head, ruffling his curls. “I’ll be home early today, so you won’t have to cook.”

At that the boy made a face. “Why don’t we just eat in the cafeteria? At least they’re a little edible.”

“Hey!” she said in shock, though amusement could be heard in the tone. “I’ll let you know the headmaster enjoyed my walnut date loaf very much, thank you!”

“He only took it because he wasn’t trying to be rude. Come on, May, your reputation for being a bad cook is pretty infamous in the halls of the school.” He picked up the fried-cake on his plate which was like a plate and stiff as a board for an example.

“All right, I’ll admit I don’t cook that well, but it’s not as bad as all that.” She poked at the stiff fried-cake before she left the room. “And make sure to finish what’s on your plate. Both of them!”

Peter laughed at the joke and just hid the cake in a napkin before throwing it out and racing back to his room. With his door closed, he put a CD into his stereo and started getting ready for the day. Brushing his teeth, he bopped his head back and forth to the beat, his curls bouncing along, which he then fixed. He then quickly put his uniform on and grabbed his homework, the papers filled with elaborate equations and safety protocols that he had to memorize. But, it excited him, because he was closer to becoming an apprentice flight engineer, which was even closer to becoming a pilot! “See you later, May!”

“Bye honey!”

The boy shut the door and practically ran to the school building, throwing open the doors. “Peter!” His best friend’s voice made Peter turn around and a big smile lit up his face.

“Harley, what’s up man?” They grabbed each other’s arms, then slid their hands down then to ‘explode’, making the sounds as their hands separated.

“Nothing much, just wondering why you’re always the first in the halls.” The dark haired boy smirked at him as he slammed Peter’s shoulder playfully.

“I may be first, but you’re always right behind me. Looking to get on Captain Potts’ good side? Because you loooove her?” Peter cackled when Harley’s face went red.

“I do not. I just want to impress her because I think I’m failing.” Harley sighed. “I got a ninety-eight on my last equipment test.” His head hung down as he pouted.

“Oh, ninety-eight…that’s harsh,” Peter joked, stumbling when the other boy pushed him and laughed. “Don’t sweat it, man! You’re one of the smartest kids in the academy, and anyone would be grateful to have you on board.”

“Oh, I know,” Harley joked, puffing his own chest out, but the other boy elbowed him in the chest, making him choke. “Dude! Not cool!” He rubbed his chest, but Peter was laughing too hard to respond.

“What’s so funny Penis?” An annoying voice sobered up both boys and the older of the two stiffened. “Finally get to look in a mirror?” An oily haired student slid in between the two. He wasn’t smarter than Peter, but since the boy’s first day, the bully had been on Peter’s case. Harley said it was because he was jealous, but Peter had no clue why. Flash had everything. He had good grades, two parents, was popular, and rich, everything that Peter had wanted. But, he couldn’t help but feel bad for the bully.

Harley moved, making Peter snap out of his thoughts. The older boy was smirking. “No, we finally got to see you without your makeup, and boy was that hysterical!”

Flash’s face turned red and he balled his fists at his sides, bringing one up. “You’re dead, Keener!” He was about to bring his fist up to Harley’s face, when a hand grabbed him from behind.

“What was that, Mr. Thompson?”

Mr. Barton scowled down at the boy, blue eyes churning like the ocean during a storm. “Did you threaten a fellow student with bodily harm and a death threat?” The man’s chiseled jaw was ticking in his annoyance under his five O'clock shadow.

“N-no!” the bully squeaked, his coffee skin turning a sickly green, brown color. "I-I-I-I-“ He stared at the muscled arm beyond the hand that was holding him half off the ground.

"You were what?” Mr. Barton finally released the boy, watching him stumble back into the lockers. “Get outta here, you little punk. You have detention. With me. After school. Now go.” When the boy stood frozen, the teacher growled. “That’s an order, Cadet Thompson!” Flash jumped and practically ran from the man, not even looking back. “You two okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Barton, sir!” Peter replied, both cadets standing at attention. “Thank you for your assistance.”

The man smirked and clapped both boy’s on the shoulder. “At ease, boys. You’re gonna be late for class. Go ahead.”

The boys smiled and almost ran down the hall to Ms. Potts’ class not noticing Mr. Barton watching them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re late.” Captain Potts stated to the two boys who ran into the classroom, both panting. The woman’s strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a serious bun, highlighting her classic bone structure. Her blue eyes showed her annoyance at being interrupted.

“Sorry Captain!” Peter said in between breaths. “We were detained.”

“Hmm…see that it doesn’t happen again. Now, to your seats. We’re discussing sub-orbital flight and the long term effects on the body.” She waited for the boys to get to their seats, and started. Pepper checked on her students often during her lesson, noting that more than a few looked bored. But, the two students she knew who were paying attention were staring right at the board, pens scribbling like mad as they took notes on every word the Captain said.

“Who can tell me how far up you need to reach sub-orbital flight and feel weightless?” She waited, staring at the company. “Anyone?” Two hands shot into the air and she had to hide a smile. “Harley.”

“One hundred kilometers, Captain, or sixty-two miles above sea level.”

“Very good, Cadet Keiner. Now, extra question, what is that altitude called?” Peter’s hand shot into the air a second before Harley could answer, and this time she couldn’t help but chuckle. “Peter.” “The Karman Line, named after Theodore von Karman, who formulated the idea that at this height was too thin for regular flight. It’s also called the edge of space.”

“Very good, Cadet Parker. I can see someone has paid attention in the past,” Pepper sent a glare to the other cadets, who sat straight at that look. “All of you have a bright future, but you’re not showing that you have the drive to become Pilots for the Reed center….” She sighed. “And because of this, I am telling you that tomorrow there will be a pop quiz on all of this. I’m being nice and letting you know beforehand this way you can come prepared.

"Now, there are twelve long term effects on the body and they are as follows: after about a dozen flights, the pilot’s spine itself stretches, but it doesn’t cause too much pain. It corrects itself in a few months of being on the ground and the pilot can start flying again.

“The second is on too many extra long flights, the muscles of the pilot loses some of their muscle mass. This is why we insist on the pilots being in fit shape in order to stay on, especially those who take long flights that last more than six hours. Please turn to page thirty-two of your books and read the following pages and take notes, until you reach the third effect.”

Silence followed for a long while, everyone focused and taking the appropriate notes until the last page was turned and the students turned their attention to Captain Potts. “Everyone ready to move on? Good. Now, the third effect would be-"The bell rang and the students started packing their bags. She saluted the cadets, who stood altogether and saluted her back. "You’re dismissed.” She watched the kids rush out of the classroom to their next class. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day went by fast, and before he knew it, Peter was in line for lunch, his foot tapping with excess energy from sitting so long listening to teachers drone on and on. He was young and needed to move. After his muscles were tired from hopping in place, he leaned against the window, the smog so thick that the city was barely visible from the sky deck the school was built on. Pollution and factory smog had been getting worse and worse with each passing year until people had to start building homes on top of towers to give them clean air to breathe. But, it happened that only the rich could afford to be in those towers.

Peter remembered living in the smog filled city below and it left some bad health problems like asthma, which was getting better now that he lived in the dorms of the school. If he hadn’t gotten the scholarship, he would still be below that thick cloud, struggling to breathe, or dead.

He noticed the line moving and stepped forward, when someone rammed into his shoulder, causing the boy to cry out and hold the limb. “Oops.” Flash’s annoying voice filled the boy’s ears and he rolled his eyes.

“Just leave me alone, Flash.” Peter was getting tired of the bully’s crap. He rolled his shoulder and winced when it was tender.

“Why should I when you obviously have no one around to protect you. No friends,” the bully looked around. “No teachers.” He then pressed Peter closer to the window, the other students backing away. “And I still owe you for what your boyfriend said to me this morning.” Flash’s eyes hardened. He looked up slightly into Peter’s face. Then, without hesitation, he slammed a fist into Peter’s stomach, causing said boy to double over and gasp for air. “That was just a love tap. You or your boyfriend say anything like that to me again, it’ll be worse.” He turned and walked away, laughing with a few of the other kids pointing at the boy holding his stomach.

Peter lost his appetite after that, so he got off the line and went to the library, grabbing his books out of his locker on the way. The least he could do was get some of the assignments Captain Potts gave them. And wait to see if a bruise formed on his sore ribs, which the way he felt, he was sure about that.

Lost in the pages of a book, Peter barely heard the bell ring. A clearing of a throat made the boy look up, the librarian gesturing to a clock with a smirk. Peter gasped and started packing his books wildly when he heard the chimes for an announcement coming over the loudspeaker.

“Cadets Parker and Keener, to Colonel Richards’ office. Cadets Parker and Keener, to Colonel Richards’ office.” The near robotic voice of the colonel’s secretary rang through the halls. Peter froze as the few students in the library stared at him.

The first thought that came to mind was what did they do wrong? Then it was, did Flash say they started the fight? Or, his overactive brain thought, maybe they did something terribly bad, and they were going to be expelled? Peter shook his head. No, that couldn’t be. It was on video that Flash had hit him.

With a gulp, he stood up and crammed what books and papers he had left, into his backpack, not caring about the state they were in before practically running out of the library. The entire way to the headmaster’s office, the bad thoughts kept running through Peter’s mind, making his heart beat faster and the dread rise farther.

Harley was waiting outside the headmaster’s office. He looked as nervous as Peter did. “What do you think we did?” Peter asked panting, his eyes wide.

“I have no clue, but it can’t be good if we’re being summoned to this office.” The door swung open and Mr. Barton stuck his head out, his eyes softening at the look the two gave him.

“Hey, what’s with the scared looks?”

Harley gulped so loud, even Peter heard it. “We’re ready to accept our punishment for whatever we did, sir,” he said lowly and Peter just looked at the ground. What they weren’t expecting was the laugh coming from Mr. Barton. It started out as a chuckle, and then he was actually holding his middle. “Punishment?” the man cackled. “What made you think you were being punished?”

“W-well,” Peter started, wringing his hands. “No one is called to the Colonel’s office, except for punishment…and the fight Flash caused this morning…” He wasn’t going to mention the fight-if you could call it that- which the headmaster probably had seen on the security cams.

“Don’t even mention that little creep’s name to me. I still have plans for him in detention. But, don’t worry, you were called here for something good. Promise.” He stepped aside and ushered the cadets inside. Instantly they stood straight at attention, saluting the dark haired man sitting behind the desk, Mr. Barton following.

“The cadets you wanted, Sir.”

“Ahh, thank you, Clint. At ease.” Colonel Richards sat back, his elbows on his desk. “Peter and Harley, correct?” He couldn’t miss the way the two seemed to tremble in his presence.

“Y-yes sir,” Harley nodded.

“Good. I’ve been looking into your grades and I must say I am very impressed. Normally, when we do have scholarship students, they slack off once they’re in the school.” It didn’t happen very often, and Peter and Harley both had stunning grades to go with their scholarships. “But, not you two. And that impressed me.” He smiled at the look the boys gave him.

