#that fucking teen that held that interview & told him he needed to be held accountable for his mistakes. god Tumblr posts

[emdotcom]

I changed my mind. Hater behavior is undeserved, when it comes to works, & idgaf about holding creators accountable when their games are mid, anymore.

[harrytomylou]

You’ll always find your way back home.. - Louis (Includes Harry/Louis)

* I’m posting old fanfictions that I wrote onto this account simply because I want to keep them for myself *

No Trigger Warnings

Sometimes you feel like running, find a whole new life and jump in.

It was obvious really.

The pressure was getting to Louis and even the fans were beginning to notice it now.

‘Do you ever just wish you could go back to before?’ He whispered into Harry’s ear one night while they and Niall were watching Liam and Zayn play Mario cart in the living room area of their tour bus.

‘Do you?’ Harry replied, not willing to let his mouth answer the question himself. They all knew the answer. The entire band wanted to go home. They wanted to see their family and friends and Liam wanted to see his girlfriend. Louis wanted to stop being made to spend every minute of his spare time proving a fake relationship was real and spend time with his boyfriend and family instead and Harry wanted the exact same. They all loved their life. They loved touring and singing and none of them would change it for the world. They were just so stressed and their management wasn’t helping that. They just wanted to be themselves. Be in control of when they went home for a couple of days or when they stayed on tour and be in control of their own lives.

‘Yeah.’ Louis whispered before sighing and laying his head on Harry’s shoulder from his position on the sofa beside him. ‘Sometimes I just look at our fans and think ‘fuck, I wish my life was that easy again.’ You know?’ Louis muttered into his secret boyfriend’s collarbone.

‘Yeah.’ Harry whispered in agreement.

‘No hassle. No management. No hiding who they are. Nothing. They can be whoever they want to be. We have to be what management thinks will get them more money. I hate it, Haz.’

‘I know, Lou.’ Harry muttered back, sympathetically.

‘And the majority of our fans either live with their families or see them every other fucking day. I’m so homesick, Harry. Sometimes, I just want to run. Run away from everything.’

‘I know, baby. I know.’ Harry muttered as he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to his fragile boyfriends head. ‘Everything will be okay. I promise.’ He whispered before taking Louis’ chin in his hand and pulling his head up slightly to connect their forbidden lips.

Your best friends, your little hometown, are waiting up where ever you go now; you know that you can always turn around.

Louis Tomlinson > Stanley Lucas

10:06am - Hey mate.

10:08am - Hey! How are you?

10:10am - Stressed, bored and ill. You?

10:14am - M’alright. Why you stressed?

10:17am - Touring and shit. The stress is making me feel ill… I just want to come home.

10:19am - It’ll be over soon, mate. Do you know when you’re next off?

10:23am - I hope so. I really miss everyone. We have a day off in about a week but we’re not allowed back to England for another 3 months! Manager says we’re too busy.

10:26am - That’s shit! We all miss you too, Lou. We’re all waiting up for you to come back!

10:30am - I’m waiting up to come back, man!

10:31am - It’ll fly by, mate.

10:32am - I really hope so.

10:34am - Miss you.

10:47am - Miss you too. Got to get back to rehearsals. Call me later?

10:50am - Course, Lou.

11:09am - Love you, Stan.

11:11am - Love you too man!

Louis Tomlinson > Jay Tomlinson

6:01pm - Louis, Stan came round earlier and told me about what you were texting about. If touring is too much for you right now, come home xx

6:44pm - I can’t. You know that xx

6:45pm - You can do whatever you need to. It’s your life and you’re my son. If you need to come home, you will xx

6:47pm - I’m okay, mum. Honest. I was just kind of letting everything out with Stan. I’m alright xx

6:49pm - No you’re not. I know you better than that, Lou. At least tell them you need a short break xx

6:50pm - I have. It’s not changed their minds. Money is more important to them.. xx

6:51pm - Just leave then? Xx

6:54pm - I can’t let everyone down like that xx

6:56pm - Oh, Louis.. Well, if you change your mind just call me. You’ll always be welcome here baby. It’s your home! Xx

6:58pm - I love you xx

7:00pm - Love you too, honey. Is Harry taking care of you? Xx

7:02pm - Yes mum :’). Go to go, concert. Talk to you later xx

7:04pm - Okay, baby. The girls and I love and miss you xx

7:05pm - Love and miss you all too.. So much xx

7:07pm - Have a good concert, boo. Remember you can always come home if you need too xx

When I’m feeling down and I’m all alone, I’ve always got a place where I can go.

‘Louis? You alright?’ Louis’ 13 year old sister answered the phone quickly.

‘Not really.’ Louis muttered as a reply. He had been wanting to call Lottie for hours but had held on to make sure she had returned home from school and was able to answer without getting in trouble. He had always been close to his younger sister. They spoke about everything and anything, their 7 year age gap not mattering to them one bit. Louis could trust Lottie with everything and she and Harry were often the only ones who could honestly cheer him up.

‘What’s up, bro? Isn’t it, like, midnight where you are?’

‘It’s 4 in the morning.’ Louis replied quietly.

‘Okay, now I know it’s something big.’ She stated. Louis stayed silent, a small smile already grazing his lips. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’m just’ Louis paused, suddenly feeling stupid for calling her about something so insignificant while he should be sleeping and she would most probably rather be out with her friends.

‘You’re just what, Lou?’ She asked, worried.

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘Louis, if you’re calling me at 4 in the morning, it’s got to matter.’ Lottie stated, suddenly sounding way more mature than a girl should be at her age. Louis laughed gently into the receiver. ‘Tell me?’ She asked, tone softening.

‘I just miss you.’ He whispered, blushing and burying his head into his tear soaked pillow even though she couldn’t see him. There was silence for a couple of seconds before the young girl spoke.

‘Oh, Lou.’ She whispered gently. She knew just how much it affected Louis, being away from home, her, their sisters and their mum so much.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called you.’ He mumbled embarrassed as he heard one of the other boys choke out a shut up from their bunk. ‘Fuck off.’ He called slightly louder to whoever it was. Lottie figured it wasn’t directed to her so she ignored it.

‘It’s alright, Lou. You can call me if you want to, you know that. I don’t care.’ She murmured down the phone, attempting to comfort her older brother. The one who was usually so strong and comforting her. Louis hummed in reply.

‘It’ll be over soon, Louis. You’ll be home before you know it.’

‘I hope so.’ He whispered, tears escaping his eyes again. Lottie sensed it.

‘Don’t cry, Louis. Not again. It’s okay.’ She whispered back.

‘How do you know I’ve been crying?’ He whispered, voice cracking in sympathy half way through his sentence.

‘I’m your sister. I know you.’ She laughed gently. He laughed too. ‘Where’s Harry?’

‘Asleep. I don’t want to wake him. He was so tired.’ Louis replied, wiping the stay tears away from his cheeks before burying his head back into the, now wet, pillow of the tiny single bunk bed.

‘Fair enough. Do you want to talk about it? Or do you want me to distract you?’

‘Distract me please, Lottie?’ He muttered vulnerably.

‘Of course. What time do you have to be up?’

‘6.’ He whispered.

‘Shit.’ She replied under her breath.

‘Yeah.’ He agreed.

‘Do you want to even bother trying to sleep or do you just want to talk for the next 2 hours?’

‘Talk.’ He spoke, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall again. ‘Lottie, I’m so homesick. I hate it. I just want to’ He paused, unaware or what he was even trying to say. ‘I don’t even know.’ He whispered.

‘I know, Lou. Only a little while now though. You can do it.’ She replied softly. Louis hummed, unsure. Lottie stayed silent, eyes searching around her suddenly empty room for something to talk about to distract her broken older brother. Louis was such a role model for her. She hated seeing (or hearing in this case) him hurting. It hurt her. Louis was always the strong one. The life of the party. To see management take away his freedom to the extent where his main personality traits left him was heart breaking for the new teen. Her eyes landed on a letter sticking out of the top of her school bag and she smiled gently.

‘I’m going to Thorpe Park in 2 weeks.’ She stated excitement evident in her voice. Louis smiled, hearing it.

‘With school?’ He asked. Lottie grinned even more as she heard the smile on Louis’ lips.

‘Yeah.’ She replied, thankful she had managed to cheer her personal idol up slightly, even if it was only temporary.

Where they know exactly who you are, where the real you is a superstar, you know it’s never too far away.

Louis sighed slightly as he felt Harry tighten his grip on the older boy. They were currently lying on the double bed of one of the many hotel rooms they stayed in at just gone 5 in the afternoon. They surprisingly only had a couple of interviews that day and had gotten back to their hotel room at about 4 o clock. Harry and Louis had left the other boys playing Xbox in Liam’s room and come back to their own to collapse on top of their beds in each other’s arms at about half  4. They had fallen into a pointless conversation easily which had died down by now and had been replaced with thoughts.

Louis was currently thinking about Doncaster.

He felt safe there. It was his home. The same sort of safe he felt with Harry. Despite being almost 3 years younger, the green eyed boy seemed to have that effect on Louis instantly. Louis had just felt a vibe from Harry. He was safety. Harry knew Louis like the palm of his hand. The same way pretty much everyone in his home town did.

Back home there was no secrets with Louis. Everyone knew he was gay. Everyone knew he was with Harry. That’s why he loved it. They knew and loved him for exactly who he was. He didn’t have to hide anything. They loved him for him. Louis from Doncaster. Not Louis Tomlinson from One Direction. And sometimes that was one of the most comforting thoughts. They cared. They weren’t pretending. They weren’t lying. They weren’t fake. They cared. He was loved back home. He was missed.

But you know what? With Harry around to help, for Louis home was never that far away anyway.

You can learn to fly and you can chase your dreams, you can laugh and cry but everybody knows, you’ll always find your way back home.

'Oh my god.’ Louis heard a small voice mutter from the doorway of the kitchen in which he was currently stood making a cup of tea. He grinned happily before abandoning what he was doing and turning around to face the younger girl stood behind him.

‘Hey Lottie.’

‘Oh my god.’ She repeated slightly louder, eyes fixed on Louis’ as a wide smile spread on her face.

‘What?’ They heard Jay shout from the hallway.

‘Hi mum.’ Louis yelled through the house, grinning even more when he heard his mother’s shocked gasp.  

‘Lou.’ He heard his little sister whisper as she practically ran into his arms. He let out a small laugh as he hugged back tightly.

‘Louis!’ He heard two younger girls exclaim as he pulled away from Lottie.

‘Dais! Phoeb!’ He opened his arms and crouched down as his two 8 year old sisters ran towards him wrapping their arms around his neck and clinging to it. He distantly heard Lottie laugh gently.

‘I thought you weren’t coming home for, like, another week? I thought you were coming with Harry?’ Felicite asked joyfully as she hugged her older brother tightly, seconds after the two girls had let go. Louis laughed again.

‘We got bored in London and missed home too much so we decided to stand up to management. Harry’s gone back to Cheshire for a week and I’ve come here.’ He replied as he walked over to his mum, the last of the five to walk through the kitchen door, pulling her into a tight hug as well as she dropped the bags in her hand carelessly onto the floor. He and Harry were supposed to drive down to Doncaster exactly a week later to join both his immediate family and Harry’s, who were staying in a hotel for a week so they could be with the two boys, Jay and the girls.

Carefully wiping away the small happy tear that had escaped his eye, he pulled back seconds later just enough to allow both he and his mum to pull all 4 of his younger siblings in to join them in a group hug.

He had missed this. He had missed them. He loved his life. He loved everything about it. The singing. The foreign countries. The screams. The band. His boyfriend. It was all a part of his dream. He’d got there. They’d done it. But right now, his family were taking over that. His sisters and his mum. His world. His happiness. He loved them more than he ever would the fortune and fame.

