#the AMOUNT I had to cut out of that staring contest JESUS

[ordinariumsresources]

requested by @dosminius

[jaefmin]

-- A day with Jungkook as your boyfriend!!

For my bf's birthday <3

A karaoke with pure screaming

Jungkook did have a different life apart from his singing career, and to be honest, it was pretty chaotic. What they showed him on camera was all scripted, but in reality, Jungkook was a pure crackhead. So much chaos inside this little brain of his; it made you wanna manifest the crack things inside yourself to him. No warming up, no testing how his voice sounds, nothing. Just. Pure. Screaming. No matter how bad it sounded, what mattered to the both of you was to have fun. Hyper songs was all that you both were into. Both of your score never ended up above thirty, but spending this time with Jungkook was probably the best time ever.

Fort Building

Well, if it isn't how well Jungkook and forts get along. And it isn't even the small dinning table type, he's done the whole hall. It might have taken a huge amount of time to build the huge fort, but the result was noteworthy. Soft surroundings, cute bedsheets, A WHOLE LOT OF FOOD, soft toys, pillows; it's such a cozy place, you could live in here forever. He threw the soft toys in from a hole in the bedsheet, and you cuddled up a big penguin. He entered the fort from a really small area, and opened his arm for hugs, but you stayed still and preferred the penguin. He quickl brought the projector and put finding nemo on. Pfft. Smart guy. He could literally betray you. He. Cuddled. Another. Penguin.

Crosswords

Yep, Nemo had been found, and before Jungkook could get emotional seeing Dory, he went out to refill the snacks and returned with a couple of newspapers and pencils. He lay the chips packet down and opened the crossword page. A ear to ear smile immediately appeared on your face. It had been a while since you both solved a crossword. They always reminded you of the beginning of your relationship, when Jungkook used to solve crosswords with you, and it gave you a feeling of leaving everything and just staying in his arms forever. The way he made you feel when you were with him was something out of this world.

Hide and seek

It isn't fair alright!! Jungkook gets to hide every time and you're never able to find him. Jungkook tells you which place he was hiding in, and by now, you were sure that the blender's next. It's every single time he gets to hide and he's gonna 'boo' you, and no matter how alert you stay, how much heed you're paying, Jungkook's getting you every time. It just happened right now, and as usual you shrieked, only to receive a fabulous comment from him, "I love your shrieks babe! They're no different from an Iguana's."

Pictionary

Jungkook and you had a deal. Whichever card each of you would pick, the hardest ones were marked, and the both of you had to draw them, you couldn't choose anything else. You picked a card for yourself, and seeing the hardest drawing, you cold almost pass out. Surgery. Not having a bare minimum of an idea of what tools the doctor used and how they looked, you went up on the board and drew a scissor. A man laying next to the scissor which in your opinion looked like a dead chicken, you turned towards Jungkook. He sat in his position and stared for a while. It seeemed never ending until, "Is that a fork babe?"

Building a grill for the chicken night

Your grill had arrived the day before, and Jungkook wanted to set it up with you. That item being next on the fun list, you both got to work. You insisted playing songs since it was getting quiet, so Jungkook put on some. He started with the knobs and the skewers, while you build the interior. It hadn't been long, and you heard a loud crack. You looked up, towards your boyfriend, standing with a broken knob. You eyes widened immediately and you rushed towards him. "It's okay sweetie, it's only a knob." "That means we lost a whole side of the grill!!"

Just dance

This was probably that one thing you both were waiting for. Jungkook put all of his effort into dancing and turned it into a mini concert. By the end of it, Jungkook got all sweaty. Not to be sexual, but oh my god. Holy jesus. He's shining. Glowing. He's literally such a god, it sometimes makes you question that this is your boyfriend. Jungkook almost caught you staring at him when you looked away, and he definitely isn't gonna leave the situation like that. "C'mon you know I can give you everything." Every time he said something like that, your heart definitely would burst, stomach flipping, being this close to faint.

Clowning Kpop actors

Puh-lease. Of course we were doing hotel Del-Luna; name one person who simps over IU more than Jungkook, I'll wait. Jungkook wanted to be IU in the first place, and you both almost ended up in an argument which was soon settled down because Jungkook wanted to be the 'number 0' choice of IU's. Since this time could make both of you have a good laugh, you both decided to record it. Without any cuts or takes, eveything just in one go. Mistakes? Huh. That's an order to record everything from director Mr. Jeon Jungkook.

Monopoly

Yay! We're back to the fort!! While you were busy shaming yourself because you could literally count the number of eyelashes you had, Jungkook thought monopoly would be a good idea. "If I win, I buy you makeup. You win, I get 5 cartons of banana milk." Funny how he even thought he could win. Jungkook seemed to hve read your mind somehow, which followed lots of bickering and Jungkook changing his mind to throwing the banana milk on you instead of drinking it, you both finally decided to stop this ridiculous fight. Everything other than playing monoply was happening, and you couldn't feel better.

BONUS SINCE YOU'RE ALL THE REASON IM ALIVE <33

Twerking contest

How couldn't we do this? If it's a fun day, twerking contest definitely makes its appearance. So Jungkook started out first. It hadn't been two seconds into the performance and you could swear the last time's was way better. What is he doing? He's not even moving his butt, it's his back that's... twerking?? He's doing the complete opposite way, so you gotta show this kid how it's done. You stand up and show Jungkook, but no matter how many times you repeat, he doesn't get it. He's still trying to make his back twerk. "No, Jungkook. Listen for this one last time I'm showing you." You twerk, and this time, something happens to Jungkook. He keeps staring at you, more of like your butt, and it's his turn now, but he's in his own world. "Earth to kook??" You snap him to reality, and that's when the real Jeon Jungkook makes his appearance. It's like lightning struck him and he's twerking so good it makes you wanna learn it from him.

[alecmagnuslwb]

New Year’s Eve: Chapter Two

Read it all on AO3 or previous ch. here

One magical night, five intertwining love stories, all culminating at midnight with just maybe some confessions and kisses as the clock strikes. 

This chapter: It’s all about the ladies. After filling in for her forlorn roommate in a New Year’s Eve ball drop contest, Helen might just find her dream girl in party planner, Aline, on top of getting to put her political science geek out front and center when she meets the mayor.

***

2 P.M., New Year’s Eve

Aline chuckles as she exits the hotel, pressing a kiss to Catarina’s cheek and urging her to call if their boys get too out of hand.

She’s leaving Alec and Magnus to sort it out for themselves from here if possible. She loves Alec and wants to see him happy. She even played the doting best friend for nine months hating Magnus Bane on his behalf, but she also watched the pain in his eyes and light in his smile dull out. She doesn’t know Magnus’ side, but she knows the way Magnus used to look at Alec was real, something just went fuzzy in the end.

So, today she’d reached out to Magnus for the first time in months after receiving word the record company had to switch out headliners. She’s done her part, she helped bridge the gap now the balls in their court.

She has other things to attend to, most importantly the ball drop ceremony in Times Square. Usually the city handles everything, but after a nationwide search for one person to press the button alongside the mayor and the Jonas Brother’s they’d reached out to an outside event planner to prep the individual and throw a small gathering for them beforehand.

The hotel where the Edom records party is being held is thankfully only a few blocks away from the offsite building where they’re holding the party and meet and greet. A private escort will get them where they need to be closer to midnight. She enjoys the walk the cold December air more of a wake up to her system than any cup of coffee could be.

She arrives at the building fairly quickly, the city just it’s normal amount of busy still so early in the day, heading upstairs flashing the badge she’d gotten sorted out days ago that grants her access to all things here and in Times Square.

“Ms. Penhallow,” the Mayor’s assistant greets her when she reaches the proper floor with a smile extending her hand to shake.

“Ms. Herondale, lovely to see you again,” she squeezes her hand letting go. “I assume everything is in order.”

Ms. Herondale shakes her head, gesturing for the Aline to follow her. “Everything arrived and was set up as you ordered yesterday.”

They turn a few corners entering a room with a large floor to ceiling set of windows that give a gorgeous view of the city and a particularly good look at the ball suspended high in the sky. It’s always looked so odd during the day. More like a weird pimple on the side of Times Square than the glowing globe of spectacle and wonder it is after the sun goes down.

She surveys the room; the decorations and settings aren’t the prettiest things she’s ever been in charge of. While the Edom Records party is a stunning ball room of twinkling lights, intricate floral displays and high paid entertainment, this is more like a classed-up Beauty and the Beast themed party with varying tones of gold decorations.

Her budget for this had been fairly small, the city allotting only a sprinkling of money more concerned that Aline show the contest winner a good time than anything else. It’s a low-paying gig that Aline would usually never accept, but the exposure of getting her name and ability into the Mayor’s ear could lead to many well off rich, white dudes being very willing to pay her lots of money to plan exurbanite parties for them.

She loves the concept of taking their money and using it to branch off from her mother’s business and start up her own, so she’s taking this job more seriously than anything.

***

Helen can’t believe she agreed to this. That she let Rebecca swindle her into going in her place all with the promise of getting to talk politics with the New York City Mayor and dishwashing for a month. She wishes she had Clary’s strong will and actual plans and had turned down the sad eyes and no doubt eventual empty promises of their roommate.

She’s late which is already a valid reason why she shouldn’t be doing this. Rebecca said she was told to be here by three, it’s nearly four already because Rebecca wasted her time moaning about having to go before actually working on convincing her to go and then by law Helen had to stop and pet the large golden retriever that she had gotten tangled up in the leash of when she exited the subway. It’s a sign from above that she should have just stayed at home.

The party itself will likely be boring, she’ll probably only talk to the mayor for barely a minute and then be bored to death. She’ll get some free food if nothing else. The actual ball drop part is a little worrisome, since crowds aren’t Helen’s favorite thing, but she assumes there’ll be alcohol at this pre-party and a few glasses of wine tend to allow her to lose the edge and fall into whatever space she’s in without a care.

She looks down at her phone double checking the address while looking up at the building before her. She’s here and officially just over an hour late. She works her way inside and up to where a receptionist guides her to the event.

She enters the room and first notices how oddly classy it looks. She feels like she’s walking into a way fancier party than Rebecca told her it would be and suddenly she wishes she hadn’t just left in what she’d been wearing around the apartment.

She wishes she was dressed nicer even more so when her eyes scan the room and spot without a doubt the most gorgeous woman she’s ever seen. The beauty is looking down at her phone, a tight black dress with a well-cut silver edged navy-blue blazer over top. Helen on the other hand is wearing a fake fur line leather jacket, possibly her oldest pair of skinny jeans and a Hayley Kiyoko t-shirt.

The woman’s long dark hair falls off to one side and Helen wants to run her fingers through it. She’s staring, she’s aware she’s staring and of course that’s the moment she’s caught. The woman looks up and Helen knows for a fact she’s absolutely screwed once a smile lights up her pretty face.

“I’m the contest winner,” Helen blurts out realizing she should probably say something. The woman’s smile brightens, and suddenly Helen forgets all her worries and concerns about taking Rebecca’s place. The smile is professional but with maybe just maybe an edge of something else when she pockets her phone and starts walking towards her.

***

Aline spots the blonde entering the room and smiles, not out of professional courtesy but out of sudden, sharp interest. This woman is breathtaking with sharp features and soft eyes. Aline pockets her phone and walks towards her as she announces herself as the contest winner.  

“You don’t look like the photo they sent me,” Aline says looking at the beautiful blonde in front of her. It’s not really the first thing she intended to say, she was just completely thrown by how beautiful this woman is. The blonde squints her eye and Aline panics worrying she might have just offended this goddess. “Not that that’s a bad thing, at all, you’re gorgeous, you just looked different in your photo.”

The blonde smiles shyly before speaking, “That’s because I’m not actually Rebecca Lewis, she’s my roommate, she got dumped recently and decided she hates New Year’s Eve so she bribed me to come in her place. She said she emailed you about it, I’m Helen Blackthorn.”

Aline reaches out a hand and introduces herself in kind. Helen’s hand is soft, the many skinny silver rings on different parts of her fingers are a cool touch against her skin. The handshake lasts a little longer than a handshake should, Aline smiling as she lets go.

She pulls her phone from her pocket opening her mailbox to find a ridiculous amount of unread emails. Down the line at the start of the day sits one from Rebecca Lewis stating she’d be sending a roommate in her place.

“Huh, there it is, it’s pretty busy day of the year for me it must have slipped past,” Aline shrugs pocketing her phone once again and looking back up at Helen with a beaming smile.

“That’s okay,” Helen says with a smile. “Sorry I’m late by the way.”

Aline shakes her head. “No worries, the actual party doesn’t start for about another 30 minutes I just wanted you here early to prep you for anything in case there were nerves about meeting Nick Jonas.”

Helen just snorts in response.

“Honestly, I don’t think I’ll have any sort of reaction to Nick Jonas,” she laughs.

Aline raises an eyebrow then gives Helen a subtle once over noticing her t-shirt, which gives her some unprofessional hopes that this girl likes girls.

“Too much of a lesbian Jesus fan to care?” she asks with a smirk.  

Helen looks down at her shirt as if she’d forgotten what she was wearing and then lifts her eyes back up to Aline’s with a blush. A blush that is very promising. Aline should probably be having a moral crisis about wanting to flirt with this woman, but she’s not technically her client so it seems like a safe area to just go for it.

“Yeah, only second to my great bi leader Halsey,” Helen says and Aline tries to hold back her glee at the sexuality confirmation. “I also will definitely be more excited about meeting the mayor than anyone with the last name Jonas.”

Aline’s about to ask for further explanation when the Mayor’s assistant re-enters the room. From there it’s a flurry of prep and minor introductions. The mayor will be there in an hour or so and Helen seems mostly ready, if not a bit nervous to actually meet the mayor. It’s adorable and Aline is so glad she’s decided not to have a professional moral crisis about her attraction.

***

Helen listens to everything the mayor’s assistant and Aline tell her before the party starts. Trying desperately not to stare every time Aline makes any sort of movement. It all goes by in a rush after that. The party actually starts, she eats some fancy cheeses and snags a glass of wine happily.

Aline introduces her around once things start getting in full swing. Helen geeks out at every member of the city council she gets to encounter and even starts in on a rousing debate about city by-laws with a few of them that keeps her more than engaged for nearly an hour.

She meets the mayor and is literally stunned. She knows that she probably looks crazy like a super fan meeting their idol. She talks and talks and asks questions that he seems to happily welcome even though some of them are definitely a little critical of his policies. Their conversation is interrupted when the Jonas Brothers arrive and Aline pulls her away to do a quick meet and greet before they have to leave and make their way over to get stage ready.

They’re all three incredibly nice, but Helen could care less and she’s not a very good actor so they likely notice. She goes through the motions gets a picture with them and is more than happy when a few of the city council members ask for selfies as well allowing her to work her way back over to the mayor.

Even through her glee with discussing policy and politics with the mayor she finds her eyes always straying to Aline. She’s 99% sure Aline isn’t straight based on the once over she gave Helen that she just barely caught and the fact that she called Hayley Kiyoko lesbian Jesus. That alone is queer girl confirmation 101, it makes Helen’s little bi heart pitter patter happily. Aline’s flitting about the room, shaking hands and smiling bright, it’s clear she’s in a full professional mode handing out business cards and charming the pants off of everyone in the room.

Helen would quite literally like her to charm the pants off of her. It’s a wholly inappropriate thought that crosses her mind when she blatantly watches Aline bend over after dropping a napkin. She’s pretty sure Joe Jonas catches her doing so judging from his knowing smile. She may not have been too eager about meeting them, but damn does she respect at least one of them after he lets that slide.

It’s getting late, the sun fully set when the mayor excuses himself to take a phone call. Helen looks around, she’s been having a great time shockingly, but crowds aren’t her favorite thing and she suddenly needs a breather so she slips out in the hall finding a stairwell to give herself a moment.

***

Everything settles and Helen seems comfortable surrounded by local political leaders and less than enthused about the Jonas Brothers. They don’t seem to mind though which Aline respects; she respects even more that they all three requested her business card. She’d expected to schmooze some political minds tonight, three mainstream pop celebrities however could send her career skyrocketing.

She moves about the room in full work mode for a few hours, every now and then looking over at Helen and delighting in the smile on her face when she debates with city planners and mayoral assistants.

It’s hours later when she looks around and spots Helen slipping out of the room. Aline excuses herself from the conversation she’s in the middle of, sweeping past a table and grabbing two glasses of wine to trail after her.

She spots her in the little stairwell off to the side and softly smiles.

“I can’t believe you were more excited about the Mayor than the Jonas Brothers,” Aline teases when she steps up on the stairs behind her. “That’s so weird.”

“I’m a poly-sci grad student of course I’m more excited about the Mayor than the Jonas Brothers,” Helen defends with a smile as she looks over her shoulder. Aline makes an agreeing noise. That tracks with her glee over state versus national level laws when the subject had been lightly broached with the mayor before Aline had politely exited to the conversation to move about the room. The enthusiasm is cute.

“Mind if I sit?” she asks holding out the two glasses. Helen nods patting the steps beside her.

She settles on the step handing a glass over to Helen that she takes with a smile. They sit in comfortable silence for a bit just enjoying each other’s company. Behind her she can hear the rustle of the crowded room; she checks her watch knowing the mayor and everyone will make their leave soon enough.

It won’t be long after that that they make their way to Times Square, but Aline intends to take full advantage of the few scant moments of alone time they’ll have then and that they have now.

***

They sit for a bit just sipping their wine, both seemingly needing a break for a few quiet seconds. Helen chooses to break the silence after a while inquiring something that’s marveled her about the flirty Aline she first met and the absolute pro she’s watched flit around the party the last few hours.

“You don’t seem like a party planner until you go into full mode,” Helen says breaking the quiet. “No offence.”

Aline snorts and it’s far cuter than any snort has the right to be.

“None taken. It’s a family business,” she explains. “I wasn’t as into at first and definitely don’t put on the show like my mom does all the time, but then it turned out I had an eye for it and sort of fell in love.”

Helen hums taking a sip of her of her wine.

“You mentioned Edom Records earlier, why are you here if you’re also in charge of that event?” Helen enquires. There’s no way showing a random contest winner around and throwing her a party is anywhere near the same level of important as one of the hottest New Year’s Eve parties in the city.