“It impressed me so much, that I’ve decided to let you two take the flight simulation for real. The only placement I could get for the both of you though, was next week.” The room became silent from the news, both boys staring at him slack jawed.

“I don’t expect you to be flying alone, though. Mr. Barton and Captain Potts have both agreed to be with you on the flight. You both are allowed to take one extra person of your choosing to take with you. It will be a week long excursion. Consider it a reward for your hard work this year.”

The boys smile’s grew brighter and they looked at one another excitedly. “It’s an honor, Colonel, Sir!” Peter said, his voice cracking in his excitement, making him turn red.

“Yes, this is a great honor, Sir.” Harley said, his face so serious, it made Reed chuckle.

“Calm down, Cadet Keiner. But, I will warn you,” his face turned serious, “that this is also a test proving the two of you will be capable pilots and your futures are riding on this.”

Peter and Harley both trembled at that, but saluted the man with a loud 'Yes Sir!’

“Study hard, and try and get as much Simulation time as you need. In fact, I’ll open the Baxter building to the both of you, this way you’ll have state of the art simulators to work with.”

To say the boys were shocked was an understatement. The Baxter building? “I-it’s truly an honor, Sir!” Peter said, his face beaming.

“I’ll have your passes ready for you by tomorrow. You’re dismissed.” Both boys slammed their heels together and saluted before exiting the room.

“We get to go to the top floor of the Baxter Building!” Peter cried as soon as they were out of the Colonel’s office. His young eyes were sparkling with wonder and excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see what they do up there! I’ve heard that they’ve been working on actual space flight! How crazy is that? We might get to go to the moon someday, maybe farther! We may even discover a new planet! How cool would that be!”

Harley listened with a soft smile. His younger friend always got this way when talking about the science of space flight and or chemistry. "It would be so cool. You gonna be the first to step on the moon?“ he ruffled Peter’s hair, cackling.

"I just might!” Peter said indignantly.

“I’m sure you will, bud. Come on, we’ll be late for Harrington’s class, and you know him and his stories if you’re late.” Harley slung his arm around Peter’s shoulders and tugged him towards the classrooms.

#Marvelfanfic #Avengers #iron dad #Iron Man Tony Stark #virginia potts #peter parker #harley keener #clintbarton #professor hulk #steverogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bucky barnes #g/t fluff #found family

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ghostking-wenning · 5 years ago

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Radishes, Chapter 2

chapter 2 babeyyy let’s party! I promise we’ll get to the actual plot soon lol

2200 words, Rated G, NingXian, modern au, farmer’s market au, gay disaster flirting, romcom? I guess?

Qionglin carefully stacked the produce crates in the trunk of his hatchback. It had been his sister Qing’s when she was in high school, but she passed it on to him when she moved to the city for university. It had been old then, and it was pretty shabby by now, but it got Qionglin from point A to point B, so he wasn’t complaining. He liked it better than the huge, noisy farm truck, anyway. That thing had the turning radius of a steam engine, and when it was cold and wet like today, the brakes made a hideous screeching sound that Qionglin could feel in his teeth. He’d considered driving that old monstrosity today, as he found himself once again laden with radishes. Luckily, through sheer stubbornness and a little clever maneuvering, he managed to fit it all in his car.

The drive to the city was peaceful, if a little boring. But Qionglin liked driving. In the car, he was finally, truly alone. He could sing along to the radio, and laugh aloud at the DJ’s corny jokes without fear of being seen or judged, or worse. When he was in school, he’d been bullied constantly. He had been tall and gangly, all limbs and very little grace; coupled with his stutter, his shyness, and his below-average grades, he was the perfect target. He’d had to learn to keep his head down, keep a straight face, keep quiet to avoid torment. Several years and lots of therapy later, he still struggled to express himself and be open with others, even his family. Slow progress is still progress, he reminded himself.

It had started to rain in earnest by the time he pulled into the market plaza. Working quickly, he pitched the canopy and unloaded the car. He had almost blissfully forgotten about all the radishes, until he was stacking them on the table again. Qionglin had always thought of himself as a patient, tolerant person-- a pushover, his sister would say-- but these radishes were really starting to get on his nerves. At least he could be sure they were the tastiest damn radishes in this whole market.

He finished setting up, and surveyed the rest of the market. Usually more of the vendors were set up by now, but perhaps they’d been delayed by the weather. It looked like it would be a slow day today. He sighed and sat in his folding chair, and watched as the market plaza slowly came to life. Nearly an hour passed before the first customers arrived to mill about the stalls, contemplating heirloom vegetables and artisanal soaps. After a few more hours, Qionglin happily tidied the stack of bills in his cashbox. For all his awkwardness, he had no trouble selling his produce. His vegetables were one of the few things he was proud of, and thus one of the few things he could talk about easily.

But frankly, the produce spoke for itself. He had several regulars already who kept coming back for his peas and cabbages and whatnot. Even the radishes were popular, but they were so large, most people only bought a few at a time. The pile of them loomed quietly beside him. He pointedly avoided looking at them, and instead indulged in a little people-watching between customers. He spotted a teenager wearing a studded jacket and black boots, and was suddenly reminded of the handsome stranger he’d met the week before. Wei Wuxian... It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of that chance encounter in the last few days; he’d made such a fool of himself it was hard to forget. He’d also had trouble forgetting that incredible smile. He did say he was coming again this week… so I guess I can’t have screwed up too bad.

When he took a break for lunch, he texted Qing. Just a quick “Hey how are you?” that she was probably too busy to answer right now. He thought about going to visit her when he was done for the day, but eventually decided against it. Qing didn’t care for surprise visits, she insisted on having a routine.

He and Qing had been inseparable as children. After their parents passed, they were taken in by their grandparents out in the countryside. It had taken them both a long time to adjust, but it had been much harder on Qing. She never quite took to living in the country as well as Qionglin had.

When she graduated high school, she’d considered taking a year off before university, but Qionglin wouldn’t hear of it. He knew she was worried about him, knew she didn’t want to leave him behind, and he didn’t really want her to, either... but he couldn’t stand the thought of her putting her dreams on hold for him. He insisted he didn’t need her to protect him anymore, that her happiness was more important. They had fought about it all summer, but in the end, Qing relented. The day she left for the city, they both cried for hours. It was a bitter memory, but Qionglin chuckled a little thinking about it. It had been one of the first fights he’d ever won. One of the only ones.

He texted Qing again: “Miss you. Call me soon?” She didn’t answer. He would just have to wait until their next scheduled video chat. Qionglin sighed as he put away his lunch box and turned his attention back to the market. He busied himself tidying baskets of potatoes and bundles of herbs. The crowd was thinning now, and the rain was still pouring. Qionglin didn’t mind the rain, but it did sometimes steer his thoughts toward melancholy and a sad kind of wistfulness. He was so used to being on his own that he didn’t register the feeling as loneliness. He sighed again. I should do something fun tonight. Maybe I’ll bake something. That should cheer me up.

“Hey, Farmer Wen!” A cheerful voice shook him from his reverie. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Qionglin jumped. He turned to see Wei Wuxian strolling breezily into his market tent. Oh no, Qionglin thought, as if part of him hadn’t been looking forward to this exact moment for the better part of an hour. Wuxian lowered the hood of his jacket and swept his long hair forward. Today he wore it in a loose braid, revealing a streak of red that Qionglin hadn’t noticed before. His clothes were damp from the rain, but he seemed elegantly unbothered. Somehow, even a worn knit sweater and faded jeans looked like high fashion on him. Oh no.

“Oops,” Wuxian said, stifling a little laugh, “Looks like I startled you this time.”

“H… um, h-- h--” Qionglin cursed himself for getting stuck on the very first word. He shut his eyes and took a breath. It’s fine, don’t panic! Just pick a new word... Wuxian was patient as Qionglin collected himself.

“… Greetings!” He finally said. Great choice, dork.

“How have you been?” Wuxian asked, idly picking up a head of cabbage and turning it over in his hands. He still wore his silver skull ring and woven bracelet, but today he had added several more rings, thinner and daintier than the skull.

“Uh… me? I’ve been fine I guess. S-same as ever. What about you?” He wished he’d had something more to say, but it wasn’t like he got up to much outside of work. Wuxian didn’t seem like he’d be interested in things like tree grafts and crop rotation. Quinglin had hobbies, he supposed; he liked archery and cooking, but he hadn’t had time for archery lately, and cooking was more of a necessity than a hobby. Nothing special.

“Fine, you guess? Huh.” Wuxian mulled over his bland response, eyebrows knitted together slightly like he was dissatisfied somehow. For a moment Qionglin worried he’d press the issue and he’d have to reveal just how boring he was. Thankfully, Wuxian had already moved on.

“I’ve been doing great, myself!” He said, casually circling the table between them. “Had a pretty good week, y’know? Finished a big commission, had dinner with my sister, met someone... interesting.” He glanced sidelong at Qionglin and watched him completely miss the hint. With a sly little smile, he added, “And I’ve got a show coming up, so that’ll be fun.”

“Oh, that all sounds nice... What kind of show are you going to?” Qionglin asked, clueless, but politely interested.

“A rock concert,” Wuxian answered vaguely, picking up a long stick of burdock and twirling it in his fingers.

“Cool!” Qionglin said, sincerely and maybe a little loudly. His anxiety gave way to eager curiosity. “I like music. Haha, of course I do, who doesn’t like music?” He caught himself before he could start rambling. Focus! “Who-- uh, who’s playing?”

“I am.” With a hand on his hip, head held high and an effortlessly confident smirk playing across his lips, he was the very picture of coolness to Qionglin.

“Whoa! Really?” Qionglin’s face lit up. “I should’ve guessed you were a rockstar! Now that I think of it, you totally look like one…” He hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud, but before he could panic about it, Wuxian’s expression melted into a bashful, yet somehow radiant grin. In an instant he’d gone from incredibly cool to unbelievably cute. If Qionglin wasn’t blushing wildly before, he definitely was now. Oh no, he thought again. I’m doomed.

“Wha-- You really think so?” He asked, clearly flustered by the praise. His silvery eyes glittered.

It was too late to take it back, Qionglin had to commit. “Um, well, yeah! With the long hair and the piercing and the stylish clothes and all…” He fidgeted a little, worrying at the hem of his sleeve. Is this… flirting? Am I doing it right?

“Wow, thank you! That’s really sweet of you to say,” Wuxian beamed. “I, uh, I’m afraid I might’ve oversold it already though… My band isn’t exactly famous or anything. We mostly play clubs and stuff. Rockstar might be too strong a word.” He said, self-effacingly.

“S-still! It’s cool that you’re in a band. What do you play?” Qionglin asked, still gazing admiringly.

“I’m the lead singer, but I also play guitar and sometimes keyboard. I play flute too, but that’s not very punk-rock, you know?” Wuxian laughed. “Do you play anything? Or sing?”

Qionglin laughed too, a little bitterly. “Only when I’m alone in the car. I think I’d die of embarrassment if anyone ever heard me… I uh, tried to learn violin when I was in school, but I was terrible. I couldn’t get the hang of sheet music either. I can’t even imagine being on a stage...” He shuffled his feet on the ground, and finally managed to tear his eyes away from Wuxian. He remembered how frustrating music had been, how the notes and lines seemed to swim across the page, jumbling into meaningless noise. They might as well have been hieroglyphs, for all the sense they made to him. Thinking about it too hard would give him a headache.