And as much as he loved Harry, Doncaster and his family were his true home.

You’ll always find your way back home..

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

Worm 1.6 - In which we meet futuristic techno Dredd

II heard the cape arrive on his souped up motorcycle.  I didn’t want to be seen fleeing the scene of a fight, and risk being labeled one of the bad guys by yet another person, but I wasn’t about to get closer to the street either, in case Lung was feeling better.  Since there was nowhere to go, I just stayed put.  Just resting felt good.

Yeah it’s better you stay and try to explain what went down. Fleeing after all this..wouldn’t be a good look. And let’s try to stay far away from  the knocked-out fire demon while we’re at it.

If you’d asked me just a few hours ago about how I thought I would feel meeting a big name superhero, I would have used words like excited and giddy.  The reality was that I was almost too exhausted to care.

You have experienced a loooot of things just today girl. It’s not everyday you get into a life or death fight and then meet some people of dubious character, all in the span of like 20 minutes. Shame your first encounter with a bona-fide superhero is in a situation like this.

It looked as though he flew up onto the roof, but the six-foot long weapon the man held kind of jerked as he landed.  I was pretty sure I saw the tines of a grappling hook retreating back into the end of the weapon.  So this was what Armsmaster looked like in person, I thought.

Armsmaster! So...master of weapons? He seems to have a pretty badass one in one arm, which seems to have multiple uses. Good old Grappling Hooks! The way for grounded super heroes to keep up with flight-types!

The largest superhero organization in the world was the Protectorate, spanning Canada and the States, with ongoing talks about including Mexico in the deal.  It was a government sponsored league of superheroes with a base in each ‘cape city’.  That is, they had a team set up in each city with a sizable population of heroes and villains.  Brockton Bay’s team was officially ‘The Protectorate East-North-East’, and were headquartered in the floating, forcefield-shrouded island that you could see from the Boardwalk.  This guy, Armsmaster, was the guy in charge of the local team.  When the core group of the top Protectorate members from around Canada and the States assembled in that classic ‘v’ formation for the photo shoots, Armsmaster was one of the guys in the wings.  This was a guy who had his own action figures.  Poseable Armsmaster with interchangeable Halberd parts.

Wooaaah. So he’s a really big shot! Leader of the local Protectorate which seems to be this universe’s version of the Avengers/Justice League/big main hero organization. He lives in that badass flying fortess! And seems to be pretty marketable as well. Meeting him in the flesh like this in your first day, woah .

He really did look like a superhero, not like some guy in a costume.  It was an important distinction.  He wore body armor, dark blue with silver highlights, had a sharply angled v-shaped visor covering his eyes and nose.  With only the lower half of his face exposed, I could see a beard trimmed to trace the edges of his jaw.  If I had to judge, with only the lower half of his face to go by, I’d guess he was in his late twenties or early thirties.

High-tech superhero armor and professional gear! Sweet!

He’s giving me a mix of iron man and judge dredd vibes with that costume. Either way he seems to exude “veteran and skilled super” a lot.

His trademark and weapon was his Halberd, which was basically a spear with an axe head on the end, souped up with gadgets and the kind of technology you generally only saw in science fiction.  He was the kind of guy who appeared on magazine covers and did interviews on TV, so you could find almost anything about Armsmaster through various media, short of his secret identity.  I knew his weapon could cut through steel as though it was butter, that it had plasma injectors for stuff that the blade alone couldn’t cut and that he could fire off directed electromagnetic pulses to shut down forcefields and mechanical devices.

HE HAS A MASTER WEAPON WHICH CAN ACT AS ALL OF THE WEAPONS AT THE SAME TIME. THAT’S SO AWESOME

I knew he was gonna be technologically-focused, with that badass floating island and all!

A spear-axe hybrid strong enough to cut through steel, with plasma injectors and EMP blasts?? Fucking sweet.

“You gonna fight me?” He called out.

“I’m a good guy,” I said.

Stepping closer to me, he tilted his head, “You don’t look like one.”

Oof. That’s true. Miss looking-like-a-living-bug with dark colors and yellow lenses doesn’t seem very heroic at... all

Also I really like how that line was delivered for some reason. You don’t look like one

That stung, especially coming from him.  It was like Michael Jordan saying you sucked at basketball.  “That’s… not intentional,” I responded, not a little defensively, “I was more than halfway done putting the costume together when I realized it was already looking more edgy than I’d intended, and I couldn’t do anything about it by then.”

Your power is very hard to use in a kid-friendly way! You command a swarm of biting, stinging, maybe-venomous, maybe-flesh eating bugs! That grimdark look is actually apropiate

I wonder if this work will explore heroes who want to do good things but have characteristically “evil powers”. Taylor could easily be one!

There was a long pause.  Nervously, I turned my eyes from that opaque visor.  I glanced at his chest emblem, a silhouette of his visor in blue against a silver background, and was struck with the ridiculous thought that I had once owned a pair of underpants with his emblem on the front.

Pfft! Taylor your young fangirl self is adorable

Also gave me Deku flashbacks, as with the hero journals

“You’re telling the truth,” he said.  It was a definitive statement, which startled me.  I wanted to ask how he knew, but I wasn’t about to do or say anything that might change his mind. 

Lie-detector?? God his suit just has everything

I love technology based powers by the way. When a hero stacks himself up to the teeth in sweet tech it’s a sight to behold

He approached closer, looking me over as I sat there with my arms around my knees, he asked, “You need a hospital?”

“No,” I said. “Don’t think so.  I’m as surprised as you are.”

“You’re a new face,” he said.

“I haven’t even come up with a name yet.  You know how hard it is to come up with a bug-themed name that doesn’t make me sound like a supervillain or a complete dork?”

Hmm that’s true! Swarm sounds villanous, same with Plague, Sting, Hivemind, Pestilence...

Bug is probably too simple. (Insect) Queen maybe? Eh Queen is so general that it’s probably taken already. Control? Probably taken  and sounds villanous.

He chuckled, and it sounded warm, very normal, “I wouldn’t know.  I got into the game early enough that I didn’t have to worry about missing out on all of the good names.”

There was a pause in the conversation.  I suddenly felt awkward.  I don’t know why, but I admitted to him, “I almost died.”

“That’s why we have the Ward program,” he said.  There was no judgement in his tone, no pressure.  Just a statement.

Hmm, what is that? Some sort of superhero training?

I nodded, more to give a response than out of any agreement with the answer.  The Wards were the under-eighteen subdivision of the Protectorate, and Brockton Bay did have its own team of Wards, with the same naming convention as the Protectorate; The Wards East-North-East.  I had considered applying to join, but the notion of escaping the stresses of high school by flinging myself into a mess of teenage drama, adult oversight and schedules seemed self-defeating.

Oooh so it’s like the Teen Titans, and other young superhero groups! Young teenage superheroes! Nice!

Also yeah, that would probably be similar to school, and you wanted escapism with this. I don’t think you would get bullied though, but I understand your reticence.

“You get Lung?” I asked, to change the subject from the Wards.  I was pretty sure that he was obligated to try and induct new heroes into either the Protectorate or the Wards, depending on their age, to promote the whole agenda of organized heroes who are accountable for their actions, and I really didn’t want him to get on my case about joining.

He probably is obligated to ask, yeah. I suppose they don’t condone vigilantism. So changing the subject to the dragon man is probably a good idea!

“Lung was unconscious, beaten and battered when I arrived.  I pumped him full of tranquilizers to be safe and temporarily restrained him under a steel cage I welded to the sidewalk.  I’ll pick him up on my way back.”

“Good,” I said, “With him in jail, I’ll feel like I accomplished something today.  Only reason I started the fight was because I overheard him telling his men to shoot some kids.  Only realized later that he was talking about some other villains.”

Armsmaster turned to look at me.  So I told him, walking him through the fight in general, the arrival of the teenage bad guys, and their general descriptions.  Before I finished, he was pacing back and forth on the roof.

“These guys.  They knew I was coming?”

Yeeah that was a pretty epic misunderstanding there.

Also they probably knew you were coming thanks to the kinda-omniscient know-it-all in their team soooo yeah.

I nodded, once.  As much respect as I had for Armsmaster, I wasn’t in much of a mood to repeat myself.

“That explains a lot,” he said, staring off into the distance.  After a few moments, he went on to explain, “They’re slippery.  On those few occasions we do manage to get in a toe to toe fight with them, they either win, or they get away more or less unscathed, or both.  We know so little about them.  Grue and Hellhound were working on their own before they joined the group, so there’s some information there, but the other two?  They’re nonentities.  If the girl Tattletale has some way of detecting or tracking us, it would go a long way towards explaining why they’re doing as well as they are.”

Insteresting! So Regent and Tattletale are very well hidden! I imagine it must be easy for Tattletale to do so, but I still don’t know what Regent does... He’s definitely the most misterious of them all at the moment.

Heh, and he uses Hellhound for Bitch, he’s a hero so of course

It kind of surprised me to hear one of the top level heroes admitting to being anything less than perfectly on top of things.

“It’s funny,” I said, after a few moment’s thought, “They didn’t seem that hardcore.  Grue said they were kind of panicking when they heard Lung was coming after them, and they were casually joking around while the fight was going on.  Grue was making fun of Regent.”

“They said all this in front of you?” he asked.

I shrugged, “I think they thought I was helping them out.  The way Tattletale talked, I think she thought I was a bad guy too or something.”  With a touch of bitterness, I said, “Dunno, I guess it was the costume that led them to that assumption.”

“Could you have taken them in a fight?” Armsmaster asked me.

I started to shrug, and winced a little.  I was feeling a little sore in the shoulder, where I’d tumbled on the roof after being blasted by Lung’s flames.  I said, “Like you said, we don’t know a lot about them, but I think that girl with the dogs-”

“Hellhound,” Armsmaster said.

“I think she could have kicked my ass on her own, so no.  I probably couldn’t have fought them.”

Yeah they didn’t really seem evil per se, they were pretty nice to us! Maybe because they confused us for a villain...

And yeah I don’t think you could have beaten them. Of the two powers I sorta know of them, hellbeasts and kinda-omniscience beat bugs, I’m pretty sure. So yeah.

“Then count it as a good thing that they got the wrong impression,” Armsmaster said.

“I’ll try to look at it that way,” I said, struck by how he easily he was able to employ the whole ‘take a negative and turn it into a positive’ mindset I’d been trying to maintain.  I envied that.

Heroes tends to be more optimistic than most.

“That a girl,” he said, “And while we’re looking forward, we need to decide where we go from here.”

My heart sank.  I knew he was going to bring up the Wards again.

Yeaah and he’ll put you in an awkward spot again...

What do you want to do Taylor? Start as a standalone hero and then work your way up through your acts and deeds? Could you even do that and still be well-regarded by the Protectorate?

“Who gets the credit for Lung?”

Caught off guard, I looked up at him.  I started to speak, but he held up his hand.

“Hear me out.  What you’ve done tonight is spectacular.  You played a part in getting a major villain into custody.  You just need to consider the consequences.”

“Consequences,” I muttered, even as the word spectacular rang in my ears.

Oh, so he wants to talk about who gets the credit? Huh, didn’t expect that. It could be a good first step for her hero career, but it could also be dangerous to let villains know about her existence, especially if she’s going solo

“Lung has an extensive gang throughout Brockton Bay and neighboring cities.  More than that, he has two superpowered flunkies.  Oni Lee and Bakuda.”

I shook my head, “I know about Oni Lee, and Grue mentioned fighting him.  I’ve never heard of Bakuda.”

So he has two liutenants with powers! Oni Lee was mentioned before and now... Bakuda. Baku- makes me think explosions from Bakuha, so it could be explosions-based?