“It practically runs itself once you have good talent in the kitchen and on the stage,” Aline shrugs. “Truthfully I’m only here because I fought for us to take on this job. Or at least that’s how it started; the company has turned out pretty nice.” Aline smiles and bumps her shoulder with an edge of flirtation.

“Why this party?” Helen says blushing and trying to ignore the second part.

“The mayor, I get him as an account for us on future events, then I get his friends and that means a raise or two for me which means more money for my savings to break off and start my own business,” Aline explains. “The Jonas Brothers were an unexpected bonus if they weren’t just being polite in taking my card.”

“Wow, so you want to break off from the family business then?” Aline seems so in her element in there she thinks there’s no doubt she could excel on her own.

Aline scoffs, “Like you wouldn’t believe. My mom, she’s great, but she wants everything done her way and her way can be very elite. I want to be able to do events that aren’t just for dudes with lined wallets. I want to be able to hire on help that might not find a job like this anywhere else and I want to be able to reach out to charity events that need a boost, things like that. I still want the guys with lined wallets, but I want to use the money I make off them to do other work for lower or non-existent rates.”

It’s a pretty incredible idea. A noble thing in a field that Helen wouldn’t expect such nobility to exist.

“What are you gonna call your business? I mean your last name is already taken.”

“I,” Aline starts and thinks for a moment. “Have no idea really. You any good at naming things?” She playfully pushes at Helen’s shoulder in question.

“Ha, no,” Helen barks out the laugh and admits. “We had three dogs growing up and as the oldest I always ended up naming them, they were all named Spot.”

“Helen, Spot? That’s the most basic dog name in the world, did they even have spots?” Aline laughs.

“Two of them did,” she defends. “The third was plain white, poor little guy got a lot of questions.”

Aline chuckles at that taking another sip of her wine before she speaks.

“It’s pretty nice of you to fill in for your friend by the way,” Aline says. “Most people would have forced them to get it together to go.”

Helen shrugs, they tried that. It failed.

“She’s not really heartbroken or anything, she’s just stubborn as hell, so even though I expected this to be a bore frankly, I fell for her sways,” she explains then adds on to make Aline feel certain. “I am however having a great time, so no regrets.”

Aline smiles finishing off her wine and sitting the glass to the side on the steps.

“I’m glad you’re having a nice time,” she says. “And no offence to your friend who I’m sure is lovely, but I’m glad it’s you that came here tonight.”

Helen finishes off her wine as well and turns to face Aline. She’s suddenly a lot closer than she had been a moment ago, just a few inches of space between them. For a second Helen contemplates moving her hands from her lap to settle one atop Aline’s on the step. Aline looks a lot like she wants her to do just that.

But before she can move a booming voice sounds behind them and they shift apart at the sound.

“Excuse us ladies,” the Jonas Brothers large imposing security guard says as they all file in behind him. Helen and Aline both stand smiling at each other quickly and brushing off the moment. The Jonas Brothers ease by them saying their goodbyes and nice to meet you’s, but Helen barely notices instead watching Aline’s striking profile in the low-lit stairwell wondering just what could have happened had the moment not been broken.

***

They head back into the party after the Jonas Brother sized interruption, Aline keeping a safe distance between them after that charged moment. The mayor leaves and most of the other local politicians do as well and Aline can tell Helen’s bored, but also more at ease. Clearly she’s not a big crowd person, which has Aline worried a bit about the actual Times Square portion of the evening.

They gather their coats following two burly security guards and a driver twice their size out to the street where they’re taken to a small vehicle that can work its way safely through the crowds.

They get in and after a while Aline starts to worry. Helen’s getting more and more quiet as the minutes pass their light talk tensing into silence that seems more about the situation than overthinking about their moment in the stairwell.

“You okay?” Aline asks bravely reaching out to take Helen’s hand in hers.

Helen squeezes her hand in response with a shaky smile. They reach as far as the car can go and the two security guards ready to part the crowds with their behemoth size and get them to where they need to be. Helen freezes as soon as they step out of the vehicle, seemingly frozen in place.

Aline gives the security guards a look that they perceive correctly pushing up enough space so that there’s good distance between the crowd line and where Helen stands. Helen’s looking around a little frantically like the reality of this crowd and the fact she’s going to have to move through it a bit is suddenly hitting her.

Aline could try and talk her down, tell her it’s going to be okay, but she knows that if Helen gets panicked enough no words are going to help this situation. She likes this woman; she doesn’t want to put her in a situation that’ll put her in bad headspace. So, she takes a leap and makes an offer.

“You wanna get out of here?” Aline asks hand gliding up and down Helen’s arms in a soothing manner. This contest is a wash. The actual winner isn’t here and despite seeming into it earlier in the day Helen is now freaking out about the crowd. She already met the Jonas Brother’s and the Mayor and geeked out about politics; that can count as her contest winning prize.

“You can’t just leave, the Mayor and everything,” Helen says with a shake of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Aline immediately starts shaking her head. “You don’t have to do this and clearly don’t actually want to. Technically my job here is finished. The party and showing you around was my job; the ball drop is more in Ryan Seacrest’s hands than anyone else’s and I’m fairly certain that a pack of five grown men can handle pressing a button. As for the Mayor I’ve done my part I schmoozed and he already sent his wife my info, I’m in the door and a good handful of other doors as well, so don’t worry about that.”

Her hands find Helen’s gripping them tight. “So, in a completely non-leading, just caring about your comfort kind of way, do you want to get out of here?”

Helen releases a breath Aline’s fairly certain she’s been holding far too long, a shy smile gracing her pretty pink lips.

“Where are we going?”

Aline beams tugging Helen past the crowd slowly moving onto the more breathable side streets. She gets one of the guard’s attention making her way back to where they came from. The vehicle has already left, but the guard happily guides them through the crowd making a path and getting them safely outside of the Times Square hot zone. She holds Helen’s hand tight ensuring they don’t get separated the entire time.

When they finally reach the freer, but still buzzing streets the guard nods to them and heads back with instructions from Aline to tell the mayor there was a personal emergency that he needs not worry about.  

“I know a pretty great party a few blocks away, that has some great music and damn good food. I bet we can make it there before midnight,” Aline says turning to Helen. People bustle around them a few uncaringly bumping into her as she speaks. Thank you New York. “Unless you just want to go home.”

“No,” Helen says quickly, maybe a little quicker than she intended judging from the blush on her cheeks. She seems calmer now, comforted by the normal bustle of a New York street. “I want to go with you, a party sounds fun.”

Aline nods taking her hand once again and guiding her through the streets.

***

Helen’s fears slip away in crashing waves the further they get away from Times Square. The normal bustle of a New York street is oddly comforting to her as is Aline’s hand in hers. She can’t quite believe Aline just ditched it all for her, to make her feel comfortable and is now taking her to one of the hottest parties in the world.

They walk quietly all the way to the Edom Records party Aline clearly giving her the room to get back to ease. The mental space, but close physical comfort of their entangled hands makes Helen’s quick growing crush grow even stronger.

They get into the Edom party easily Aline being recognized by the man at the door instantly. Aline sadly informs her they missed dinner, but dessert is being served shortly. By the time they shed their coats, Helen’s at the same ease she’d been at when the first party had begun.

Aline takes her hand again pulling her into the main hall and Helen is floored. The space is gorgeous and open, if the party for her had looked beautiful this is an entirely different level.

“Wow,” Helen whispers uncertain Aline can hear over the music.

Aline smirks over her shoulder, confident and breezy. She definitely heard her. Magnus Bane is performing on stage and Helen is a little floored by how good he sounds live. Magnus Bane who Aline evidently knows.

“He’s dating my best friend, sort of, it’s complicated,” she shrugs as she plucks two glasses of champagne off of a waiter’s passing tray. She hands one out to Helen. “You feel better now?”

Helen nods, “Definitely. Thank you for that back there, usually a few glasses of wine would take off the edge of crowd worry, but I guess it didn’t work tonight.”

Aline nods in understanding, “It’s no problem. Times Square crowds are a whole lot bigger than a packed club or something of that nature.” She pauses for a second seemingly debating her next words. “Plus, just us at midnight and not on national television could be pretty nice.”

Helen takes in a sharp breath at the layered meaning of that. Midnight means kisses and the concept of kisses with Aline sends her mind into overdrive.

“To us?” Helen says feeling a little bold with Aline’s more blatant flirtations coming out now. She holds out her glass.

Aline smiles reaching out her own glass and tipping it against Helen’s.

“To us.”

***

They finish their glasses of champagne and Aline holds out a hand for Helen offering a dance that she shyly accepts. The songs go quiet after a while Magnus singing a sweet acoustic track Aline instantly recognizes. She and Helen are taking a dance break just listening to the slow beat. Aline looks around and spots Alec across the room frozen in time as he listens to the song he’s been avoiding for months.

A small smile comes across her lips and she hopes on everything her best friend doesn’t run away from this. Magnus is pouring every emotion into every line and she hopes Alec recognizes every breath is for him.

She casts a sideways glance to Helen watching as she looks at the stage swaying lightly to the song. Helen turns her head catching Aline’s eye. She looks like she’s about to turn away but instead holds the eye contact until the song comes to a close. The boisterous clapping from the room breaks the moment and quickly both of them are standing clapping along with the rest of the crowd.

A DJ takes over and the room starts to spread out a bit more, chatter all around as waiters make their way around with plates of gorgeously designed cupcakes.

They each snatch two cupcakes off a passing waiter’s tray, two strawberry for Aline. One strawberry and one chocolate for Helen.

“Is this the best cupcake I’ve ever tasted or am I just way hungrier than I realized?” Aline asks after the first bite, ready to propose marriage to the cupcake in her hand.

“Definitely the best cupcake,” Helen says as they both polish of their first ones quickly. Aline already half done with her second by the time Helen is biting in to her chocolate one.

“Oh wow,” Helen says taking a bit from her second cupcake making an almost orgasmic sound that nearly knocks Aline off her feet. “You really should have gotten a chocolate one too, even better than the strawberry.”

Aline shakes her head trying to ignore the way that sound affected her.

“No way,” she scoffs ignoring the pit of want in her stomach.

Helen proceeds to shove the rest of the cupcake in her mouth and it shouldn’t be cute with crumbs flinging everywhere, but somehow it is. She brushes her hands off to the side, grabbing another flute of champagne as a waiter passes by and drinks down half of it before handing the other half to Aline. She tosses it back before holding out a hand.

“Thirty minutes till midnight,” she says hoping the thirty minutes will allow her the chance to build up the courage to kiss Helen. That blatant stare they had minutes ago tells her this is definitely a mutual feeling, just one of them needs to make the first move and she’s betting it needs to be her. “Let’s keep dancing.”

Helen takes her hand smiling as she pulls her in close on the dance floor.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 18)

Breakfast is strangely quiet and Azula can’t place why until Ozai clears his throat. “I called Dr. Guhira. He said that he can do some revision surgery.”

Azula laughs, a few tears threatening to spill over. “Are you serious?” She pauses. “You want me to get more surgery?”

He clears his throat again. “I thought that you might…”

“No. No more. My face is already damaged enough.” Her voice hitches.

Ozai opens his mouth but Ursa’s voice fills the quiet. “What’s going on here?”

Her farther cringes.

“He’s being insensitive again, isn’t he?”

He casts her a pleading stare but she can only work to swallow down her tears.

Her expression only seems to kindle her mother’s temper further. “You and Zuko won’t have to worry about that soon.” She slaps a stack of court documents onto the table.

Something about it makes Azula’s stomach lurch.

“Azula, I’m trying to…I’m trying to fix this.”

“Then stop telling me to get surgery.”

“It’s different than…”

“I have to get to class.” She mutters as she picks up her bag and heads for the door. She doesn’t know what she looks less forward to, a run in with Jet during gym class or the tense conversation that she is about to have with Chan.

She makes her way to his locker and loiters there, running thorough her script until she sees him sauntering up. He runs his finger though his hairline. “You want to start or should I?”

Azula shrugs.

“How did I make you feel like you needed the surgery?”

“It wasn’t just you. It was actually mostly my father.” Azula admits before recounting the comment that inspired her to get work done. He rubs his face in the way that he always does when he is particularly stressed.

“I guess that, that was pretty shallow, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“I should have told you…” he trails off, “that you didn’t need the surgeries.”

She folds her arms and replies with a soft, “yeah.” It is all she can manage for the time. What’s done is done. She considers briefly, her father’s offer. But, no, she won’t let him goad her into another operation. Not for cosmetic’s sake anyhow.

“Homecoming probably didn’t help either.”

“No.” She agreed. Not that it was of any more use that she didn’t mention what had been bothering her so much.

“So, what now?”

Azula shrugs. “Nothing, I guess. I just wanted to let you know why homecoming ended the way it did.”

Chan nods. “Kind of glad that you did.” He scratches the back of his head. “Are things going to be less awkward now?”

“I hope so or this conversation was pointless.”

He lets out a loud curse when the bell rings.

“Don’t worry about it.” Azula dismisses. “I’ll just tell Kyoshi that I was having trouble carrying all of this.” She opens her locker and pulls out more textbooks than necessary. She hands them to Chan and picks up her bag. “"And that you were giving me a hand.”

 “Ah, so you’ve discovered the wonders of being ‘helpless.’” Tops grins. “It comes in handy sometimes.”

 “Is that why you’re wandering the halls?” Azula asks.

 Her grin widens. “ Hell yes!”

 .oOo.

Kyoshi lets her join them for frisbee. “How intense can throwing around a flimsy disk get?” She clearly underestimated the sheer chaos three of the school jocks could stir.

The absurd amount of combined testosterone wafting off of Sokka, Chan, and Jet is enough to build a future resume for a frat house.

She is thankful for it; it keeps Jet from pestering her. She lingers with Katara and Yue at what she hopes is a safe distance from the sport related pissing contest. Though she has landed herself in the center of an age old rivalry.”

“Don’t let her get the frisbee!” Yue declares as Azula sends it sailing to Katara. Yue groans as the other girl’s hands clamp down on it. The girl looks smug. She tosses the frisbee back to Azula who passes it to Yue and then it is back in her hands again. She rolls her eye, realizing and accepting that they were never going to pass it to each other. 

“Mind if I join you guys?” Ruon asks. 

Azula passes the frisbee to him and he flicks it to the nearest person, Yue. “Sorry about your face.” He comments.

“It is what it is.” 

“Yeah. Chan was telling me a bit about it.” 

She finds herself pleasantly to have such a considerable amount of support. Frankly she had been almost certain that Yue would cut her out. Granted, the girl is tactlessly truthful but she has come to know that, that’s just the girl’s personality. She supposes that she appreciates the honesty. 

“Why aren’t you with Chan?” 

“I’ve taken eight frisbees to the face and we’ve been playing for five minutes.” Ruon shrugs. “I’m not into extreme frisbee.” 

The four pass the frisbee between one another. Azula watches it sail into Katara’s hands and Katara passes it to Ruon.

“Hey! You skipped me.” Yue complains as Ruon tosses it to her. 

Azula outstretches her good arm to catch it. Before she can, a different frisbee collides with the back of her head. 

“Careful, Longshot.” Jet leers. “We can’t mess up the back of her head too.”

Azula picks up the frisbee and glowers at Jet. Her gaze flickers between he and Longshot before she ultimately decides to toss it at Jet. She lands her hit square on his nose. Longshot chuckles, unaware that she still has one frisbee at her disposal. This one stikes his ear. She offers them the dullest expression she can muster, one that might even impress Mai. 

“Jesus.” Ruon remarks with a half laugh. “I didn’t realize you had such good aim.”

Azula shrugs. “I have many talents.”

“I think that Longshot is gonna whine to Kyoshi.” Yue comments. 

“Let him.” Azula replies. “Kyoshi likes me.” Even if she does get a lecture, the satisfaction of striking the both of them will outweigh it. Getting the last hit takes the edge off of the sting they left her with. 

But still, some tingles of doubt remain.

They carry her to math class and into lunch.

She wishes that her mind would stop lingering on the petty comments. They seem so small in comparison to the kindness everyone else seems to afford her.

She arranges her food, and simply observes the conversations around her. 

“Are you still taking Zuko to the comet festival?” TyLee asks. 

Yue grimances. “Oh God no.” 

“Aw, why not? He’s kind of cute.” 

“Gross.” Azula mutters. 

“The first half of homecoming was nice but then he started talking about Mai and it got awkward.” She pauses. “You still going with Kei Lo.”

“He’s nice and everything but he doesn’t like that I have to bring Tom-Tom along with us on our dates sometimes.”  Mai shrugs. 

“Soooo…is it too soon for me to asking him to the festival?” 

“Have at him.” 

Azula’s heart sinks again. She is still alone. She pretends to be interested in her meal, wishing that they would all just stop talking about dates and dances. She thinks of bringing up their sports teams, heaven knows that TyLee can talk about gymnastics for ages and Yue did love to boast about her award for her 500 meter freestyle. She doesn’t speak up fast enough.

“Are you going to ask anyone to the comet festival?” Yue asks. 

And again she takes too long to answer. 

“She can ask all the people she wants, nobody is going to say yes to a face like that.” Jet comments. “She couldn’t get a date before, she sure as hell can’t get one now.” 

“That’s bold coming from someone who lost his date.” Chan comments. 

“I’m taking Smellerbee.” He shrugs.

“Poor girl.” Yue comments, “I’d try to help her if I liked her, but she has one of those coconut haircuts and I don’t condone that kind of sin against hair.” 

“It least she isn’t made of plastic. Broken plastic.” 

Broken plastic…

Azula absently brings her fingers to her cheek. She hasn’t seen it yet, but she can feel the raised ridges of scar tissue. 

She hears Toph enter the conversation but the words never settle. The face Jet makes brings her some satisfaction, but it is fleeting as his words echo in her head. Moreso when she catches tunes in to hear him say, “you can’t even fucking see, of course you think that she’s pretty.” 

“Jet, my asshole looks prettier than you.” Toph grumbles. 

“How about this? How about you leave beauty related opinions to the people who they are meant for; people who can see. Blind people don’t get to call things beautiful.” 

Toph folds her arms over her chest and blows at her bangs. “Whatever I’d rather be blind then look at whatever you have going on.” 

She should say something. Anything at all instead of hiding behind the rest of them. But she had thrown away most of her fight with the frisbees and the rest of it has been sapped away by Jet’s commentary.

She thinks of Ozai’s offer. Dr. Guhira has always been good to her, at the very least he made her feel comfortable and like she had a choice. She can imagine that he’d be able to perform a healthy corrective surgery. 

