#the edit came to me in a dream (bored in my worst class)

[tricoufamily]

cahill.

[nicknellie]

@millie-andrews-rose requested: Alex gets put with a bully on a paired project, so Willie goes with him when they work on it to help him stay calm. Willie and the boy bond over skateboarding and Alex gets jealous, causing an argument between them. The boy then apologises to Alex for being so awful. Alex and Willie make up and it ends with their first “I love you”s. (This was edited/simplified just to make it shorter.)

This is the longest oneshot I’ve ever written and I absolutely love it. I really hope I’ve done you proud, especially since this was such a great prompt! Thanks!

And It’s Not My Fault

Alex adored projects. He loved having something big to focus on, a goal to work towards, something to keep him preoccupied. Any big time-consuming task was a lot of fun for him whether it was a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle or work for school worth a large part of his grade. There was, however, a single word that could be placed before the ‘project’ that would instantly transform it from Alex’s dream to his worst nightmare.

The word wasn’t ‘group’ as it would be for a lot of people. Alex liked group projects almost as much as he liked solo projects. Group projects were what he did with Julie, Luke, and Reggie almost every day, jamming in the studio and working towards having a complete set list in time for an upcoming gig. Group projects were what he occasionally did with Carrie and the girls of Dirty Candi when he would assist them with some choreography. Group projects were even tolerable with people Alex didn’t know well because he knew how they were supposed to work and usually he could convince everyone to do their fair share. So group projects were fine.

The word the ruined any chance of Alex having fun was ‘paired’.

Paired projects were the worst type of project. They always spelled trouble and Alex had never got a decent grade on one in his whole school career. It never felt like his fault, but when he thought about it he was the common denominator in every nightmare paired project scenario, so he had long ago decided that there must be something about paired projects that he was simply doing wrong.

Maybe it was that he wasn’t good one-on-one. Alex had always functioned better in groups (albeit small ones that couldn’t be overwhelming) and being face to face with just one person could be stressful. It was fine if it was a friend, and more than fine if it was his boyfriend, but when alone with a stranger Alex found himself running out of things to say and having nowhere to turn when the awkward silences set in. Or if he didn’t run out of things to say he would eventually say the wrong thing and that would start an entirely new alarm bell ringing in his mind as he panicked about accidentally being offensive. Overall, conversations without his emotional support band could be frustrating at best and somewhat dangerous at worst.

Perhaps it was true that Alex was the link in all these situations, but what he had always failed to consider was the fact that he had never been paired in a project with somebody who was actually willing to try and do well, which perhaps was a more prominent reason he’d never received a decent grade.

Alex had been having a good day. He was feeling bright for no reason in particular – needlessly optimistic days like this were his favourite, even though they usually were followed by needlessly pessimistic days as all those bad feelings caught up with him at once. Still, by now Alex had learnt to clutch that senseless joy while it was there and relish it before it was gone.

The joy was gone by noon.

“Alright, class,” Ms Osbourne said, clapping her hands to gain the class’s attention.

Alex hated his English classes. While he was good at English and rather enjoyed the subject itself, his class was rowdy and unruly and made it difficult to concentrate, while Ms Osbourne was a teacher so strict that if someone so much as thought about breaking a rule she would be able to sniff it out like a dog – but her bark was worse than her bite, and while she would shout an unnatural amount she rarely doled out punishments. The combination made for a lesson that was purely people shouting and no work being done.

The class quieted to a steady hum of chatter which was usually as silent as Ms Osbourne could get it. She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes, and continued. “Seeing as the end of the semester is coming up, I’m going to be setting you a project that will be worth forty percent of your grade. Essentially, it’s your final exam on our study of Macbeth.”

Alex perked up a little. He had been assigned projects for a lot of classes, but English projects were always the most enjoyable – they involved a lot of writing, which most people hated, but Alex found therapeutic; the only downside was that the source material was usually dreadfully dull. Still, Alex suddenly found himself looking forward to it.

And then she had to go and ruin it.

“I will tell you your assigned partners at the end of the lesson.”

Alex felt himself deflate and heaved a sigh. It had been too good to be true. Now he was going to be stuck on some boring project with a random student from his awful English class because he had no friends in this lesson and it was going to be horrible. It was all he could do to not let his head fall onto the table and scream in furious defeat.

It was on his mind all lesson. Who he was going to be with, what specific things the project would be on, how he could get out of it. His mind was buzzing with questions, building up energy that released itself by making his leg bounce up and down. Several times he found himself tapping out a rhythm on the table like it was his drumkit, his bouncing leg acting as if it was pounding the bass drum, and he had to force himself to stop and actually pay attention to the lesson.

The end came painfully slowly. The school bell rang and most of the students were up out of their seats immediately, ready to leave.

“Hang on,” Ms Osbourne yelled. “Everyone sit back down! I need to tell you your partners for the upcoming project.”

Alex listened attentively as she reeled off a list of names. Most people let out an annoyed groan when they found out they weren’t with a friend, and there was the occasional excited, “Yay!”

Alex knew he wouldn’t be one of the ones celebrating.

“Alex Mercer,” Ms Osbourne said eventually, pushing her glasses further up her tiny nose. “Your partner is Harry Reynolds.”

“Oh god,” Alex murmured. He felt his stomach squirm just as somebody kicked the back of his chair so hard that he jolted forward and nearly whacked his face on the table. The person laughed a moment later, obnoxiously loud, begging for retaliation – Alex didn’t dare turn around to look at them.

He knew already that it was Harry Reynolds sat behind him who had kicked his chair. His project partner, and possibly the worst person in the class that it could have been. For reasons unknown to Alex, Harry had always had it out for him. In middle school he had pushed Alex down a flight of stairs and he had landed unceremoniously in a trash can – Harry had started calling him Bin Boy and the nickname had stuck for a year afterwards; Harry was the only one who used it anymore though. Since then, Harry had just been a general jerk towards him, and upon hearing that they were going to be partners, Alex’s whole body told him to run.