Seems to be a new member, anyways.

Armsmaster nodded, “Not surprising.  She’s new.  What we know about her is limited.  She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn out terrorism campaign against Cornell University.  Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate.  This is… something of a concern.”

Damn, terrorism against a University and a conforntation with the New York Protectorate? She seems to have some infamy even before joining

“What are her powers?”

“Are you aware of the Tinker classification?”

I started to shrug, but remembered my sore shoulder and nodded instead.  It was probably more polite, too.  I said, “Covers anyone with powers that give them an advanced grasp of science.  Lets them make technology years ahead of its time.  Ray guns, ice blasters, mechanized suits of armor, advanced computers.”

Oh sweet

So tinkers are the inventors, the tech-based superheroes who use futuristic technology and all kinds of high-specs gear, and that is their superpower?

Oh I love technology-based powers so much.

“Close enough,” Armsmaster said.  It struck me he would be a Tinker, if his Halberd and armor were any indication.  That, or he got his stuff from someone else.  He elaborated,  “Well, most Tinkers have a specialty or a special trick.  Something they’re particualrly good at or something that they can do, which other Tinkers can’t.  Bakuda’s specialty is bombs.”

I stared at him.  A woman with a power that let her make bombs that were technologically decades ahead of their time.  No wonder he saw it as a concern.

So Armsmaster is a tinker! Makes sense with his impossibly-amazing plasma spear-axe, lie detector and super armor. I suppose a tinker’s threat can vary a lot depending on prep time and current gear. I like them!

Super-advanced explosives? Oh boy, that sounds like potencially a fucking nightmare

“Now I want you to consider the danger involved in taking the credit for Lung’s capture.  Without a doubt, Oni Lee and Bakuda will be looking to accomplish two goals.  Freeing their boss and getting vengeance on the one responsible.  I suspect you’re now aware… these are scary people.  Scarier in some ways than their boss.”

“You’re saying I shouldn’t take the credit,” I said.

“I’m saying you have two options.  Option one is to join the Wards, where you’ll have support and protection in the event of an altercation.  Option two is to keep your head down.  Don’t take the credit.  Fly under the radar.”

Yeah I could see how Taylor could become the target of these two underlings, which would probably be more than she can handle.

So Armsmaster is offering her the possibilities of

a) Joining the teenage super-squad and take the credit for Lung or

b)Keep going solo but maintain your involvment in this a secret

I wasn’t prepared to make a decision like that.  Usually, I went to sleep at eleven or so, waking up at six thirty to get ready for my morning run.  At my best guess, it was somewhere between one and two in the morning.  I was emotionally exhausted from the highs and lows of the evening, and I could barely wrap my head around the complications and headaches that would come from joining the Wards, let alone having two insanely dangerous sociopaths coming after me. 

Aand one of those options is already giving Taylor a headache

On top of that, I wasn’t so ignorant as to miss Armsmaster’s motives. If I opted to not take the credit for Lung’s capture, Armsmaster would, I was sure.  I didn’t want to get on the bad side of a major player.

....True, politics could be at play here

Athough I don’t know if Taylor has just a bad view of power structures in general, considering she thought that autobiographical book she read was probably all propaganda

...Which could be true, and the whole system could be corrupt at least a little, and Armsmaster is offering her two options where he hopes he gets the credit and the glory

“Please keep my involvement in Lung’s capture secret,” I told him, painfully disappointed to have to say it, even as I knew it made the most sense.

He smiled, which I hadn’t expected.  He had a nice smile.  It made me think that he could win the hearts of a lot of women, whatever the top two-thirds of his face looked like.  “I think you’ll look back and see this was a smart decision,” Armsmaster said, turning to walk to the other end of the roof, “Call me at the PHQ if you’re ever in a pinch.” He stepped off the edge of the roof and dropped out of sight.

He seems very pleased at her decision, which reinforces my belief that he did want to get the credit after all. Or he’s happy she doesn’t get in trouble. Or both.

Armsmaster seems like an ok guy, probably a little vain, or glory-seeking, but in a way, all superheroes are a bit like that. I have defintely seen much worse examples.

You get a thumbs-up, cool plasma-spear man

Call me if you’re ever in a pinch.  He’d been saying, without openly admitting, that he owed me one.  He would take the lion’s share of the credit for Lung’s capture, but he owed me one.

Before I was all the way down the fire escape, I heard the thrum of his motorcycle, presumably carrying Lung towards a life of confinement. I could hope.

Oh true! Nice, you can call in a favour of a team leader of the superhero mega-alliance! Good start to your superhero career, Taylor!

And he just took away Lung so it seems she was indeed the push the situation needed to get him into custody! Yes!

It would take me a half hour to get home.  On the way, I would stop and pull on the sweatshirt and jeans I had hidden.  I knew my dad went to sleep even earlier than I did, and he slept like a log, so I had nothing to worry about as far as wrapping up the night.

It could have gone worse.  Strange as it sounds, those words were a security blanket I wrapped around myself to keep myself from dwelling on the fact that tomorrow was a school day.

It could have gone worse is a good mentality to have!

Let’s hope the three bitches aren’t too insufferable tomorrow.

[seenashwrite]

Nash Recaps The Back Half Of Season 12 - Part One.

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4

[Note: these are lengthy & have lotsa images, just an FYI before you start]

Good news: soooo many CASPN notes for the S12 Side Deck, and I have re-named each episode with some of these brain droppings. Not-so-good news: my capitalization and punctuation were tossed aside for the following as I was droppin' said brainage in the moment. Rapidly. With much gusto.

And I'm kinda blunt. No, I'm way blunt. I'm cranky. I didn't care for this season. Too many irons in the fire and the writing wasn't robust enough or tight enough to pull it off.  But the best episode of the season is in this bunch, and I wax near damn poetic. I read back through it, and overall it’s entertaining terlit readin’. Hope you enjoy.

Oh, and blame @ilsawasanacrobat for this, there was mild encouragement on her part and that, as y'all know, is all that's needed to egg me on.

12.15 - "A Pregnant Bitch Named Ramsay"

jesus wept, this dragged, that there was maybe a 20 minute story, edits should've started with that painfully long intro; glasses always a plus; good dean/sam banter; handful of good crowley lines; Rando Chick + Rando Doggie Chow = Dean + Sam obvious comparison is obvious #anvil drop #treat your viewers like they're smart #they'll rise to the occasion

soooo done with sam being a lying liar, why they fall back on this shtick I'll never know - wait yeah I do: lazy  #waves at writer's room  

we'll give this one The *Look* Of The Episode.....

so.... largely 'meh', HOWEVER!!!!

Dearest writer who ended this round of said shtick/the episode with shot of Dean's resigned facial expression, to the answering phone with "This is Sam", and hard cut to black?

[chef's kiss] perfection, this is gooooooood shit, that's what I'm lookin' for  #not an anvil in sight #subtlety reigns supreme #believe people the first time #when they tell you #who they are

~ Skip this next one if you like the claire character/find the portrayal anything beyond mediocre, because I don't pull punches ~

12.16 -  "The Voting On Claire's Life"

I prepped dinner through the whole "this shit happened" montage and the two throwaway characters, I was glad they got attacked, heard them from the kitchen, despite having no idea what was said, still know they were very attackable

Oh dean, saying mick's repressing things, that's adorable you lil' kettle, make sure to hit the pot up with more advice later

dear set designer: stop using those bright yellow-railed utility stairs in locations so much, or else paint 'em, I only watch these episodes once but I still notice because they're Bright. Farging. Yellow  #that's the goddamn garage set #and we all know it

magda = one of those missed opportunities, re: too many irons; madga shoulda been off to jody's and donna's posthaste

yes, werewolf on loose, and 'tis true you and your brother were raised to be a team and avoid going off alone when possible but I know better having accumulated about 5 minutes of experience in the field, do stop treating me like a kid, oh very large experienced manly hunter who cares about me, I shall in my 12 year old wisdom take off down yonder path with ridiculous-looking headphones blasting shite music, whatever would be the problem with this decision

holy fuck, empathy and inner reflection, I mean, sort-of, because she's still making everything about her. how the situation she got herself into with magnificent stupidity and the repercussions it therefore spawned impacts her feels, though she's trying to sell it as consideration for jody but her million other actions are better representations of how much she considers jody, and as jody was prepared to love her zombie son and loved her adopted freshly un-vampired daughter without knowing what ripple effects that could have on alex, she would likely welcome a wolfed-claire in with open arms, were claire willing to fight but, ya see, she's not, not really, and does she honestly think being dead will be okey-dokey with jody, and blah blah blah, and were claire and I married in a past life, because she's got the whole obtuse husband routine down cold

can we just let it marinate for a second that this actress/character continues on while shoshannah stern/eileen - and the exceptional actress/magda character - did not? and I KNOW she costs more, her agent must be phenomenal, see below, RE: cast in golden-globe-winning and multi-oscar-nominated tv miniseries and movie, respectively

I loathe the claire character, and >50% of it comes via lazy development on the writers' parts,  but if you want to bask in more of that dead-eyed-dolly delivery, this chick plays Everything. Exactly. The. Same. Way. in "Big Little Lies" and "Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, MO", and I'm not being snarky or hyperbolic -  I'd reserved judgment throughout her tenure on the show, but at this point I'm less on the fence, she's gotten better material and been surrounded by pretty fucking high-caliber actors  in those other 2 than spn writers/casting have provided, so.... yeah.... and in real life, she's got a great personality, I've seen it in clips that go around of interviews or whatever, not a clue what happens when they call "action" it's like she immediately deflates - it was hooooorribly evident in the pilot for wayward, all those other gals - patience/kaia/alex - showed range and had light in their eyes and felt natural in their characters, then there was ol' faithful flat face over yonder.... the lil' kid actors, particularly the one playing her younger sister, in BLL run rings around her.... and sweet lord, she had to share screentime with frances mcdormand in 3BB, can you imagine? I'd be wearing Depends, and the kid playing her brother held his own pretty well [he is *palpably* nervous in his scenes w/FMcD] but I tell ya, with her, it goes from painful [spn] to cringy [BLL] to second-hand embarassment in 3BB, and real fast

but  speaking of SPN/WS writers, I am hoping for some maturity in wayward, like we've seen in alex, and patience is clearly already mature, just new to the game, and kaia I have a feeling is gonna rock our heads off...  occasional ptsd ripples are fine/justified, so are handfuls of learning-curve mistakes, but if I wanted to watch a show about whiny teens fucking up over and over again, then, um, I would #waves at showrunner(s)  #teens aren't one-trick-ponies  #go, like, talk to one #and if you're basing her off  #your own kids' behavior?  #bless your hearts  #legit  #what PITAs

what is UP with the the flashbacks and flashsideways at the end?! ugh. were not needed

y'know, Tiff @butiaintgonnaloveem told me, she TOLD ME not to bother watching this episode, and I did it anyway, and I keep having to get up and walk away and come back, it is taking me like three hours to get through this ass disaster OKAY okay I'm done you're all better than me, it's why I'm a pseudo-fan because.... because..... grrrr..... never mind, I'll channel it elsewhere.....

the awesomesauce was of course the plethora of quality "looks" between the guys and what is, dare I say, not only The *Look* Of The Episode, but possibly The *Look* Of The Season:

Bottom line - they could've accomplished the "hey there's mick get to like him better 'cause we're gonna kill him dead here in a bit" without the claire element; have I mentioned I loathe claire, I *loathe* claire, they have boned that character and didn't even take it out to dinner first, I mean, daughter of an angel, essentially? cool-ass chick hunter? I'm in, but this is what we got, and.... I'm stopping, I swear....