“Hmm,” Wei Wuxian said, pulling Qionglin back into the present. He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at Qionglin appraisingly. “Well, you’re definitely handsome enough to be on stage. Might look better with your hair up though, so people can see your cute face.” He fished around in his pockets for a minute, totally oblivious to Qionglin’s thunderstruck expression. “Ah!” He said at last. “Here.” He offered Qionglin a red hair tie.

Qionglin could only stare, still trying to process what he’d just heard. Suddenly, it dawned on him that he might’ve been the interesting someone Wuxian had mentioned meeting. After what felt like several whole minutes, he took the hair tie, and tried to ignore the quiet frisson he felt as their fingers just barely brushed together. His internal monologue was reduced to incoherent screaming.

“Thank you…” he finally forced out. “I don’t think… anyone’s ever called me uh, that before…” he mused. Clumsily, he gathered the top layer of his hair back into a short half-ponytail. “Um… H-- how’s that?” His voice was so quiet he barely heard himself. Or maybe it was just drowned out by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

“Well, I can’t tell when you look at the ground like that!” Wuxian chuckled. Qionglin looked up at him, but couldn’t meet his eyes. He opted to focus on his silver piercing instead, then panicked when his eyes wandered to Wuxian’s lips. He dropped his gaze to the collar of his jacket. Wuxian examined him for another drawn-out moment. Qionglin briefly wondered if anyone had ever actually died of embarrassment or if he’d be the first. He nibbled on his lower lip, trying to think of what to say next, but his head was full of static.

Thankfully he didn’t have to think too hard. “Hm, yep. Much better. Red’s a good color on you.” Wuxian said decisively. He finally looked away, and even he looked a little sheepish now. “I uh… guess I should actually do my shopping now, huh?” He cleared his throat and turned to look through the vegetables.

“Mn…” Qionglin answered. He shuffled back behind his counter and sat, still a little dazed. A couple minutes later, Wuxian plunked his picks on the counter. He paid and tucked his veggies into his backpack, the silence stretching between them.

Under the table, Qionglin clenched his fists on his lap. Just go for it! Say something! Taking a deep breath to strengthen his resolve, Qionglin looked back up at him, green eyes meeting silver. He could swear Wuxian was blushing too. “S-see you next week?”

Wuxian’s smile felt like a sunrise. “Yeah!” He said. “Absolutely.”

#mdzs fic #my writing #wen ning #ningxian #modern au #farmer's market au #my art #mai luobo!#wei wuxian

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stenbrozier · 5 years ago

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Modern Losers’ Club Headcanons

Plot: Individual headcanons of the modern Loser’ about different things they’d do and love (mostly during high school)

Warnings: slight Reddie, shit ton of Stenburough, drug use + mentions of sex + swearing

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Bill Denbrough:

~ He’s the artist, everyone knew that.

~Typical art kid who won all the awards and participated in every art class his school offered.

~ He just didn’t take choir or band because we know this boy has no musical abilities at all.

~ Bill would save up all his allowance and holiday money so that he could buy that really good drawing app that he could use on his IPad.

~ After he got it, there was no way to get him to look up at you for more than ten seconds. He would fall in love with digital art.

~ Remember he took all of the art classes? Well, creative writing and poetry we’re considered arts at Derry High School, so that’s where he fell in love with writing.

~ Suprisingly, he would be really into heavy metal. Bands like Bring Me the Horizon and Of Mice and Men would blare in his headphones while he drew in his room late at night.

~ Bill would also really love watching indie movies on Netflix and other platforms. He’s lowkey a movie buff, but he doesn’t tell people too much.

~ His favorite movie from the past decade would probably be Moonrise Kingdom (good movie!!) or The Skeleton Twins (also good movie!!)

~ Bill’s favorite book would 10000% be Turtles All The Way Down by John Green because of the main character and her battle with anxiety.

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Mike Hanlon:

~ He runs a cooking YouTube channel, you can’t fight me on this one.

~ Mike would definitely have one of those motorized scooters, idk seems like a Mike thing

~ He’s in love with video games but only the ones that are based on a lot of skill. He doesn’t like first person shooters, nor does he like any games with violence at all. Tbh, Papa’s Pizzeria is right up his alley.

~ Mike would be a gym try hard, most definitely. But in every other class he’d just sit on his phone.

~ But he’s so smart that he’d pass all the tests anyway.

~ He’d work a lot just so he could afford the newest phone because he thinks it gives people less of a reason to pick on him and bully him. (News flash: it doesn’t)

~ Whenever Mike isn’t working, he volunteers at the animal shelter in Derry. He runs the Instagram account :)

~ Probably one of the guys who posts shirtless pics on Instagram because he likes the attention the girls give him in the comments.

~ Will answer any of Bill’s texts at 3am when he wants feedback on a new piece of art.

~ A secret theatre kid, no doubt. Not really a musical kid, but he loves acting and just being on stage with everyone’s attention on him.

——————————————————————————

Richie Tozier:

~ Speaking of theatre kids, Richie is the BIGGEST fucking one. He has been in every musical and play that his school has done since 6th grade, and he was one of the best kids they had.

~ He wears Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens shirts, but Richie mostly listens to softer bands like Arctic Monkeys and The Neighbourhood.

~ He has a bi pride pin on his backpack. Kids will sometimes pull it off and throw it around, but he just pulls another one out of a ziploc bag full of them in the tiny front pouch of his bag and sticks it on there.

~ Richie unapologetically owns a Juul and will sometimes let Bev borrow it as long as she pays him “25 cents a hit”, which she never does.

~ Posts music on SoundCloud. He’s not much of a singer outside of the musicals because he’s mostly shy with his talent; however, he does a lot of instrumentals.

~ Richie shops are thrift stores most of the time. He’ll take Eddie with him and though Eddie won’t touch anything until it’s been washed twice, Richie will buy him anything he likes.

~ He LOVES Harry Potter. He found the first book when he was younger and he just fell in love with the story. He owns all the first editions and all of the movies.

~ Goes to small venues to see bands that no one knows. Richie will go to so many concerts because he likes the escape it brings for him. He’s in his element when he goes to concerts.

~ Despite what many people think, he isn’t a whore :0 He just flirts a lot and he actually didn’t lose his virginity till he was 17 at a party. He regrets it, though, cause he was drunk off his ass.

~ He was also in the color guard for his high school’s marching band. A lot of the girls from the theatre stuff begged him to be apart of it because he could dance really well, and he ended up being in it for both the indoor and outdoor seasons all throughout high school.

——————————————————————————

Eddie Kaspbrak:

~ BOOKWORM, BOOKWORM, B O O K W O R M!!! This boy would spend every second he could just browsing the books that his school library had.

~ After he yelled at his mom for his pills, he started to kind of overcome his germaphobe tendencies, but he still was very iffy about touching things in places he’d never been.

~ For example, Richie took him to the park one time and he had never been there before, so the whole time he was holding his noses and steering clear of the snot nosed little kids.

~ Him and Richie definitely dated at some point or another. Whether to get a feel for guys or just for each other, but it did happen. Beverly was the only one who ever knew.

~ Eddie fell in love with engineering at school. He would always call one of the Losers at an ungodly hour in the morning and rant about how all of the buildings in town were built and with what materials. Honestly, Ben was the only one who shared this interest with him.

~ Eddie was the first to get his own car so all of the Losers would pile into his Jeep. Richie always tried to convince him to take off the doors, but Eddie thought that that was the biggest goddamn safety hazard he’d ever heard.

~ As they all got older, obviously him and Richie stayed close, but he also got surprisingly close with Ben and Ben would gush about Beverly to him after Eddie would excitedly explain how a car’s engine works or something like that.

~ Eddie was the one to convince Beverly to go after Ben and stop pining over Bill.

~ Eddie went to concerts with Richie all the time, and even if the sweaty roadies grossed him out, he fell in love with the bass killing his eardrums and the way the mic static could transform someone’s voice.

~ He also joined his school’s marching band (mainly cause Richie begged him) and was fucking AMAZING at playing snare drums.

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Stanley Uris:

~ He was the last one to enter high school, everyone a year ahead of him, but he was ironically the most popular among the lower class men.

~ Stan was a very private person, but his willingness to do other’s homework for $5 a page made him infamous.

~ Because of all this money he’d been making, he’d buy the Losers presents all the time. He would treat them to their favorite snacks whenever they went to Keene’s or to a new shirt whenever they went to the mall over in Bangor. And he never went over budget because he’s a goddamn accountant by nature.

~ He had a massive crush on Bill and asked him to homecoming his freshman year. Yeah, they were bullied, but Stan couldn’t have been more happier.

~ Bill convinced him to tryout for the baseball team. He tried out for pitcher and got it immediately. He was also one of the sports kids who would post on his Snapchat whenever they had a game.

~ Him and Bill ended up dating up until junior year, when Bill admitted that he wanted to date at least one girl before college and Stan wasn’t mad because he honestly wasn’t feeling it anymore. Afterwards, they both started dating cheerleaders.

~ Stan was in Calculus his sophomore year of high school, which was the class that all of the AP seniors took. Many people called him a genius, he just thanked the internet.

~ Stan fell in love with indie bands like R.O.A.R and Florence + The Machines. Richie did, however, convince him to go to concerts with him and Eds. He might’ve not enjoyed the music, but he still loved being with his best friends since diapers.

~ He didn’t like movies too much but would watch them with Bill. He enjoyed TV shows a lot more. He’s definitely a true crime baby.

~ Stan also fell in love with photography because he was forced to take the class. He begged his parents to buy him a camera for his birthday, and his many cork boards were filled with pictures of his friends and birds.

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Ben Hanscom:

~ Was a track start in high school. He ran off all of his fat and just fell in love with the high of running (tbh this is my favorite part about Ben’s character. like such a determined boy 🥺)

~ Ben enjoyed sitting at the library with Eddie and just watching him peruse books, usually pointing a few that he had read and liked. He also just loved the fact that him and Eddie were able to get so close as they got older.

~ Ben was in all the engineering courses his school offered. He was just so happy that he could take classes that pertained to the career path he wanted to go down.

~ He was able to finally get Beverly their senior year. He had been in love with her for the longest time, and she asked him to homecoming.

~ Ben also considered trying out for the football team, but it conflicted with the winter track season so he wasn’t able to; however, him, Mike, and Bill would always play their own small games in the field by Mike’s house.

~ While Stan helped everything with their math homework, Ben helped everyone with their history homework. He was a big history nerd, and everyone knew he paid attention the most.

~ He lost a bet one time and Richie was able to give him a stick and poke tattoo anywhere of his choosing. So now on the inside of his left ring finger he has R.T. written messily.

~ Ben loves pop music. He had always liked it, and some of his favorite artists were Katy Perry and Sia.