Run where? Alex thought. This wasn’t a problem he could run from. Besides, Harry could probably run faster.

“Looks like it’s you and me, Bin Boy,” came Harry’s voice from behind. “I’m sure we’ll have loads of fun.”

Ms Osbourne finally finished listing pairs and then announced, “These partners are non-negotiable. I will not indulge any requests to switch for any reason. Life isn’t fair, sometimes we have to work with people we don’t like. Get used to it. Now go on, you’re already late for your next class.”

Alex wasn’t usually one to ignore instructions, but as the rest of the class filed out into the hallway he remained behind. He didn’t know what he was planning to say to Ms Osbourne, but he desperately needed to find a way out of the project, or at least switch partners.

“Go on, Alex,” Ms Osbourne said, “you’re going to be late.”

He swallowed thickly and said, “Miss, I was just wondering about the proj–”

“You’re not swapping partners,” she returned sternly. “I’ve already said this. I won’t make any allowances.”

“But, Miss, I can’t work with him,” Alex protested. She raised her eyebrows and started walking around the room, putting sheets on each table for her next class. Alex followed her as she went. “He hates me! It’s going to be awful.”

“Well, maybe the two of you can use this as a way to bond and get to know each other better, hm?”

“Miss, please,” Alex said, his desperation finally rearing its ugly head in his voice. He could feel his legs shaking and his hands wringing themselves together and his head tingling in a way he couldn’t describe, and finally he broke. “He has it out for me and I don’t even know why! He’s been awful to me ever since we were kids, he tries to pick fights with me, he calls me names. Last year he chased me around the field with a baseball bat for a whole PE lesson! If I have to work with him I’ll just end up panicking – or dead, that’s also a possibility – and the project will go terribly and I’ll fail the class. Please can I just work by myself?”

Ms Osbourne’s expression softened as she look at Alex over her glasses. For a moment, Alex’s hopes were raised just that tiny bit – maybe he had got through to her, maybe she would see sense.

But then her face turned to stone again.

“No,” she spat. “What you can do is figure out with Harry when the two of you are going to work on this project and how you’re going to go about it. And you can get to your next class.” She turned away with a cold air of finality. Alex could have sworn he actually felt chills.

Without a word, Alex heaved his bag onto his shoulder and made his way out of the classroom, crushed and dejected. He stared down at his feet as he walked and tried not to think about what the next few weeks could have in store for him.

Lunch couldn’t have come sooner. After what felt like an eternity, Alex finally made his way down to the cafeteria to meet up with his friends. If there was any one thing that was guaranteed to cheer Alex up when he was in a bad mood, it was the good company of his band and his boyfriend.

The rest of the group was already sat at their usual table when Alex arrived in the cafeteria; just seeing them laughing and joking together put the tiniest hint of a smile of his face. He headed over to them, but was stopped in his tracks by somebody stood in front of him – it was Harry Reynolds.

The boy had his arms crossed over his massive chest and was leering down at Alex with an expression of disgust. Alex tried to look past him at his friends, to get their attention, to ask for help, but they hadn’t seen him. Instead, he forced himself to look up into Harry’s brutish face and try not to squirm.

“Partners, huh?” Harry grunted. “I’m failing English so you’ll need to get us a good grade.”

“That’s the plan,” Alex said, willing his voice not to shake. It wasn’t that he was too frightened or intimidated by Harry, it was just the fact that he really didn’t feel like getting chucked in a bin today. One wrong move and he could consider that a real possibility.

“Be at my place on Saturday at one. Bring all your notes – I don’t have any.”

“I can’t do Saturday,” Alex told him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I have band practise.”

Harry took a step closer. Alex couldn’t move back – his feet were rooted to the spot. “You think I care about your dopey little band practise? You’ll be there. That’s that.”

Alex swallowed, nodded hurriedly, and finally forced himself to take a step back so that he wasn’t chest to chest with Harry. “I’ll be there,” he echoed, still nodding.

Harry snarled, condescendingly patted Alex on the head, and walked off. Alex took a moment to collect himself, to breathe, to remind himself that he was okay and he wasn’t hurt, that Harry hadn’t done anything. He steadied himself and kept walking towards his friends, trying to mask the worry on his face.

Of course, he failed miserably.

The moment Alex sat down in his usual space between Willie and Luke, Willie took his hand, watching him with concern. “Hey,” Willie said gently, “what’s up?”

Julie, Luke, and Reggie immediately stopped their conversation, turning to face Alex and Willie. Alex hated the way they were looking at him, like he’d break if they dropped him, but it wasn’t like he could ask them to stop caring – instead, he looked at each of them, trying and failing to give them a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“Nothing,” Alex said, “nothing, it’s just… just this project for English.”

Luke sighed dramatically. “Has your class got that stupid Shakespeare assignment too? I get it, bro, it’s totally pointless–”

“No,” Alex interrupted quietly. “No, that’s not it. Well, kind of. Yeah, we’ve got the Shakespeare assignment but that’s not… not the problem.”

“What is it?” Willie prompted gently when Alex didn’t continue.

Alex shrugged. “It’s stupid.”

Julie leaned over the table and grasped Alex’s other hand. “Alex, your feelings are not stupid.”

She smiled warmly. Funny things happened when Julie smiled – when she did it to Luke, it wasn’t uncommon for him to literally trip over himself; when she did it to Reggie, it made him smile in return for hours on end; and when she did it to Alex, it gave him such overwhelming confidence that for a moment or two he could truly do anything.

“It’s just that we were assigned partners and I got stuck with Harry Reynolds,” he admitted, clutching Willie and Julie’s hands tighter. “It’s nothing and I shouldn’t be worried but–”

“It’s not nothing,” Willie said. Alex couldn’t quite read his expression – it looked to be something between sympathy and outrage. “That guy is the worst. Did you talk to your teacher about it?”

Alex nodded gravely. “She wouldn’t let me switch.”