#pleasepickupwaywardsothatactresswillnotbeonthisshowagainatleastnotasoftenokthxbye

12.17 - "Ketch's Fierce Manspread on the Bedspread"

lady, shut uuuuuuuup, why is her blah-blah so looooooong

oh... oh, my.... well, golly.... to snitch a line from back when the scripts were tight and trippy: sweet Peter on a popsicle stick

but... but why? I don't get the need for this, it's.... [heaving sigh] damn this is stupid, and that's an objective not a subjective, and here's why: math, specifically the math on their acceptance numbers - and not counting legacies, they couldn't put legacies in this, I don't care what they say because the powers that be aren't gonna pony up their grandbabies, it's why rich elites' kids magically don't get drafted into military service - so just the plain ol' recruiting AND retention rates would have to be of such a high margin to balance out this "to the death" bullshit that there's no way it would be sustainable, the math doesn't follow; The Kingsmen* did this better; also, I appreciate giving the BMoLs a touch of "umph" because their primary shtick is almost fucking to the letter a re-hash of Buffy's arc with the British Watcher's Council, complete with speeches on how not everything out in monster hunting land is black and white, the pointing out of buffy's willingness to work with vampires and witches, plus poor man's Wesley, a.k.a. Mick [sorry dude - perhaps more time and you'd have risen to that level but them's big shoes to fill], so yeah, I'm glad for the punch of something insidious or creepy, but this was just eye-roll-worthy

* no, Nash - The Kingsmen did "Louie Louie"; you mean to say "Kingsman".... and what say you, Colin Firth?

Opening scene in impala w/the 3 of them flows smoothly, feels natural,  is delicious #good shit

dear dabb: is there a reason how everybody, and their mother, and their dogs, their minister, their bikini waxer, their accountant, and their under-the-table weed dealer knows that the winchesters are, um, unbeatable and unkillable to boot, except for the stuffily stereotypically-stereotypical british broad who's supposedly in-the-know about all things monster? does she even apocalypse? so, SO stupid. dabb, you & the S12 writers couldn't plot your way out of a graveyard even if death was co-piloting the backhoe

oh blah blah dickensian street orphan blah - stop fisting my face with useless backstory on mick. staaaaaaahhhhp. we get it. he's a soft-hearted sweetie, they thought they'd be gathering up a litter of wayward psychopaths, lucked out with a Ketch (probs more than one, tbh) and amongst them was cockney potter poor man's wesley wyndham pryce.  WE GOT IT HE'S ADORABLE HE'S DEAD MEAT

ah, so early we find you, The *Look* Of The Episode....

....which, that watermark  reminds me, a hearty #fuckoffriverdale  Pictured below: dean channeling me, when I'm thinking about how someone actually paid someone else for the oh-so-original idea of taking something cheeky-campy-fun and going all broody-angsty-dark with it like, say, Archie Comics.....

this chick playing dagon is tops, which is how I knew early on she'd be dead meat. hey, look! it's cousin oliver!

if they snuck something eerie into the sonogram then I missed it - and I checked - so if there was, it wasn't obvious enough. they ain't got a pair over in ye olde graphics hub, because if animators have no chill with sticking dicks into rando scenes in cartoons so that bible belt mommies get the vapors, the least they coulda done is given us a preview of the forthcoming creepy ass smile.  devil parasite teeth coulda been some stephen king shit right there

historically/more-often-than-not, the show make-ups and/or over-barrel-curls and/or lights [indoors] most of the women in such a way that they perpetually look 10-to-15 years older than their actual age, but my good gravy did they do right by shoshannah in the beer clink scene, hair and makeup and lighting on damn point, so refreshing to see, because our #deadmeat loaf needed a third yummy ingredient, I suppose ::sigh::

hey thanks for making crowley out to be a fucking idiot in that unneeded, added nothing, “why was it even in there?”, “I guess there were contract minimums to meet, so here we are” scene

that orderly, mannered, turn-by-turn, ever-so-slowly-rolled, dagon fling-away processional made me burst out laughing so hard that I woke up the dogs  hahahahahahaahaha  [wheeze] HAAAAAAAAhahahahaha   #when the nash nieces and nephews choreograph fight scenes in the living room

real talk? the mary and ketch dynamic has my support 1000%, that scene made me like them - together and separately - quite a bit. I had actually caught this scene in the midst of whatever I was doing the night it originally aired, and it was enough to distract me into paying attention, and also because I couldn't figure what was with the one-leg-out-up-and-bent post-coital lounging thing happening

well-executed execution, knew it was coming [both because t-bag giffage, and, um, hello see above, re: dabb & co ain't never met an anvil they didn't wanna drop], but even so - the timing was good, they didn't let his speech drag out too long, even though ol' girl's THE COOOOOODE speech was too long. still. they got-in/got-out fairly well

holy shitsnacks. THE CODE. THE LORE. #mindblowers #CASPN Crew feels me on this

12.18 - "A Goat Dude With A Name Like A Pirate's"

oh poor man's Jay Baruchel's about to eat it, ain't he? we were actually getting a cheeky lil' cold open here for once  :::sigh:::

GOAAAAAAT HEAD HAMMER STRIIIIIIIKE JERKY ZOOM IN YAAAAAASSSSS this is the show I signed up for. This. This right here.

give the very magnetic guest sheriff all the gold stars, he is phenomenal, every line delivery, the pacing, the proud-papa eyeballing of the taxidermy, ALL OF IT

it is exactly seven minutes and forty-eight seconds in, and I am actually adoring this episode STOP EVERYTHING IT'S HAPPENING I MIGHT BE TIP-TOEING NEAR THE FAN LINE

rando urban legend [nods], good.... diner banter, very good.... dean sizing up the utterly basic average waitress, annoyed sam tries to press on,  good good.... [nods again, reaches for snack, settling in] ah-HA! it's the first THE LORE of the episode, hey, should I be documenting those, too?  no. no, I don't have that kind of time

sorry, my dude

lookit the soft, pretty snow.... [sniffs]

his mjolnir is like a lil' repurposed beer stein.....

I just looked up who wrote this - he has written a grand total of 2 eps, this one, and the other he had to (I've no doubt) carry Dabb on: the wrestling one, which was littered with great moments, places for the guys to stretch their acting legs as it were, nice nostalgia/insight about their childhood that was just kinda floated out there vs. laxative-like exposition, had some fantastic crowley/cas dialogue to boot, and.....  and......

WHY IS HE NOT ALLOWED TO WRITE MORE THINGS, HE GETS THIS SHOW

Sam bringin' it home - I know we're not done yet, but I'm placing my bets now that this is, to be sure, The *Look* Of The Episode:

oh it's this dude. he's the goat. placing my bets there, too. I find his eyebrows off-putting. goat head = smart move. if he ain't the goat, then he's playing this way too weird. actually if he *is* the goat, he's playing this way too weird  #that's a director anvil #I don't blame the writers

Ketch brand sneery snark is so marvelous..... goooooood tension with the flashlight slow walk peek in grate...... the sound/music is on point...... this is the best episode of the season, easily. like, it'll have to whiff it hard from here on out for me to hate it....  YES KETCH YAAAASSSSSS that fucking telescope in a basement..... music here is nailing it, too, it's very jessica jones-ish..... and THANK YOU for just showing them bugging the place, no stupid exposition on here is where we're putting them, here's how we're gonna monitor the frequency bleh bleh bleeecccchhh

THANK YOU WRITER, YOU ARE GOOD AT THIS, SO GOOOOOOD WHEN WILL THEY LET YOU WRITE MORE OF THE THINGS

that family business line coulda gone hella cheesy anvil drop [whispers --- like the on-a-hunt one in wayward pilot sorry-not-sorry] but here it worked, great delivery, great ackles face pull, they hit the moment and it was gone as soon as it came, nicely done

god bless, even the *lighting* is great, the aforementioned grating basement thing, this red in the freezer, dry ice is a touch much but HOOVES ARE THOSE HOOVES OR JUST REALLY CLUNKY BOOTS

the continued hammer-and-sam interactions are not passing me by, I don't know why this is a thing, but I'm not fighting it

that fizzle crackle colt through-and-through tho.... LOOOOVE

did he just dissolve-fart into some paint that I swear to god I'd used for a bathroom I was being wishy-washy on regarding color so I went with this flat pewter neutral garbage? DID I PAINT THE BATHROOM THE COLOR OF MELTED GOD

and what exactly did the monster look like, hmm? WE DON'T KNOW IT DOESN'T MATTER THAT'S WHY IT'S BETTER  #it’s the Jaws under the water thing #the trick to making situations unsettling is #not showing all your cards

then..... and..... and.... and  then.......

THAT IS HOW YOU DO A FLASHBACK SEQUENCE

let us not forget that this episode also spawned the greatest outtake that ever outtaked #chupacabra

okay, so, to sum up......  I've seen the finale, so since I'm done here, this means 4 more to go, but lemme say now......

Best. Episode. Of. The. Season. 

plot to dialogue to casting to execution to set design to sound to costuming to lighting - granted,  minor quibble in that the villain played it a squinch too obvious - but this was as close to flawless as I've seen since earlier seasons, the most recent being.... my mind drifts to something in the 9/10 ballpark but I couldn't say what just now.... beyond this nightmare of a season and the molasses drag that was the darkness arc, for sure.  anyway. yeah. #good shit

Part two whenever I get around to binge-a-palooza again. I can do this. I might do this. Nah, I will. Eventually.

[yoongiandchiminie]

P R E S S U R E { 1 }

;series;

masterlist

{Part 2} 

Pairing: Reader X Yoongi

Word Count: 6,748

Genre: Romance, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Smut, daddy kink, cursing Summary: After dating for almost 3 years, the armys and Yoongi’s label have found out about your relationship. Now you have to deal with it in your extraordinarily normal life.

I didn’t mean to start dating Min Yoongi. I’d simply gone into New York City. I had taken the day off from work weeks in advance and gone in with my friends then ran into him at Bryant Park. I’d heard BTS before, but honestly, I had no clue that they were there at that time. I later learned it was for some meeting, but we never really talked about the details of one of our favorite days.

We’d made eye contact. He was in front of the fountain taking pictures of it and himself, and I’d noticed him out of the corner of my eye. When we tell this story, he likes to say that I was staring at him with heart eyes. In reality, I watched him for 10 seconds and within that time he’d notice me and given me a coy smile. Then he jogged back over to Jimin and Namjoon and I shook my head clear of that and back into my friends conversation.

I hadn’t noticed the 3 boys following us across the street into Kinokuniya Bookstore. We simply went across the street to look at the manga, figures, and all of the cute stationary. I was there with my two best friends, Alicia and Julianna. They had wandered off, crying about some manga about stray dogs and I was alone in the basement of the store, looking at the stationary when I felt a heat on the back of my neck. I always got nervous when I was alone, simply because I had some terrible anxiety.

I was the mom friend in the group, so I had to take charge in certain situations. For some reason, inside of flight I choose fight. Boy, was it the right choice. I’d turned around the see who was staring at me and it was him, Him with his blonde hair. Him with his soft face. Him with his all black outfit and snapback, hiding from the world.

Before I got the chance to ask why he was staring at me, he stepped closer and held out his hand.

“Min Yoongi.” he introduced and I shook it.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Can I asked why a perfectly good stranger has been watching me like some creep.”

He chuckled. I melted. “Well, I can’t help myself to do anything, but to look at you. You kind of have my full attention and I also thought it was a little creepy. Obviously, you noticed me. So, I thought I would introduce myself.”

“What a gentleman.”

“You know, they have this cute little cafe on the top floor. Wanna come get lunch with me?”

His english was a little broken, but I managed to catch his drift and pick up on what he was saying. The way he spoke was almost rehearsed. Later, I found out that Namjoon helped him learn this little monologue so he could speak to me.