~ He rode his bike to school everyday. He was a very big proponent for the environment and hated the idea of driving, so he’d pass up the rides from Eddie or Richie and just bike with his headphones in.

~ Ben was apart of the school’s Green Team and protested climate change and the use of fossil fuels. When he had free time, he’d study ways that he could benefit the environment when he became an architect.

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Beverly Marsh:

~ She was an English wiz. It was her favorite subject, and she fell in love with analyzing poetry and other forms of literary work.

~ Beverly started to let her hair grow out again and she was relieved to see that it started to grow out straight. She hated her curly hair.

~ She bleached her hair a few times throughout high school; she hated the red because it reminded her too much of her mother.

~ Her and Richie’s friendship fell off big time, but she got super close with Bill, Ben, and Mike. Her crush in Bill didn’t deplete for a while, even after him and Stan started dating. She still had hope.

~ Eddie told her about Ben and it really changed her whole perspective on everything. But that wasn’t until junior year.

~ Though she didn’t have too good of a singing voice, she loved being in choir. The angelic reverberations throughout the auditorium whenever they performed always gave her chills and she wanted so desperately to be a part of it.

~ Beverly wrote a lot of poetry. She wrote some to her friends, to her dead mom, to her asshole dad. Just to whoever she was focused on in that moment.

~ She helped Mike after school at the animal shelter and actually ended up adopting a kitten for herself.

~ Luckily, her dad didn’t mind the cat too much as long as Bev took care of it and didn’t bother him for a single thing.

~ Beverly didn’t get her license until she was well into her twenties, but she loved hanging her arm out of the passenger’s side window of Richie’s car and listen to the bands that he’d blast with closed eyes.

#it chapter two #it chapter one imagines #it imagines #stanley uris #stanley uris headcanons #mike hanlon #mike hanlon headcanons #beverly marsh #beverly marsh headcanons #richie tozier #richie tozier headcanons #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak headcanons #bill denbrough #bill denbrough headcanons #ben hanscom #ben hanscom headcanons #masterlist

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joshslater · 6 years ago

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Summer with Uncle Bob

I don't even know how many years ago I last saw uncle Bob. His small cattle farm in Oklahoma is like 30 hours drive away from Tacoma, and we couldn't afford to fly, so the visits had been few and far apart. Now at least I am old enough to make the trip on my own. A three day greyhound bus trek down the west coast to LA and then inland through Phoenix to Tulsa. But even in my sleep deprived state there was no mistaking uncle Bob. He looked just as I remembered him, a caricature of a cattle farmer. Despite being my fathers younger brother, he looked way more imposing with his broad, rough body barely contained in his Levis jeans and Carhartt long sleeve shirt. And a John Deere cap on top it all off.

He picked me up at the bus station in his ludicrously oversized truck. Unlike in the coast states the wear showed he actually needed such a vehicle. He tossed my bags onto the flat bed and we jumped in for the 2+ hour drive to his farm. Although the sun was mercilessly shining at us, and the scent of cow, diesel, man and dashboard mixed, I was getting less tired. Bob appeared genuinely happy to see me, and wanted to know as much as he could about my life.

I told him about mum and dad, my sister, our home. I told him about the few friends I had, our interest for engineering and how we competed in robowars. I told him about school and what subjects I like and don't like. How I excelled in math but never seem to get my growth spurt to do anything right in PE. I told him about the bullying that had gotten worse every year as my oppressors had outpaced me. I told him about beatings and the "accident" without witnesses that December that put me in hospital. I told him how my friends begun to stay away to avoid having an accident themselves, or be witness to one. I told him that his invitation to spend the summer with him was why I hadn't killed myself.

- We haven't seen much of each other, but we're all family here. I want you to know that you can always call me if you want to talk. There will always be a bed waiting if you want to come down here and get away from everything. No one will bother you.

We shared a silent moment.

- But not this time! I can't get away from a livestock farm for long. The only reason I could pick you up is because Tom and Sib expects you to pull your weight while here. I know it will feel like a punishment, but I'm not going to give you something you can't handle.

The farm was really two farms that had joined at some point. Bob and Cathleen lived on the larger of the farm houses, while Tomasz and Sbigniew, or Tom and Sib as everyone called them, lived in the smaller farm house at the opposite side of the farm. Both had immigrated from Poland. Sib had been a farmer there too, and Tom had been in the army.

It was late afternoon when we arrived at the farm. Tom, Sib and Cat had heard the truck approaching and were all gathered to greet us.

- So before we do anything else we have a little surprise for you.

Bob took the lead, walking us to a farm building. When we entered I realized that it was the slaughterhouse.

- We only use the abattoir for our own need. Everything we sell is trucked away live. I thought, we can't have you kill a bully, but we can kill a bull. Cat and I thought it would do you good to have some grade A protein over the summer, so this is going to be your bull. I reckon we'll get 400 lbs in cuts from it, so that's how much meat per day, math wiz? - Eh. 5 1/3 lbs per day I think.

I had never seen a bull being slaughtered before, and hadn't really wished for it, but man was it interesting to see. They made it look so easy, keeping the bull calm up until the slaughtering bolt went into its brain. Then they all worked together to saw and cut the carcass down into pieces. Holy shit so much blood. Bob explained every part of the process and what kind of cut you could get from everything. I helped with putting the pieces in boxes or vacuum seal it in plastic. Though a lot of work remained, mincing and cutting larger pieces into smaller, everything was boxed away in three hours.

Cat went to the house to cook dinner while Bob and I scrubbed down the room and all equipment. When we joined her in the house I was told that I had the entire upper floor for me. Cat and Bob only really used the lower floor. She had put my bags in a large bedroom. I had a quick shower, dressed nice and joined in for dinner. There I was presented with a deep fried dish called Rocky Mountain Oysters. I had never heard of it before, but it was delicious. Cat and Bob had chicken. She said she was on a diet and Bobs doctor had told him he needed to eat less red meat.

- Easy for him to say. I have price winning prime plus beef all around me. If you think I won’t join you a few times for steak you don’t know me.

It wasn't until after I had finished Cat laughed and told me that Rocky Mountain Oysters were deep fried bulls balls, from the bull we just slaughtered. Well, it tasted good! We then said goodnight and I looked forward to my first real nights sleep in three days.

It felt like no time at all had passed when Cat woke me.

- Good morning. Breakfast is about ready, so throw on some clothes and come down.

Breakfast was a bucketload of oatmeal porridge with cubed apples, almond and cinnamon.

- Eat it all up, dear. You'll need it.

And boy was she right. When Bob had said that I would have to pull my own weight, I didn't think he was literal. I didn't know there were so many things needing pushing, pulling and lifting on a farm. By lunch, steaks and mash by the way, I was exhausted. By dinner time, grilled hunk of meat with grits, I was more sore than I had ever been before. Cat didn't accept my first attempt to shower before dinner.

- You have to use cold water, otherwise you'll trap the smell of cattle in the pores.

Cold shower it was. It kind of felt good on my aching muscles, and was refreshing. That was short lived, though, because right after dinner I felt fatigue setting in and collapsed in bed for another dreamless night.

When Cat woke me the next morning I was in pain. Every part of me was in agony.

- Oh, you poor thing. I'll get you something to sooth you.

She went away and came back with a big, green tub of goo. As soon as she opened the tub the room filled with the smell of mint and eucalyptus. She took a piece of cloth, dipped it into the goo, and started to apply on my back. It wasn't like any pain relief cream I had ever felt before. It started with the same icy-hot feeling, but then it built and just kept on building until the feeling was worse than the muscle pain. Cat rubbed it in everywhere I had complained about before, and I didn't want to back out now. Once she was done I had a look at the tub. "Equine muscle pain relief" it said. It was made for horses!

- Someone smells extra fresh.

Bob quipped during breakfast. He pushed me as hard as the day before, and I never complained about sore muscles again.

The days settled into a familiar pace. Porridge, work, meat, work, meat, sleep. But the work itself was varied, with a thousand and one different things that needed to be done, and it was getting more and more bearable. Partly because I was getting better at how to do things, but partly because I was getting stronger. I had never thought of getting inside a gym, but perhaps it had been silly to wish for a growth spurt without doing anything for it. Well, it looked like it had arrived, because by the second week I needed new jeans and shoes, and my shirts, while stretchy, would soon need replacing as well. Sib handed me some old clothes that he had outgrown.

As I started to get a grip on things, learn how things work, and have the stamina to complete a day without collapsing, I started to have more time to do other things. Tom had purchased all the weapons he was trained on in the Polish army and practiced at least once a week, and he was happy to teach me how to shoot.

Sib invited me over to their house one evening. Tom and Sib had each half of the top floor as their private space and shared the downstairs. To my surprise, in one of the shared rooms was a full home gym.

- Why do you have a gym? Don't you work out enough as it is? - When workink, you do what you must. When workink out, you do what you can.

He then started to show me some of the exercises. Despite all my hard work on the farm, and doing very light exercises with Sib, I woke up sore in completely new places the day after. It became my new routine to go to Sib every second evening and do a half hour workout with him.

Tom, not wanting to be outdone, added various combat exercises. And not just kicking and boxing the sand bag in their gym. We could be loading hay in the middle of the day and he would start charging me screaming "TAKE ME DOWN!". He would usually come out on top, but some times I would get him. "Kurva! You did good." he would say.

Bob didn't have much time for things outside of work, but one day, with only a few weeks left of my stay, he took me to a small lake an hour away to fish. Usually my dad and I would go fishing in the summer in Washington, and I'm sure Bob knew that, so it felt extra special to me. Like a trip with a second father. It was a really nice day, hot enough for clothes to be optional, but not scorching. It was also nice to get out of the work clothes, put on some shorts and pretend to be a teenager on summer vacation.

We were standing in silence with our rods, and I caught a glimpse of myself in the still water. I realized that no one would recognize me. I barely did so myself, especially not after Cat had taken the hair clippers and given me a tight buzz. I had been so caught up in everything that I'd seen all the small changes but somehow missed the huge transformation. How could I be this tall, broad and muscled in just two months? Bob probably guessed my thoughts when he saw me lowering my rod and staring at my reflection.

- You're a clever boy. I thought you would had it figured out by now? - What figured out? - It's the beef. We inject the calves with Monsanto Taurus. It's a genetically engineered growth hormone. Builds muscle like crazy. By the time they are slaughtered it's out of the system though. - So how....? - The bull we slaughtered for you were injected two days earlier. Enough time for it to activate fully and spread into all muscle tissue, but not enough to break down.

It was clear that this was an important talk for Bob. He wanted to come clean with what he had done and he wanted my approval. Hell, if I wanted I could probably send him to jail. I looked at him and then back at my reflection. I had never really dared to think about my dream body, but if I had it would have been the summer tanned, hard muscled body looking back at me from the lake. This evening I will practice choke holds with Tom. What else can I wish for? Straight A:s and a million dollars? There was only really one answer I could give him.

- Moo.

We were done with all the good byes, at least so I thought. Just as I was about to walk to the bus, Bob handed me an envelope full of money.