“How much did you tell her?” Willie asked.

“What I thought would have been enough,” he replied, shrugging like it was nothing. “But it wasn’t.”

“She should be fired for that,” Reggie interjected. Everyone turned to look at him. “I’m just saying – if by ‘enough’ you mean that you told her what a jerk he’s been to you then she should follow that up and treat it like an issue instead of making you work with him.”

What would have been wise words were ruined slightly by the fact that Reggie spoke them around a mouthful of pizza.

“Reggie’s right,” Julie said, “she’s definitely in the wrong here.”

“I know that,” Alex told them, because he did, that much was obvious. “But it’s a little late for that now. I’m stuck with him.”

Willie clutched his hand tighter, threaded their fingers together. Alex leaned to the side, rested his head on Willie’s shoulder. Julie let go of his hand and Willie immediately picked it up – he smiled a little at both of them.

“I know saying it’s all going to be okay won’t help,” Willie whispered to him, “but you’ve got to try and believe that it will. And if it isn’t, I am just one call away. If you need anything – I mean anything – you call me and I will be there. Okay?”

Alex’s tense muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “Okay,” he muttered back. “That’s okay.”

Willie kissed the top of his head and a fraction of Alex’s anxiety lifted. Willie would be there when he needed him no matter what. That was something he could always count on.

*

Luke hadn’t been happy when Alex had called him early on Saturday morning to tell him he wouldn’t be coming to band practise that day. He had given Alex a half-hour-long earful about how they had a gig coming up in a few days’ time and they needed to be rehearsing like crazy. It hadn’t been pleasant for Alex in the slightest, but at least it had been a welcome distraction from the other thing on his mind, the reason he had had to cancel band practise in the first place.

It was the day he was supposed to go to Harry’s house to work on their project. Alex had hardly slept the night before – he had lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning, trying to empty his mind and relax, but sleep just wouldn’t come. At half past two he had crept downstairs and made a batch of brownies using a recipe of his grandmother’s. At the time he’d thought that maybe he could use them to placate Harry once he got to his house, but he’d accidentally ended up stress-eating the entire batch instead.

He felt sick, but couldn’t tell if it was the brownies or the anxiety. Probably an unhealthy mix of both, he decided.

But he had passed the first hurdle and he told himself to be proud of that – he had arrived outside Harry’s house. It was a small bungalow on a road that led nowhere and Alex was struck by how normal it looked. It didn’t look like the sort of place somebody like Harry Reynolds should have lived; Harry was larger than life, tall and brooding, moody and mean – this house looked as if its occupants sold flowers and rescued kittens in their spare time.

Despite the outward appearances of the house, Alex was almost certain that he was in the right place. The front window seemed to show Harry’s bedroom because through it Alex could see innumerable trophies, all for different sporting events; a large stack of magazines (Alex was sure he could already guess what each contained); and a small enclosure that looked to Alex unbearably similar to a tank that might house a snake or a spider or any other creature that Alex would have preferred stayed thousands of miles away from him where it belonged.

He could not make himself walk into the house.

He had been trying for almost fifteen minutes and had walked past the house almost thirty times. He had counted his steps and was somewhere near eight thousand. His mind was racing, shooting through a hundred anxieties before Alex had the chance to dwell on any of them – maybe that was for the best. But it didn’t help the fact that he could not force his legs to walk in the direction of the door.

The worries stopping him weren’t even big ones like ‘What if he tries to hurt me?’ which Alex stressed over every time he interacted with Harry. It was the little things and the impossible things pricking the back of his mind like needles: What if he doesn’t answer the door? What if nobody’s home? What if I’m at the wrong house? What if he’s changed his mind? What if I got the wrong day? What if I got the wrong time? What if he’s not actually my project partner? What if… What if… What if…

What if I call Willie?

Alex blessed his brain for having its first sensible thought that day. He fished his phone out his pocket and called Willie, who picked up after one ring.

“Hey,” Willie said, “what’s up, hotdog?”

“I, um… I’m at Harry’s house. I can’t go inside.”

“Why not?” Willie asked. “Is the door locked? Are they out?”

Alex shook his head although Willie couldn’t see him. “No. I don’t think so. It’s just… I… I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean you can’t do it?” Willie asked patiently.

“I can’t go inside,” Alex repeated. With his free hand, he tugged at the strap of his fanny pack, fiddling with the buckle where it lay over his chest. “I can’t go up to the door. I’ve been trying for, like, twenty minutes and every time I try my head starts buzzing and my legs go numb and I’m starting to feel really sick now because I ate an entire batch of brownies meant for at least ten people and I can’t do this–”

“Okay,” Willie interrupted. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Breathe, Alex. Remember the breathing exercises we went over? Breathe in for four and out for six. Come on, hotdog, you’ve got this.”

Alex did as he said, taking great shuddering breaths of bitter air and releasing them slowly. Willie kept talking him through it, slowly, softly, kindly, and after about ten minutes Alex felt refreshed. Not necessarily worry-free, but his mind had cleared a little bit.

“Okay,” Willie said. “That was great, well done. Can you give me this guy’s address?”

Alex gave it to him.

“Luckily for you, that’s just down the road from where I am right now,” Willie said, chipper. Alex could hear the smile in his voice and it almost made him smile himself. Almost. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’ll go inside with you, if that’s what you want?”

Alex breathed a haggard, relieved sigh. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind. Thank you, Willie.”

Willie gave a small chuckle. “Any time, hotdog. You know I’d do anything for you. I’ll see you in a minute.”

And he hung up.

Alex waited, still doing his breathing exercises, but didn’t need to wait long. Hardly five minutes later, Willie rolled up (literally – he was on his skateboard) and gave him a bright smile. Alex didn’t hesitate before lurching forward and pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you, Willie,” he whispered. “I really appreciate it.”

Willie’s response was simply to hug him tighter.