Then it was all a part of history. Our history. The six of us had a lunch together and Yoongi and I hit it off. He was trying so hard to speak my language, even though Namjoon had to help him a bunch. He was so… into me. It was crazy. I’d never had such an instant spark with someone, especially someone so reserved at first. I had always had this weird outgoing, loud guy type.

He was so captivating. He still is. Anyways, that’s how it started. After that lunch, he’d invited us to their concert that night. When I carried on, stressing out about how I had nothing to wear, he just waved me off. My girlfriends laughed at my constant need to worry about the silliest things in the world, just stating “This is how I was.” and that “he’d have to get used to it”. Which he responded with, “I plan on it.”.

On the way out of the store, he grabbed my hand and led me down the avenue. We were both totally aware he had no idea where he was off to, but he’d decided I was going to get a whole new outfit then stay at his hotel. I’d felt like I’d known Min Yoongi for years. His personality just vibed with me and the hotel part didn’t even come across in a creepy way? Then we shopped and went to his show.

Obviously, the next day he was gone. Off to some other city. But he never left me. My days were full of constant texts and calls. My weeks became filled with him flying in whenever he had a day off. My months were made up of stolen kisses and my year ended up in a relationship. It was a secret and we could handle it. The constant separation made keeping this secret from his record label so much easier.

Until 2 years later. 2 years into my bliss, we were caught by one of his fans. He’d flown in for the weekend and one of them had followed the car he got picked up in from the airport all the way to a parking lot of a Mcdonald's where he hopped into my car. We were in for some shit, let me tell you. My mentions were filled and so was my phone. BigHit now owned me in a way, sadly. After signing a bunch of contracts about how I wasn’t playing Yoongi and that I couldn’t run away with his money and I couldn’t reveal more intimate parts of him and if we got married I had none of his BTS assets and all of that dumb shit, I thought it had died down.

The armys didn’t hate me. Well, obviously some did, but the others made me feel welcome. Made me feel less scared about going public with my relationship with my boyfriend of almost 3 years. I was very straight forward with the things I could talk about and did whatever his record label asked me to. At first, it started with an hour long interview, talking about myself and us. Why we kept this all a secret and such. It ended with them surprising me with what I thought was a skype call, but Yoongi ended up being there. After 4 months.

When we were on the skype call, he told me to close my eyes for a moment so he could put on something silly or whatever. Then I smelt him, as weird as it sounds. He wore my favorite cologne and I started crying before he wrapped his arms around me. Within seconds I was buried into his chest, sobbing, as he held his hands on my face. He wiped away my tears for camera effect, but he also made sure to block my face from the limelight. He knew I’d be even more upset if there were suddenly gifs of me hysterical on the internet.

So, blah blah blah, right? Now, I’ll bring us to today. Currently, I was hiding in the fridge at my job at a super market deli. My manager knew I was in here and I was even preparing food in here to go in the showcase. Currently there were a bunch of pre-teen girls standing at the counter, all looking for me. It’d been like this for the past week and my manager Steve happened to feel bad for me today.

A few hours earlier, my twitter started to go crazy. The Big Hit account had decided to use me for some retweets and tweeted out my work address. So now it looked like I was having a fucking meet and greet, so I decided to be trapped in the fridge. Yep.

Steve walked in and kind of chuckled at me as I packed some yams into a dinner container. “I know you’re having a hard time out there, but we could really use you. It’s a little busy out there. It’s your meet and greet after all.” Then he broke into a full on laughter, patting his chest, to make sure he could still breathe at the end of it. I didn’t laugh because it wasn’t funny. Not funny at all. “I’m glad you’re sticking this out, you know, taking one for the team back here.”

In all reality, I wanted to ask to go home. It was starting to get cold and I forgot a jacket, but I needed the money. Not all of us could be K-pop idols and I didn’t want to really want to have to rely on him for money. Well, he sort of ruined my job. And my life. Maybe I could bill him for work interruption. I’ll sue him. That’s it, I’ll sue him. I’m not exactly sure for what yet, but I texted informing him about the lawsuit. He didn’t respond.

He also didn’t respond to my 20 other texts messages freaking out about the armys at my job or about how his record label was trying to sabotage our relationship. He was probably in the middle of overworking himself in whatever country he was in today. I had stopped trying to keep up with each individual one and just knew the basic area of where he was. I think it was Korea. Or maybe Japan. I knew it wasn’t America. That was in half a week.

They had a 2 weeks vacation and he’d decided to spend it with me. Every time he got a break, he tried to waste it all on me. I always bullied him into going home to be with his family or spend time with the band and the last 4 days would be reserved for us. This time he’d convinced me to let him stay with me the whole time. He’d even called my store and requested the two weeks off for me as he planned whatever he was going to do. So, starting Monday I would no longer be trapped here, I guess.

As soon as all of the dinner were packed, I stacked them onto a tray and kicked open the fridge door, subsequently hitting one of the chef's, Mike, with it. “Ahh, she emerges.” he joked, pushing my hat lower over my eyes. “Maybe you should go say hi to them. They’ve been here since your shift started.” He nodded at the 50 girls filling up the coffee lounge outside of the deli. I swished my mouth back and forth, debating the situation. “I’ll go with you, if that’s what you need. I know you want to, nervous nelly.”

I put the dinners down and grabbed my bag on my way back to my tundra. I pulled up the step ladder and took out my makeup bag, deciding now would be a good time to look good. Of course I wanted to go meet the girls. They made my boyfriend happy and support him. They support us. I guess it really did look bad if I hid all day. I was just so anxious about the entire situation. I wasn’t the famous one. I was kind of just riding along with the love of my life who happened to be a bit popular.

I pulled off my hat and took out the ponytail within my hair. I ran my hands through it and of course it was already a bit knotted. Nothing could ever be easy in my life. Whatever, this was for him. For his label. In the back of my mind I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that everyone out there would jump me for dating him, but they were there. Here to see me. Hell, what do I even do? I work, I’m not even in school, and I sing in a band that purely plays in my friends garage because we can’t get our act together to even have a name.

I stood up and cleared my throat a bunch. When I got nervous my voice seemed to crack and I stepped out of my tomb. “Wish me luck.” I said to the guys I worked with and they just laughed and waved me off.

I pushed open the double doors and heard a few noises come from the direction I was headed in. “H-Hey guys.” I smiled, giving a little wave to the girls as they proceeded to run over to me and surround me. First, it started slow. I thought maybe they’d kind of stare at me from a distance, but oh no. Of course nothing can be civil and easy with me, can it?

They started getting closer to me and snapping selfies all around me, throwing out questions about Yoongi.

“What’s he like in bed?” I can’t discuss that. I legally can’t.

“Is this just a publicity thing? So the armys can feel like they have a chance?” No, I’m in love with him. He’s in love with me.

“You’re so fucking pretty. It makes me feel so shitty.” I’m so sorry. I’m so so so sorry. Please, don’t feel that way. You’re absolutely beautiful.

“Is BTS gonna tour here soon?” I don’t know.

“Why have you been hiding from us? What exactly are you hiding, Y/N?” Nothing. I was so scared. I’m so scared.

I wanted to respond to everything. I wanted to defend myself. I couldn’t get a word out edgewise, everything was trapped in my thoughts. I just smiled for all of the pictures and videos they were taking of and with me. I didn’t start to cry until I heard Steve yell for me behind the deli counter, asking if I was alright. Then I became hysterical. I covered my face and closed my eyes, only to hear him running across the wooden floor. He lightly pushed through the girls and pulled me out of there, back to my safe haven of the deli fridge.

Fuck.

I’d been excused to leave work early after that and Steve told me not to come in the next day either. After a little bit of a fight about it, he told me to start my days off early and that he’d talk to his boss about asking if those can be paid vacation days. I knew he’d say no however. The store manager had been pushing for me to work more because of all of the business I’d been bringing in by simply working there. We were up by around half a grand a day and boy did that make him look good.

When I pulled into my driveway, I unplugged the aux cord from my car and dialed one of the numbers I knew by heart. Yoongi’s international number. I rarely called him without asking, but I knew he had my phone call volume on. Only when it was an emergency I’d phone him right away.

It rang three times. “Mmmm, baby? What’s up?” Oh, he sounded so sleepy. I felt bad for about 5 seconds before I started yelling.

“How could you sleep through all of my messages? Boy, have I had a day.” I unlocked my door and slammed it behind me, only locking the top lock. I threw myself on the couch as I heard him groaning about sitting up to check his phone.

“Facetime.” Then he hung up and face timed me this time. By this point, I was upside down on my couch with a red face and an angry expression. I hit the green button. “You look so grumpy.” He chuckled.

“I am grumpy. Please don’t go on twitter for a few days?”

“So, armys were at your job.” I saw his face sink a little as he leaned against the wall.

I sat upright and fixed my hair in the camera mirror. “I kind of started crying and I got excused from work until after my vacation days. They probably think I’m crazy, Gloongs.”

“You’re calling me Gloongs? Look at you. The new dwarf in Snow White. Mopey.”

“I’m gonna hang--”

“No. Please no. You’re not okay. I’m sorry this is happening. I’ll fix it.” Then he hung up.

The way he went about his life was so weird to me sometimes. Knowing him, he was back asleep already too. Sleeping sounded like a pretty good idea, actually. I knew I could never take a nap, it was something I had learned to deal with. I’d always wished I could just pass out like my boyfriend. He had this uncanny ability to simply close his eyes and be somewhere else.

I stood from the purple couch in my living room and walked the total 10 feet to my bedroom. I swung open the door and fell straight onto my bed. The phone charger I kept next to my bed was gone and then I just let out my anger by screaming. I didn’t give a fuck about my upstairs neighbor in this moment or the 5 open windows in the little apartment my mother and I stayed in.  I was just frustrated.

The plug had fallen on the floor off of my mattress, luckily. Once my phone was charging, I called up my best friend Alicia. She didn’t pick up and I knew she was also asleep. Of course two of the most important people in my life had these weird sleeping habits I couldn’t get myself into. I could barely sleep as it was, let alone throughout the day.

I called her again as fast as I could. Normally after the first phone call, she grabbed her phone to turn off the volume for the second call. I always begged her not to because if there was a second call it was important, but she didn’t give a shit. It was almost crazy to me how my boyfriend and best friend were so alike. I really couldn’t fathom how I could handle two of them let alone one, but I did it. I guess my type had changed.

I must have called fast enough because I was met with a groan and a, “Ugh, what do you need?”

“Hey,” I almost choked up? I wasn’t sad, just stressed. “Can we do something?”

“Guardians 2 just came out, if you can get us tickets.” Usually, I was met with a no and that she was going back to bed. “What’s wrong with you?”

I put my phone on speaker and opened up the Chrome browser, typing in showtimes near us. “Oh, you know. I’m just casually getting stalked.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s karma.”

“For what?!”

“Dating a superstar. A hot, lazy version of me though. Yeah. Karma.” she broke into a fit of chuckles and I heard her get up and start rummaging through her clothes. “Do I have to dress nice? Am I going to get followed by some paparazzi?” I could hear her trying not to laugh.

“I’m wearing jeans and a fucking hoodie. The next show time is in 40 minutes, I got us side seats. I’m coming to pick you up.” Then I hung up, grabbed my keys, and ran out my door.

The movie was amazing, but my phone call with Yoongi later was not. Halfway through the movie, I remembered that he had wanted to see it with me. Boy, I wasn’t ready for the angry rant I was about to get, but I stayed up til 2 am for it anyways.

“Hey, baby.” I could hear the smile in his voice. He was in the arena in whatever place he was in now, getting ready for his show. “How are you, what’d you do after our call last night? Or your day time.”