- Whaa... What is that for? - Two and a half months of hard work. You've earned every dime. - Should I really carry this much? - You still don't get it, do you? No one will fuck with you.

He brings me in for a hug.

- Anyway, you need to buy clothes you can actually fit in. Do something nice for your mother also. - I will. - And tell my brother he's a weak ass. - I can't do that! - He's not gonna stop you.

Epilogue

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sroloc--elbisivni · 5 years ago

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It’s been three months since my dad died.

I think about him every day. Never in the same way twice. Sometimes it’s like last night, where I started remembering the way he grinned and the way he made salmon and how much I miss him and start crying into my pillow. Sometimes it’s like today, where I feel numb and dull and empty until I realize it’s been a quarter of a year and I’m not going to do anything for the rest of my life but get further and further away from him, and the person I was when I knew him. And then I start crying on a plywood platform thirty feet off the ground at work.

I’ve been working a lot this week. This whole semester, really. I’ve wanted to be busy. I’ve wanted to not think about things. And I hate it, because I know that thinking about him is one of the only ways he’ll get fully remembered, and I’m too afraid of getting lost in missing him, and I need to move on and be in the world and I don’t always want to.

But the further away I get, the more I lose. So let me tell you about my dad.

‘You’ being, the general world I guess. You don’t need to read this. I just need to say it. Pretend I can shout at the world “A GOOD MAN IS DEAD” and have it matter.

My dad was born in Grand Forks, North Dakota, and he had the state in his bones—one time I needed to know what city for paperwork, and I texted him to ask if it was Fargo, and he said “No, the other big eastern city.” He understood blizzards and thunderstorms and dressing for the cold, and he taught them to my brother and me even though we were growing up in coastal California, where only one of those happened, and then rarely.

He was brilliant. If you want to know anything about my dad, it was that he was brilliant, and he was kind, and he was loving. He also had several small strokes at the end of his life that meant he didn’t remember or retain things well, and that he got more irritable, and reclusive, and locked into routine. We didn’t know about the smaller strokes until a month before the one that would kill him. Just that he was getting more distant.

My dad was prickly at the oddest times, and he had a temper, and he hated telemarketers, and bad drivers. He lashed out when he got mad and got sulky when you lashed back. He could snipe, and pick at things you didn’t even realize you were sore about, and didn’t know how to listen to a problem without trying to fix it.

He was good at fixing problems. He would take apart a toaster to fish out a burnt piece of bread, and study up on the riding lawnmower engine and go at the engine over and over again, and learned like he breathed. He wanted to write a book about learning, about the way we think and how it actually works, and what thinking is and what learning is and therefore what teaching should be. He believed that learning was just patterns of action. He and my mother literally wrote a book on how to teach in a way that built things up, rather than trying to pick at people’s behavior until they did what you wanted.

My dad was a teacher. He was a wonderful teacher. He taught me how to ride a bike, and drive a car, even when I was yelling at him, and he taught me how mean, median, and mode worked for a third grade science project. He helped talk me through algebra, and fractions, and division. He tried to teach me editing, but that went badly, because I was fourteen and had decided I knew what was best, and he never knew how to let things he cared about go.

He was a teacher for all of his adult life, even though he only ended up in the teacher’s program at his college because he took the RA’s keys after the RA left them lying around and he thought that was irresponsible, and the authority in charge of his punishment was his mother’s friend and also the Dean of Education. He stayed in the education program at the University of North Dakota for the next several years, helped found the school’s first no-hazing fraternity, found a skull with some friends at an archaeological dig site and held onto it for a couple years, went nocturnal for a while, and wrote his dissertation on the way we learn and the history of education. He talked about cave paintings, as early human abstract thought, but he didn’t get to see them until last year, when we went to France. My brother and I had to make sure he didn’t fall, as we went down into the cave, because it was rough and sloping and he was unsteady on feet he couldn’t quite feel anymore.

My dad had diabetes. My dad loved food. By the end of his life, he had lost feeling almost all the way to his knees, and insulin was taking up more room in our fridge than the eggs and milk put together. He was a great believer in the power of ice cream, as a special treat or just to hide in the fridge for when you wanted a taste. His favorite food that I baked was chocolate chip cookies. I made them with his mom’s recipe. Every time i was baking, he’d walk by and try to steal a piece. He stole popcorn every time we made some, too. Called it a ‘popcorn tax’. He used food as a love language, which made it awkward every time you ended up stopping on the way home for dinner without him, on a night he was cooking. He loved going out to eat, and would always talk to the waiter. He would always talk to anyone, really. More than the rest of us would like. My brother and i would always complain that he didn’t have to tell people our whole story, that they didn’t care. But he cared, and sometimes strangers did too, and sometimes they became friends.

My dad loved having friends. He loved knowing people, and talking to them, and learning from them and teaching them. He loved people, but had the misfortune of marrying an introvert and fathering two more. He was the popular kid in high school, on the football team and the newspaper. It was a Catholic high school—he was a Catholic until college, and then he started asking a lot of questions and never really went back. But he remembered all the theory, and all the questions, and all the things they tried to answer, and he could tell you about them if you wanted to know. My mom remembers when he met her aunt for the first time, a former nun, and they spent a good hour debating the finer points of something she couldn’t understand and barely remembered about the Holy Stations. He was good at that, at making you feel in every conversation that he was looking right at you, and interested in what he saw.

He got his doctorate in education, moved to Colorado, learned to ski, learned to parallel park—at 38, something I never failed to bring up when he was trying to teach me to drive—got married, became a step-father, started a charter school, had a wonderful couple of years teaching things the way he felt people would learn them, worked a paper route to try and keep it going, closed the school, dressed his stepkids up as Jawas for Halloween, got divorced—not necessarily in that order. I wish I’d asked my dad more about this part of his life. All I have are unconnected stories. Eventually he went back to North Dakota, and met my mom, and they spent the rest of his life together as “itinerant academics,” trading off who found a job at another university when they wanted to move. They got married at a courthouse two days before Christmas, because my dad needed health insurance and Mercury was going into retrograde. They had a kid in St. Paul and another in Tacoma. They were progressive educators, at a time when that wasn’t a comfortable thing to be in the Northern Midwest, and they made the giraffe their mascot because they kept ‘sticking their necks out’. I didn’t really appreciate that my parents were rebels against a system until I found out that in his first year of teaching, my dad and his friend had adjoining classrooms, and they came in with sledgehammers one weekend and knocked down the wall so they could have a big open classroom.

I found that out at his funeral. So many people my parents know are scattered all over the country, which is great for road trips and hard for gathering. They sent stories instead.

My dad played the guitar, and he sang in his first year of college—at a Catholic school choir, before he transferred, and the Beach Boys on the bus. He loved the Grateful Dead, and Jimmy Buffet, and the Eagles, and Peter Paul and Mary, and the Kingston Trio, and Bob Dylan, and he loved singing along in the car and dancing along in the kitchen, shuffle-step bouncing to the beat. He wore a sweatshirt with the logo of the elementary school my brother and I went to for fifteen years at least, from the time I was in kindergarten to the time he died. I remember it getting covered with cat hair, after the cat followed us on a walk to school too far to turn around and take her home, so he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She shed in terror. He used to carry the little half size cello I started learning on to school and back, every Wednesday and Friday, on his back making jokes about being a Sherpa.

My dad liked jokes. My dad liked to laugh. He loved comic strips, and insisted that my brother and I be allowed to read as many as we wanted. Probably the reason he and I got so very good at reading. I would recite Calvin and Hobbes and Garfield and Baby Blues to him, retelling what I remembered and hoping he’d laugh at the punchline. I’d show him things I found on the Internet when I got older, still trying and trying to make him laugh. I was less and less successful over time.

He was excited about the new Star Wars movies. I remember him telling me from his computer in his office, showing me the article. I remember going to the midnight showing of Episode VII, but not VIII—he couldn’t stay up that late. We saw Rogue One with my uncle, weeks after it came out. My dad was always the one who took us to movies as a kid. He liked stories. He liked to have fun. He liked Terry Pratchett and Robert B Parker novels and books about how the universe worked that took him months to finish. He had a brother, a younger brother, and lost him months after he lost his dad, years after he lost his mom. He saved things from them—the couch he grew up with, half a dozen chairs, boxes and boxes of books and records, a flag on the wall, a breakfront with china in it, all kinds of other keepsakes. My dad liked things. liked to save things. Liked to remember people—and he had a good memory. Up until the end. I came out to him about my gender six times, because he just couldn’t retain it when I told him. and every single time, he was supportive, and careful, and kind, even when he didn’t understand.

He loved our dog so much. He would make her food just so, with kibble and wet food and bacon grease all mixed together and heated in the microwave just so she’d like it. He used to take her on walks, every single day, and took her everywhere in the car with him. They walked on the beach a lot. My dad loved the beach, probably because he lived so far away from it until he was 51. I was born when he was 52.

My dad worried a lot about math education. how people get traumatized by math, and when they become teachers and parents, they pass on that learning math is hard. He worked for UC Berkeley for years, running a program to give engineering students the skills to become teachers. He ran a summer camp in Emeryville for STEM for high schoolers. Or…middle schoolers? I don’t remember anymore. He made these math models, abaci and blocks that showed ones and twos and tens and how numbers fit together into bigger numbers, and then he painted them all the colors of the rainbow so they wouldn’t be scary. So they’d be toys, something fun and beautiful and clever.

There are so many more things, about what a full and beautiful and complicated human he was that I can’t pull to mind or don’t have the words for, but I need you to know he was more than everything I’ve managed to pour here.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was the best dad I could have had. He was smart enough to answer all the questions I asked him, and he gave wonderful hugs, and he loved with a heart as big and open as the prairie sky. And I miss him, so, so, much, and it hurts to think of how I’ve been missing him for a long time, as little pieces of him broke off and drifted away when we weren’t noticing.

His name was George W. Gagnon, Junior. People called him ’Sandy’ as a kid to keep him distinct from his dad, because he had blonde hair as a baby. When I was little, it was dark, dark brown on the sides and circling the bald top. In the beginning of July it was a snowy white.

He’s my dad, and he’s gone, and I’ve spent the past three months knowing that I’m never going to go home again, not really. And knowing that ‘family’ is too big and whole a word to fill with what we have left.

I can’t cry in front of other people anymore. And I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling, or what the world is like now. I just want people to know.

A good man is dead. He loved, and was loved, and laughed, and learned, and ate good food and made bad jokes. And even after writing all of that—I still miss him, and he’s still gone.

#sroloc babbles #grief #Personal crap #my dad

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wheelscooterfan-blog · 5 years ago

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Audit: SmarTrike T3 2-Stage Kids 3-Wheel Scooter

All through the most recent couple of years, I've seen a normally extending number of children – and grown-ups – flying around on the human-fueled contraptions known as bikes. It's not been something that is ever enamored me a little while later – by and large since you resemble a correct dick when you're a grown-up – at any rate it's something we've considered for Toddler L.But, all of a sudden, we've held off getting her one. I think a mix of not understanding whether she's superfluously lively, despite the manner in which that she beginning at now has a trike, a correspondence bicycle and two legs to enable her to get around, has made us wonder whether it'd get a lot of utilization.