Together, hands clasped tightly between them, Willie with his board tucked under his arm, they made their way up to the bungalow’s front door. Alex swallowed, steeled himself, and then firmly knocked on the door. When nobody answered it in the first five seconds, Alex told Willie, “This is a bad idea,” and tried to turn away to leave.

However, Willie just pulled him back and a moment later the door opened. On the threshold of the house was Harry, staring down at Alex and Willie. Something about him wasn’t quite as nightmarish as it was at school, yet at the same time Alex was much more afraid. He held Willie’s hand tighter.

Harry nodded in Willie’s direction. “Who’s this, Bin Boy? You brought your boyfriend?”

“Actually, yeah,” Willie said, speaking for Alex. He was glad – his throat felt thick and he didn’t think he could have summoned up any words if he tried. “I’m Willie. I’ve heard about you.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What?”

“Just a few things,” Willie said nonchalantly. “Nothing important. Anyway, I was in the neighbourhood and Alex and I are set to hang out when he’s done here anyway so I thought I’d come along. Is that alright with you?”

“It’s fine,” Harry returned with a shrug. Then his eyes landed on something and his entire expression changed. Alex didn’t think he’d ever seen Harry look like this before. Could it have been what he thought it was: excitement? “Bro! You skate?”

Willie lifted his board half-heartedly. “This isn’t just for decoration.”

Harry grinned, clapping Willie on the shoulder so hard that his hand dropped from Alex’s. “Dude, that’s sick, I do too. Come on, get inside, man.”

Harry headed back into the house and Willie followed him. Alex took a moment to wonder what the hell that had been, then took a deep breath and hurried after them. When he caught up with Willie he grabbed his hand again. Willie just smiled bemusedly up at him.

Harry led them to his bedroom and beckoned them towards his desk.

“Come look at this,” Harry said. “I had a photo taken with Tony Hawk last year!”

Alex perched himself right on the edge of the bed awkwardly as Willie went over to inspect the framed photo.

“Are you sure that’s Tony Hawk?” Willie asked. “Doesn’t look like him.”

Harry shook his head. “You’ve got to imagine he’s holding a skateboard, then you’ll see it.”

Alex watched Willie squint at the photo for a moment or two longer, then he gasped and, to Alex’s horror, began to smile. “Oh, wait… yeah, kinda. That’s awesome, dude!”

“Yeah! Anyway, how long have you been skating for?”

As Willie answered, Alex zoned out of the conversation. Ordinarily, he loved listening to Willie talk about skating – he lit up whenever he explained a new trick he’d learnt, and seeing him flush with pride after he demonstrated it perfectly to Alex always made him feel giddy – but it just wasn’t the same listening to him chat with Harry Reynolds of all people. Alex didn’t even know who that Tony Hawk guy was and it didn’t seem like anyone was about to bother explaining it to him. He would never have admitted it, but listening to Willie talk to Harry was almost annoying.

He busied himself by looking around the room, getting a glimpse at what the real Harry Reynolds was like. At school, Harry was the classic, early-2000s movie jock, on every sports team the school had to offer, constantly bragging about his luck with girls, and picking on people smaller than him (which, because Harry was built like a tree trunk, was pretty much everyone). His room reflected it too; there were even more trophies than Alex had seen through the window, most for football or, unexpectedly, karate, and the walls were plastered in posters displaying buff men and weirdly specific motivational quotes. Only now did Alex notice the skateboards stuck on the wall and the stack of helmets by his bed, as well as several skating posters directly above them.

He turned back to Willie and Harry just in time to hear Willie laugh. Properly laugh, loud and genuine. Willie only laughed like that with his friends and it hearing it in Harry’s room stirred an uneasy feeling in the pit of Alex’s stomach.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, trying to smile.

Willie waved him off. “Don’t worry, hotdog, just a skating joke.”

Harry snickered, shaking his head. “Pretty freaking funny though.”

“Oh,” Alex said. He tried for a laugh but it was the least genuine noise he had ever made – judging by the look Harry sent him, it had been obvious how fake it was to him too. Alex cleared his throat awkwardly. “Shouldn’t we get on with our work? We’re already running behind schedule.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Shut it, Bin Boy, we’re having a conversation here. You start if you want, I’ll join you whenever.”

Alex sent a look to Willie, eyes wide and pleading. Willie frowned, looking conflicted, but then shrugged.

Willie and Alex didn’t fight often, but Alex wouldn’t have minded giving Willie a piece of his mind right then and there.

He didn’t though. He sighed, shuffled back on the bed so that he could have more room and lean on the mattress, and he started working on the project. It wasn’t too difficult, just an analysis on the themes of Macbeth, something they had gone over in class a hundred times; still, Alex would have appreciated some help, seeing as this was a paired project and he didn’t exactly want to do the whole thing alone.

But it was fine. He kept telling himself that it was completely and utterly fine. But every so often Willie or Harry would laugh or suddenly shout, and the abrupt noise would startle Alex. The third time that happened he accidentally jogged his highlighter so it zigzagged all over his painstakingly neat paragraph on King James I. He gripped his pen so hard that the plastic almost cracked, and set about writing the whole thing again on a new piece of paper.

Alex didn’t know how long he had been working for, but he did know that it had been a hell of a long time and Harry still hadn’t made any effort to help him. He had copied up all his notes on the supernatural, women, ambition, and the Great Chain of Being, all the while Harry had sat there with Willie, not doing anything.

The strange thing was, Alex found himself more angry at Willie than he was at Harry.

Eventually, he checked the time, his hand aching. It was almost five o’clock, which meant he had been working alone for about four hours solidly. He had done pretty much half of the project in that time and was nearing his breaking point – he thought that if he left now he could catch the tail end of band practise and take his frustration out on his drumkit.

Gathering his notes and all his work, Alex said, “I’m going to head out.”

Willie checked the clock on Harry’s desk and then set about clipping his helmet on. “Yeah, we should get going. This was fun, though, man. It was nice to talk to a fellow skater for once.”