“I went to the movies with Ali-”

“No you didn’t.” Oh no. He interrupted me. He was onto me, he knew. “Are you kidding me? I planned the tour around us seeing this movie during my vacation days!” He was screaming now. I heard Hoseok in the background asking him to calm down and heard my precious boyfriend slapping him away. “You know what? I’m done.”

“Done? Dude, come on.”

“You’re fucking coming to Korea on the next flight and we’re seeing it together. You’re off from work anyways, I’m not taking no as an answer. Hoseok, please take my card and find her a flight. I’d do it, but she won’t pack anything that she needs if I hang up to look.”

He was right, sadly. For such a put together person I over packed unessential stuff no matter where I was going. Day trips, week trips, I packed my entire room up for those.  “Don’t make him book me a ticket. I can buy my own.”

He broke into a fit of laughter. “Shut up, no you can’t. I got you out of work, so let me compensate by paying. You also can’t argue with me because it’s done. Check your email.”

He was right, I couldn’t. The flight was in about 3 hours and I was an hour away from the airport, so I started to pack. He scolded me about packing 3 times the clothes I needed when it only a four day trip. They had three more shows left to end their tour and would be in the same area for all of them. So I didn’t have to feel guilty about more travel expenses and such like I always did.

Of course I knew he had the money to spend and such, but that was the thing. I didn’t want to be pampered by him at all times just because he could. I liked being able to support myself and not feeling like I was using him for his money. I was so in love with this kid and I had been for the last few years and that was the last thing I wanted him to believe.

Yeah, I was working a part time minimum wage job and he was touring the world, but I didn’t need him for such small expenses. Even though I guess a plane ticket wasn’t small. On the cab ride to JFK airport, I was just enveloped in my thoughts about him that I didn’t even realize when we had arrived. I was forced out of my head by a loud honk and the man in the front seat telling me to get out. I passed up a 50 dollar bill and grabbed my larger than I should have suit case out of the trunk.

I never really began going to airports and flying before Yoongi. It was such a normal thing to him, but to me it was so extravagant. Not even including where you’re going, flying on an airplane was just such a cool concept to me. So I took it all in every time. Even if it fucked me over in the end. Which you already knew it did. I never slept, so my jet lag was extra bad during these. I just watched movie after movie, every time. There was truly nothing else to do for me than take advantage of that. I got too anxious sleeping in front of people, even if they were perfectly good strangers.

Whenever my plane landed in South Korea, I always regretted not paying too much attention when Yoongi tried to teach me the language in depth. I knew some basic terms to get me around, but he had practiced English for so long and so hard for me, that I really did feel guilty for not learning his native tongue. It seemed to always be a lingering thought whenever I was in his homeland, but he made me feel silly for thinking that. Stating that I had no true reason to learn Korean and that he didn’t want me to get good at it so he could always talk shit about me without me truly understanding. As much as I wanted to believe that was a joke, I knew it wasn’t.

After grabbing my luggage, I looked around for one of the security guards I knew would be getting me. I pulled my hood lower on my head and looked for the sign that Yoongi probably wrote. Knowing him it would say something embarrassing.  There it was. Booboo buns. He even drew hearts around it. He was such a dick, even when he wasn’t here.

I gripped my rolling suitcase with a hard fist as I walked over to the burly man and waved. He complimented me with a smile and turned his back on me to follow to the car outside. He attempted to take my suitcase from me and I just responded with, “Aniyo gwaenchanhseubnida.” Meaning no thank you. One of the few terms I made sure to know along with where is the bathroom and a few other phrases.

Once I was in the familiar black van, I finally closed my eyes. I didn’t know how far the hotel was and I didn’t bother to ask. Well, I didn’t know how to ask and I had no service here to even text Yoongi I was on my way. He definitely knew though. For a lazy fuck he was on top of important shit; like getting me around a place where I could easily end up lost. As much as I prided myself on having good direction value.

Of course I didn’t sleep on the way to the hotel when that was purely all I wanted to do. The security guard parked the car in front of the hotel and left the hazards on. He simply walked me inside and I said thank you and he passed me a card with the room number and key. From the lack of people around here, I figured the boys were at their show. It was around 8 pm here now, so it was almost a perfect time for me to sleep.

I power walked to the elevator and once it dinged I went inside up to the 18th floor. I closed my eyes on the way up as I leaned against the mirror on the side of the elevator. I hope I didn’t leave a mark or anything. I was probably all gross from that plane ride. If I had the energy I’d shower, but I just wanted to knock out and I bet that the bed here was super comfortable. Nothing like my mattress on the floor back at home. Ding. I was here. Floor 18, room 22. Of course it was at the end of a long hallway. Of course.

At this point I was almost ready to crawl down the hallway, but instead I jogged. I figured I was alone, but I was wrong. During my sprint, I ran into random man and completely ate shit and fell. He said, “Sorry, sorry.” but continued running in the opposite direction of me. Awesome. Now I was tired and bruised and probably had fucking rug burn, but I was over it.  I stood up and just pushed the thought that I got to see Yoongi when I woke up. I swiped the card through room 22 and saw it. The beautiful, big bed. The door slammed behind me and I kicked off the moccasins I’d been wearing for the past almost 16 hours. A smile loomed over my face as I tiptoed over to the empty bed and stuffed myself into it. Within a minute, I was out like a light.

I was awoken by the light turning on, but the thing that pushed me into being awake was the stench that followed it. I coughed to clear my throat and sat up. I opened my eyes to a smiling Yoongi at the foot of the bed. My eyes were still adjusting to the change, so he was a little blurry to me. “Why didn’t you shower there?” I asked. It totally wasn’t the first thing I wanted to say, but I kind of hurt a bit too much to move or yell.

“I wanted to see my girl.” His smile turned into one of my favorites. The gummy one. Then he crawled over to me, rubbing his fingers across the dimple that lined my face. “You’re so pretty… and bloody?” He chuckled, “Did you fall or something?” He peeled the blanket off of me and I was as confused as the look on his face. “Oh, come on. You fell?”

I couldn’t help but to laugh. There were a bunch of scratches on my arm from the carpet that had torn just enough to bleed. Then I just ignored it, so here we were. “Yeah, I fell. I was super tired and ran into this guy-”

“Someone ran into you?” He pulled me into his smelly arms and squeezed me. “You didn’t yell at him? Shame. I love it when you’re a firecracker.” He kissed at my cheek, towards the corner of my mouth. “Wow, I missed you.”

He continued to leave small kisses around my face and I knew I wasn’t sleeping anytime soon. I turned around so that I was looking at him and he had changed his hair. “Green?” My face lit up, “You did my favorite hair color again?!”

He bit at my nose, “Yeah. I gotta make sure this vacation is perfect for you.” He went back to kissing around my face. Whenever we met up, it always started like this. He missed the physical interaction, but never pushed me into anything, He always started slow.

“How was the show?”

“Amazing, as always, but I was so distracted knowing you were here and laying in my bed without me.” His kisses began to trail down the side of my face to my neck, his second favorite place to be at for a while.

“Can we shower? I don’t want to fuck you- No, that’s a lie. I want to fuck you really bad.”

“Blunt today?” he breathed hot air down my neck as he spoke in a sexy whisper.

“I’m gross and so are you, let’s shower.”

We both walked into the bathroom and started stripping each other. Nothing too sensual at first, until we were both in our undergarments. We both just looked at each other for a minute. Observed each other's flaws and imperfections as if it was the first time seeing each other naked, but boy was it not. Honestly, I think that’s what made us love each other so much. Everything was always the same, but it was always new.

“God, I’ve missed you so much.” Yoongi breathed. He undid the clasp on my bra and as I took that off I felt his long fingers slide down my back to pull down my lacy panties I’d been in for probably the last day. I breathed out a gasped when he touched me. His fingers were cold even though the bathroom was slowly heating up. I pulled on the waistline of Yoongi’s boxers, suggesting for him to take them off. Even if we were caught in a moment, he couldn’t help but to slightly laugh at my little motions. I was never truly the one in charge of these situations, but considering it’s been about 3 months since we’d last seen each other, I was getting a little antsy.

He grabbed onto my hand and led me into the shower. As soon as I turned the shower on he started attacking my neck with little kisses. Nothing too aggressive, but hard enough to leave a faint bruise after each kiss. I turned around to face him. God, he was beautiful. We moved closer to each other and our lips finally connected. The kiss was soft and sweet. Then of course leave it to Yoongi become aggressive. With one swift motion, he lifted me off of the ground and made me wrap my legs around him. He pushed me into the tiled wall and I could feel him against my heat.

“You came all this way for me, I figured I might as well do something for you.” He said.

“That’s fine by me, daddy.” I teased. I could feel him fucking harden against me. It was really hot. I knew it was one of his kinks. He would never admit it to me but whenever I called him that it would almost instantaneously turn him on. Now that I did that, I knew I was in for a world of trouble. Aka, him getting mad if I called him anything other than that or sir. I did it anyways, him being mad was pretty hot in these cases.

“Yeah?” his voice was raspier now.

“Okay, Yoongi.” I smirked, excited for the outcome.

“Don’t you dare call me that now. You started this,” Yoongi growled. He let me sink a little bit again the wall, only to duck his shoulder under my left leg and put it on top. My breathing hitched as he got me into one of his favorite positions. Also because this was dangerous. We could die. Then it would be all my fault and his army would kill me.

I was taken back to the moment as he kitten licked up my slit and pulled away right before he got to my clit. He chuckled at the little gasping noise I made when he stopped and lifted up to touch me, but instead of going where I thought he cupped my chin. He smirked and kissed me so hard that I could almost feel the purple that my lip was going to be. He let go of my chin and began to lazily trail his hand down my body, making sure to go over my most sensitive parts in his little teasing session.

His eyes never left yours as he teased a digit inside, but quickly pulled it out. Before he started anything else he made sure I was secure against the wall and in his left hand. He did the same motion again with his middle finger and I gasped as the loss of touch.

“Please-” I begged, reaching for his wrist.

He slapped my hand away and squinted his eyes at me telling me to stop. This time he put in two fingers and curled them inside of me, my eyes closed from habit.  “I want you to look at me while I touch you, princess.” He scolded. I could literally feel my insides turn to mush with his words as I bit onto my lip. His two fingers slowly moved inside of me while his thumb reached up to rub my clit. He kept curling and uncurling his fingers while rubbing little circles. All I wanted right now was to moan loud and sink to my knees, but I couldn’t lose my voice yet and I was pinned to the shower.

At this point he lowered me onto the ground, still keeping my leg on his shoulder. I gripped the shower handle as he moved his mouth onto my clit, lightly sucking on it while keeping his fingers inside of me. I wrapped my leg over my shoulder. He added a third finger and continued to curl them. I reached my other hand out and ran my fingers through his hair, being careful not to pull the green too hard. I pushed my hips down and mumbled a fuck. He hummed into me as he removed his fingers and licked up me one final time.

He pulled his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them while not breaking eye contact. “Better than ever.” He let my leg down and I still needed some support. I reached my arms up lazily and wrapped them around his neck, kissing him softly. He, however, didn’t want soft. The kiss quickly became intense as he slipped his tongue into my mouth. He ran his hands up and down my back, eventually landing on my ass and gripped it like he was holding on for dear life.

The kissing stopped for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want me to-” I pulled one arm off of him and brought it toward his hip. He reached out for it with his own, lacing our fingers together. It felt less intense in this moment, as he smiled purely and took his other hand to my cheek.

“Let me take care of you for once. Let me fuck you til you beg me to stop, (Y/N).” He spoke in is normal voice, except a little bit higher. I simply bit my lip in response. Leave it to Yoongi to always know what to say to make me wet.