“Good luck with the festival.” Jet’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “I bet that even that faggot Aang get more dick than you.” He offers her a final sneer before going to receive his high fives and words of praise. 

Katara starts to stand and Suki holds her down. “He can’t talk about people like that, Suki.” Her grip tightens around her empty water bottle. “Did you hear what he called Aang? Aang isn’t even  here!” 

A mist of outrage settles over the table. And through the fog, they don’t see her get up and leave. She leans herself against the wall just outside of the cafeteria. She could give her father a call…

The double doors open and Katara emerges. 

“You can get written up for ditching, you know?”

“I guess I’ll take my first write up then.” She replies. “Is this the first time…?” She looks at Azula before clarifying, “that people have talked to you like this?”

Azula nods. “I have to admit, I admire their sheer audacity.” 

Katara laughs. “I always thought that you’d have some crazy comebacks.” 

“Disappointed?” 

Frankly she thought that she would too. She seems to have them at the ready on TyLee’s behalf and on Mai’s...and Zuzu’s if he’s lucky and she’s feeling generous. But when it comes to herself she seems to lose her bite. 

“Not really.” Katara says. “I’m sure I’ll hear them soon enough.” 

“Maybe.” 

Katara pulls her into a gentle hug. Usually that is reserved for only TyLee to do, but today she accepts the comforting gesture.

.oOo. 

She is, once again, the first person to spread her picnic blanket on the ground. This time she is bundled up in a coat and several layers of sweaters that are just thin enough to accommodate her sling. 

“Hot chocolate?” Pathik offers. 

Azula holds her hand out. Stargazing and hot chocolate, she supposes that she can really use that today. She takes a sip and looks at the sky until bickering from below draws her attention away. 

Katara gives a little wave. 

“I can’t believe that you nerds talked me into coming here again.” 

“You say that every week, Yue. I think that you enjoy astronomy.” Azula speculates. 

“I enjoy the idea of free hot chocolate.” She wraps her arms around herself. “It’s too cold out for this.” She gestures to the telescopes. 

“Yes, but it’s the only time that you can see Canis Major.” Katara points out.

“And Venus is best seen this month.” Azula adds. 

“Who cares about Venus. I still haven’t gotten to see the moon.” She shiverers and burrows further into her coat. “Look at this.” She waves her arms around at the snow. “Too cold.”

“Maybe if you’d zip your coat, you wouldn’t be as cold.” Katara suggests. 

Azula hears a clatter and a muffled, “oh dear.” Katara wanders over and helps their professor pick up his telescope. When the remaining few students make themselves comfortable Pathik addresses them. “Today, I would like to start by telling a story to get us in the winter spirit…”

She never imagined that astronomy club with come with fairy tale read alouds. But then, Pathik has never been anything but whimsical. She isn’t opposed to his story choice either. 

“Hey, can I share your blanket?” Katara asks. 

Azula nods and tosses the blanket over her shoulder. 

“What about me?” Yue asks. 

“First come, first served.” Azula shrugs. 

She and Katara were the last remaining people after the telescopes have been packed away. Katara looks at her phone and bites her lip, “I forgot that Sokka had an away game tonight.”

“I’m sure that my limo has some extra space.” Azula replies. 

Her face slackens in relief. “For a second I thought that I’d be walking home. I mean, it isn’t that far but my nose is getting numb.” 

“Yes, mine too. Just like old times.”

Katara laughs, “I never thought that I’d have to help someone change nose pads.” 

“I suppose that I didn’t think I’d ever have to ask someone to help me with that.” The conversation fades out. In its place is the soft sound of sleet hitting the parking lot.

“He’s wrong you know.”

“Hmm?” Azula knits her brows. “About you not going to get a date to the comet festival.” 

“Can we avoid this topic?”

“I guess we can, if you really don’t want to go with me.” 

Azula stares at her for the longest time. “You...you want to take me?”

Katara’s hand squeezes hers and she nods. “I’d really like to give it a try. Jet was a horrible date…”

“So the bar is pretty low.” 

“So I need something extra special to make up for it. I figured that you like a challenge.” 

Azula smiles. “I do like a challenge, yes.” 

“So you’ll go with me?”

Azula nods. “I’ll go.” 

Katara leans forward, when Azula misses her cue, the girl rolls her eyes and pecks her nose instead. Katara brushes Azula’s bangs aside and leans in for a second try. Azula hesitates before tilting her head. The girl’s lips are meer inches from her own when two rapid horn bleats cause them both to jolt. 

“That doesn’t look like a limo.” Katara mumbles, a blush creeping onto her cheeks.

“We’re having a family dinner.” Zuko calls from the car window. 

“We’ll have to drop Katara off first.” 

“She can come with us.” Ursa smiles. “There’s an open seat in the back.” 

“Thank you Ms. Kasai.” Katara climbs into the back. 

“You won’t be thanking us after dinner.” Azula whispers. “Family dinners are always…”

“Dramatic or weird.” Zuko fills in. 

“Are you going to tell me about your girlfriend?” Ozai asks, tapping the steering wheel. 

“Yup.” Zuko muses. “It’s gonna be weird this time.”

[mhaccunoval]

Charmac pretending to date for a scheme?

6:45 PM

On a Thursday

Philadelphia, PA

“Dude, come on! Don’t pussy out on me just because you have a-” Mac whisper-shouted, sentence cut off by Charlie smacking him on the arm for what he was about to say.

“You’re the one pussydicking, man!” Charlie growled, rolling his shoulders from the uncomfort he was feeling, mostly from the way his binder laid plastered against his skin under his bright white shirt.

“We’re both pussydicking!” Mac retorted, throwing his hands up. 

Here they were, standing all the way against the wall of a restaurant (even nicer than Guigino’s) bathroom, half yelling at each other out of nervous tension. It was another scheme that was gradually turning to roll downhill. 

The original scheme was to get this rich couple to sucker up to a “”couple”” from the gang and milk them of some of the money invested in their company, just enough to have a decent amount of money for the “”couple””s savings account. Problem one occurred with Mac and Charlie being involuntarily chosen to play said couple. Dennis has had his share of playing house with Mac and Dee would not stop gagging at the thought of pretending to be with either of them. Frank was the head of the scheme so there was no other choice to than make Mac and Charlie do it. 

AT first they thought it’d be fine. They had been close their entire lives so a week or two feigning a relationship would be nothing. Of course, that was their first mistake. Both had always seen the other in a different light than they saw, say, Dennis or anyone else they may have associated with at one time or another, but were both far too stubborn to admit it so the crushing pain of feelings weighed in the back of their minds and rattled in their ribcages. 

For the first time in forever, Mac has gelled his hair, just a little bit, but he was beginning to sweat and loosen the gel’s grip. Charlie noticed a clump of hair had fallen out of the gel seal and stuck to his forehead, prompting his to pick it up and move it back to its original spot. Mac stared blankly at him, to which Charlie stared back for a moment before making the executive decision to go back to their table with the couple, dragging Mac by the hand. 

“Hey, hi,” Mac nervously laughed when they stood behind their seats, startling the couple, “Sorry about that. Mr. Man here wanted me to make sure his tie was done properly again.” 

“Just trying to make a good impression, you know.” Charlie quipped, trying to cut the nervous tension with a small joke.

“Oh, it’s quite alright. We hardly noticed that you were gone.” Patricia, the wife, chuckled, limply waving her hand. 

“Back to what I was saying about the company-” Doug, the husband, was interested in getting back to his business talk when he was interrupted by the sudden noise of Elvis Presley coming through speakers that nobody had noticed were in the corners of the room.

“Oh this is one of my favorites! Such a sweet song,” Patricia sighed tenderly, “You two go ahead. I don’t think my knee can do much dancing these days but you two are still young!”

Mac and Charlie both looked to each other, gulping as they started sauntering to the open space in the middle of the restaurant where others were beginning to gather. Charlie fidgeted with his blazer and kept his eyes cast down as he followed Mac’s steps. When they found an open spot, they stood facing but just stared at each other for a full minute before even daring to move their limbs.

They attempted to recreate their partner dancing from the dance contest many years ago but with a bit more formality to seem like they were actually prim and proper. Mac took the lead, holding Charlie’s hips, and unconsciously left room for Jesus. Charlie kept his eyes down to make sure they didn’t step on each other’s feet and so he wasn’t to make eye contact with the wetness pricking his eyes. 

Mac halted at the lines, “Take my hand. Take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you,” and Charlie looked up as a knee jerk reaction. Mac’s heart was in his throat by that point and Charlie knew it, making his eyes tear up worse. 

Within moments, he started shaking and was on the cusp of sniffling when he suddenly darted off, Mac left to watch his form disappear. He blinked a few times, wondering what scared Charlie off like a deer, and decided to go investigate, now beginning to realize they may have made a dent in the scheme. 

Charlie had run back into the bathroom, just like earlier, and was half bent over the sink nearest to the wall they had been at before. 

“Dude, what the hell?! You probably just ruined the rouse for us!” Mac roared, coming in too hot on the thought of failure to immediately notice Charlie’s condition. 

Charlie looked to him and blinked, trying to clear the bleariness from his eyes as he chewed his lip. That was the moment that Mac finally took it all in. 

“Charlie…” He said softly, stepping forward with his hands out to catch him in an embrace if he allowed. Charlie’s brows came together slightly as he watched Mac enter his personal bubble and slink his arms ever so slowly around his waist. 

He allowed the arms to settle a moment before heavily laying his head on Mac’s chest, snaking his own arms between Mac’s biceps and torso. It was frustrating that he couldn’t put into words why he had rapidly become a sniveling mess but Mac seemed to understand all the same. Charlie had never been good at articulating his feelings so Mac knew this game far too well. 

And within a few minutes, the scheme had faded away and the only focus for either of them was just to hold each other, as if they were transmitting confessions through osmosis. 

[the-captains-ayebrows]

I am curious about the Fall for CS story.

Hi there, Nonny! Thanks for the ask!

It was/is a grocery store meet cute between single mom Emma and Children’s Book author Killian. I had the beginning going fairly well, but I couldn’t ever figure out where the plot should go from there. 

Here’s the (unedited) part I actually wrote in case anyone is interested - with a cut so as not to clog dashboards:

“I’m hanging up now. I need both hands to park.” Not a complete lie, Emma thinks. Her ancient Volkswagen does require both hands, both feet and a little bit of Jesus-take-the-wheel to maneuver through the overcrowded parking lot. The real reason she wants to hang up on Ruby, however, is because she’s so tired of hearing--

“So whatcha buying at the grocery store today? More chocolate? You know it’s been scientifically proven that chocolate produces the same brain chemicals as an orgasm, so why not just--”

“Ruby, no.”

“You can’t argue with science, Emma.”

“I’m not arguing with science, I’m arguing with you. For the millionth time, I do not need to get laid. I’m fine. Not to mention I don’t have time for a guy, between work and Henry and--”

“You’re telling me you don’t have six minutes for scientific purposes?”

“No, I do not have--Wait, six minutes?”

Emma can actually hear the leer in Ruby’s voice. “If you’ve got a partner who knows what they’re doing.”

“I don’t know whether to be horrified or impressed right now.”

“Both. Definitely both.”

“Okay, but the thing is, I’m parked now. Gotta go. Bye.”

“Fine, fine. Go buy a mountain of chocolate. I hope it keeps you warm at night.”

“Hey, the chocolate is for Henry’s school carnival!”

“Sure, girl. Whatever you have to tell yourself. Bye!”

With a frustrated grunt and grinding of gears, Emma shifts her beloved yellow Beetle into park. Not that kind of frustrated. Ruby’s wrong. Very very wrong.

She continues to muse on how wrong Ruby is as she yanks a shopping cart free from the cart barn just inside the sliding glass doors. Emma Swan’s life is full, overflowing even. Especially this year when Henry finally has Mary Margaret for a teacher after years of wishing to be in “Aunt M&M’s” class, because of course, when one of your best friends is your son’s teacher you find yourself volunteering for all sorts of school activities. Almost as if your name appears on the parent sign-up sheet by magic. Kinda like how she’d found herself responsible for buying all the candy for the 5th grade class booth at Storybrooke Elementary’s Halloween Fest.

Emma swerves at the last second to avoid smashing her cart into a card table set up at the end of an aisle, and whose bright idea was it to put that thing there? She mutters an apology to the vaguely man-shaped individual sitting there, but doesn’t give him much more thought.  Probably a poor schmuck getting paid minimum wage to annoy people into changing their cable provider or some such bullshit. She takes a hard left and continues on her way. The guy might have said something to her as she passed, but it didn’t register. All she wants to do is grab a gluttonous amount of candy--most of which is definitely for Henry’s school carnival--and go home. To a nice glass of wine. And to not thinking about Ruby’s commentary on her love life.

Emma dutifully loads bag after bag of “fun size” candy bars into her cart. Maybe she grabs a few extra of her favorites, but those aren’t for her. It’s for the kids. She’s a damn saint. Henry should be happy with her at least. Operation Sugar Coma or whatever catchy little name he’s come up with for his class booth ought to be a complete success.

As Emma strolls down to the end of the aisle before making her way back up the next toward the check out, she falls into that a special kind of supermarket trance that only a mom who’s finally getting to do the shopping without her kid along can understand. Eyes glazed over. Colorful packaging and fellow shoppers passing by all strangely out of focus. Actually able to hear her own thoughts. That is, until--

“I’m coming to your house, love.”

The voice snaps Emma back to alertness, her wide-eyed stare finally landing on the guy at the table she is now passing for the second time. Her instincts put her immediately on the defensive, ready to maul this creep who is… who is…

Who is mischievously grinning at her with perfect white teeth and a wry tilt to his full, sensuous lips. And if he were just a pretty mouth, it’d be bad enough, but the rest of his face is pretty damn pretty, too. He dips his chin, looking up at her through unfairly long eyelashes and raises his dark eyebrows encouragingly. Her reply, when she finally remembers to make one, is a profound and very badass-

“Huh?”

He leans back in his cheap, plastic folding chair and gestures lazily to her cart. “You’ve got the good candy. I’d surely enjoy a piece.”

Her pulse jumps. She isn’t even really sure why. He said it completely straight-faced, but there was just… Just a little quirk of his eyebrow or flicker of his tongue behind his teeth or… Nuh-uh. Nope. She’s in no mood for nosy best friends or flirty cable guys. She tightens her grip on her cart handle.

“Nice try, but these goodies aren’t for you.” She puts as much sneer into her voice as she can and stalks off, the sound of his laughter behind her eventually fading into the ambient noise.

She’s halfway to the register when she realizes there are a few more items she should probably pick up while she’s at the store. Bread, milk, toilet paper, Lunchables. You know, actual non-chocolate groceries. Still, she forces herself to walk all the way down to the produce section before turning her cart so the smart-mouthed stranger doesn’t get the idea she’s hiding from him or something.

Because she’s not hiding. Emma Swan does not hide. Avoid maybe, but not hide. Honestly she’s not even thinking about him anymore, not much anyway.

Maybe his stupid smirky face popped into her head while she internally debated whether Henry would notice if she bought generic mustard and funnelled it into the empty French’s bottle. And maybe while she grabbed a week’s worth of lunches from the frozen section, it occurred to her that he must be freezing sitting so close to the ice cream with the top buttons of his shirt undone like that. God, man-cleavage is so cheesy. That’s probably why the cable company put him there. Some flirty, enticing little treat to lure in all the female shoppers. Or hell, maybe the male ones, too. Who was she to judge?

Well, it wouldn’t work on her. Emma had a will of iron and a Netflix subscription, so she didn’t need anything this guy had to offer. And if he tried to chat her up again she’d tell him so. Again. Except that…

She realizes that what she thought were pamphlets on his table are the wrong size. They look more like… books? Kid books, probably, if the brightly colored cover art is anything to go by. The closer she gets to the table, the more apparent it becomes that the guy is a) attempting to sell said books and b) not doing a very good job of it. Most of the shoppers that pass don’t even look at him (like how?) and the few that do just wave him off and go on their way.

He seems really bored and kinda lonely and it tugs at something in Emma’s gut. She remembers feeling alone and invisible. Nowadays she has a son she loves to pieces and a handful (yeah, Ruby is definitely a handful) of well-intentioned if meddlesome friends, but she still remembers. So, she decides to go talk to the guy. Throw him a bone, or whatever. Not that kind of bone.

He doesn’t look up as she approaches, focused instead on the sharpie he’s fiddling with. Admittedly the rolling movement of his fingers as the pen twirls from knuckle to knuckle is distracting as hell, and it takes some effort for her to redirect her attention to the cover of a book.

“Killian Jones?”

He perks up instantly. “Ah, so you’ve heard of me?”

His smile is dazzling and his eyes are a little too blue. It does weird fluttery things to Emma’s stomach. She’s not about to stand for that. She glances pointedly at a stack of books.

“Just reading the cover.”

His smile dims and the hand holding the sharpie reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Ah. I see. I’d honestly be surprised if you had. We self-published types rarely attain much in the way of name recognition. Otherwise I wouldn’t be hawking my wares in a grocery store.”

Well, shit. Now she feels even more awkward. She came over here to… Well, she’s not really sure why she came over here, but it wasn’t to be a buzzkill.  She tries again, picking up the top book in the stack and turning it over in her hands without really looking at it.

“So, you’re the author then?”

He nods. “Indeed. Though, erm, you’re not exactly the target demographic of that particular work.”

It’s then that Emma notices the cutesy drawing of a puppy dressed as a pirate, complete with a little hook on one paw and a trick-or-treat bag clutched in the other. It’s actually pretty adorable and Emma finally lets a tiny hint of smile break through.

“Jolly Roger, huh? So the puppy decides to be a pirate for Halloween?”

“Aye. You see, it’s a bit sad at first because Roger doesn’t want to go to his friends’ Halloween party. They’re all dressing up as superheroes and he doesn’t think he can be a hero because he’s missing one paw. Fortunately he has a big brother puppy to set him straight and teach him that he doesn’t have to be like everyone else. It might even be more fun to be a little different. So they decide on Captain Hook for a costume, Roger goes to the party and wins the costume contest.”

Okay well that’s charming. She’s officially charmed. Dammit. She can hear Ruby’s voice cackling somewhere in the back of her mind. “You know, my son may be a little old for picture books, but I do have a best friend who’s an elementary school teacher. She might be interested in some of your books for the school library. Do you have a business card, or…?”