Just before Christmas in any case, SmarTrike related with check whether we expected to survey one of their beginning late pushed bikes. With nothing to lose – confined from maybe some skin on hands, knees and elbows – I consented to explore their most recent outside ride-on toys.visit here

Little child L beginning at now has a SmarTrike 5-in-1 Explorer Trike, so the brand is one that I trust, in any case have been enthralled with since owing the trike. The bikes come in three models – the T1, T3 and T5 – and all accomplish something somewhat unprecedented dependent on the age of your child. Because of Toddler L's age, the T3 showed up the most genuine, so we plumped for that one. Underneath, you'll discover my review of the SmarTrike T3 Scooter:

Thing Description

The thing is delineated as:

smarTrike's T3 2 phase purple bike draws in your little one to encounter the opportunity and self-administration just a bike can give. Furnished with a TPR adaptable footboard and hand holds, with PU wheels for a smooth ride, the Swiss masterminded bike offers a smooth and secure riding data for your youngster. Reasonable for kids 2 years and up, the T3 has 2 versatile stages that help to improve your kid's bike aptitudes in a fun, creative way.

Stage 1: Practicing and snatching conviction lock point of confinement is locked in, protecting the handlebars from tilting engaging your kid to have a sentiment of security while they comprehend how to ride, enabling them to get the affirmation they have to change into a bike master! Stage 2: Freestyle Riding Turn the T-lock to connect with the tilting system engaging your kid to ride free-form, and whiz their new aptitudes! Highlights include:

Thing Experience

The SmarTrike T3 bike lands for a circumstance, which regardless of the way that adds to the style and pleasantly shows off the bike, it doesn't generally do much from an insurance point of view. I had a photograph of the bike in the bundling, yet a crushed hard drive means I've lost a great deal of photographs so you should utilize your innovative character a piece. Simply picture a crate with no front or sides which holds the bike at the top and base.

The bike requires insignificant gathering – we're truly talking seconds in any case. Once out of the holder, you should simply expel a sticker which covers an opening on the outside of the deck, by then space the handlebars into the gap. Notwithstanding how it was fabulously, essential, the sticker was somewhat a bugger and left industrious personalities the bike which was decently irritating. With that, gathering was finished.

I truly supported the vibe of the SmarTrike T3 bike. We'd picked it in purple (different shades are open) and it looked superior to anything I envisioned. It's a sort of two-tone look, with a lessen purpley-blue base, wrangles, with light purpley-pink recognizing, for example, the SmarTrike logo, the trim and on the handlebar holds.

The handlebar edge is silver with SmarTrike meaning, there's a diminish foot squash over the spirit bargain irrelevant decrease 'T' on the front which can be gone to shock the planning. To the degree the materials, the base is made of TPR, which is a sort of adaptable and plastic cross breed which makes it solid yet soft(ish). The handle are delicate and extremely graspable, while the wheels feel are additionally plastic.

Over the range of the most recent two months, Toddler L has utilized the SmarTrike T3 bike a great deal. It's been her favored methodology for transport when we've been accomplishing things locally – thusly, for example, taking the pooch around the square, going into the forested districts or taking off to the preoccupation center. It's balanced really well on all scenes and we've experienced no issues.

Something that truly shocked me is the way rapidly and effectively Toddler L took to the bike. Exactly when we got outside with it, she had one foot on the base and the other driving her along. I anticipated that it should require some theory for her to get it – fundamentally like with her night out bicycle – at any rate this really wasn't the condition.

I can just envision that she's attempted one at some spot like nursery. Or on the other hand, generally, she's the going with Dakota Schuetz (Google dependably prompts me he's a prominent free-form bike rider.) The underneath photograph was taken on her first 'surge'. Skillz.

I acknowledge there's a couple of things which help make it simple to ride. Promptly, it's light – Toddler L has no issue moving it around, which flabbergasted me. Moreover, the base is ordinarily wide, which makes it less hard for her to get her feet set up. Thirdly, the three wheels stimulate more than a two-wheeled structure would. Furthermore, fourthly, the grasps on the handlebars are certainly not difficult to hold. I should know. Regardless of being calmly three-times more than the best client weight of 20kg, I've had a couple goes on it myself!

One of the selling inspirations driving the T3 bike is the tilting handlebars – or, as they call it, the two phase riding. By turning the reduce 'T' button at the front of the bike, you can pick whether you ought to be in organize 1 or stage 2. Fundamentally, make 1 shocks the handlebars with the target that it goes in a straight line, while plan 2 connects with you to oversee by tilting the handlebars left or right.

We've utilized the two modes, in any case on a conventional explanation, engineer 2 is better. In case we're taking a stroll, there should be a capacity to control the bike as you circumvent turns and corners – we don't live close to any Roman roads! In any case, arrange 1 limits exceptionally when you needn't waste time with your youth to control – along these lines, for instance, if she's at the skate park or going down inclinations in a straight line.

The exceptional reward of the bike is that it's made our strolls snappier. As anybody with a little adolescent knows, a 15 moment stroll principle speaking takes 60 minutes. They're moderate walkers, become enchanted by things like the grass and depletes, need to stroll around each control/divider and a great part of the time have sporadic assaults of savagery.

With Toddler L on the bike, she can either drive herself with her feet or remain on the base and let me pull/push her – both speed things up. Likewise, it's moreover made strolls continuously fun and less crippling, for example, letting her ride down grades which she esteems. No doubt in the world, I do need to a segment of the time pass on it when she's had enough, yet that isn't commonly a task thinking about that it's extremely lightweight.

Everything considered, the SmarTrike T3 Scooter has been a remarkable expansion to Toddler L's team. I do have two recommendation in any case. Quickly, I'd love to have the choice to overlay the handlebars towards the base. This would make it increasingly clear to stick in the vehicle and when bearing it when she's picked she's had enough. Also, the handlebars don't modify – according to the T5 variety, I'd like to see the handlebars go, all things considered, to cook for your immature. Right now, it feels like this could have obliged use if your youth has an improvement spurt or is normally tall.

Cost

The SmarTrike T3 bike retails around the £49.99 mark, regardless I've seen it open for scarcely more and somewhat not as much as this. With no evaluation, this is evidently what I'd have expected – and be energetic – to pay. Having had a brilliant Goolge in any case, it appears as though you can get a children bike from any place as low as £15 up to hardly short of £100.

In like way with most things, the most fundamental models are increasingly reasonable, while the (everything considered) better, powerfully muddled ones are a continuously basic expense. At £50, the SmarTrike T3 is in every practical sense in the point of convergence of these limits. For a not all that terrible quality bike by a valid brand, I have no issues with the assessing and would be glad to pay this myself. click here

Blueprint

I've been really enraptured with the SmarTrike T3 Scooter. It was definitely not hard to assemble, is all around made, looks stunning, has been hard-wearing, and explicitly, Toddler L acknowledges it.

She took to it straight away – extremely, so remarkably snappier than I whenever envisioned. Some section of this is unquestionably down to the plan and acknowledged that has been set into the thing, for example, the two-make riding which engages you to shock the handlebars or use them to facilitate.

With everything considered, I have nothing negative to state about the bike and wouldn't stop for one minute to propose it in the occasion that you're searching for a bike for your adolescent.

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sonderpond · 2 years ago

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the last day of summer, at least for me.

i’m going into my senior year of high school, which basically equates to the statement, “time to apply for college”! i’m not sure what i really want to do with my life, or if i even want to go to college. to be honest, i’m not all that interested. i think if my younger self, who was searching up dream colleges in fifth grade heard this, she’d be disappointed lol. if my younger self two years ago heard this, she’d also be surprised. maybe it was because i always had the expectation to go to college, i was always content with that.

when i was younger, i said i wanted to be a chef or scientist. it seemed so simple, i watched masterchef junior and joined the science club. when my relatives asked me if i wanted to be a doctor, i said sure, i don’t mind. but as i kept going to school, i lost sight of any passions, i was just driving toward success. i was always academically driven, i based my self worth on how hard i worked and the letter grade i received.

be a chef? can i even cook? be a doctor? definitely not, i barely survived bio my freshman year. so, what now? i had nothing i wanted to do, i was just existing. but the only thing i knew for sure, was that i’d work a 9-5 office job. to me, familiarity, routine, and stability was enough. as long as i could stay afloat in a safety net, i was content. so i’m probably going to follow my dad’s footsteps in being a computer engineer, seems good enough. is it what i truly love to do? no, but it’ll make me financially stable to live the rest of my life.

but now, i don’t feel content anymore. i know i’ll still go to college and work a 9-5 job. i’ve accepted the boring reality that i’ll live, i was never cut out for the spontaneous, living on the edge lifestyle, but i want to be. i want to be happy. so i’ll see what happens.

but i woke up at 5 am today, 2 hours after ending a call with my friend- who somehow convinced me to see the sunrise. my sleep schedule for senior year is already ruined, so maybe not everything will be boring. we played “we’re not really strangers” at denny’s, my friend was late to her shift, i forgot my jacket in her car. nothing ever goes to plan, so maybe there’s a chance for something more.

one last thing, i promise. sorry, i’m all over the place. but when we were reading off cards, giving advice and compliments, in a way, i felt a bit sad. i was saying all these things that i couldn’t even follow. my friend said he felt lost and torn about what to do; to follow an education or a career. and i told him that he’s still a kid, that there’s nothing wrong with not knowing. you can take your time, everyone goes at their own pace. you don’t have to go to college right away, you don’t need to know everything right away. it’s okay to just exist. the world shouldn’t force you to make your whole life based on one moment as a teen. you shouldn’t stress, if you, who is only 17, is worrying about the state of the world and your life, then the adults and people of this world have failed to take care of you. and i’m sorry it had to be that way, for anyone.

maybe senioritus has already hit me? i just want to get paid to travel the world and take pictures for people to see. i just want to be happy, i’m capable of happiness, i hope i am.

#we’re not really strangers

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fatandnerdy30 · 5 years ago

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I’m back to writing a little bit.

So, this is my first story since my hiatus...and I’m kind of proud of it! It’s another IronDad, G/t thing based on Land of the Giants! Summary: Captain Potts is a pilot for the sub-orbital fleet on Earth, a planet which is dying and full of pollution and smog. The rich, powerful, and pilots (and in training) are the only ones who are able to live above the smog. On the day of Peter and Harley’s flight test, a strange phenomenon happens, sending the two boys, May Parker, Captain Virgina Potts and Sargent Clint Barton into a world unlike their own. Into a world of Giants!

The beeping of an alarm is the first thing he heard the morning of the week that would change his life forever. Peter yawned as he hit dismiss on his app flashing on his phone's screen, rolling over again.

"Peter! Come on, time for school!" May's voice called down the hall, her footsteps pounding through the dorm apartment. "Your breakfast is going to get cold!"

That got the boy moving and five minutes later, as he was making his way toward the kitchen, the melody to wake up the entire academy started playing over the loudspeaker. Peter always woke a little early because he hated being startled awake by the annoying good morning song. He slid into his chair and smiled as May gave him a kiss on top of his head, ruffling his curls. "I'll be home early today, so you won't have to cook."