“I hear you, dude,” Harry returned. They fist-bumped and Alex physically cringed. “Catch you later.”

Alex didn’t say goodbye, just saw himself out. He didn’t wait for Willie. He simply walked, trying to get out of the house and as far away as possible in as little time as he could. Alex could hear Willie shouting for him to wait up but he didn’t stop.

He felt Willie grab his hand and pull him to a halt, but pulled his hand from Willie’s grasp.

“What’s up with you?” Willie asked, seeming truly bewildered. “I thought that was alright back there, it was relaxed, not stressful. Are you still feeling anxious?”

Alex didn’t answer his question and instead he said with much more venom than he had intended, “What the hell was that?”

Willie looked taken aback. Alex almost felt bad. Almost.

“What was what?”

“In there!” Alex yelled, pointing in the direction of Harry’s house. “You talking to him like you’re best friends! That guy is a jerk, you know that, Willie, so why were you laughing and joking with him as if he’s the nicest guy in the world?”

Willie didn’t look impressed. “Sorry, I was under the impression you wanted me there. I was talking to him to distract from you. That’s what you wanted, right? You were nervous about going so you wanted my help to take the pressure off you. I was helping you, Alex, because that was what you asked me to do!”

“Not like that,” Alex protested. “You weren’t supposed to bond with him, leave me out completely so that I had to do all the work by myself and listen to you two talk about skateboards and… Toby Eagle, or whoever that guy was!”

“It was Tony Hawk. And it’s not my fault that Harry likes skateboarding,” Willie shot back. “It’s also not my fault that I enjoyed talking to someone who shares that interest for once. You listen and you pretend to know what I’m talking about, but it isn’t the same.”

“It didn’t have to be him!”

“Actually, given the circumstances, it did. And like I said – it got the attention off you, so I don’t see why you’re complaining.”

Alex felt his temper rising with each sentence. He never got this upset at Willie, this was a complete first. Sure, they had argued like any couple would, but he had never felt any real anger towards his boyfriend. It frightened him, and that fright stopped him from seeing any sense, taking a step back, calming himself down.

“I didn’t want you to do it like that,” he said, as if it was obvious. It was obvious to Alex – why wasn’t it obvious to Willie?

“I can’t read your mind, Alex,” Willie shouted, pointing at himself. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head!”

“You should know!”

“I don’t! It could be anything! I don’t think you realise that when it comes to you and your anxiety, I’m pretty much flying as blind as you are. Sure, I’ve done my research and I can handle it, but I never know what’s going to trigger you and set you off like earlier today. I may seem prepared, but I don’t know what you’re thinking and I don’t know what you’re going to worry about most. It is not my fault that sometimes I might not handle it in the best way. I’m trying my hardest, Alex.”

“You aren’t the one who has to go through the panic attacks and the constant worry, are you?” Alex seethed.

Willie shrugged. “No, I’m not. But I still worry about you all the time because I don’t know what’s going to set you off.”

“It’s not my fault I have anxiety,” Alex yelled.

“I never said it was! But it’s not my fault either – I dropped everything just to come and help you today and all you’re doing is throwing it right back in my face and arguing with me for helping you out! It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!”

Alex froze. Willie did too. The words were out there, they’d been spoken without hesitation. They hung between the two of them like a toxic cloud, as both of them slowly realised the weight those words had held.

Willie broke the silence, reaching out his hand to Alex, trying to bridge that gap between them that had widened impossibly in the last ten seconds. “Alex, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean t–”

Alex stepped back, out of reach from Willie. Willie flinched and he withdrew his hand, instead crossing his arms and rubbing circles by his elbow with his thumb. It was a nervous tick Alex only ever saw when Willie was really stressed out. Normally he would have tried to soothe him, calm him down, but all he could hear were Willie’s words echoing back and forth through his mind.

It’s not my fault that you can’t do these easy things and that you need me to hold your hand all the time!

Alex schooled his features to careful neutrality, not betraying any emotion. It wasn’t hard, seeing as he wasn’t feeling much at that moment anyway, just a cold detachment.

“I heard you,” Alex said quietly. He couldn’t look Willie in the eye. “I heard exactly what you said. I know what you meant.”

“Then you’ve got to know that I wasn’t trying to–”

“I know what you meant,” he repeated. “I’m going back to band practise. I don’t think you should come and watch today.”

He shook his head and, turning on his heel, walked away. He didn’t hear Willie’s footsteps following him this time.

*

Band practise had helped calm Alex down with a mixture of wrestling his drumkit and talking things out with Julie, Luke, and Reggie. They had all seemed utterly shocked that Willie would say anything like that, but Alex wasn’t so surprised. After all, things like this were what he worried about – being left alone, being disliked by the people he cared for most, being a nuisance, being abandoned. Deep down in the pit of his worst anxieties, he had been worried that something like this could have happened.

He just had never thought it would have come from Willie.

While band helped him calm down, it didn’t help cheer him up. He regretted even bringing the argument up in the first place – if he had ignored his feelings (which Julie had bluntly explained to him were jealousy) then he could have avoided the whole argument. Instead of lying in his cold bed, unable to sleep that night, he could have been curled up with Willie on the couch in the studio, warm and cosy because Willie was like a human radiator.

He knew that neither of them had been fair on each other. He could see Willie’s side of the argument once he had calmed down. But he knew that what he had said was equally valid and he couldn’t get past the scorn in Willie’s voice when he’d said those damning words.

He didn’t hear from Willie all throughout Sunday and didn’t make any moves to contact him himself either. If he did, he had no clue where he would have even begun. Perhaps an apology – but where was he supposed to take the conversation from there?

So Sunday was silent.

Alex was slightly dreading school on Monday, but he wasn’t about to ruin his high grades by not showing up, especially this close to the end of the semester. Grudgingly, he headed to school and went straight to his first lesson, which just so happened to be the lesson from Hell: English.