Now his original smirk is back in full force as he stands and withdraws a card from the pocket of his very, very well-fitted jeans. He leans closer holding the card between two fingers, and Emma eyes can’t to decide where to look. At the card, which is conveniently located right next to the open placket of his shirt, thus putting an enticing view of chest hair in her line of sight. Or into his eyes which seem to be twinkling at her. Or worst of all at his lips which seem to be saying something… Oh right, she should probably be listening right now.

“If you wanted my number love, you needn’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma snatches the card from his hand and rolls her eyes. “Does that routine work on all the moms?”

[girlbossblackbeard]

oh ho ho i must have won some kinda contest i didn’t know i was a part of because the amount of harrassment i had to deal with tonight was ASTRONOMICAL. let’s go through some of the highlights shall we:

1) right off the bat one of the first customers i dealt with told me they had a large group of about 18 that wanted to go through the attraction all together (for context i work as a ticket taker at a local haunt during the halloween season where i take tickets and use a heavy duty hole puncher on them to mark that they’ve gone through the attraction). i ask him to get everybody to put their tickets in one pile, all facing the same direction so i can hole punch them all at once. as they’re gathering all the tickets together (which is taking a while because yall have 18 fucking people who want to go through an attraction that usually only groups of 8-12 go on), one of the dumbass old men at the back of the group asks why im collecting the tickets or something and says “what is she supposed to be, some kinda lazy ghost?” which i just ignored because he’s not worth my time but in almost the same second the idiot man at the front of the group sees me lining up the tickets into my hole punch and he goes “do you need me to handle that for you?” I guess as if im some delicate flower that can’t hole punch a god damn ticket??? that group was so stupid and later tried to pull that “you guys are lazy” bullshit with the other ticket taker who happened to be a cop

2) a dude and his girlfriend (!) were talking about which trail to walk down and i told them the only trail they can go down is the one to the right, to which this dude tells me “oh gotcha because i saw the two holes (he’s talking about the entrances to the trail) and i was tryna figure out which hole to go into. because i like both holes” and he started laughing for 5 minutes about this joke before i was finally able to give my speech on the rules of the trail and send him away

3) this one is less direct harassment but it was arguably the most personally harmful interaction, like it had me fucked up for a while before i was able to shake it off. basically i let a small group of people go on the trail that didn’t have tickets because i was told to do so by the managers of the haunt. i stopped the group behind them to take their tickets and while i stopped them one of the girls starts complaining about the group that got to go on the trail without tickets (they didn’t get to cut in line or get any other kind of special treatment, mind you). i explained to them that it was a call made by the higher ups and these ignorant fucks, in the year of our good lord and savior jesu christo in 20 motherfuckin 18, literally, actually started saying “Yooo that’s so gay. That’s so gay what the fuck.” and they just kept repeating it but every time they said it i could just feel myself shutting down more and more. this job is technically a customer service job since i interact directly with patrons so i couldn’t tell them to fuck off and leave the compound because their ignorance has no place here without facing repercussions. i had to just walk away and try to ignore them for the rest of the night but i don’t think i’ll ever forget the feeling of hurt that washed over me when i heard them weaponize being gay, like i’ve gone so long without hearing anyone use that word in that way that it just really caught me off guard.

4) later another dude and his girlfriend (?) were trailing a bit behind after i finished my speech and sent his group on their way down the trail and while im looking down at my phone to get the timing correct on sending groups down he goes “hey baby. hey baby. baby, [insert something about going on the trail here that i purposefully ignored while i continued to stare at my phone and pretend not to hear him]” and the ignoring thing worked until he goes “hey baby. look at me.” to which i then look up and go “what.” and he goes “baby imma need you to walk down this trail with me now, im too scared to go alone baby, you gonna have to hold my hand (his friend or partner or whatever was literally right next to him as he’s saying this)” and that’s when my patience wore thin and i looked him straight in the eye as i told him “No. You can leave now.” and his friend or whatever just laughed as they walked away and FINALLY went on the god damn trail they should’ve already been walking on 2 minutes ago.

5) of course things couldn’t get better and the night had to end with the shittiest interaction of all in terms of blatant harassment and fragile male egos: a group of three dusty ass dudes come through my line about 20 minutes before we close. i walk up to them to take their tickets and one of them goes “how you doin tonight?” with a weird smirk that im guessing was supposed to be suave but just made him look like he had gas pains or something. already knowing where this conversation was heading, i tried to nip it in the bud and just say “im fine.” and start to move towards the people behind them. same dude then asks “what’s your name?” and since i obviously don’t want anything to do with this guy i give him a fake name and say it’s marie, to which he then goes “Mary?” and I say “Yep you got it”. as im walking away he then goes “you got insta?” and i tell him “nope, i don’t have insta” and he goes “so you not gonna give me your insta??” and i say “nope i don’t have one” (i do) and finally start taking the tickets from the people behind them, which is a man and a woman couple. the woman tells me quietly “You handled that very well” and as I’m telling her i appreciate it and i’ve been dealing with that kind of stuff all night the douchebag starts saying “i don’t like you anyway. i don’t like you” which i just completely ignore because at this point i was so unbelievably done with everything. as soon as those groups were sent on the trail my coworkers and a few former coworkers who were standing nearby (also dudes) all came up to me and started saying like “im so sorry you had to deal with that” and “are you okay??” and other stuff along those lines which was really sweet but the fact that they all felt the need to come up to me, even the former workers who don’t know me well, to see if i was okay should be a testament to just how gross those three guys were being.

and keep in mind these are only the highlights that were awful enough for me to remember by the time the night was over, there were so many microaggressions that i just started blocking them out on autopilot by the time i was an hour into my shift. i will say that im grateful for the support my male coworkers showed me throughout the night any time i told them of yet another awful thing i had to listen to. they even checked in on me every so often to make sure i was doing okay. i’ve had to deal with shitty comments like those above in small doses throughout the season and i was able to shake those off easily because they were spread out but tonight it just seems like every disgusting, rude asshole decided to come out of the woodwork and descend upon my place of work. thank fucking god there’s only two days left of this job, i need about 47 naps and a memory wipe.

[existentialkendall-blog]

Swipe Right for Drunk Sexual Innuendo 

Pairing: Chris Kendall/Reader Wordcount: 1.9k Rating: Alcohol, sexy words Warning: This fic contains sexual flirting which some audiences may find cringe-inducing and uncomfortable. Read at your own risk. 

Request/Prompt: they met on tinder, and that night when they matched they both had something to drink and their tipsyness led to them being flirty etc and when they met they're super awks with each other but in a v cute way

A/N: Request a fic prompt here. Y/N means Your Name. 

He's hot. The first thing you notice is that he's hot, then again, that's the first thing anyone notices on the perverse dating app. You'd downloaded it initially because you were curious to see how many people would find you attractive, but now you're three days and twenty matches in. Except, the innocent smile looking at you from the screen, and brown floppy hair, makes him stand out from the others. And he's probably the only guy you'd make an effort into continuing a conversation with. The rest of his photos confirm that idea. In one he's wearing sunglasses, strands of hair sticking to his forehead and mouth open in a crying face. Such a dork. You giggle, and blame the wine you'd started drinking an hour ago. But the next photo has your mouth agape in shock, because wow. He's wearing a red and black checked shirt ripped at the shoulders, punk aesthetic changing him from cute to undeniably sexy. The last is a bathroom shot. His green lantern t-shirt is hitched up to reveal a slither of skin, and his hair looks like it needs your hands buried in it.

NAME:

Chris Kendall, 27

BIO:

About Chris Northern but not gross northern like Cheryl Cole Raving bisexual 6ft 2- perfect big spoon Tries his best but has lazy syndrome Winner of beauty contest in monopoly Best hair where he works (the internet) Very lonely Terrible comedian, slightly worse actor Entertains people for a living

***** "Made 50 Shades of Grey seem as tame as the teletubbies." -Anonymous tinder woman ***** "His tongue is as talented as his mouth is wide." -Anonymous tinder male *"Stop asking me for reviews you weirdo." -Anonymous tinder female ***** "So sweet, everything a man should be." -Chris's mum

What a sweetheart. His bio shows that he's both adorable, and funny, and okay really hot. Still. Proving that you're a great judge of character once you see a persons face. Without hesitating, you swipe right. Instantly the screen changes. It's a match! You either have a really depressing life, or you really like him, because the match makes you grin so much it hurts. Before you construct a perfect first message, you grab the wine bottle (because glasses are for people who like washing up) and take a long gulp. Okay, the perfect message. Drunk you has no inhibitions or awareness or tact. So you send You can entertain me anytime ;) Because you're very, very, classy. While you wait for him to reply, you consider replying to some of the other people who've messaged you. It hasn't really gotten past the 'hey' 'hi' stage, and you're never as forward as you are tonight. Alcohol speeds everything up. As you're about to try to start something vaguely interesting with a 25yr old medical student, Chris replies. You almost have a heart attack, smile returning to your face.

Entertain you how?

Cryptic. He clearly wants the attention, so you give it to him.

I can think of a few things...

I bet you're so much cuter than your pictures, and you're 10/10 in those

And you look like a kinky fuck

We can explore your kinks together 

And like that you've spammed him for the very first time. Damn. You groan very lightly, because you still feel the familiar feelings of shame and embarrassment. More drinking is required. He's even quicker replying to those.

What kinks do you think I have?

My sexual prowess is ready for your enjoyment

You chuckle at the audacity of his question. And when you brain provides the perfect response the chuckle evolves into a full blown laugh.

Clearly a praise one. Want me to tell you you're a pretty boy Chris?

Do it. I'll trade you one, you're cute as fuck and I think you'd look good on my bed

Your eyebrows lift in shock, and you reposition yourself on your bed so you're more comfortable.

You're so hot my eyes burned looking at you, and I really want to see your bedroom ceiling

I wish I was the sun so I could go down on you every evening

You're swaying unconsciously as you type, and you have to concentrate on each word to make sure it's legible. Chris is actually adorable. You really need to meet him. ___

Hangovers never really affected you. Sure you'd feel groggy, and weak in the stomach, but never full blown migraines and nausea. The day after is no different. You wake up, and like most mornings, flail uncoordinatedly to find the phone typically resting on the floor. No such luck. With a ridiculous amount of effort, you sit up. Half lidded eyes flicker around the dully lit room, hands patting the covers suspiciously. And then, "Yes," As you find the rectangular device. Checking the time reveals it's 11am. Under that is a singular text rising above your usual notifications like a bad omen. The number is registered as 'assfucker'. The message cuts off halfway, so you unlock it to finish reading 'Are we still meeting at 12? I'm in the mood for pizza!'. And then, 'I don't usually meet people off tinder but we agreed to last night and I don't want to cancel'. Oh shit. Fuck. Mild hangover sure, but this has never happened before. You open tinder, heartbeat pounding uncomfortably in your chest. There's a long list of messages you'd been exchanging with this weird guy last night, the most recent being a plan to meet at Pizza Express for lunch. It's currently 11:40am. "Fuck. Ugh, fucking hell," You scramble out of bed, and rush to the bathroom to get ready. It doesn't even cross your mind to cancel. What if he's had to travel ages to meet you and he's almost there? Or, if he does really want to meet you and you disappoint him? That old fear of disappointment again. So, even though you don't have time to shower, or make coffee, and you're barely out of the house with your clothes on, you make it to the tube station with 5 minutes before you're suppose to meet. Even though the transport system is fast, direct, and efficient, the one thing it lacks is mobile service. Your head is itching with a far away headache by the time you finally get above ground. You send a quickly typed 'I'm going to be a bit late, I'm so sorry'. 'Ah good. I'll get us a table' he replies. You can't remember what he looks like. You're standing outside Pizza Express and you've just realised you don't remember what he looks like and you didn't check his profile before you came out to meet him, you were in too much of a rush. You're trying to use the WiFi to find his profile but it's loading so slowly, and before it loads someones feet are directly underneath your phone, right in your personal space. "I've heard if you stare really hard you can teleport inside of your phone," his voice is light and rounded with an ambiguous Northern tinge to it. You look up and wow, his hair is so fluffy, and he's practically seven foot off the ground. "What?" and why are you talking to me, you're cute, where is the guy I'm meeting. "Seriously? ...From last night?" Of course. Now that he's said where he's from, it's obvious that he's tinder guy. Except you still don't know what his name is, and he's leading you to your table and it's too late to ask him so... Fuck. "For you," He gestures towards your seat with a magicians flourish. You return the favour with his chair, "And for you." He grins, and his smile is so wide you get sucked in for a moment. You order your meals without a hitch, and the conversation flows naturally. "You're very cute in person," He compliments you, and a flushed pink smile takes over his face. "You should see me in animals," You reply, dry humour dry as ever. His eyebrows raise and for a second he looks unsure of how to respond. But he laughs, and you're safe. "You too, are attractive," You nod towards him. If the whole meal is this awkward and stunted you might have to find something totally normal to do to pass the time, like shed a napkin or drink a lot of tap water. "Two? Where's the other guy?" Oh god, he's awkward like you. He has a natural boyish charm and you're suddenly glad you decided to meet, because this is everything you've been missing. "Good question, I was expecting someone taller."

"I'm a grower honey, not a shower."

"Jesus Christ."

"You called?" "Duuude!" You exclaim, and he bursts into a fit of giggles. His laugh isn't even a laugh, not really. It's multiple giggles layered on top of each other, each one with different personalities but all sound cheerful. "So this is awkward but..." You trail off, not entirely sure how to say 'I don't remember your name and I need you to tell me cause maybe I want to keep seeing you' without sounding like a moron. But then it hits you. "... I saved your name in my phone wrong.. And, well, here, can you change it please," You hand over the offending item, where he's labelled 'assfucker', and hope he isn't offended. He frowns at the screen, and it's adorable. Everything he does is adorable. "No, you saved it correctly," His frown lines grow deeper and he goes, "Hang on, you did get something wrong." When he gives the phone back to you, you check the contact name. Under Name, and where business is, he's typed out 'fucker of asses'. Complete it is, Assfucker, fucker of asses. "Nice. Real classy."

"I aim to please."

"Oh a line from a bdsm film? So that's what you're into."

"I'm into you."

"Not yet you aren't," You wink jokingly but his expression changes like he's taking you serious. Ahh, abort. You aren't capable of flirting in real life, only on phones to anonymous people. Except he's not anonymous anymore. Before he makes things worse you admit the truth, "I've forgotten your name okay?" "y/n! How could you do that to me? After everything we've been through? You tell me something like that?" You roll your eyes but you're laughing and he looks so pleased with himself. Smug bastard. "Dude, just tell me." "Or what?" He raises one eyebrow perfectly. "Tell me, you asshole." He sticks out one hand in the middle of the table, "Hi, I'm Chris," you laugh and take his hand, shaking it like you're becoming business partners. Some kind of partners. "Nice to meet you Chris."

"You bet your ass it is."

"My ass is not on the line."

"I wish it was." The weird flirty defensive conversation continues for the rest of the meal. And at the end, after you've splitting the bill in half and you're saying goodbye, he hands you the cheque. "Read it when I'm not here."

"Sure."

"I'll text you."

"Or I will."

"I'll miss you."

"I'd miss me too."

"y/n."

"Chris."

"Do I get a hug?"

"C'mere," He's six foot of pure warmth and you feel comfortable in his embrace immediately. He smells so good, and you're slightly sad when he pulls away, and walks down the street in the opposite direction to you. You wait for him to turn the corner before you open the cheque. He's written something on it in scratchy restaurant pencil that he grabbed from who knows where. 'Next date, your ass is on the line. And I will win it'

[scheduledfor1fall]

NXT Takeover Review Series: NXT Arrival

Hello, everyone, and welcome to a special new series I’m starting, beginning with this review. NXT recently celebrated 5 years under its current format, having previously been utilized as a Tuesday evening TV show showcasing select FCW stars. In its past format, NXT saw the main roster debut of such stars as Daniel Bryan, Wade Barrett, Ryback, AJ Lee, and Bray Wyatt. Since replacing FCW as the developmental territory of WWE, however, NXT has turned out a large amount of stars. A cursory look of both Raw and Smackdown’s rosters yields a great number of wrestlers who spent time in NXT. In addition, NXT has developed a reputation of being an attractive place for wrestlers to work, with a chance at making it to the main roster luring in such big indy names as ReDRagon, Adam Cole, Roderick Strong, Tommy End, and many others. And that’s just within the last year or so. NXT has truly come into its own since launching in 2012, and one can probably point to the launch of the WWE Network and subsequent live NXT Special just days after launching. Today, I’ll be going back and reviewing that very show, thus kicking off a series where I’ll be reviewing every NXT Takeover special ever done. So, without further ado, let’s get into the review!

 We get a crazy little opening with the lights dimmed and mood music playing, as Triple H asks if we’re ready. He says “This is NXT,” and the show gets underway. We’re live from Full Sail University, and the fans are already hot for the show. Triple H says the next generation has arrived, as we get our opening video package. After that, it’s Sami Zayn out first for opening match. I gotta say, it’s jarring seeing him come out to something that’s not his current theme. We’re welcomed by our commentators for tonight, Byron Saxton, William Regal, and Tom Phillips with a goofy haircut. Out next is Cesaro, and we’ve got our opening match.

CESARO DEF. SAMI ZAYN BY PINFALL VIA NEUTRALIZER:

 Great, great match. Cesaro was incredible as the powerhouse heel, and Sami Zayn played the role of the injured, yet determined underdog as good as anybody else. Just a fantastic match, and one where Zayn is just as well off by losing as he would by winning. **** 1/4.

 Post-match, Cesaro exits the ring as Sami reflects on his loss. Halfway up the ramp, Cesaro stops, goes back into the ring, and approaches Zayn. They exchange glances for a bit, before Cesaro lifts Sami to his feet, and pulls him in for a hug. The two embrace in a show of respect, as the crowd gives their approval. Cesaro leaves, as the crowd give Sami a standing ovation and chants “Ole.” Excellent way to start off the show.

 We get a vignette for future Andre the Giant Memorial Battle Royal winner Mojo Rawley. Out comes CJ Parker, who has recently found success in New Japan Pro Wrestling as Juice Robinson. Out next is the Hype Man himself, as we get ready for our second match:

 MOJO RAWLEY DEF. CJ PARKER BY PINFALL VIA HYPERDRIVE:

 Too short to really amount to much. Rawley’s probably best in small doses, anyhow. Parker actually looked pretty decent as a heel. * 1/4.