At that the boy made a face. "Why don't we just eat in the cafeteria? At least they're a little edible."

"Hey!" she said in shock, though amusement could be heard in the tone. "I'll let you know the headmaster enjoyed my walnut date loaf very much, thank you!"

"He only took it because he wasn't trying to be rude. Come on, May, your reputation for being a bad cook is pretty infamous in the halls of the school." He picked up the fried-cake on his plate which was like a plate and stiff as a board for an example.

"All right, I'll admit I don't cook that well, but it's not as bad as all that." She poked at the stiff fried-cake before she left the room. "And make sure to finish what's on your plate. Both of them!"

"Bye honey!"

The boy shut the door and practically ran to the school building, throwing open the doors. "Peter!" His best friend's voice made Peter turn around and a big smile lit up his face.

"Harley, what's up man?" They grabbed each other's arms, then slid their hands down then to 'explode', making the sounds as their hands separated.

"Nothing much, just wondering why you're always the first in the halls." The dark haired boy smirked at him as he slammed Peter's shoulder playfully.

"I may be first, but you're always right behind me. Looking to get on Captain Potts' good side? Because you loooove her?" Peter cackled when Harley's face went red.

"I do not. I just want to impress her because I think I'm failing." Harley sighed. "I got a ninety-eight on my last equipment test." His head hung down as he pouted.

"Oh, ninety-eight...that's harsh," Peter joked, stumbling when the other boy pushed him and laughed. "Don't sweat it, man! You're one of the smartest kids in the academy, and anyone would be grateful to have you on board."

"Oh, I know," Harley joked, puffing his own chest out, but the other boy elbowed him in the chest, making him choke. "Dude! Not cool!" He rubbed his chest, but Peter was laughing too hard to respond.

"What's so funny Penis?" An annoying voice sobered up both boys and the older of the two stiffened. "Finally get to look in a mirror?" An oily haired student slid in between the two. He wasn't smarter than Peter, but since the boy's first day, the bully had been on Peter's case. Harley said it was because he was jealous, but Peter had no clue why. Flash had everything. He had good grades, two parents, was popular, and rich, everything that Peter had wanted. But, he couldn't help but feel bad for the bully.

Harley moved, making Peter snap out of his thoughts. The older boy was smirking. "No, we finally got to see you without your makeup, and boy was that hysterical!"

Flash's face turned red and he balled his fists at his sides, bringing one up. "You're dead, Keener!" He was about to bring his fist up to Harley's face, when a hand grabbed him from behind.

"What was that, Mr. Thompson?"

Mr. Barton scowled down at the boy, blue eyes churning like the ocean during a storm. "Did you threaten a fellow student with bodily harm and a death threat?" The man's chiseled jaw was ticking in his annoyance under his five O'clock shadow.

"N-no!" the bully squeaked, his coffee skin turning a sickly green, brown color. "I-I-I-I-" He stared at the muscled arm beyond the hand that was holding him half off the ground.

"You were what?" Mr. Barton finally released the boy, watching him stumble back into the lockers. "Get outta here, you little punk. You have detention. With me. After school. Now go." When the boy stood frozen, the teacher growled. "That's an order, Cadet Thompson!" Flash jumped and practically ran from the man, not even looking back. "You two okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Barton, sir!" Peter replied, both cadets standing at attention. "Thank you for your assistance."

The man smirked and clapped both boy's on the shoulder. "At ease, boys. You're gonna be late for class. Go ahead."

The boys smiled and almost ran down the hall to Ms. Potts' class not noticing Mr. Barton watching them. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You're late." Captain Potts stated to the two boys who ran into the classroom, both panting. The woman's strawberry blonde hair was pulled into a serious bun, highlighting her classic bone structure. Her blue eyes showed her annoyance at being interrupted.

"Sorry Captain!" Peter said in between breaths. "We were detained."

"Hmm...see that it doesn't happen again. Now, to your seats. We're discussing sub-orbital flight and the long term effects on the body." She waited for the boys to get to their seats, and started. Pepper checked on her students often during her lesson, noting that more than a few looked bored. But, the two students she knew who were paying attention were staring right at the board, pens scribbling like mad as they took notes on every word the Captain said.

"Who can tell me how far up you need to reach sub-orbital flight and feel weightless?" She waited, staring at the company. "Anyone?" Two hands shot into the air and she had to hide a smile. "Harley."

"One hundred kilometers, Captain, or sixty-two miles above sea level."

"Very good, Cadet Keiner. Now, extra question, what is that altitude called?" Peter's hand shot into the air a second before Harley could answer, and this time she couldn't help but chuckle. "Peter." "The Karman Line, named after Theodore von Karman, who formulated the idea that at this height was too thin for regular flight. It's also called the edge of space."

"Very good, Cadet Parker. I can see someone has paid attention in the past," Pepper sent a glare to the other cadets, who sat straight at that look. "All of you have a bright future, but you're not showing that you have the drive to become Pilots for the Reed center...." She sighed. "And because of this, I am telling you that tomorrow there will be a pop quiz on all of this. I'm being nice and letting you know beforehand this way you can come prepared.

"Now, there are twelve long term effects on the body and they are as follows: after about a dozen flights, the pilot's spine itself stretches, but it doesn't cause too much pain. It corrects itself in a few months of being on the ground and the pilot can start flying again.

Silence followed for a long while, everyone focused and taking the appropriate notes until the last page was turned and the students turned their attention to Captain Potts. "Everyone ready to move on? Good. Now, the third effect would be-"The bell rang and the students started packing their bags. She saluted the cadets, who stood altogether and saluted her back. "You're dismissed." She watched the kids rush out of the classroom to their next class. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peter remembered living in the smog filled city below and it left some bad health problems like asthma, which was getting better now that he lived in the dorms of the school. If he hadn't gotten the scholarship, he would still be below that thick cloud, struggling to breathe, or dead.

He noticed the line moving and stepped forward, when someone rammed into his shoulder, causing the boy to cry out and hold the limb. "Oops." Flash's annoying voice filled the boy's ears and he rolled his eyes.

"Just leave me alone, Flash." Peter was getting tired of the bully's crap. He rolled his shoulder and winced when it was tender.

"Why should I when you obviously have no one around to protect you. No friends," the bully looked around. "No teachers." He then pressed Peter closer to the window, the other students backing away. "And I still owe you for what your boyfriend said to me this morning." Flash's eyes hardened. He looked up slightly into Peter's face. Then, without hesitation, he slammed a fist into Peter's stomach, causing said boy to double over and gasp for air. "That was just a love tap. You or your boyfriend say anything like that to me again, it'll be worse." He turned and walked away, laughing with a few of the other kids pointing at the boy holding his stomach.

"Cadets Parker and Keener, to Colonel Richards' office. Cadets Parker and Keener, to Colonel Richards' office." The near robotic voice of the colonel's secretary rang through the halls. Peter froze as the few students in the library stared at him.

With a gulp, he stood up and crammed what books and papers he had left, into his backpack, not caring about the state they were in before practically running out of the library. The entire way to the headmaster's office, the bad thoughts kept running through Peter's mind, making his heart beat faster and the dread rise farther.

Harley was waiting outside the headmaster's office. He looked as nervous as Peter did. "What do you think we did?" Peter asked panting, his eyes wide.

"I have no clue, but it can't be good if we're being summoned to this office." The door swung open and Mr. Barton stuck his head out, his eyes softening at the look the two gave him.

"Hey, what's with the scared looks?"

Harley gulped so loud, even Peter heard it. "We're ready to accept our punishment for whatever we did, sir," he said lowly and Peter just looked at the ground. What they weren't expecting was the laugh coming from Mr. Barton. It started out as a chuckle, and then he was actually holding his middle. "Punishment?" the man cackled. "What made you think you were being punished?"

"W-well," Peter started, wringing his hands. "No one is called to the Colonel's office, except for punishment...and the fight Flash caused this morning..." He wasn't going to mention the fight-if you could call it that- which the headmaster probably had seen on the security cams.

"Don't even mention that little creep's name to me. I still have plans for him in detention. But, don't worry, you were called here for something good. Promise." He stepped aside and ushered the cadets inside. Instantly they stood straight at attention, saluting the dark haired man sitting behind the desk, Mr. Barton following.

"The cadets you wanted, Sir."

"Ahh, thank you, Clint. At ease." Colonel Richards sat back, his elbows on his desk. "Peter and Harley, correct?" He couldn't miss the way the two seemed to tremble in his presence.

"Y-yes sir," Harley nodded.

"Good. I've been looking into your grades and I must say I am very impressed. Normally, when we do have scholarship students, they slack off once they're in the school." It didn't happen very often, and Peter and Harley both had stunning grades to go with their scholarships. "But, not you two. And that impressed me." He smiled at the look the boys gave him.

"It impressed me so much, that I've decided to let you two take the flight simulation for real. The only placement I could get for the both of you though, was next week." The room became silent from the news, both boys staring at him slack jawed.

"I don't expect you to be flying alone, though. Mr. Barton and Captain Potts have both agreed to be with you on the flight. You both are allowed to take one extra person of your choosing to take with you. It will be a week long excursion. Consider it a reward for your hard work this year."

The boys smile's grew brighter and they looked at one another excitedly. "It's an honor, Colonel, Sir!" Peter said, his voice cracking in his excitement, making him turn red.

"Yes, this is a great honor, Sir." Harley said, his face so serious, it made Reed chuckle.

"Calm down, Cadet Keiner. But, I will warn you," his face turned serious, "that this is also a test proving the two of you will be capable pilots and your futures are riding on this."

Peter and Harley both trembled at that, but saluted the man with a loud 'Yes Sir!'

"Study hard, and try and get as much Simulation time as you need. In fact, I'll open the Baxter building to the both of you, this way you'll have state of the art simulators to work with."

To say the boys were shocked was an understatement. The Baxter building? "I-it's truly an honor, Sir!" Peter said, his face beaming.

"I'll have your passes ready for you by tomorrow. You're dismissed." Both boys slammed their heels together and saluted before exiting the room.

"We get to go to the top floor of the Baxter Building!" Peter cried as soon as they were out of the Colonel's office. His young eyes were sparkling with wonder and excitement. "I've always wanted to see what they do up there! I've heard that they've been working on actual space flight! How crazy is that? We might get to go to the moon someday, maybe farther! We may even discover a new planet! How cool would that be!"

"I just might!" Peter said indignantly.

"I'm sure you will, bud. Come on, we'll be late for Harrington's class, and you know him and his stories if you're late." Harley slung his arm around Peter's shoulders and tugged him towards the classrooms.

*~*

"May?" Peter tossed his bag into the corner of his school apartments, listening for his aunt moving about the house. "May, you home?" He bounced through the kitchen and down the hallway where he found his aunt working on something at her computer, headphones in and speaking to someone.