He arrived there before the rest of the class, including Ms Osbourne, which meant he had time to dwell on his thoughts alone. He probably wasn’t going to fail this class – despite Saturday having been a nightmare, he had managed to get a lot of good work done on the project and it would be of a very high quality when he finally got it finished. But he still had more work to do and he knew that he really ought to do it with Harry. Absently, he pondered whether or not to bring Willie next time he needed to go to Harry’s house.

Talk of the devil, Alex thought as the classroom door swung open and none other than Harry himself sauntered in. He looked at Alex sat there alone, the only other person in the room, and grunted, coming to sit beside him.

Alex didn’t have the energy to be scared of Harry Reynolds today.

“I’ve been looking for you, Mercer,” Harry said conversationally.

“Oh, joy,” Alex deadpanned. Harry looked surprised, probably because Alex wasn’t cowering in fear, but he shrugged it off.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he continued. “I just wanted to say that your boyfriend, that Willie guy, he’s really cool. I mean, the way he was talking about skating the other day – I don’t know if you realise it, man, but he has a real shot at going pro.”

“I know,” Alex spat. “He’s my boyfriend, of course I know. Maybe I don’t skate but I still listen to him. And I know him better than you do.”

Harry held up a hand. “Woah, calm down, Bin B– uh. Alex. I’m just trying to say the guy is really cool and you’re really lucky to have him. And also… talking to him the other day, he said– well, you weren’t listening, were you?”

Alex shook his head.

“We did stop talking about skating at some point, you know,” Harry told him. “Willie was telling me how awesome you are and, you know, explaining why he likes you so much. And I guess it made me realise that I’ve kind of been a jerk to you for a long time – I mean, he literally told me so. He told me to stop being such a douchebag to you.”

Alex grunted. “He’s right. You should stop. It sucks.”

Harry nodded. “I wanted to apologise for it, I guess. I’m sorry for being so nasty to you. I think it’s just because I was young and dumb and I didn’t realise it was hurting you at first, then it just stuck. I kind of always thought it was friendly too – I didn’t think you minded. I thought it was banter.”

“It wasn’t,” Alex said, meeting his eyes. “It never was. I’m terrified of you, you’ve made my life a misery. Thanks for the apology, but it’s no excuse.”

“I know that,” he admitted. “But I just wanted to explain why. I’m going to try my best to be a better guy from now on. It won’t make up for everything I’ve done in the past, but can you give me a chance to get this right?”

Alex considered. Somehow, Harry seemed completely serious. His expression was slightly pleading and he looked a little awkward and uncomfortable to be asking this of Alex, but it seemed real.

So he nodded.

“Fine. Thank you.”

Harry clapped him on the back. “No worries, dude. And, uh… this might not be my place to ask, but are you okay? You look down.”

Alex shrugged. “I had an argument with Willie after we left your place the other day. I’ve not spoken to him since.”

“Was it my fault?” Harry asked.

“Kinda,” Alex told him, shrugging again. “I just… I didn’t like how friendly you two seemed. After everything you’ve done to me in the past, watching him get along with you like it was nothing made me a little mad.”

“Sorry, bro,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not into him or anything, so you’ve got nothing to worry about there – plus, he’s crazy about you, so even if someone else did like him they’d be out of luck. I just wanted to talk with someone about skating for once, none of my friends are into it.”

“Willie said the same thing,” Alex admitted.

Harry nodded awkwardly. “I don’t have any say in your relationship, but honestly I’m kind of invested in it now and I think you guys should talk it out. I’d hate to think I played some part if you ended up breaking up over this.”

“I don’t want to break up with him,” Alex objected, horrified. The thought of breaking up with Willie, losing him forever, made him feel sick to the stomach.

The rest of the class began filing into the classroom. Harry stood up, shrugged, and then clapped Alex on the shoulder.

“Go talk to him, then.”

*

Alex, for the first time in his life, took the advice Harry had given him and decided to take that first, absolutely terrifying step towards fixing the break between himself and Willie. If he knew his boyfriend (and he did) then Willie would have gone to the skatepark straight after school, so that was where Alex headed too.

Sure enough, Alex found Willie at the skatepark, sat at the top of the highest ramp. Every now and then, someone on a board would do a trick nail-bitingly close to Willie’s face, but he didn’t flinch even once. He was staring off into the peachy sunset, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Alex climbed up there and sat himself down next to him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked uneasily.

Willie startled and turned to Alex, caught unawares. “Alex! I thought you–”

Willie didn’t get to finish his sentence because Alex pulled him into a tight, bone-crushing, fierce hug, pouring every last ounce of love and regret into it. He felt Willie hug back with equal force and buried his face into Willie’s long hair. This, he knew, was how it was supposed to be – Alex and Willie, boyfriends who care far too much about each other, not Alex and Willie, boyfriends on the edge of a break-up.

Eventually, Alex withdrew himself and let Willie go mostly, still keeping a tight clutch on his upper arms.

“I am so sorry,” he said, breathless. “I’m sorry for everything I said and for starting the argument and for everything that happened that day.”

Willie shook his head. “Don’t. I’m sorry, I should have realised how talking to Harry like that would have made you feel. It was dumb of me, and I shouldn’t have said such hurtful things to you, and–”

“I get it,” Alex said breezily, “I’m a lot to deal with.”

Desperately, Willie said, “But that’s not what I meant! I can’t explain what I was trying to say, but I wouldn’t change anything about you or our relationship for the world. You mean the everything to me, Alex, and I never want to do something to jeopardise what we have ever again. I’d do anything to take back what I said to you that day.”

Alex pulled him back into the hug, needing to be close to him. “It wasn’t just you. It was both of us. And Harry. But we’ve all apologised now, even him, so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

Willie pulled back, surprised. “He apologised?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, nodding. “Because of you. He said you were going on about how amazing I am and he realised he’d been a jerk.”

Willie blushed the tiniest bit, and playfully punched Alex’s arm. “Well, you are amazing. You’re more than amazing. You’re a miracle and I’m lucky to have you.”