 We get a vignette for Emma, and I have no idea what her gimmick is. She dances? She’s weird? She plays with bubbles? Jesus, and people call Bayley a female Eugene. We get another vignette, this one for the NXT Tag Team Champions The Ascension. Wow, those were the days. Out they come for an open challenge for their titles. Who should answer it but Scotty 2 Hotty and Grandmaster Sexay. Too Cool! I’m a little saddened that they’re using “Turn it Up,” which I consider to be the inferior Too Cool theme, but what can you do? Also, Scotty 2 Hotty’s bald, which is also kind of a dampener. It’s just not the same without his McDonald’s fries-looking hair:

 THE ASCENSION DEF. TOO COOL BY PINFALL VIA FALL OF MAN TO RETAIN THE NXT TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS:

 One-sided affair here, which basically served to showcase The Ascension. Not a lot to speak of, to be honest. * 1/4.

 We see Paige backstage, before getting a vignette for here. Wow, to think this was only three years ago. How things have changed. She talks about being the opposite of the prototypical Diva, and what it means to be champion. I would make a joke about the Women’s Title Belt, but I’d like to think this blog is a little more dignified. We then see Ric Flair and Charlotte taking in the show from ringside, when out comes Stephanie McMahon. If a woman in WWE makes history and Stephanie McMahon isn’t there to attach herself to it, did it ever really happen? The fans chant “you still got it,” presumably towards her figure, and she proclaims she never lost it. Gag. She talks about how they’re making history by being part of the first live program on the WWE Network, and does the spiel of how she’s proud of the women’s division for showing women can do what men can do, but better. I’m all for feminism and everything, but I think it would be a little more meaningful if we got to hear Paige or Emma say this kind of thing. Oh, well. She introduces the two competitors as the next generation of WWE Divas, and Emma comes out to her awful, awful theme. She got this opportunity in a “dance battle,” which kind of reflects poorly on how the women are being regarded. William Regal is seen dancing to her music, and they mention she’s beaten two former Divas since becoming #1 Contender. To think she’d be released just 5 months later for stealing an IPad case. I mean, they brought her back, but she’s really done a whole lot of nothing the last three years. Out next is the champion, Paige. Stephanie shakes the hands of both competitors, as this match gets underway:

 PAIGE DEF. EMMA BY SUBMISSION VIA SCORPION CROSSLOCK TO RETAIN THE NXT WOMEN’S CHAMPIONSHIP:

 OK Women’s match that at least had the crowd’s attention the whole time. I personally found this to be largely dull, with Emma dominating a good portion of the match. There were some cool moments, such as Emma hitting a Powerbomb on Paige, or Paige breaking out the Scorpion Crosslock for the win, but it falls below most NXT Women’s Title match standards, and probably some of AJ Lee’s title matches on the main roster, as well. **.

 Post-match, the two briefly hug it out, as Paige celebrates her successful title defense. We cut backstage to Adrian Neville preparing for the main event, a ladder match for the NXT Championship held by Bo Dallas. What a time that was. We get a video package around Neville, and I really have to commend them for going out of their way to introduce newer viewers to the stars of NXT, a must with the launch of the WWE Network. It’s no wonder NXT caught on the way it did after it was given a platform like this.

 After a commercial for the NXT TV show, the camera cuts to Pat Patterson and Dusty Rhodes watching in the crowd. The “Somebody Call My Momma” music plays, as Xavier Woods comes out. That used to be his theme?! Out next is Tyler Breeze, as I guess we’re getting a cooldown match before the main event:

 TYLER BREEZE VS. XAVIER WOODS WENT TO A NO CONTEST WHEN ALEXANDER RUSEV INTERFERED:

 Well, so much for that. Rusev comes out, beats the shit out of both guys, and puts Woods in the Accolade, as Lana puts Rusev over. Her accent definitely improved over time. Rusev then gets on the mic and cuts a promo in Bulgarian and poses as his music hits.

 We then see Bo Dallas backstage preparing for the main event. They play a video package for Dallas, and, say what you will about him, the man has a great sense of humor. I’ve even enjoyed seeing him as part of the Miztourage. Cut back to the audience as we see Larry Zbyszko and Steve Keirn watching from ringside. The star power’s sort of hitting a point of diminishing returns right now. We then get a video package for how the ladder match came to be, before cutting back to the ring, lights dimmed and ladders all over the place. Out comes Shawn Michaels, NXT Title belt in hand, as he heads to the ring. Michaels cuts a promo saying he’s proud to be here tonight, as the fans chant stuff like “one more match” and “H-B-Shizzle.” I don’t even know. Michaels finally has to ask them to stop, as he talks about his history with ladder matches, as he plugs his Mr. Wrestlemania DVD and talks about how he has to put his kids through college. Michaels finally gets serious, as he puts over both men in the main event, and says only one of them will walk out with the title and step into greatness. Adrian Neville’s music hits, and out comes the challenger to a nice ovation. Out next is Bo Dallas, as we get formal introductions. As the title is raised both men stare each other down, as our main event is underway:

 ADRIAN NEVILLE DEF. BO DALLAS IN A LADDER MATCH TO WIN THE NXT CHAMPIONSHIP:

 Very fun, well-paced work between these two. I’ve never seen Bo work quite the way he did in this match, as he did everything he could to wear Neville down and stop him from getting to the title above the ring. This match didn’t really have a whole lot that you’ve never seen in a Ladder Match before, but it served as an entertaining, satisfying main event match. *** 1/2.

 Post-match, Neville celebrates atop the ladder with the title, as steam comes down from the ceiling. He continues to celebrate, as John Cena is shown in the crowd, giving Neville a standing ovation. Arrival goes off the air, as the announcers tell us this is a new beginning for NXT.

 OVERALL THOUGHTS:

I’m really not sure how to precisely describe this show. As someone who’s seen most of the Takeover specials over the last few years, this felt a bit different from how those feel. The pacing wasn’t all there. Not every match felt like it was one of consequence. Obviously, the talent pool shifted to one that featured more experienced wrestlers from across the world. As a first taste of NXT, however, this wasn’t all that bad. Both the opener and main event delivered in their own ways, and I would actually recommend going out of your way to watch the opener, by all means. Everything else in between ranges from passable to skippable. Overall, I’d give it a mild recommendation, with a strong suggestion to watch the opener, main event, and perhaps the Women’s match as well. Everything else is better off being passed over.

 Well, that’s the first installment of what I hope will be a very rewarding series. In addition to reviewing more NXT specials, I’m also looking at a few other ideas for posts, so I’ll probably put something up within the next week or so detailing exactly what I intend to review over the next few months. Until then, stay tuned for more updates, and enjoy.

[asplashofvodka]

B.A.P. Party Baby NYC 2017 Fan Account

So it’s like 80 years late buuuuutttttttt I figured I might as well write down this fan account to continue with the tradition. I’m going to put concert, hi touch, and photo together into one. Gifs and photos included, pray for your internet.

Alright, so I came into the city late the night before the concert and met my 2 friends for a relaxing night. Sadly I had to work that day so I missed some of the earlier fun. We stayed near Grand Central for a change this year. We hung out in the lounge of the hotel for a while and just joked around most of the night, a much needed precursor from what was gonna be the day from hell.

So while we enjoyed our night for bit we actually had two of our friends lining up before us that we were planning to join a little after midnight. When we were just about to leave she actually called us and told us that security had made them all leave because it was too cold and they didn’t want anyone getting hurt or anything. It was nice because it was FREEZING that night, and if you’ve never been to Terminal 5 it’s right near an underpass and next to the water, not the best combo for camping out. 

SOOOOOO onto show day!!!!

We lined up around 6 a.m. … we gave our friends a break since they stayed out. Steph, Megan and myself were nice enough to bring hot packs for majority of the line cause everyone looked like a popsicle. After the line was split up we actually got lucky enough to be interviewed for the Fomo Daily video, thank god a lot of the awkward stuff got cut out. <_< 12+hours in line wasn’t so bad for the simple fact all of our friends were in line with us.

So fast forward to concert time.

Our view.

Real life right here. I’ve never been this close for a concert of a group I hardcore stan. So although we were in the corner of the stage we had… an eventful, let’s say, evening.

I have to give props to the DJ B.Shoo cause he just had to go and pull out songs we weren’t expecting. I honestly can’t even remember what the song was but all of the people in my section were LIT. There was actually a staff… possibly manager standing there and he started to record the crowd. Where that video went, the world may never know. So he leaves after he records and then another Korean staff member shows up and stays by the curtain we’re in front of. Normal enough… or so we thought. 

The DJ’s set ends and the intro video starts playing. Cue all the craziness and excitement. While everyone is going insane over the video, my friend Megan and I both notice people appearing one by one behind this curtain and we start to lose our shit. Honestly, it was like, “Oh, I think I see someone behind there… oh look two more… SHIT THERE’S 5 OF THEM…6 NOW!” All while this staff member is laughing at us. 

First song was the Hurricane Remix. I’m not a huge EDM/House person so I can go along and tolerate it. Lol 

Next was BADMAN. BITCH YES. JUST YESSSSS. This remix is still hands down my favorite. I was hoping they were all gonna hit the choreography flawlessly like last time but alas Himchan. First he was too early and then completely forgot what the hell he was doing and actually slipped off stage while laughing at himself. LMFAO Jongup and Zelo still killed that choreo IDGAF!

After that was No Mercy and BANGX2. I honestly couldn’t even tell you what happened during this cause I was too hype. The only thing I remember was the long ass staring contest Daehyun and I had for NO DAMN REASON. NONE WHATS SO EVER and none of my friends noticed it, but it is in photo.

I’VE BEEN WAITING MONTHS TO HEAR FINALLY HEAR THAT’S MY JAM AND DO WHAT I FEEL LIVE. I WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED AT ALL. I FUCKING LOVE THESE SONGS. I was ready for it, my friends were ready for it but the staff member was surprised as hell at our enthusiasm. He was thoroughly amused by us.

Dancing in the Rain is always a cute song, you can’t hate it.

The dress code pick happened next. That was an interesting 5 minutes. So, Himchan is my bias, not secrets there. I was dressed for a Himchan pick is all I’m gonna say. My friends thought it would be hilarious to SCREAM AND SHOUT for him to pick me… from not only next to me but also in other spots down the front where others were standing. -_- Guys,pls. At one point they screaming so loud and pointing at me that not only was the staff member DYING AT MY SUFFERING but Youngjae and Daehyun started to look over to our area and I had to duck and hide behind people. Let’s not ever… nah no. It was a cute little segment though, I totally would’ve spilled my drink on Himchan too if I would’ve been that close too. Them feels are seriousssss.

NEXT WERE THE SOLOS AND BITCHHHHHHHHHHH…. WHEW LAWD.

I believe it was Jongup, Zelo, Youngja in terms of order but my feels were attacked so I can’t be sure. 

JONGUP. MOON. FUCKING. JONGUP. HE DID NOT COME TO PLAY WITH THE HATERS, BAND WAGONERS, AND DENIERS OF FEELS. TRY MY LUCK THERE’S NOTHING I CAN SAY ABOUT THIS THAT DOESNT INCLUDE AN OBSCENE AMOUNT OF SWEARING. Just know you guys got the tame and PG shit for TV promotions. FUCK IT UP, MOON JONGUP FOR LIFE. 

Zelo decided that the year 2017 he would return to his sweet and innocent appearance after fucking the floor last year. Thanks, bro. Appreciate it. The song is actually really cute though and I need the recorded version, get on that TS.

YOUNGJAE. 

YOO.

YOUNGJAE.

I have this deep deeeeppppppp LOVE HATE with Youngjae (mainly love but still) he didn’t have to come for life this way. I didn’t need it, didn’t want it, I just wanted to live peacefully that day. His solo…. I literally found the corner of the banister, rested against it, covered my mouth in amazement and didn’t move for the duration of his solo. He didn’t have to remind me why he’s bias 1.5 like that. Jesus. Also I need that studio version too.

Fermata, I Guess I Need U, and Body and Soul… Im not even gonna try and explain the level of I CANNOT reached.

Skydive, Young Wild and Free and Wake Me Up in a row… OT6 FOR LIFE. FUCK ME UP. They killed it and us.

Now for Wake Me Up apparently we did a little much. As if we didn’t go hard enough for the other two songs, us continuously doing the choreography got us recorded during Wake Me Up… by the staff… who also turned out to be one of their managers. At first he tried to sneakily record us but I caught him and laughed and he stopped. Then he did it again and didn’t care that we saw him. Which he then scurried to the backstage area as soon as that song was over. Yeah….

So after that Zelo came back out and take us the hormone increasing dance (2014 concert goers should remember that one). No one knew what the fuck they were doing it was hilarious.Check on starts playing and all of sudden my friends and I start to notice that BAP is gradually looking more and more to our corner, which for the most part went kinda unnoticed for the other half of the show. Now I’m not gonna say they saw it, but I can say for a fact that manager posted it on his instagram that same night. (which also took me a whole week to find ) But the next bunch of songs were the fun ones Spy, Feel So Good, Be Happy and Carnival.

They did their usual goodbye talk before performing B.A.B.Y *thug tear* That was supposed to be the end, but it wouldn’t be a BAP concert without an encore. They did BANGX2 again. 

Now it’s time for the Hi-Touch and photo op shenanigans. 

They had everyone with Hi-touch go first, they turned it into a whole damn exercise circuit. Just what everyone wanted to do, climb 3 floors, come down and go back up. But anyway…  So the panic was real guys. So the order I can remember was Youngjae, Zelo, Daehyun, Jongup, Yongguk and Himchan. Literally my death in the beginning and end.

So before we get to go up to the guys the staff is doing their annoying “phones away,” “don’t give them presents,” “hurry up” speeches. I roll my eyes and continue walking to the guys. 

Youngjae is first. Lord jesus I wasn’t mentally prepared, but my makeup was still in tact. *bless you Laura Mercier powder* He is the only dude I know that is ALWAYS ready before the damn fan that’s meeting him. He was already eyeing me before I got up to him. His usual smirk followed by a cute smile after I hi fived him.

I was actually proud of myself this hi touch cause I was able to look at and actually hi five everyone this time while still mentally dying.

Next was Zelo… he’s tall as shit… why? Anyway he smiled and I high fived him and went on to the next one.

JUNG. DAEHYUN. What’s your deal, bro?! So I get to Dae, I was prepared this year to feel close as fuck to him as always. Apparently he was not and made it obvious… VERY OBVIOUS. So I get to him and look him dead in his eyes and this boy legit goes O_O and looked shocked as al holy hell. I actually tilted my head a little and giggled at him and he kinda recollected for a second, but I felt victorious for once. 

Megan 1- BAP - 3 Years

Anyway… onto Rude Boy Jongup. So he was right after Dae and ISTG I don’t know what was going on that night but he too felt the need to look at me with a squint but from under his fringe so I was confused.

Next was Gukkie! He’s so cute and friendly at hi touches. He looked so good though, thank goodness I’m not a Guk stan. That’s like instant death.

So last but not least, Kim Himchan.

One question, just one. WHATTHEACTUALFUCKHIMCHANWHYTHEFUCK?!

We’re going to take a little mental journey to understand this. So Himchan is last but he’s not behind the table like everyone else. He’s actually at the outside corner, so if you’re walking towards him you can see him straight on not an angle. 

Ok so as I’m done hi fiving Yongguk, I turn so I can face Himchan, normal course of action right now. Would’ve been a quick go through had when I turned his hand be ready for a hi five and he would’ve been looking at my face.

Till this day this part gets me all flustered and gets my nerves going. *deep breathing*

So I turn slightly to see Himchan checking me out in the most shameless way. This man is a greaseball and I KNOW THIS. BUT NOTHING. NOTHINGGGG COULD’VE  PREPARED ME. So he’s checking me out, at least from hip/thigh area and slowly pans up to my face and then proceeds to bite his lips and smirk at me and then put his hand up for a hi five.

We’re gonna have seat for a minute cause LORD HAVE MERCY IT TOOK EVERYTHING IN ME AT THAT MOMENT TO CONTAIN EVERY OUNCE OF MY BEING.

For reference Himchan’s face was basically this Xuimin gif. 

Like… how does one act normal in this situation. Well if you’re me, you try to give off the most controlled shocked face and act dead inside so you don’t get arrested.

For reference

 Me:

So I high five him and proceed to high tail it the entire fuck outta there as quickly as possible. I made it to the hallway where I then had my breakdown, still couldn’t speak and explain anything then though. 

If you had photo op they made you go allll the way back up stairs and pick your groups. Two of my friends are Zelo bias so they weren’t even gonna attempt to take a pic with each other. lmfao So we found this other group of girls and I deadass went and asked any of them if they were Himchan bias and luckily no one was. Then this staff comes over and is like “Who wants to be line leader?” I was like fuck it i’ll do it. I get to be the first person to pick a spot duh! So I tell my friends to line up behind me so they can get to their biases before the other girls and they do. So we get downstairs and we’re dying all over again cause now we’re the first people they see in the line and as soon as the group thats with them leaves, Youngjae and some of them look over at us. Great,

I look Youngjae in face again, smile and casually walked and stood in between him and Himchan. My other friends got lucky and all got to stand with their bias too. *YAAASSSS* Now, I had made it a mental note to stand a little bit away from them cause I have a butt and didn’t want to bump into one of them. All I would need to haunt me forever. Despite all my attempts, I did end up bumping into someone… I don’t even wanna know who cause I’m traumatized enough from that day, lol But a girl was rushing to kneel in front of me and I scooted back just a tad and bam… leg or something. I’ve never readjusted so fast in my life. The picture was taken and I took off in a diagonal for the gift table cause we left our stuff over there. (One of the staff was not happy about it but we didn’t care) There was amusing shit that happened on the other side with my friends Daph and Megan but I can’t even begin to get that story correct. All I know is Daphne booked it for the table while I was waiting for her and had BAP in hysterics. 

Then as we were leaving we told the manager we would see him next year and ran out of there as fast as possible.

Also here’s Himchan’s face in our photo… which I conveniently compared it to the FSG face for you.

If you find the full i’m the one in the red. 

‘twas a hell of a night.

Fin. 

[distances-explode]

Dirty Laundry (Jalex)

For @alltimefanfiction‘s Last Young Renegade writing contest.