He lifted my leg back up again and placed himself at my entrance. In typical Yoongi fashion, he rubbed the head up and down my folds, barely dipping inside. “Please.” I begged, barely audible. He just smiled and slowly pushed into me. Within seconds, he picked up speed. He went at a mild tempo at first then as I put my hand onto his shoulder he lifted my leg higher and all you could hear was muffled moans and groans along with the slapping of skin.

He gripped my thigh as he thrusted in and out. He never broke eye contact with me and as much as I wanted to close my eyes, I stared right at him. When I reached my high, he knew. I knew he was close too. “Can I?” his eyes darted down to his cock. I nodded as I was unable to even speak. He fucked me right through my orgasm and my nails scratched through his skin. As soon as I was done, he moaned out my name as he came inside me. He lowered my leg to a more comfortable position and then pulled out.

Before putting me back onto the ground he made sure I was leaning on him and had my hand somewhere else. Fuck, he knew me too well. He hummed into my ear as my back leaned against his bare body. He ran his fingers through my hair and I felt a stinging in my eye. “Yoongi stop!” I yelled, squeezing it shut to try to comfort my pain.

“What’s wrong? Was I being too aggressive? I know it’s been a bit and I know you can barely walk right now but maybe y-”

“No, it’s not that-”

“Then what’s wrong?” He wrapped his arms around me, turning me in towards him.

“You got shampoo in my eye.”

He gulped. “I wasn’t holding the shampoo-”

“Then what’s in my eye?!” I yelled, reaching one hand up to rub it. He started to laugh.

“Babe, I am so sorry.”

For the rest of the shower, I just leaned into him after getting whatever was in my eye out. I missed being with him like this in such a personal way. We didn’t even speak, but we were so in tune with each other when we were together. He took care of me and I took care of him. In this moment, it was his turn. He knew I’d been hurting lately, mentally and now physically thanks to him. It was moments like these I was so grateful for him. I was always grateful for him.

He reached over me to turn off the water and pulled a towel off of the rack outside of it. He twirled it around me and then one around his own waist. He kept one arm around me as he patted some of the water off of himself. “You tired?” He whispered, patting me down a little bit before lifting me bridal style out of the shower.

He laid me onto the bed still wrapped up despite me still being well covered in water. He got in next to me and covered us with the warm blanket, pulling me close to his chest. He liked to sleep while in contact with me, despite what it may be. Tonight his arm was around me, but most nights his hand was on my hip or thigh . Tonight was different, he wanted to closer than usual. We which we already were. Our usual is across the world.

“Hey, Yoongs.” I whispered into his chest. He made a noise signaling he heard me. “I love you. I love you. I’m so in love with you.”

He ruffled my hair. “Shh, go to sleep.”

“Reassure me.” my unnecessary anxiety spoke out.

“I’m so in love with you. I’ve loved you since I’ve known you. You’re the strongest woman I know. You’re my sun and I love you. Darling, am I in love with you.”

Authors Note: Hey! I hope you enjoyed chapter 1 of Pressure! If you guys liked it, I’d appreciate if you let me know! I have lots of plans for this and would love to continue writing it! Thank you guys.

part 2 →

[pyxel-spree]

04 | clinically depressed

The doctor here said that I am clinically depressed. Considering that he got this diagnosis out of a single interview where I  neither replied to any of his questions nor made eye contact with him, I'm actually kind of impressed.

I'm not quite sure what that means. Can someone be un-clinically depressed? Or somewhat clinically depressed? Or just depressed?

I now get to wear an orange rubber bracelet with the words "clinically depressed" stamped on it in big black letters. They also moved my room to the wing with all the cutters and anorexics. My room is bigger, but these annoying nurses keep popping in all the time to make sure I'm not trying to kill myself. Once I told the nurse that she didn't need to worry about me. After all, I'm not in here for trying to kill myself; I'm in here for trying to kill other people. She clapped a hand over her mouth and then yelled for the orderly. They searched my room for murder weapons and made me go talk to that stupid doctor again.

I don't make jokes anymore.

By "here," I mean the Valorian State Institute for Psychiatry, where I am currently a patient.

My name is Oceania Greanleefe. I'm thirteen years old. Three weeks ago, I was a student at the Valorian Hill Academy, a private boarding school two hours outside of Valori, the Valorian capital city. But don't get me wrong. Valorian Hill isn't one of those snobby private schools you see in teen movies, which are always hyper-religious and make their students wear psychotically ugly uniforms. It's pretty relaxed. We don't have a uniform, or even a dress code, and we have a bunch of hipster clubs, like the Anime Club and the Photography Appreciation Club, that they don't have at other schools. There's always a few stoners smoking weed behind the gym, and hardly anyone goes to the on-campus chapel.

I say "we" but I should be saying "them," as I was expelled for stabbing this horrible twit Senchila Welke with a plastic knife from the cafeteria, and so technically I do not belong to any Valorian Hill group and have no business using the pronoun "we." Old habits die hard, I guess.

I don't remember much about the stabbing. They had to pull me off her. She was screaming, and there was a lot of blood. I can't say I cared all that much.

I would like to confirm that I'm not a psychopath. It's just, you know when you hate someone so much that you don't even wish for their downfall? Like, you won't even celebrate their untimely death because they matter so little to you? Well, that's what I was feeling, a kind of detachment, like it wasn't even me doing the stabbing. I don't expect you to understand.

So why did I do it? The answer is...hard to explain, but I'll try. A pair of blue eyes the exact color of the Valorian sky. Freckled cheeks and scandalously short skirts. And at the bottom of my chest of drawers, a pair of thick blonde braids the color of summer straw.

And maybe those aren't good enough reasons, but if you've ever sat down at your table in the cafeteria and some two-faced bitch sat down across from you, chewing too much gum and talking too loud, and telling you how good it was that she was dead, that she had problems and should have killed herself a long time ago, all the while smiling like a fat cat because she knew exactly how close you and her were, you would have stood up and told that little piece of shit that she didn't know a damn thing about her, that if she didn't shut up you'd kill her, and the scary part is, you would have only been half bluffing.

Maybe, when she wouldn't shut up, your friends would try to pull you away. Mine did. But by that point, you would be too hot and burning with rage, and so you would have picked up the closest thing to you and tried to drive it into her eye.

And if that thing happened to be a knife, so be it, because at least by then she would have shut the hell up.

Yep. I'm good at ruining things.

Naturally there was a big blowup, on account of private schools generally don't want to give scholarships to kids who have a nasty habit of stabbing their classmates. In fact, they like to make sure those types of children don't attend their schools, period. And the parents of those kids who get stabbed are generally very interested in prosecuting whatever poor son of a bitch stabbed their precious little daughter.

Which put my stepmom, Isolde, in a really awkward position. She'd just gotten this sweet little deal on Earth, working for the High Lord Cielare, the Centauriian senator to the Federated Union of Sentient Life. You see, newspapers like to write stories about fuck-up royal children. And a story like that could destroy her career. But Isolde is twenty-seven and beautiful and used to getting her way. So she hired this absolute crook of a lawyer, Eddie Billet, to make sure I didn't go to juvie. Not for me, you understand. It was for the Greanleefe family name.

Isolde is very concerned with what other people think. It's touching, really, how much our reputations (mine and my brother's) matter to her. Isolde is the reason that I can play four musical instruments, the reason I dance in a professional company, the reason I have been shuffled through several different exclusive private schools, while my brother, Llenwi, has to slum it in public school.

You see, I didn't use to be a fuck-up. I used to be a good example. I used to be the kid my stepmom would brag about at parties where she pretended to be richer than she really was, the kid that my brother was always held up to, the kid Isolde used as a shield to pretend that she wasn't born into this life, that she married up, that her "royal husband" was just a drunk old sot and her "children" were the progeny of a suicidal mother and would never, not ever, replace her own flesh and blood.

Oh yeah, I had problems before I started stabbing people. My dad's had a drinking problem since before I was born. My mother was the victim of an olive branch gone wrong, a gift to pacify my father's disgraced family. She took her own life when I was two and Llenwi, my brother, was six. I don't remember her, but I think he does. He and I have nothing in common. He's dyslexic and ADD, so he's never done that well in school, which leads everyone to tell him he's not as smart as me, which leads him to resent me, and then...the cycle starts all over again, resentment and comparison and excelling and resentment and comparison and excelling.

He's probably celebrating right now.

Anyway, back to Eddie Billet. We thought my case was pretty hopeless. Worst-case scenario I got a few years in juvie and a criminal record. Best case scenario, I got expelled from Valorian Hill, which would probably prevent me from getting into any Centauriian private school ever again, and get a restraining order, which would require that someone watch me and would still require a court date. Either way, it was a big blot on my record.

But Eddie Billet, in his own criminal way, was kind of a genius. Somehow, he convinced the court that I had emotional problems that resulted from my suicidal mom and my abandonment issues, and I was acting out in the only way I knew how-violence. They really sold it-they brought in a psychiatrist and everything. And the court ate that shit up. The downside was my subsequent expulsion from Valorian Hill and my commitment to the State Institute. So that's how I got here, anyway. But there's more to the story than that. Remember the hair in my chest of drawers? It's not mine-it's too pretty to be mine. My own hair is this stringy brown mess that gets really greasy really fast. I have brown eyes too, persistent acne, and pasty white skin. I'm very thin for my age, and very tall too, but I have absolutely no curves and I'm flat as a board. Which is good for a dancer, but not for a woman. I don't even have a period yet, not that I'm dying to get one.

In truth, Isolde, with her green eyes and blonde hair and perfect skin, looks more like a Greanleefe than I ever will.

But back to the story. Her parents sent her to a summer camp that year. For rich kids, very exclusive. She didn't want to go, but they made her. She promised to text me every day. She kept that promise.

She always did.

But somewhere in the middle of her stay, she took a bunch of pills and decided to end her life.

You wanna know the really fucked-up part? Her parents didn't know she was dead until they came to pick her up from camp. Two days later, they were both dead, OD'd on the same pills she took.

I knew something was terribly wrong. She wouldn't have killed herself. Not without calling me first. We had made a promise, sealed into law with our own blood, and that's not the kind of promise you break.

Of course, the police were no help at all. When they determined the cause of death, they interviewed all of us, her friends, about her. You think one of them would have told the truth. But all everyone kept bringing up was the bad stuff. Like the cuts that ran up her arms like sadistic stripes, or the fact that at the parties she wasn't supposed to go to, she would drink a bottle of beer before she got on the dance floor. They made it sound like she was some kind of stupid druggie slut. But the cops bought it. They didn't even put my testimony on record.

I guess you only find out who your real friends are in death, huh, Anni? You were always the one who said how those people were actually really nice, that I was too judgmental and bitter. I think secretly, you knew all along. You always smiled, but you and I both knew no matter how popular you got you could only trust a few people.

And at the funeral-speaking of which, do you have any idea how hard that was for me? To get the phone call that said that my other half, my soul, was gone forever? Do you know I was the only one of our classmates who was actually there? People are very good at being disappointing little shits.

And then your brother came up to me, looking totally pathetic and smelling like alcohol, with snot running down his face and pressed those two long coils of your hair into my hands, said, "Keep them," and then, "She would have wanted you to have them. She was thinking about getting it cut-" and then he started crying, not movie-tears, but loud messy sobs that sounded like they were coming out of his gut. And I wanted to cry too, to comfort him, to say I knew what he was feeling, but I was still reeling from the shock of that phone call, still not wanting to believe you were gone. And so I was stone-still, and silent, and strange.

I want to know the truth. I want to know why you left me, why you left us all. So I called the police and the security at the camp. I pretended to be a reporter. Only later did I realize my mistake. Cops never want to talk to the press. I tried again. I wanted to know if you left a note. And if you did, I wanted to read it with my own eyes. You were nothing if not methodical. I know there was a note. There had to be. There had to be someone to blame for this whole thing.