Smiling, Alex cupped Willie’s cheek and gently pulled him in for a kiss. It was soft, slow, and Alex felt like they were glowing, bright and warm and happy. They kissed until every unspoken word had been said, until the last of the orange sunset had ebbed away into night-time blue, until streetlights cast an amber glow across the skatepark, in which they were the only ones left. Alex felt like he was finally at peace, with himself and with Willie.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against Willie’s. “I’m lucky to have you too. I can’t even begin to understand what good luck brought you to me.”

Willie moved back slightly, shuffled further away until he was only holding Alex’s hands, until that was the only point where they touched. Alex missed his warmth.

“Sorry,” Willie giggled, smile bright. “I wanted to be able to look you in the eyes for this.”

“For what?” Alex asked.

Willie’s smile softened. “I love you, Alex. And I’m pretty sure I always will.”

Alex’s heart stopped. It was the first time he’d ever heard those words out loud. Sure, he had felt them in every little action from Willie in all the time they’d been together – he had felt his love in the way he cared for him when he was sick, in the way he bundled himself up in Alex’s hoodies, in the way he played with Alex’s hair, in the way he brought him back from the edge when he was anxious, in the way he devoted every part of himself to Alex.

He had loved Willie in return too, in the little ways – how he listened to Willie talk about skating and watched him practise, how he brushed and braided Willie’s hair to relax them both, how he danced with Willie whenever he wanted because he simply couldn’t say no, how he wrote songs that only Willie would ever hear, how he listened to Willie talk nonsense in his sleep on those nights they slept at the studio together.

But he too had never said the words out loud.

He pulled Willie in for another kiss, brief but burning, and then held his hands again. Willie was right – this was something Alex wanted to look in his eyes for.

“I love you, too, Willie. I’ll never stop.”

[hanniiesuckle17]

Anything But Normal

A/n: this was such cute Idea I hope I did it justice. It’s been a while since I’ve written a comedy piece. There are probably spelling errors I’ll go back and fix them later. also I love Jon Favreau as Happy so I had to put him in. (i swear he is one of my favorite actors) btw this is not edited (i’ll come back and do that eventually)

Requested by: @tokiokiedokie​

Warnings: Cussing,(come on it's me guys), partial nudity.

Member: Han Jisung

Summary: When Y/n’s best friend goes through a drastic change he starts keeping secrets. Secrets that include him being New York’s one and only friendly neighborhood spiderman. Shit hits the fan when his new secret life is exposed and she gets dragged into it.

Genre: Spiderman!au, romance, comedy, friends to lovers!au, little bit of angst

There are only three things that truly matter in life. Good friends, good pizza, and a good story. So far I had two of those at the moment. Sadly I was lacking a good story. Our school newspaper had been quite dry despite my efforts to discover new and intriguing stories. 

“Stop sulking and eat.” My best friend said, shoving a piece of cheese pizza in my face. Jisung laughed when I bit the end before returning to look at my laptop. We were at our usual pizza place seated next to the window with the big bright red neon sign lighting up our faces. The sun set over the New York skyline making the moment almost perfect. If only I was writing an exciting article. Instead, I was putting together a riveting look into the school’s menu changes. 

“You know I invited you because I thought you were going to be good company.”

“Please. You invited me because Felix was busy with a stupid Lego project and no one else will eat pizza with you.”

“Whatever.”

Jisung and I weren’t the most popular people in our senior class. To be frank, Jisung was my only friend. So going out and eating pizza every other day at ten o’clock at night was often the highlight of my week. Having had enough of the lack of attention Jisung slammed my laptop closed and removed it from the already small table. “Hey! I didn’t save!” 

“That’s what Google Docs is for.”

He was right. I needed to stop working. I had been slaving over that stupid and boring article all week. He didn’t have to be such an ass though. “You are such a teenager.” I scoffed, watching him shovel yet another slice of pizza down his throat. “Oh, and you are such an adult!” The mocking tone of his voice threatened a laugh. 

“I swear you are God’s punishment for enjoying sex. Everyone’s libido just disappears when you are around.”

“Hey don’t ruin our date. I was considering sleeping with you tonight.”

He laughed when I threatened to smack him. It had been like this for as long as I could remember. Just me and Jisung. My parents had been friends with his before they passed away in a car accident. Now Jisung lived with his Aunt May and his Uncle Ben a few blocks away from me. 

I remember after the crash I would wake to a tap on my window to see an eight year old Jisung on my fire escape. Not wanting to bother his Aunt with his nightmares, Jisung had run all the way to my apartment and climbed the fire escape to my room on the sixth floor. I would open the window and let him sleep in my bed. My eight year old brain used to think maybe my bed was like force field keeping away the bad dreams about his parents.

“Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?” Jisung asked bringing me out of my thoughts. 

“Mr. Finoli asked me to take pictures of the science field trip so I’m going with you guys. Why?” A look of realization crossed Jisung’s face making him freeze. “Did you forget to ask May to sign your permission slip?”

“I forgot to ask May to sign my-...you can be a real ass sometimes, you know that?”

Laughing I pulled a ten out of my wallet and left it on the table. “Come on, you’ve gotta get your slip signed, dummy.” “I can pay, it’s no problem.” He said watching me pack up my stuff. “Nah, you can get the next one.” Bellies full of pizza, we left Tony’s Pizzeria and headed in the direction of Jisung’s apartment, his arm draped over my shoulder and talking my ear off about some random experiment they had done in Physics that day. 

The next day I woke up bright and early to meet the class at the New York Museum of Science. Camera bag on my shoulder and camera around my neck I stood outside the museum with about ten other students and two teachers. My tired eyes brightened when I saw Jisung step out from the subway, May right behind him.