I had about 57 different ideas for one-shots for this song, but I finally decided on this one mostly because there’s never enough fics with trans characters. I use way too many ellipses in this one but I’m kinda okay with it.

Dirty laundry is piling in her room…

 “What’s got you so excited today?” Jack whispers as the collection plates are passed around the sanctuary. The soft piano music just barely masks his words. If his family heard him talking during any part of the service, he would probably get his mother’s infamous evil eye for the rest of the day. However, he just has to know what has his usually calm, collected friend practically vibrating in his seat. “You haven’t stopped shaking your leg since you sat down!”

Alex shrugs, but a half smirk grows on his face. “I’m just in a really good mood today.” He replies as the music fades to a stop and the pastor begins his sermon.

Jack ignores the way his best friend flinches in just the slightest when he leans in close, his lips nearly touching Alex’s ear. “Nothing you want to share with even your bestest friend in the world?”

Alex is sure not to meet Jack’s gaze after this question. Blushing, he shoves Jack’s shoulder. After being as close as they are for as long as they have been, pushing one another’s buttons was second nature to the two. Jack was the ultimate master at figuring out All Things Alex, even better at reading him than his brother. And while Jack would certainly say this was one of the many awesome things about their friendship, Alex would describe it as more of a curse disguised as a blessing. “I’m sure you’ll find out after today. You’ll just have to be patient.”

“When have you ever seen me be patient?” Jack whines, alerting his family seated in the pew to their front of the conversation. The four glares suddenly staring them down freeze their words in their mouths. Although this cuts their conversation short for the time being, it has absolutely no control over their soft giggles once the Barakat family refocuses their attention to the front of the sanctuary.

As much as Alex wishes that’s the end of the conversation, he’s not in the least surprised when Jack starts talking again after the benediction as if there had never been a pause. “You have to at least give me a clue. Did you get a car?” Jack guesses.

Alex scoffs. Jack believes Alex is the only 18-year old in the world whose parents refuse to let him even look at the classifieds for a used car. “You know I wouldn’t have been able to keep something like that to myself.”

“Some other gift, then? Something huge and epic that you can share with the only person you actually like in this church?” Even though now they wouldn’t want to be friends with anyone else, the friendship between the boys started as more of a necessity than a desire. When Jack’s family joined the church after immigrating from Lebanon, Alex’s family was the first to welcome them. They were the ones to help the Barakats achieve citizenship and learn the most common English phrases. Because they were the same age, Jack and Alex were practically expected to be best friends by their parents. Jack wasn’t yet enrolled in school and Alex had never really connected with any of the kids in the church’s daycare, leaving them more or less stuck with one another. It wasn’t long before they realized their mutual love for Sesame Street and throwing gravel at their siblings, and from then on, they were inseparable.

“Somehow, I don’t think this is something you would want to share with me.” Alex winks, heading to the church basement where all the post-service refreshments are served.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow together for just a moment before his jaw drops and he races after his friend. “You got a girlfriend, didn’t you? You’ve been seeing her in secret and you’re finally going public about it!”

“Jesus, Jack!” Alex exclaims at his melodrama, shaking his head and laughing. “No, I don’t have a secret girlfriend. Your guesses are getting warmer, though.”

As they pile snack plates high with cookies and drink sugary fruit punch, the guessing game continues. While every guess certainly brings enjoyment to everyone within listening distance, Alex assures Jack that his guesses are off and he’s definitely not near the correct answer. When Alex’s parents come find him so they can leave, Jack is in full-on pout mode. “If you were really my friend, you’d just tell me.” He mumbles, crossing his arms.

Alex ruffles Jack’s hair while his parents laugh at the two. “I promise, I’ll tell you as soon as I see you again.” Jack groans. The two didn’t attend the same school, meaning Jack would likely have to wait an entire week until next Sunday’s church service to find out. As bull-headed as Alex is being about the whole situation, Jack doubts any amount of texts he sent the boy would get him to give in.

As the Gaskarths walk away, however, Jack smirks. There’s never any harm in trying.

 She’s got her secrets...

 “Alexander, get back in the house this instant! Pastor Myers will be here any minute, and it’s pouring rain out there!” Alex’s mother stands in the doorway, her face conveying something between anger and fear.

“I’m not doing it, mom! I don’t need his help, and I don’t need yours!” He doesn’t care that his screams are certainly loud enough to alert the neighbors, even over the pounding thunder.

“Alex, we’re doing this for you. Why can’t you see that? You know this isn’t okay. Let us make you better!”

“I’m not sick and I’m not broken. There’s nothing to change! I’m happy with myself, and as far as I’m concerned, so is God. Why can’t you see that?”

The tears in her fierce eyes tell Alex that this is a battle he’s losing. “Please, baby. Come back inside. Let us work this out.”

It’s a battle he’s losing, and he refuses to stick around and see the end of it. “No. If you can’t accept me, I’m leaving.” He says simply, turning and running off the property.

He expects her to follow him, get in her car and chase him until he comes back. However, as he reaches the end of the driveway, the front door slams shut, and when he turns back to look at the house, no one else is in sight.

 Jack’s front porch is the last place either boy expects Alex to end up. Jack is home alone, and when the doorbell rings he almost doesn’t answer it. However, it isn’t long before the ringing turns into knocking and before long Jack is too annoyed to ignore it. He’s ready to chew out whoever is on the other side of the door until he opens in and reveals his best friend whom he hasn’t seen in 3 weeks, dripping wet. “Alex? Your mom told me you were sick! Where have you been? No, wait, why are you here? Are...Are you crying?” The questions tumble from Jack’s mouth before he can even process them.

Alex sniffles, arms squeezing himself tight in a solo hug. “I-I ran away. I didn’t know where else to go. Your house was the first place I thought of.”

Jack’s eyes go wide, less worried that Alex ran away from his family and moreso concerned that it’s nearly 9 o’clock at night and Alex walked to his house in a thunderstorm wearing nothing but old jeans, a stained t-shirt, and a pair of sneakers which he’s currently holding in his hands. Alex’s house is at least a good five miles from Jack’s own, and on the opposite side of the tallest hill in town.

“Right, of course.” Jack tries to be welcoming, covering his confusion and worry with a soft smile. “Come in, you must be freezing. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

Alex bites his lip, hesitant. “I don’t know if you’ll want me here long. I ran away from my family for a reason and once I tell you why I don’t think you’ll want me to stay.”

Taken aback, Jack’s calm facade falters. “Why come here at all, then?”

Jack can barely tell the shrug he gives as an answer apart from the shivers racking his body. “You’re my best friend. I want you to hear what’s going on from me and I don’t want to find out you hate me through the grapevine.” The tears forming in Alex’s eyes hurt Jack more than he expects them to.

“Alex, please come inside.” Jack urges. “There’s not much you could say to me that would make me as upset with you as you seem to think I’ll be.” He steps out of the doorway, leaving Alex more than enough room to walk inside. As the boy finally gives in and steps inside the house, realization dawns on Jack. “This...whatever is going on, does it have to do with that secret you were hiding from me last time I saw you?”

If he had known the question would cause Alex’s sudden descent into tears, he never would have asked.

Nodding, Alex allows his head to fall into his hands. The shivers that once shook his shoulders have been overthrown by sobs as the dam once holding him together shattered. “I really thought everything would be okay when I told my parents, but they didn’t react like I expected them to. They hate me, Jack. They hate me.” He sobs, legs barely keeping him upright.

There’s approximately 200 questions Jack wants to ask in that moment, but none of them seem particularly sensitive to the crying boy’s position, so instead he does what he does best: he closes the distance between his best friend and himself and pulls Alex into a tight bear hug. He doesn’t even speak, knowing any reassurances he attempts to give will likely fall on deaf ears. And when Alex’s legs finally give out, Jack falls to the ground with him, not even loosening his grip around Alex’s frame. “I’ve got you, okay? Just take some deep breaths, please.” He coos, rubbing circles into Alex’s soaked shirt.

“I can’t. Not until I tell you. God, I thought it would be better if I waited to tell you, but every time I think about you not knowing I get a little breathless. I suck at keeping secrets from you.” Alex tries to pass this off as a joke, but when his voice cracks and tears cut him off at the end, Jack feels nothing but heartbreak.

“So tell me.” Jack says, swallowing back the lump in his throat that both makes him feel like he’s going to cry and vomit at the same time.

And Jack’s pretty sure that when he finally does hear the truth, just for a second, his heart stops.

“I’m transgender, Jack.”

 Yeah, I’ve got mine too…

 “You’re...trans?” Jack fails epically at trying to keep the shock out of his voice, and he can only hope he hasn’t already scared Alex back into his (her?) shell.

There’s a pause as Alex sniffles and wipes away tears. “Yeah...I’m trans.”

“As in male-to-female?”

Alex nods. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for a while, and I think I’ve finally come to terms with myself and who I am. Like, I knew consciously that God was okay with me being...you know...a girl...but with the way the church tries to convince us otherwise, I couldn’t make myself be okay with it. I still don’t know if I’m really comfortable with this whole thing yet, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer, and when I made the decision somehow it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, like I could finally stand tall and proud again. This...this is me, and I thought my family would be happy for me. They’ve always been so supportive of everything and everyone and for them to not be alright with this - not be alright with me -” her voice catches in her throat and she suddenly finds it impossible to meet Jack’s now shining eyes, “They started paying Pastor Myers to our house every day to ‘convert’ me, Jack. No matter how many times I tell them I’m not broken or that I don’t want to change who I am, they refuse to listen. They think they know better and that this is something that can be cured with a few days of prayer. I can’t go back there, Jack. Please.” Alex’s voice has gone from being shrouded in fear to dripping with desperation. Given the fact that Jack hasn’t thrown her out of his house yet, or even withdrawn his arms from her body, she has to believe that he’s at the very least tolerant of the “transgender lifestyle,” as her parents had begun to call it.

“Alex,” Jack breathes, allowing his head to bend forward and rest on Alex’s shoulder. He hopes she can’t feel the hot tears coursing down his cheeks. “Of course you can stay here. You’re an adult, and my parents would love to have you.”

At the mention of parents, Alex’s breath falters. “But won’t they be upset with me, too? Our parents are best friends...don’t you think they would agree on something like this?”

Jack just barely allows laughter to bubble past his lips into the crook of Alex’s neck. “I have a second cousin who’s trans, and my parents were the first to congratulate him on coming out. You’ll have to remind me to introduce you to him sometime. His name’s Rian and he’s the best drummer you’ll ever meet. Not to mention my parents practically threw me a party when I came out to them.”

Now, Alex practically forces them apart so she can look Jack in the face and search for any signs of deception. “You had to come out?”

Smiles are being planted on both of the teens’ faces as Jack responds. “Yeah, I came out to my family about a year ago. I haven’t really told anyone because...well, you see why. But I’m bisexual, in case you were wondering.” Alex is quiet, unsure of how to answer. Jack seems to get it, though, not prodding her for her new opinions forming about Jack. He remembers after he came out, even though it was received well, the last thing he wanted to do was “talk about it.” By the time he had worked up the courage to be open about his sexuality, it was old news to him, a part of his personality that didn’t require any more discussion than any other aspect of himself.

 I don’t care about what you did, I only care about what we do…

 “You’re soaking wet.” Jack continues when it’s clear Alex is letting the conversation on that particular topic die. He lets her go and purposely ignores the pout Alex gives in response. “Hang here a second.” he says, running upstairs towards his bedroom.

When Jack returns a minute later, Alex has just barely managed to get on her feet. Jack holds out a bundle of pink and white cloth, leading her to raise an eyebrow. “Here. These are some of May’s older clothes. I don’t think she wears them anymore, and they might be a little tight on you, but they should fit. I thought even though we’re the same size, given the situation, you might be more comfortable in them.” Jack explains, practically forcing them into Alex’s arms.

Alex’s tears had been beginning to taper off, but this gesture does nothing but bring them back full force. This time, she is the one to initiate the hug between the two. She lets the clothes fall between them as she practically squeezes the breath out of her favorite person in the entire world. Cringing every time a whimper or sob escapes her mouth, she buries her head into Jack’s shoulder until she can find her self-control.

“Are you okay, Alex?” Jack whispers as the cries quiet down again.

The pause lasts so long that just before he gets an answer, he begins to think Alex didn’t hear him. “Would you mind if I asked you to call me something different?” The girl asks hesitantly. Even though she’s right there, Jack still has to strain to hear her. “I know Alex is a gender neutral name and all, but whenever I hear my name, I always want it to be more...feminine, I guess. I think it might have something to do with gender dysphoria, personally.” She rambles on longer than necessary. Jack thinks it might be because she’s afraid of the answer she’ll get.

In response, Jack tightens his own grip in the embrace. “Just tell me what you want to be called, and I’ll try my best to remember.” Even though he’s trying to be nothing but supportive, he can tell his best friend is still holding back. She’s stiff in his arms, the nervousness and stress keeping her strung tight. “Something else is bothering you.” He murmurs.

She shrugs, not even trying to deny it. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s my job as your best friend to worry about everything that makes you upset. Please, talk to me.”

“Jack…” She warns, but he refuses to back down.

“Whatever you think is going to upset me, it won’t. I want to help you, Alex; I want to be here for you but I can’t if you don’t let me.”

Jack just knows that Alex bites her lip before she answers. “That’s it, though. This whole thing...I’m going to change, Jack. I’m going to change a lot. I don’t like who I am, plain and simple. This is a chance to recreate myself. And what if,” her voice catches in her throat. “What if when I do change, you don’t want to be here for me? What if I become so different that you don’t like me anymore?”

“That’s not going to happen.” Jack scoffs. The idea that he would ever not care about Alex is absolutely absurd in his mind.

“You don’t know that!” Her voice rises.

“Yes, I do.” Jack soothes. He cuts her off when she opens her mouth again. “Shut up and let me talk.” Alex rolls her eyes, but allows him to continue uninterrupted. “Nothing you do is going to change who you are to me. You’re my favorite person in the world, okay? I literally couldn’t care less about your gender. I don’t care what your parents or my parents or the church or even God says. All that matters to me is that you’re safe and happy. And besides, it’s not like because you realizing you’re trans affects your personality. You’re still the same person I met when we were five who taught me my first English swear words. You’ll just wear thongs instead of boxers.”

Alex isn’t really sure why the end of Jack’s speech surprises her so much. His sense of humor has always been on the innappropriate side. Holding back her laughter, she slaps his back where her hands had been resting previously. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, too bad you’re stuck with me, especially after that amazingly heartfelt speech.” He brags. Even though he’s joking, Alex can hear the sincerity in them. Jack’s told her he’s not going anywhere anytime soon, and despite her insecurities, she decides not to fight him. “And now that that’s been settled, you can tell me what I should start calling you.”

He can feel Alex smile against his shirt. “I don’t want to make it even harder for people than it already is, so I was thinking something simple like Alexis or Alexandria. What do you think?”

The boy can’t help but feel excited by his best friend’s excitement. “I like whichever you like best. I do have to say I might be a little partial to Alexandria, though. It’s prettier and less common. Most girls with that name just go by Alex, anyways.”

Lifting her head, Alexandria nods in agreement. “Alexandria it is, then.” She replies, smiling in satisfaction.

 Dirty laundry...looks good on you.

 “I should probably change. We’ll both get pneumonia if I wear this for much longer and you continue to hug me like this.” She laughs, pointing out the fact that Jack has yet to remove his hands from around her waist.

Jack shrugs, joining in on her happiness. “Worth it.” He pulls her even closer to him for emphasis.

“But if we’re both sick, who’s going to take care of me?” Alexandria whines, putting a hand over her forehead as if she’s about to faint.

“May makes the best chicken soup, I swear. If I pout for long enough, I’m pretty sure I could even get her to spoon-feed us. What more than that do you need?”

“Hmm,” Alexandria pretends to think. “I guess there is nothing more important than a good bowl of chicken soup…” She allows herself to relax again in Jack’s arms.

“You’re exactly right. All we’ll have to do is hang out in my room and watch some of those musicals you love.” Alexandria introduced the first musical she ever fell in love with, Hairspray, to Jack when they were in seventh grade. Since then, it’s a tradition for them to watch musicals together, even though Alexandria quotes every word of them verbatim and Jack pretends to hate every second of them, although he sings nearly every tune under his breath.

At the mention of a musical, Alexandria’s eyes go alight. “Oooh, can we watch Heathers again? We haven’t seen it in ages!”

“Only if you sing the duet with me in Dead Girl Walking!” Jack winks.

It may only be a joke when Jack says it, but when Alexandria replies with a sultry “you got it, J.D.,” and gives him a quick kiss, Jack sends up a prayer that Alexandria changes out of her wet, clingy clothes before they both reach his room.

The lyrics to Dead Girl Walking from Heathers the musical, in which Jack would be JD and Alex(andria) is Veronica in this instance.

[calvincelebuski]

Best Chef USA (reupload)

I deleted this so I could submit it to a magazine then realized it was too long for said magazine.

Recently, CNN introduced a new network, CNN Lifestyle. On this less-news-focused channel, reality shows such as “Lasting Love,” in which a newlywed couple is locked in a dimly lit, windowless room for six months and they are not allowed contact with anyone except each other, “Doing Time,” in which college students are separated into two groups, prisoners and prison guards and hilarious antics ensue, and “Where There be Dragons?” in which participants are blinded and thrown from a moving vehicle in the middle of a nature reserve on the island of Komodo are aired. The undisputed breakout hit on the network is “Best Chef USA,” a cooking competition show filmed on a cruise ship in international waters. Some critics argue that the success of this otherwise formulaic show is due almost entirely to an episode that aired last month. Nearly every major news program covered the episode, especially the programs aired on CNN, many of which devoted five straight months of programming to talking about it exclusively. It has been called one of the most controversial, disgusting, horrifying, culturally insensitive, and inhumane events in the history of television and many analysts and fans speculate that it will be a turning point in the history of reality TV.

The episode began, as most do, with the announcer saying, “Previously on Best Chef USA,” followed by a disorienting, fast-paced series of statements and reaction shots from the previous episode.

“He did what?”

“Todays featured ingredient is the humble banana.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“This is a disaster.”

“I can’t find my eggs.”

“Alright, I’m putting a pizza in the oven.”

“If you go home, I’ll eat my toes.”

“This is a disaster.”

Then a much longer clip was shown. There was something that had happened last week that the producers had told the editor to emphasize.