"That's fine. Just keep an eye on her vitals and BP, okay?" There was a pause as the other person's lips were moving. "No, no, she hasn't had a problem with her oxygen since she was admitted, so you should be fine. If not, call me and I'll walk you through it on my way. Janet, you'll be fine, I promise. Just do what you have to do and you'll be great. Okay, talk to you later." The screen went blank and May sighed, pulling out the earphones.

"You got a call from your apprentice?"

Peter's voice made the woman scream and twirl around in the chair so fast she actually spun herself in a circle. "Peter! Oh my god don't do that!" She held a hand to her heart and gave her grinning nephew a mock glare. "I swear you're out to kill me." Getting up, she gave the young boy a hug. "How was school today?"

The boy was practically bouncing in May's arms until she finally let go. "I have something amazing to tell you! Captain Potts suggested to Colonel Richards for Harley and I to take the flight test early!" His face was beaming so much it was almost glowing. "He scheduled the test for next week! And that's not the best part, either. Colonel Richards told us we can take one person with us, and since you're family...can you maybe take a week off?" He looked a little worried when May's brow furrowed.

"Next week? Isn't that a little last minute? And why a week? I thought the test was a one day thing." What would cause the man to schedule a test so soon? Maybe she should call the school.

"Well, that was the only placement open in the next two years, and the colonel really thinks we'll do amazing! And he also said we deserved a break, so the test would be the flight to wherever we're going, he hasn't told us yet, and back, but there will be a small vacation in between, so that's why it'll be a week. Can you come?"

"I don't know, honey. That is really short notice, so I don't know if I'll be able to get that time off, but, I do have some vacation coming up, so I'll talk to my boss. I can't-" She laughed at the way Peter was practically bouncing in place. "I can't promise anything, so don't get your hopes up, okay?"

"Yes, May." The boy was still grinning though. May's boss was sweet on her, so he would so approve this vacation. He wouldn't want Skip dating her, but if he could pull some strings, he would definitely allow it. "Okay, I'm gonna go call Harley and tell him the good news! Bye May!"

"Peter, I told you....and he's gone." She hung her head. "I swear that boy is too hyper." She smiled all the same and turned back to her computer to get some work she'd brought home done before taking her nephew out to dinner to celebrate.

*~*

That weekend found two boys stepping off the monorail above the city and stopping to look up at the intimidating white and silver building towering over Peter and Harley. The afternoon sun glinted off the windows, reflecting it back onto the clouds to create a mirrored world of light. It was a sight to behold.

"I wonder how tall it is?" Peter asked, staring up at the top of the buildings that looked as if it were scraping the sky itself.

"It's thirty-five stories tall, so about three-hundred-eighty feet in total. But, that doesn't include the sublevel floors. I read it last night on my comp-tab. It's really interesting. Did you know this is also where the city gets its power, including our school?" The younger boy just rolled his eyes.

"You're a dork. Let's go." He laughed and pulled a pouting Harley behind him. They had just walked in and Peter stopped, causing Harley to collide with him. "Woah!! Look at this! How cool is this!" Peter's voice echoed through the lobby, making a few of the employees smile and giggle. "I mean, we're in the actual Baxter Building! I wanna see every floor before we go to the simulation floor!" Harley shook his head, pulling the boy's head under his arm.

"No, we're on a time schedule, you doof! We only have a week to prepare for our flight."

Peter pouted and tried to pull his head out from Harley's grip. "I know that! I just got excited, that's all." They walked to the receptionist, who was giggling at Peter's outburst, making the boy blush and look down.

"Good morning boys. How can I help you today?" She smiled at Peter, who had looked up. "Hello Ma'am,” the older of the two spoke in a deeper voice. “We're here to use the simulation room. We have our flight test in a week." Harley puffed out his chest, but his voice remained the same volume.

"Oh really? Aren't you a little young?" The woman pushed her brown locks behind her ear. The boy couldn't be older than fifteen, possibly younger. and Jenny couldn't allow kids upstairs just because they said they were given permission. If she did that, every kid would have to be let in, and she could never handle that.

"He's not," Peter said lowly. "But, I was offered to take the same test together as Harley by Colonel Richards himself." He then pulled his backpack off his shoulder, digging around and showing the woman his pass. "He even made us these passes."

"Oh my," the woman stared at the pass, her green eyes wide in shock. They were actual building passes given to the members of Richards' team themselves. "I had no idea the special visitors Mr. Richards would be so young. Let me just scan your badges and you can go right up." Peter and Harley handed the woman their passes, both boys looking proud, as they should. They would be the youngest pilots on the sub-orbital force in history, especially Peter.

"Okay, everything checks out. You boys train hard, okay, but remember to take frequent breaks. I've heard that room can be intense," the woman informed, her face serious.

Harley nodded. "Thank you, Ma'am. We will." He began walking, Peter following, looking around with wide eyes.

"I still think this is awesome," he said for the hundredth time. "Have you asked your mom to come on the trip?"

The older boy's face fell as he nodded. "Yeah...but she can't get off work on such short notice." He had really wanted her to come, but she couldn't. The diner wouldn't have been able to cover her shift for a whole week. His mom did seem sorry to have to miss his test, but she promised to tell everyone at the diner, this way they could celebrate with them after hours. "But, I understand. I'm not some little kid," he pushed Peter playfully through the elevator doors as they opened.

"Hey!" The younger stumbled, catching himself on the wall. "I'm not a little kid! I'll let you know my fifteenth birthday is in two months, thank you very much." He put his nose in the air.

"Okay, okay. Your aunt coming?"

Peter's eyes lit up and he nodded. "Yeah! She said she'd talk to her boss, but it looks good! So, she'll be able to video every second of the trip and show it to your mom when we get back!"

Harley nodded, watching the numbers rise until the elevator beeped and the doors opened.

*~*

"Woah..." was all Peter could say as the two stepped through the doors. The technology on this floor was amazing! In the middle of the floor sat a large dome shaped room that took up more than half the floor. "This...this is so cool."

"I know, right?" Harley was looking around, his eyes wide with wonder, when suddenly a gruff voice snapped them both out of their stupors.

"Hey, there's no kids allowed on this floor! It's dangerous!" A hulking bald man made his way over to the boys, his footsteps quick. "Waddya think you're doin' here, anyway?"

"We...we have passes," Peter stuttered, holding up his blue pass in a shaking hand. "The colonel invited us. For simulation practice..." His face was red and he was looking at the floor.

"Lemme see those." The man grabbed Peter's pass and studied it. "Well I'll be a monkey's uncle. You must be the little geniuses Richie told us about! How ya's doing?" He clapped both boys on the shoulder, catching their winces. "You wanna get straight to it, or do ya's wanna have a tour first?"

"Umm...a tour would be great, Sir," the oldest responded.

"Tour it is. I know you's don't have a lot of time, so let's get rolling. Introductions first. Susie! Over here!"

A blonde woman looked up from the keyboard she was furiously typing at. "What is it, Ben? I'm kind of busy."

"Well, you can take a second break. These are the kids Richie told us about. Introduce yourselves."

Peter and Harley stared up at Susan Storm as if they were seeing the northern lights themselves. "Miss Storm...I mean, Dr. Miss-I mean Dr. Susie...Oh, I'm dead." Peter's face turned an even brighter shade of red and he hunched his shoulders down until just the tips of his ears were showing. Dr. Storm chuckled as she took her glasses off.

"Susan is fine. And let me guess, the red one is Peter," the boy nodded. "And that must mean this is Harley."

"Yes Ma'am. It's nice to meet you." He held his hand out and shook the woman's hand.

"Good to see one of you is together," the woman said jokingly. "Don't be so nervous, Cadet Parker. I don't bite, I promise." She smiled softly at the boy, who nodded.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Now, my job here is to measure spikes of electromagnetic fields that appear in the upper atmosphere." She pointed to three screens that had small lines jumping up and down on them. "This measures the amount of activity, this tells me where they are and this one measures the frequency," she turned to each screen respectively. "I see nothing new, so this is a good thing for suborbital pilots. It helps keep them safe and us out of trouble." She smirked at her joke.

"Do you have any other jobs?" Peter asked, watching the lines on the screen jump.

"Yes, actually. I often have to go into suborbital space in order to get a better reading of the ozone for safer flights, and to experiment on new ways in order to create quicker flight plans safely."

"That's kind of awesome, actually," retorted Peter, staring at the consoles. "Do you send your findings to the pilots or to the radio tower?"

"Excellent question. I actually send it to both, plus the pilots also get a vibration meter just in case any falling debris from space comes into the atmosphere. It's happened quite a lot, and before this, a lot of crafts actually went down. We had a whole legal battle until we came up with this idea."

"So it measures any kind of disturbance around the plane?" Asked Harley. "How does it do it? I mean, it's got to have a high frequency to detect even the most subtle of vibrations in the atmosphere around the entire plane. There's got to be hundreds of tiny cameras and wave sensors hidden in every plane!"

"Yes, actually," Susan's eyes were alight with wonder. "No wonder why Richard likes you two. He loves students that are full of questions." She smiled down at the two. They really were a little young to be taking the flight simulation test, but her fiance had been talking about these two nonstop for days. Ever since Pepper had mentioned it, he'd been all gung-ho about it. It really was cute to see him excited about something.

"Don't let Suzy-Q here bore you guys," came another voice as the door opened. "I actually have the best job."

"Great," Ben sighed. "Kids, this is the younger-and dumber- sibling of Dr. Storm. Johnny, introduce yourselves to the cadets."

"Heys, kiddo's. Nice to meet you, I'm Captain Storm. The youngest pilot the Sub-Orbital crew has ever seen." He made a muscle man pose. His uniform was a dark blue, as was everyone's, but his matched him better with the darker skin. It might have been the shaved head, or his attitude, Peter didn't know. All he knew was that he liked Captain Storm.

"Hello sir," the younger boy said, saluting him.

"Hey, hey, no sirs around me, okay? And put that hand down, don't want you poking an eye out. Just call me Jay, okay?"

Ben snickered. "He always wants to seem cool and hip in front of the kiddies."

"Hey, I am hip, man! It's just hanging around you old dudes all day makes me miss seeing young faces." Jay then looked around the room. "Oh yeah...where's their tour group? I was hoping to let the little group to take some photos of me being the awesome pilot I am."

The two scientists looked at each other before bursting into laughter. "That's a good one, hot head!" Ben cackled.

"What?" Jay cried angrily.

"There is no tour group. It's just these two. They're here to use the simulation machine," Sue responded. "Oh, and I would rethink that 'youngest pilot ever' title, because these two are taking the test in a week's time."

The pilot's face fell as he stared at the two youngsters in front of him. There was no way! "When did this happen?"

"Colonel Richards told us earlier this week, Mr. Storm." Harley felt pride well in his chest at that. And Ben noticed, grinning at the look on the boy's face.

"Well, I think we should let them get to training," the bald man said, clapping Johnny on the shoulder. "Come on. You can show off later, or maybe the kids can tell you how to do your job better."

Johnny sent him a look that made Ben throw his head back and laugh, pulling the young man out.

#g/t community #g/t #Marvelfanfic #irondad #peter parker #harley keener #clintbarton #brief fantastic four no powers

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