Your aunt and uncle believed there was. Your aunt and uncle sued the Valorian police for tampering with the evidence. Oh yeah, your body? It was never taken for burial. It was placed in the state morgue for "examination purposes." Your aunt and uncle, your parents...they have never seen it. And neither have I, though I've tried. I have called the morgue seventeen times. Each time, I am told that your body, which by all rights, anyone can view since it is a public morgue, is "off limits." The police are hiding something. Something big.

And that something else is what I aim to find out.

You were the only consistent person in my life, Anni. I refuse to believe your death was a cruel trick of fate. I want-no, I need-to know why you did it.

Only then can I get you out of my mind.

••

I received a letter today from one of the orderlies. Isolde has pulled some strings and now I can come out of the institute and join her on Earth. She will send some people for me as soon as possible, which in Isolde-speak means tomorrow.

The doctor is very generous. He is allowing me to go into the city to buy some clothes. I am grateful. All of my old stuff was taken from me when I got in, and I'm not about to fly to Earth in white linen drawstring pants. I can buy whatever I want, provided I stay with my chaperone and if I have "an episode" to return to the institute immediately, no arguing.

The Grand Valorian City is much the same as I remembered it. I was born on Centaurii, but Valorian I will always consider home. It is so clean and sparkling it practically shimmers, and you can see all kinds of people walking around. One day, I want to sit at a subway stop and just watch the people.

But today I do not have time for that. I stopped at one of the thrift stores she always loved. She had impeccable taste, always did, and her clothes were always different and imaginative, and all of us would rush out to copy them, but we never fit into them quite the same as her. If only she could see me now, I think idly.

The place looks more like a warehouse than an actual store, with everything thrown haphazardly on top of crates. I go in, the orderly following behind silently. I shuffle through the mess, but nothing seems right until a little black lace dress that laced up the front. Then chunky black boots with platform heels. In the corner, I find a white white foundation and a red red lipstick, plus black eyeliner. Without thinking, I open up the makeup and smooth it onto my cheeks, my lips, my eyes. When I am finished, an unearthly being stands in front of me-a cool, beautiful alternative girl. The person I was trying to be before I got kicked out.

After the funeral, school started, but it wasn't like it was before. I kind of assumed the five of us who were left-Jessica, Lauren, Berthie Lou, Sheila, and me-would go on being the most popular girls in school, but that's not what happened. She had always been our leader, and with her gone, we had little to say to one another. We drifted off our separate ways, Lauren to the jocks, Jessica to the artsy kids, Berthie Lou to the smart kids, and Sheila to the alternative kids.

And me? I hadn't had much of a group to begin with, so I weighed the options. I wasn't a hard-core athlete, so joining the jocks was kind of out of the question. I really hated poetry and all that shit, so no go on the artsy kids, either. I had good enough grades to join the smart kids, though, and I liked Berthie Lou okay, so I drifted with her to that crowd.

Boy, was that a mistake. I learned the hard way that nerds can be just as disgusting and toxic as anyone else. So I cut them out and started hanging out with the alternative kids, which was liberating in a way. It was a bigger crowd than I was used to, and though at first they seemed loud and rude and pretentious, I figured out they weren't that bad, just a little fucked-up and a little confused. Which I could understand. So I assimilated. I smoked my first cig and my first joint. I dyed my hair black. I got two more ear piercings. I drank cheap wine in Sheila's dorm after midnight. It was something else entirely. And since none of them knew me, I felt free. I didn't have to put on a face. I could see who I really was. And I liked that person.

The pimply guy working behind the counter comes out. "I hope you're going to buy that."

I nod and hand it all over. He bags it silently, tells me how much, and I swipe my card. I have forty eekaks left, enough for one more thing. I grab my bag and cross the street to the hair salon, the orderly hustling to keep up.

Once I get there, I start to feel nervous, even though there's no reason. I look like a mental patient, in my white linen pants and grey sweater, with my hair all tangled and greasy. Then I remember that I am a mental patient, and I smile. When the stylist, a lady with magenta hair, comes up to me, I am master of myself enough to say, "I want a dye." My voice sounds strange after so long being out of use.

She looks confused. "All your hair or..?"

"All of it."

"What color?" she asks.

"Uh..." I haven't thought about this part, but then I see it on a poster on the wall. The woman throws her pale head back so her hair spills down her back. And what magnificent hair it is! It is red and gold and pink all melded together, as if her hair was just splattered with paint. It is vibrant and tropical and somehow, exactly what I need. "I want that." I tell her, pointing at it.

To my relief, she looks unfazed. Perhaps it's popular right now. "That'll be thirty-five eekaks."

••

The next morning, I put on my new clothes and run a brush through my new hair, which is even better then it looked in the poster. I put on the makeup, then admire myself in the mirror. The dress was made for someone a little shorter than I am and the shoes for someone with bigger feet, but I don't care. With my hair and face I practically radiate in this drab white space.

Once I'm done, through force of habit, I try to pack, but then I remember I have no suitcase and nothing except what I'm wearing right now. Then I remember the braids. I have to take those with me, but how?

I seize the plastic bag that held my clothes and put the braids in carefully, then start piling old institute sweaters on top of them. When I am satisfied that you can't see them underneath, I go to the waiting room, wondering all the while why Isolde has selected this particular arrangement. After all, I might be crazy, but it's not exactly like I'm on some kind of no-fly list. Ever since I was six or seven I've been flying to and from home by myself. Why I need an escort now is beyond me.

It's a strange system, but people can make a good wage that way, escorting rich minors to and from various planets. I've never met one of these people myself, Isolde being too cheap to hire one, so this should at least be interesting.

The woman finally arrives, and I study her closely. She's wearing a cheap blue polyester pantsuit and her makeup is immaculately done, perhaps to make up for her steel grey hair. Her age is impossible to determine-she could be an older forty-something or a younger sixty-something. She introduces herself as Miss Rochelle. I can already tell she doesn't like me from the way she looks at my hair.

After some paperwork, I follow Miss Rochelle back to a hotel, which has these long dank hallways that smell vaguely of cigarettes. The room that she leads us to is...well, I've never considered myself a snob, but the beds are narrow, the water pressure is dismal, and the bathroom is a most alarming shade of salmon pink.

Not to mention the kids. Miss Rochelle has two kids, or perhaps grandkids. They have grimy faces and smell like garlic sauce, and are wearing unfortunate identical pajamas. (Red, with snowflakes on them.) Their names are Gloriabella Lynne and Esmyliaralda Jane, she tells me. I doubt either of them have ever been to school, and I really doubt they have had all their shots. They have ratty blonde hair and look like walking lice farms. I make a mental note to avoid them.

I plunk my stuff down in the corner, standing over it in case Gloriabella or Esmyliaralda turns out to be a thief. Miss Rochelle then informs me that we are going out for dinner, but that she will not tolerate me looking, in her words, "like a homeless hooker."

Whoa. Did she just say that? I have never in my life had anyone tell me I look like a hooker. This bitch is just asking for it. "Who are you, my mom? I'll look however I damn well please, so you can just shut the fuck up. Maybe worry about how your own kids look."

Miss Rochelle shoots me a withering glare, then barks at the rug rats. "Gloriabella! Esmyliaralda! Give me some of your clothes!"

"But auntie-" they groan. They pronounce it "anty." I decide that they are retarded.

As they say in some classic book that no one reads unless they have to, there is much weeping and gnashing of the teeth. Or rather, there is a lot of screaming bloody murder. I'm pretty sure my ears are going to bleed because they've just taken in an unsafe amount of decibels by the time Miss Rochelle hurls the clothes at me. "If you don't put these on at once, I am not paying for your dinner." she snaps. "You may be used to getting your way because you're related to rich people, but my house, my rules."

"That's a damn lie!" I shout, because I can't think of anything clever to say. I'm suddenly wishing I didn't spend all my money on my hair. But I have to eat, so reluctantly, I grab the clothes and slam the door to the bathroom.

Once I'm there, I examine my haul. They're in a green Frankie's Fast Fashion bag, and I take them out gingerly. There is a pink t-shirt with stencilled designs on it, a grey skirt, white denim jacket, pink beanie, and shapeless brown boots. The beanie has gum stuck in it. I throw it directly in the trash. The skirt is either too short or the shirt is too long. I find it is the latter, for when I tuck it into the skirt and lash the dorky little attached belt as tight as it will go, it still protrudes an inch beneath the skirt. Fuming, I grab safety scissors and trim it to a reasonable length. The jacket, the only acceptable piece of clothing, is too short and too tight under my arms. And the boots reek of unwashed feet and flap around my calves. I look terrible, but at least I get to eat.

We go to a fast food joint where everything is swimming in about a ton of oil. Gloriabella and Esmyliaralda take turns aiming savage kicks at me under the table, apparently not over the loss of their clothes. By the end of the meal, my shins are black and blue, and despite my angry outbursts ("You touch me again, I don't care if you do have mental problems, I'll beat your ass!") and their pleading with their mother ("Mommy, mommy, did you hear what she just said?") Miss Rochelle remains unmoved.

"You have to find some way to get along, if only for the rest of the trip." she lectures.

"They're assaulting me, what do you want me to do, take it lying down? You need to control your animals, lady!" I snap.

"I don't know how your parents let you talk at home, but when you're with me, sweetheart, you treat me with respect." she hisses, swerving the car into the fast lane with rather more force than is necessary as podships zoom overhead.

I don't get a wink of sleep back at the hotel, because I have to share a bed with those ugly kids, and the relentless kicking continues. I end up trying to sleep on the floor, but it's hard as rocks and I end up staring at the ceiling waiting for God to put me out of my misery.

The next morning, over stale hotel cake and too-sweet potted fruit, Miss Rochelle grudgingly tells me there's a package for me. She brings it in, a big massive rectangle immaculately wrapped in pink cupcake-print wrapping paper.

The sight of it proves too much for Gloriabella and Esmyliaralda, who as soon as they clap eyes on it, dive for it. Miss Rochelle snatches the poor thing out of the way just in time, and a screaming match ensues. In the chaos, I manage to grab it and flee for the bathroom, whose door I bolt as I tear into it eagerly. It's a nice red suitcase, better than my own battered purple one, brand new. And inside is a soft pink skirt and glittery shirt, with the silhouette of a familiar building on it-the Eiffel Tower. Perhaps I will see it when I go to Earth, I think excitedly. There's a smart blue coat, grey shoes, a stupid little hat, and best of all, a box of cookies, plus a handwritten note.

I smile, not knowing how best to express my gratitude for this Candie. I'm imagining a sexy, intriguing blonde, someone with excellent taste. A real hero.

••

The next day, I have the satisfaction of throwing Gloriabella and Esmyliaralda's clothes back at them as I parade around in Candie's gifts. They practically wet themselves with envy. True, they're definitely not what I would have picked, but they're clean and they fit and the coat is long enough to cover the ugly pink skirt.

I hide the hair under the clothes I bought from the thrift shop, which I carefully pack away in my suitcase. I forgo breakfast and lunch in favor of cookies, and when we finally board the ship I'm feeling slightly sick. As we rise up from Valorian soil I feel sicker, and finally throw up all the macaroons. The ship has an observation deck, which passengers can visit if they choose, but I am too sick to try it and spend most of the two days that it takes to make the journey huddled up in our cabin. The kids and Miss Rochelle have no sympathy at all.

When we finally stagger from the ship onto New Rastabaria Spaceport, I'm shivering with fever and exhausted from the gravity difference and two-day lag. The kids kick me all the way through our cab ride, and I arrive on Earth feeling and looking like hell.