In the Best Chef Kitchen, Kevin and Mary stood before the judges’ table. Their dishes had been deemed the two worst of that episode. The five other contestants stood behind them. Behind the other contestants were the ten cooking stations that they used to prepare their dishes. The stations were set up in five rows of two, all facing towards the front of the room at the judges’ table. Everyone in the room who didn’t already know which of the two would be eliminated waited anxiously to find out. The three judges, Dan Stevenson, Less Famous Chef #1, and Less Famous Chef #2, looked at each other and then Dan looked at Kevin. “Kevin,” Dan said, “You’ve been eliminated. Please lay down your Kitchenaid Classic Nylon Slotted Turner.”

“I understand. I would have made the same choice,” said Mary, “for my parents, to make them proud.” She knew that the more she brought up her recently deceased parents, the more sympathy she would get from the audience, which would translate into support from the producers.

Kevin walked to the judges’ table and placed his spatula in the center. Then he turned around to exit the room, but on his way out he slipped on a banana peel, causing him to yell out “whoa,” throw his arms up into the air, and fall over. In post-production, the sound of a slide whistle was added. On his way down, he hit his head on the corner of a cooking station. His skull split open and the corner of the cooking station found its way inside. Blood came gushing out and a small amount of his brain came out as well. He was dead before he hit the ground.

One of the contestants, Jenny, said “This is a disaster.” The theme music began to play and the introduction was shown.

“Six chefs remain, all competing for some money, a handshake, and the title of Best Chef USA.”

The contestants were all shown one by one. They smiled and folded their arms. Each was accompanied by The Best Chef USA logo, fire against a black background, and his or her name and a brief description read by the announcer.

“Mary, a slightly overweight fifty-five-year-old with dead parents that she will stop at nothing to impress.”

“Victor, an intimidatingly handsome thirty-five-year old who you should hate with all of your being.”

“Kelsey, an attractive but non-threatening eighteen-to-thirty-four-year-old with blonde-dyed-hair.”

“Hank, a thirty-six-year-old man’s man who never goes anywhere without his trusty cowboy hat and sunglasses.”

“Louise, a forty-two-year-old Danish immigrant to the United States with dreams of opening her own restaurant.”

“Jenny.”

The intro ended and all of the competing chefs were shown sitting in a circle on the deck of the ship and looking at the ground. “This is a disaster,” Jenny said. The other chefs looked at her, slightly annoyed and also surprised. They had forgotten that she was still there.

“I ain’t never want to see someone’s body open up like that again,” Hank said, then he smiled and added, “unless it’s Kelsey’s sweet little p***y.”

Everyone looked at him. They were all completely disgusted and profoundly uncomfortable, none more so than Kelsey, who had never felt more unsafe in her life. Before the episode aired, however, the clip was edited together with another clip of everyone laughing. The producers had decided early on in the season that they couldn’t afford to make Hank the villain. He appealed to an important demographic: boyfriends and husbands of people who watch the show.

The screen cut to a confessional with Louise. “I can’t believe what happened to Kevin. He was just such a nice guy. That was such a terrible thing. I just-” Her eyes were welling up. She began to cry.

Although she didn’t hear it over her own sobbing, the producers were whispering to her from behind the camera, “Say it again but more Danish. Again, but more Danish. Say it like you just left Daneland.”

Then she looked into the camera and said, “and what the f**k is wrong with Ha-”

The screen cut to another confessional, this time with the producer-and-editor-designated villain, Victor. “What the f**k is wrong with Hank? Seriously. I really hope that *sshole gets what’s coming to him. I can’t stand that guy.” After this, he added, “No one here can,” but that was edited out in favor of a clip of him saying “And what’s up with Jenny? I don’t think I’ve heard her say anything other than ‘this is a disaster’ for the last few weeks.” The confessional was cut before he said, “I really hope she’s okay.”

The next confessional was with Jenny. “This is a disaster.”

After that was Hank. “I ain’t gonna apologize just for bein’ me. Yall should know I came here to win.” Instead of somehow connecting the two thoughts or saying something else or providing context, he tipped his cowboy hat, pulled his sunglasses down, smiled, and winked repeatedly until a producer told him to leave. Hank was from suburban Connecticut.

Mary went next. “Kevin is dead now, just like my parents. They died shortly before I came on this show, as I’ve said.” She had said it before in nearly every confessional. “Now I’m not only going to win this for them, I’m gonna win this for Kevin, who was like another parent to me even though he was thirty-three years younger than me. He had an old soul, that kid, and I can only hope he’s up there with Jesus and my parents in heaven.” She dabbed her eyes with a napkin, but there were no tears. “I just can’t deal with three people who were so important to me dying from such horrible, banana-peel-related deaths… Well four if you count cousin Louie, but that wasn’t my ba- never mind.”

Finally, Kelsey’s confessional was shown. What she actually said was “Hank is, like, such a creep. I really don’t feel safe around him. Does he think he’s funny or something? Why does he get away with all this stuff? Everyone here knows he’s a creep. Why hasn’t he been kicked off the ship?” but the confessional was edited to make her say, “Hank is, like, – funny or something?”

The confessionals were over and the contestants were all shown entering the Best Chef USA Kitchen. They all took their places standing in front of the cooking stations. Each had a small table to his or her right with knife on it. At the front of the room was a red curtain concealing that week’s featured ingredient. The host, Isabella Schell stepped out from behind the curtain. She was a slender brunette woman in a black dress who always seemed to have her right hand on her hip. Her mouth seemed to be stuck in a smile that always seemed pleasant at first, but, if anyone looked at it for too long, he or she became increasingly uncomfortable and almost got the feeling of staring into a void and that everything had suddenly, quietly become nothing. For this reason, long shots of her were rarely used. Whenever she spoke, she made broad gestures with her left hand and sometimes shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“Hello, chefs.” They all tried to avoid looking directly at her mouth. “Today we have a very special surprise. We will be cooking something that has never been cooked before on Best Chef USA.” Because this was the first season, this statement itself did not do anything for the chefs. “But before I introduce that, we have a very special guest judge for today’s proceedings.” She walked behind the curtain. After a few seconds she jumped out and shouted “Me.” The chefs were surprised, mainly because they had never seen her shout or jump before. She didn’t really care what their reactions were; she was getting paid extra for this either way and any anticlimax would be overshadowed by what was about to happen. “Now, then,” she said, “your ingredient for this week is…” the curtain behind her fell, revealing Kevin’s naked, lifeless, cured body hanging upside-down from meat hooks “… Kevin.”

The contestants stared at the corpse. The throat had been cut and the blood drained. The body had mostly been skinned, but the producers had chosen to leave the skin of the head and neck there to make it clear to any viewers who missed last week’s episode and tuned in late that he was no longer a part of the competition. At the request of standards and practices, his genitalia had been cut off.

Louise gasped and went pale. The other contestants suppressed their reactions. Each one of them thought to his or herself some variation of “I’m going to win this, no matter what.”

“In parts of Polynesia, human flesh prepared for consumption is referred to as ‘long pig’ because of its similarity to pork,” Isabella said. She didn’t actually know if this was true or what “Polynesia” was, but the producers told her to say it, so she did.

The screen cut to a confessional with Kelsey. “When I saw that we had to cook long pig, I was like ‘ew,’ but then I was like, ‘not ew’ ‘cause it’s just meat, you know?”

The screen cut back to the kitchen and the three usual judges, Dan Stevenson, Less Famous Chef #1, and Less Famous Chef #2, walked out and stood next to the body. Dan was a celebrity chef and owner of the renowned restaurant, Food for your Fat Fucking Face. He was beloved the world over and considered one of the top authorities on food and undeniably more famous than the other two judges. His face was a constant grimace and his forehead had more wrinkles in it than anyone else he had ever met. When he wasn’t talking, his teeth were almost always clenched, even when he was at his most relaxed.

Less Famous Chef #1, also called LFC#1 had an emaciated figure, a dirty beard, and a constant odor that never seemed to get any better, but he wasn’t always like that. He used to be a beloved celebrity chef as well and owned the restaurant Good Ingredients, Great Eats, but he lost everything when Dan chose to open a second Food for your Fat Fucking Face with dramatically reduced prices right next to Good Ingredients, Great Eats and do regular meet and greets and autograph signings at the new location. After Good Ingredients, Great Eats went out of business and LFC#1 went bankrupt he began living on the streets and eating scraps, pigeons, rats, stray cats and dogs, and whatever he found in trash cans and dumpsters, which, where he lived, was usually scraps, pigeons, rats, and stray cats and dogs. He lived in Connecticut. Gradually, the general public forgot that he had ever existed. When this happened, Dan changed his prices back to the way they were in the original location and stopped showing up at the second location.

Less Famous Chef #2 or LFC#2, unlike the other two, had never been famous or even particularly successful in any regard before the show started. He was added as the third judge because the producers couldn’t find any other famous or once-famous chefs who would work for as little money as LFC#1 and under the same conditions.

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but LFC#2 spoke first. “As a person of Polynesian descent, I just want to say that this is a very poor representation of my people’s culture. I’m here for this episode because I’m contractually obligated to be and I need the money, not because I’m okay with what’s happening.” This statement would be edited out before air. One of the sources of controversy for the episode would come from people of Polynesian descent saying that the episode was disrespectful, with LFC#2 in particular taking a lot of heat from his own people for seeming to be complicit in it. This controversy would briefly make Less Famous Chef #2 the most famous chef on the show.

Dan shot LFC#2 a dirty look, but LFC#2 couldn’t tell the difference between that and a normal look from Dan. Then Dan said, “As was said before, you will be cooking with the Polynesian ingredient, long pig. Just do whatever it is you normally do with pork.”

Isabella looked at the contestants and said, “Alright chefs, are you ready? Everyone grab your Victorinox 47508 3-¼-Inch Paring Knife.” She paused and then said, “Go.”

The contestants all grabbed the knives in front of them and, with the exception of Louise, ran over to Kevin’s body. Louise walked slowly, not sure if what she was seeing was really happening and desperately hoping that she was about to wake up. At the body, the contestants were all frantically trying to get the best cuts of meat. The cameraman struggled to get a good angle.

In the chaos, while Hank tried to avoid looking at or getting any cuts from the buttocks, taint, or general crotch area, someone bumped into him and his knife was pushed into his side. “Aw, s**t.”

“This is a disaster,” Jenny said when she saw the wound.

The cameraman made sure to get a good shot of it. Hank pulled it out and, blood flowing from the wound, continued cutting meat off of Kevin’s body, swearing the whole time.

When Louise got to the corpse, most of the other contestants were already gone. She wasn’t looking in that direction, but she saw them run by, could hear each individual footstep as they scurried back to their stations, and saw the trail of blood left by Hank. Almost all of the good cuts were gone. Even, the face skin, the eyes, the intestines, and some of the bones were missing. The ribs in particular looked like they had been violently ripped out. Pieces of flesh were hanging off of various places. She thought that maybe if she made a dish she had fond memories of it would take her mind off of what she was actually doing. She decided to make something from her youth, Flæskesteg. The producers were always telling her to make something Danish anyway. She started hyperventilating when she cut into the back of the neck.

Back at the stations, Mary was chopping the ribs into smaller segments when a cameraman approached her. “I’m making deconstructed ribs,” she said “It was one of my dead parents’ favorite dishes and I’m doing it to honor them.” Her parents never had deconstructed ribs.

“I’m making deconstructed pork chops,” Kelsey said. “It’s like, I don’t know, you know? NBD. JK I’m actually super stressed. I’ve never worked with pork or long pig before.” She forced herself to laugh a little. “How have I never worked with pork before? Pork chops are supposed to have eyes, right?” Kelsey was thirty-four.

“I may be bleeding a lot, but I ain’t out yet,” said Hank, struggling to speak. “I’m making deconstructed bacon.” He coughed. “That’s man food for all you at home.”

“I’m making deconstructed sausage.” Victor said. “I accidentally cut myself with the knife and some of my blood got in there, but it doesn’t seem like a big deal, you know, considering-”

A producer ran up to him and whispered in his ear, “Hey, I know this is short notice, but we’re sponsored by Crest. We’re gonna need you to integrate this into the dish.” He handed him a tube of toothpaste and left as quickly as he came.

“Uh,” said Victor

“This is a disaster,” said Jenny.

Kelsey banged her hand on the station and loudly said “Is it, Jenny? Is it a disaster? Is it a disaster like, like, everything else that you always say is a disaster?”

“Yes. I forgot to bring my cuts of meat back with me,” Jenny said.

“Oh, okay.” said Kelsey. She went back to cooking.

Louise had just finished rubbing salt onto her cuts of meat when she began to feel more and more nauseous. “I can’t do this,” she said and she threw up all over her station and her meat.

Then Dan started walking around and looking at everybody’s progress. He walked up to Victor and asked him, “What’s this and what are you using to make it?”

“I’m making deconstructed sausage and I’m using Kevin’s intestines and-”

“I’m sorry. You’re using what intestines?”

“Kevin’s, the featured-”

“Kevin the human being?”

“Uh. Well, yes.” Victor was confused.

Dan’s voice began to rise. “You’re cooking a human being? That is f**king disgusting.”

“But you knew about it. You were just over there talking about-”

Dan started to yell. “No wonder you’re the f**king villain this season. You’re cooking a human being and you’re disrespecting me, Dan f**king Stevenson.” He pointed to his own forehead. “Have you ever seen this many f**king forehead wrinkles? You’re disrespecting a man with more forehead wrinkles than you can even f**king count.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Victor said “Wait. I’m the villain?”

A producer came over and whispered in his ear. “So far, each of the other contestants has said something in confessionals that, in the right context, could be construed as negative about you and you’ve said things in confessionals that, in the right context, could be construed as negative about each of them.”

The other contestants looked at each other. They all had assumed that, if anyone was the villain, it was Hank.

Meanwhile, Hank, having lost a lot of blood, was struggling to finish his deconstructed bacon without falling over. “Just need to…” He dumped the separated fat and rind from the pan onto a plate. “There.” He passed out.

Mary was the only one besides the cameraman who saw this happen. Having determined that the ribs did not have enough meat on them, she had been trying to think of something else to add to the dish. When she was sure no one was looking, she approached Hank with a chef’s knife. After stomping on his head and kicking him a few times to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up, she pulled up his left pant leg and started cutting off his calf. A cameraman turned towards her just in time to capture all of this, but the clip didn’t make it to air. The producers wanted her to remain a likable character.

Louise had been curled up in the fetal position on the floor since she threw up. Finally, she got up and said, “I have to go. I have to leave,” and started to walk away. She heard someone walking towards her. A producer grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear, “You signed a contract.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Where do you think you’re going to go?”

She curled up in the fetal position on the floor again.

A few minutes later, the time was up. “All right, chefs, let’s see what you’ve got,” said Dan.

The judges all sat down at the table. From left to right, the order was Dan Stevenson, Less Famous Chef #1, Less Famous Chef #2, and Isabella Schell. The first person to submit his dish was Victor. “I made deconstructed sausa-”

“Made from Kevin, you sick f**k,” said Dan.

“Well everybody made stuff from-” Victor began.

“Shut up.” Dan grabbed the dish out of his hands.

Victor, hoping to stop being presented as the villain, decided not to say anything back to him.

After sampling the dish, Dan said, “Is this toothpaste?” A producer whispered something in his ear. “Because it’s delicious,” Dan continued. “I love Crest Complete Whitening Plus Scope. That being said, the rest of the dish is terrible.”

He passed the dish on to LFC#1, who ate everything on the plate and yelled “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

“Wait, but we-” LFC#2 started.

“It’s fine,” Isabella said. “I just ate and I don’t actually know anything about food. I just know how to host.”

Next, Kelsey was called up to submit her dish. “I made deconstructed pork chops.”

Dan sampled the dish. “It’s very nice,” he said. “The eyes add an interesting taste and texture that I don’t think I’ve ever had in a pork chop, before. But I’m a little disappointed at the lack of hashtags and emojis. That’s what you kids like, right?”

“Yes,” Kelsey replied.

He passed the plate along to LFC#1, who ate the whole thing and yelled, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

After that, Jenny was called up. “I forgot to make something,” she said.

“That’s fine, we just won’t consider eliminating you,” said Dan.

“This isn’t a disaster.”

LFC#2 and LFC#1 looked at each other. LFC#2 was confused and frustrated by Dan’s decision and LFC#1 was sad that there would be one less dish to eat.

Mary was called up next. “I made deconstructed ribs,” she said, “just like my parents used to love.”

“What’s this extra meat?” Dan asked, pointing to Hank’s calf-meat.

“Just a little something special my parents used to make for me,” she said. Her parents never made her human calf-meat.

Dan sampled the dish and said, “This may be the best dish you’ve made so far. You’ve really come back strong after last week’s disappointment.”

LFC#1 grabbed the dish, ate everything on it and yelled, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

Next, it was Hank’s turn, but he was dead, so an intern dragged his body up to the judges’ table, presented his dish and said, “It looks like deconstructed bacon.”

Dan sampled it and, addressing Hank’s corpse, said, “It’s very simple, basic, even, but there is something to it that can’t be denied.”

LFC#1 grabbed everything off the plate, shoved it into his mouth and, with his mouth full, said, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

The intern dragged Hank’s body back to the cooking station

Finally, it was time for Louise to present her dish. She was no longer in the fetal position, crying. Now, she was lying on her back, looking at the ceiling. She didn’t care that Kevin was dead anymore. She didn’t care that they were assigned to cook him. She didn’t care that she had sliced into his neck and ruined one of her favorite childhood dishes for herself. She had lost all feeling and all desire for anything. The fifth time her name was called, she stood up and, with an expressionless face, scraped the raw meat and vomit onto a plate. She walked up to the judges and dropped the dish onto the table in front of Dan, causing some of the vomit to splash onto both of them.

“What is this?” Dan asked.

“Neck-meat and throw up,” Louise said.

Dan looked at her for a bit and said, “Tell me, if most of the food on my plate is already digested, why should I put in the effort to digest it myself?”

Louise shrugged.

LFC#1 grabbed the plate, ate the meat, licked the vomit off, and yelled, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

After Louise walked back to her station, the next segment began. It was the part where the judges talked about which two contestants should be considered for elimination and the contestants pretended not to hear them. Although the other judges were allowed to name candidates, it was Dan and the producers that ultimately decided who wouldn’t make it to next week.

“Louise and Victor, definitely,” Dan said. “One of them threw up and one of them cooked a human being.”

“Well, every contestant cooked a human being,” LFC#2 said. Dan looked at him and bared his teeth, but he continued anyway. “And I think Jenny should be considered too.”

“Why’s that?” asked Dan in a more aggressive tone than usual.

“She didn’t even hand in a dish,” said LFC#2, slightly surprised at Dan’s response.

LFC#1 nodded in agreement, but Dan didn’t see it.

Dan looked at the table took a deep breath and then looked at the two other judges. “Tell me, excluding the numbers, what’s the name you both share?”

LFC#1 was silent. LFC#2 hesitated, and then said “Less Famous Chef?”

“That’s right,” Dan said, “and who was the one who made both of you change your names in exchange for the privilege of being a judge on this show with me?”

“You did.” LFC#2 said.

“And out of all of us at this table, who gets the biggest paycheck? Not only the one with the highest number on it, but physically the largest?”

“You do.” LFC#2 said.

“Why is it that I was allowed to demand that both of you have your names legally changed? Why was I allowed to demand the largest amount of money? Why was I allowed to demand that the means by which I get that money be so big that it takes both of you and eight interns to carry it into the bank for me?” His voice was growing louder. “Why was I allowed to demand that you not use vehicles or animals when delivering the check, but have to walk all the way from the dock to the bank on foot?” He was practically screaming now. “Why on God’s green s**tstained c*mbucket called Earth was I allowed to demand that ten additional interns pull me in a chariot alongside the check to make sure that nothing goes wrong and that if something does go wrong, that whichever of you f**kers is at fault be stoned half to death and have your pay reduced by a third and have that amount be added to my next paycheck? Why was I allowed to demand so many f**king interns? Why do I have more wrinkles on my forehead than you? Why am I so much more important than you?” After a brief silence, he screamed, “They’re not f**king trick questions. All of them have the same simple f**king answer.”

“Because you’re the most famous,” LFC#2 half-whispered, avoiding eye contact.

“And so who should get to choose who gets eliminated and who stays?”

LFC#2 looked at the ground. He knew the producers had final say, but wishing to avoid further conflict and name-changes, said “You…”

Dan yelled as loud as he ever had before, “You’re G*ddamn, motherf**king, weasel-c*cksucking, Tyrannosaurus-s**t-eating right. We can’t negatively judge a dish we haven’t even f**king eaten can we? What the f**k kind of judging is that?” His voice returned to normal volume and he looked at LFC#1, who was cowering under the table, and he patted him on the back. “Sorry if I scared you, Less Famous Chef #1. That was directed at Less Famous Chef #2. You’ve been a good boy. You can come out.”

LFC#2 chose not to bring up the fact that Dan had negatively judged Louise’s dish without eating it.

The surviving contestants, excluding Louise, shuffled uncomfortably.

All of that made it to air.

Dan said, “Louise, Victor, get over here.”

They did as they were told

The four judges looked at each other, then Dan looked at Victor. “Victor,” he said, “you’re-”

He stopped when a producer ran up and whispered in his ear, “Wait until the last few episodes, we need a villain.”

“-not eliminated. Louise is. Please lay down your Kitchenaid Classic Nylon Slotted Turner, Louise.”

Louise walked up to the table and dropped the spatula on it, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, narrowly avoiding the banana peel left by Mary. At this point in the broadcast, the credits rolled.

“Next Week on Best Chef USA”

“This is the second week in a row that someone has not handed in a dish,” Dan said.

The camera panned to Hank’s decaying corpse.

The screen then cut to Jenny and Mary standing in front of the judges’ table.

“Jenny,” Dan said, “You’ve been eliminated. Please lay down your Kitchenaid Classic Nylon Slotted Turner.”

“This is a disaster.”

[readingfordummies]

Witches of East End - Chapter One

Cat Scratch Fever

Freya Beauchamp swirled the champagne in her glass so that the bubbles at the top of the lip burst one by one until there were none left. This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life - but all she felt was agitated.

This was a problem, because whenever Freya became anxious things happened - like a waiter suddenly tripping on the Aubusson rug and plastering the front of Constance Bigelow's dress with hors d'oeuvres. Or the normally gloomy dog's nonstop barking and howling drowning out the violin quartet. Or the hundred-year-old Bordeaux discovered from the Gardiner family cellar tasting like Three Buck Chuck - sour and cheap.

"What's the matter?" her older sister, Ingrid, asked, coming up by Freya's elbow. With her stiff modeling-school posture and prim, impeccable clothes, Ingrid did not rattle easily, but she looked uncharacteristically nervous that evening and picked at a lock of hair that had escaped her tight bun. She took a sip from her wineglass and grimaced. "This wine has a witch's curse all over it," she whispered, as she placed it on a nearby table.

"It's not me! I swear!" Freya protested. It was the truth, sort of. She couldn't help it if her magic was accidentally seeping out, but she had done nothing to encourage it. She knew the consequences and would never risk something so important. Freya could feel Ingrid attempting to explore through the underlayer, to peer into her future for an answer to her present distress, but it was useless. Freya knew how to keep her lifeline protected. The last thing she needed was an older sister who could predict the consequences of her impulsive actions.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk?" Ingrid asked gently. "I mean, everything's happened so fast, after all."

For a moment Freya considered spilling all, but decided against it. It was too difficult to explain. And even if dark warnings were in the air - the dog's howling, the "accidents," the smell of burnt flowers inexplicably filling the room - nothing was going to happen. She loved Bran. She truly did. It wasn't a lie, not at all like one of those lies she told herself all the time, like ‘this is the last drink of the evening’, or ‘I'm not going to set the bitch's house on fire’. Her love for Bran was something she felt in the core of her bones; there was something about him that felt exactly like home, like sinking into a down comforter into sleep: safe and secure.

No. She couldn't tell Ingrid what was bothering her. Not this time. The two of them were close. They were not only sisters and occasional rivals but the best of friends. Yet Ingrid would not understand. Ingrid would be outraged, and Freya did not need her older sister's disapproval right now. "Go away, Ingrid, you're scaring away my new friends," she said, as she accepted the insincere congratulations from another group of female well-wishers.

The women had come to celebrate the engagement, but mostly they were there to gawk, and to judge and to giggle. All the eligible ladies of North Hampton, who not too long ago had harbored not-so-subtle dreams of becoming Mrs. Gardiner themselves. They had all come to the grand, refurbished mansion to pay grudging homage to the woman who had won the prize, the woman who had snatched it away before the game had even begun, before some of the contestants were aware that the starting pistol had been shot.

When had Bran Gardiner moved into town? Not so long ago and yet already everyone in North Hampton knew who he was; the handsome philanthropist was the subject of rumor and gossip at horse shows, preservation society gatherings, and weekend regattas that were the staples of country life. The history of the Gardiner family was all everyone talked about, how the family had disappeared many years ago, although no one was sure exactly when. No one knew where they had gone or what happened to them, only that they were back now, their fortune more impressive than ever.

Freya didn't need to be able to read minds to know what the North Hampton hens were thinking. Of course the minute Bran Gardiner arrived in town he would choose to marry a teenage barmaid. He seemed different, but he's just like the whole lot of them. Men. Thinking with their little heads as usual. What on earth does he see in her other than the obvious? Bartender, Freya wanted to correct them. Barmaid was a serving wench with heaving breasts carrying jugs of beer to peasants seated at unbalanced wooden tables. She worked at the North Inn, and their gourmet brew came only in pints and had hints of prune, vanilla, and oak from the Spanish casks in which it was stored, thank you very much.

She was indeed all of nineteen (although the driver's license that allowed her to pour drinks said she was twenty-two). She was possessed of an eye-catching, lively beauty rare in a time when thin mannequins were the peak of female beauty. Freya did not look like she was starving, or could use a good meal; on the contrary, Freya looked like she got everything in the world she ever wanted, and then some. She looked, for lack of a better word, ripe. Sex seemed to ooze from every pore, to slither from every inch of her glorious curves. Small and petite, she had unruly strawberry blond hair the exact shade of a golden peach, cheekbones that models would kill for, a tiny little nose, large, catlike green eyes that slanted just a little at the tip, the smallest waist made for wearing the tightest corsets, and, yes, breasts. No one would ever forget her breasts - in fact, they were all the male population looked at when they looked at Freya.

Her face might well be unrecognizable to them, but not so the twins, as Freya liked to call them - they were not too big, they did not display that heavy voluptuousness that ex-boyfriends called "fun bags," which sounded to Freya too much like "fat bags"; no, hers were exquisite: perfectly round with a natural lift and a creamy lusciousness. She never wore a bra either. Which, come to think of it, was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

She had met Bran at the Museum Benefit. The fundraiser for the local art institution was a springtime tradition. Freya had made quite an entrance. When she arrived, there was a problem with a strap on her dress, it had snapped, and the sudden exposure had caused her to trip on her heels - and right into the arms of the nearest seersucker-wearing gentleman. Bran had gotten what amounted to a free show, and on their first meeting, had copped a feel - accidentally, of course, but still. It happened. She had fallen - literally - out of her dress and into his arms. On cue, he had fallen in love. What man could resist?

It was Bran's serious embarrassment that had endeared him to her immediately. He had turned as red as the chrysanthemum on his lapel. "Oh god, sorry. Are you all right . . . do you need a . . . ?" And then he was just silent and staring, and it was then that Freya realized the entire front part of her spaghetti-strap dress had fallen almost to her waist, and was in danger of slipping off entirely - which was another problem, as Freya also did not wear any underwear.

"Let me - " And then he tried to step away but still keep her covered, which is when the hand-on-boob happened, as he had tried to pull up the slippery fabric, but instead his warm hand rested on her pale skin. "Oh god . . ." he gasped. Jesus, Freya thought, you'd think he'd never even gotten to first base with the way he was acting! And quick as a wink - because really, this whole experience just seemed to torture the poor guy - Freya's dress was back in its rightful place, safety pin secured, cleavage appropriately covered (if barely - nudity seemed a natural development given the deep cut of the neckline), and Freya said, in that natural, off-the-cuff way of hers, "I'm Freya. And you are . . . ?"

Branford Lyon Gardiner, of Fair Haven and Gardiners Island. A prosperous and generous philanthropist, he had made the largest contribution to the museum that summer, and his name was highly featured on the program. Freya had lived in North Hampton long enough to understand that the Gardiners were special even among the old and wealthy families in this very northern and easternmost part of Long Island, which wasn't Long Island at all (definitely not Long-guy-land, origin of big hair and bigger malls and more New Jersey than New York), but a place of another dimension entirely.

This little village wobbling at the edge of the sea was not only the last bastion of the old guard, it was a throwback to a different time, a previous era. It might have all the stuff of a classic East End area, with its perfect golf clubs and boxy hedgerows, but it was more than a summer playground, as most of its townsfolk lived in town year-round. Its charming tree-lined streets were dotted with mom-and-pop grocery stores, its Fourth of July parade featured wagon-pulled firetrucks, and its neighbors were far from strangers, they were friends who came to visit and sip tea on the porch. And if there was something just a bit odd about North Hampton - if, for instance, Route 27, which connected the moneyed villages along the coast, did not appear to have an exit into town, or if no one outside of the place had ever heard of it ("North Hampton? Surely you mean East Hampton, no?") - no one seemed to mind or notice very much. Residents were used to the back country roads, and the fewer tourists to clog the beaches the better.

That Bran Gardiner had been long absent from the social scene did not distract from his popularity. Any accidents displayed were quickly excused or forgotten. During the rebirth of his house, for instance, Fair Haven would be dark for days, but one bright morning the colonnade would appear completely restored, or else overnight the house would suddenly have new windows or a new roof. It was all a mystery since no one could remember seeing a construction crew anywhere near the property. It was as if the house were coming alive on its own, shaking its eaves, shining with new paint, all by itself.

Now it was the Sunday of the Memorial Day holiday, and what better way to kick off another calm summer in the Hamptons than with a celebration at the newly restored mansion? The tennis courts shined in the distance, the view of the whitecaps was unparalleled, the buffet tables heaved under the weight of the extravagant spread: chilled lobsters as big and heavy as bowling balls, platters of fresh, sweet corn, pounds and pounds of caviar served in individual tiny crystal bowls with mother-of-pearl spoons (no accoutrements, no blini, no creme fraiche to dilute the flavor). The unexpected rainstorm that morning had put a little obstacle on the plans and the party had been moved to the ballroom and out of the crisp white tents that stood empty and abandoned by the cliffside.

That Bran was thirty years old, smart, accomplished, unmarried, and rich beyond imagination made him the perfect catch, the biggest fish in the bridal pond. But what most people did not know, or care to know, was that most of all, he was kind. When Freya met him, she thought he was the kindest man she had ever met. She felt it - kindness seemed to emanate from him, like a glow around a firefly. The way he had been so concerned about her, his embarrassment, his stammer - and when he had recovered enough, he had brought her a drink and never quite left her side all evening, hovering protectively.

There he was now, tall and dark-haired, wearing an ill-fitting blazer, shuffling through the party and accepting the well wishes of his friends with his customary shy smile. Bran Gardiner was not at all charming or knowledgeable or witty or worldly like the men from his background, who enjoyed zooming about the unpaved streets in their latest Italian sports cars. In fact, for an heir, he was awkward and self-conscious and Talented Mr. Ripley-ish - as if he were an outsider to an elite circle and not the very center of the circle itself.

"There you are." He smiled as Freya reached to straighten his bow tie. She noticed the sleeves of his shirt were worn, and when he put an arm around her she smelled just the slightest hint of body odor. Poor boy, she knew he had been dreading this party a little. He wasn't good with crowds.

"I thought I'd lost you," he said. "Are you all right? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm perfect," she said, smiling at him and feeling the butterflies in her stomach begin to calm.

"Good." He kissed her forehead and his lips were soft and warm on her skin. "I'm going to miss you." He fiddled nervously with the monogram ring he wore on his right hand. It was one of his little tics, and Freya gave his hand a squeeze. Bran was traveling to Copenhagen tomorrow on behalf of the Gardiner Foundation, the family's nonprofit project dedicated to promoting humanitarian charities around the globe. He would be gone almost the entire summer. Maybe that was why she was feeling so jittery. She didn't want to be without him now that they had found each other.

The first night they met, he hadn't even asked her out, which annoyed Freya at first until she realized it was because he was simply too modest to think she would be interested in him. Instead he showed up the next night during her shift at the Inn, and the next night, and every night after that, just staring at her with those big brown eyes of his, with a kind of yearning, until finally, she had to ask him out - she could see that if she left it up to him, they would never get anywhere. And that was that. They were engaged four weeks later, and this was the happiest day of her life.

Or was it?

There he was again. The problem. Not Bran, not the sweet man she had vowed to love forever - he had been stolen away by the crowd and was now in the middle of chatting up her mother. His dark head was bent over Joanna's white one, the two of them looking like the best of friends.

No. He was not the problem at all.

The problem was the boy staring at her from across the room and from all the way down the length of the great hall. Freya could feel his eyes on her, like a physical caress. Killian Gardiner. Bran's younger brother, twenty-four years old, and looking at her as if she were on sale to the highest bidder and he was more than willing to pay the price.

Killian was home after a long holiday abroad. Bran had told Freya he hadn't seen his brother in many years, as he moved around a lot and traveled the globe. She wasn't sure where he had just come from - Australia, was it? Or Alaska? The only thing that mattered was that when they were introduced, he had looked at her with those startling blue-green eyes of his, and she had felt her entire body tingle. He was, for lack of a better word, beautiful, with long dark lashes framing those piercing eyes, sharp-featured with a hooked nose and a square jaw. He looked like he was always ready to be photographed: brooding, sucking on a cigarette, like a show idol in a French New Wave film.

He had been perfectly kind, well-mannered, and had embraced her as a sister, and to her credit, Freya's face had betrayed none of the chaos she felt. She had accepted his kiss on her cheek with a modest smile, had even been able to engage him in the usual cocktail conversation. The soggy weather, the proposed wedding date, how he found North Hampton (she couldn't remember, she might not have been listening: she had been too mesmerized by the sound of his voice - a low rumble like a late-night disk jockey). Then finally someone else had wanted his attention and she was free to be alone - and that was when all the small but awful things at the party began to happen.

Cat scratch fever. That was all it was, wasn't it? Like an itch you couldn't quite reach, couldn't soothe, couldn't satisfy. Freya felt as if she were on fire - that at any moment she would spontaneously combust and there would be nothing left of her but ashes and diamonds. Stop looking at him, she told herself. This is insane, just another of your bad ideas. Even worse than the time you brought the gerbil back to life (she'd gotten an earful from her mother for that one, lest someone on the Council found out, not to mention that zombie pets were never a good idea). Go outside. Get some fresh air. Return to the party. She glided over to the vase of pink cabbage roses, trying to rid her whirling emotions by inhaling their scent. It didn't work. She could still feel him wanting her.

God damnit, did he have to be so good-looking? She thought she was immune to that kind of thing. Such a cliche: tall, dark, and handsome. She hated cocky, arrogant boys who thought women lived to service their uncontrollable sexual appetites. He was the worst offender of the type - screeching up in his Harley, and that ridiculous hair of his - that messy, shaggy, bangs-in-your-eyes kind of thing, with that sexy, flirtatious smolder: but there was something else. An intelligence. A knowingness in his eyes. It was as if, when he looked at her, he knew exactly what she was and what she was like. A witch. A goddess. Someone not of this earth but not apart from it either. A woman to be loved and feared and adored.

She looked up from the vase and found him still staring directly at her. It was as if he were waiting the whole time, for just this moment. He nodded his head, motioning to a nearby door. Truly? Right here? Right now? In the powder room? Was that not just another cliche that went with the motorcycle and the bad-boy attitude? Was she really going to go into the bathroom with another man - her fiancé’s brother, for god's sake - at her engagement party?

She was. Freya walked, as if in a daze, toward the said meeting. She closed the door behind her and waited. The face that stared at her from the mirror was excited and radiant. She was so happy she was delirious, so excited she didn't know what to do with herself. Where was he? Making her wait. Killian Gardiner knew what to do with lustful women, it seemed.

The doorknob turned, and he walked in, smooth as a knife, locking the door behind him. His lips curled into a smile, a panther with his prey. He had won.

"Come here," she whispered. She had made her choice. She didn't want to wait a moment longer.

Outside the door, in the middle of the party, the cabbage roses burst into flame.