I laughed as he wiped a kiss from his cheek before waving goodbye to her. His dyed blonde hair was messy and blew slightly in the wind. Jisung waved when he saw me and jogged over. His hoodie lazily hung off his shoulder and his shirt and jeans were somewhat wrinkled. “Don’t you look nice?” I couldn’t help but chuckle at his appearance. 

“Shut up.”

He laughed throwing an arm around my shoulder, leading me closer to the group. Soon the tour began and I busied myself with taking photos of the group for the paper and yearbook. Jisung followed the group, only half-listening to the teacher as he looked at other random exhibits. 

At around one in the afternoon, the group moved outside to have lunch on the steps. I sat off to the side with Jisung, his legs spread out across the stairs and his elbow rested on the step above us. It was refreshing to be next to him talking about absolutely nothing. Even if he stole my food. 

Eventually, we were all called back to resume the tour. I angled a shot of two students looking at a bug exhibit, but just as I took the picture Jisung jumped in the frame throwing up a peace sign and crossing his eyes. “Hey! Stop hitting me!” He yelled as I smacked his shoulder over and over again. “Look I’m just innocently observing the exhibit. Leave me alone crazy woman!”

Sighing, I pushed him away and resumed taking photos. As the group was moving onto the next room I noticed Jisung was missing. It wasn’t unlike him to wander off into a room he wasn’t supposed to just to look at probably like some DNA model or some other weird science shit. I could never get over the fact Jisung was super into science when he gave zero fucks about his other classes. 

“Jisung?”

“Ji?”

“Ji, we are moving on,” I said looking for him. My eyes landed on a semi-open door marked ‘Lab’. He wouldn’t. He did. Just as I started to walk towards the door, he exited with a goofy smile on his face. “Y/n! Dude, they have all these cool spiders and test tubes in there it was so cool! One of them bit me!” Like an excited three-year-old, he showed me his wrist where he indeed had a red spider bite. 

“Ooooooh! Take a picture!” 

He shoved my camera into my hands and held up his arm pointing to the spider bite making the dopiest smile. Knowing he wouldn’t shut up until I complied, I took the picture. 

“Let’s catch up with the group,” I said taking his hand and dragging him back to the class. When we reached the group a teacher looked over at us his brows furrowing. “Excuse me, Miss L/n, is your friend okay?” He pointed to Jisung, a concerned expression on his face.

“Jisung? There are certainly things wrong with him but he’s oka-”

My words stopped when I turned to look at my best friend next to me. “Ji- Oh my god! Ji are you okay?” His face had obviously paled and he looked dizzy. A thin layer of sweat lay on his forehead. 

“Hell yeah. I’m doing fine, baby.” His voice sounded drowsy.

“Miss L/n he is not alright. Does he have anyone who can come get him.” The teacher said pulling out his phone. I shook my head. May worked in the day and his Uncle Ben was on a business trip. “No, they are working.” 

He sighed and turned to me. Jisung was clearly getting worse by the second and was wobbling a little. “What about you? Can you take him home?” Jisung laughed and wrapped his arms around me loosely. “Fuck yeah, I’d her take me home.” 

“I have a test in my last period.”

“I’ll write you a pass and send it to your teacher. Take him home please.”

Nodding he typed something on his phone and returned to the group who had started to move once again. “Okay Ji, let’s get you back to May’s.” Slowly we started moving to the exit. Before we made it to the doors, Jisung practically turned green. He pushed away from me and burst towards the nearest restroom. 

“Jisung!” 

Ignoring the looks and yells I followed Jisung into the restroom and looked for the stall he was in. “Hey, lady get out of here!” A man standing at the urinal screamed. 

“Oh please. Get over yourself.”

“Ji?”

Following the coughing and gagging sounds, I pushed the final stall door open. Jisung sat on the floor his mop of blonde hair hanging over the toilet. I crouched next to him and rubbed his back gently. “Oh god, I hate puking.”

“Jisung everyone hates puking.”

“Yeah well.....your face likes puking.”

“Nice comeback.”

Feeling too terrible to respond, he just threw up the contents of his stomach again. When he seemed able to stand the two of us made our way outside and down the subway. Jisung leaned most of his weight on me as I slid my metro pass through the scanner. How I managed to get him through the turnstile and onto the metro I have no clue. Thankfully there was once last seat free for Jisung to sit down in. 

“Y/n, I don’t feel good.” 

“I know,” I said softly as he rested his head against my stomach. The train turned sharply making me hold onto the strap, not wanting to fall into Jisung. Soft whines and groans came from him every now and then. This was the worst I had ever seen Jisung. 

I listened to the stations being called out as I ran my fingers through his hair, hoping that would calm him down a little. We were only four stops away but more people were getting on the train. Jisung looked up at me a sick expression on his face. It changed when he looked at the passengers boarding the car. 

“Here, Ma’am. You can take my seat.”

“Thank you so much, young man.” An older woman said taking his seat as he got up. “Jisung, you feel terrible. Are you okay to stand?” He shrugged latching onto the strap next to mine, his face paling again. “I’ll be fine, it’s only four stops.”

Jisung’s eyes started to droop as the train started up again. His body began to act heavier than it was so he resorted to leaning on me and nestling his head between my neck and shoulder. I did my best to make sure he didn’t fall over.

“You two are very cute together.” The old lady said with a smile.

“Oh- we aren’t--” 

“You better hold onto a good man like that, sweetie. Handsome and kind. Those are hard to come by.”

Before I could respond we turned again, and I had to keep Jisung from falling in this poor nice old lady’s lap. I felt his skin burning against mine. Could this train not go any faster. Soon enough our stop came. I said bye to the old woman and helped Jisung get off the train and up the subway stairs. 

“Come on, Ji. We are almost there and we both know I cannot carry your ass.” 

Eventually, I made it up the stairs of his apartment building to the fourth floor and managed to drag him to his door. “Jisung, where’s your key?” Trying not to hurt his head I propped him up on the door frame. He laughed when I started searching through his pockets.  

“Y/n if you wanted to cop a feel just ask. That tickles.” 

“Jisung where are your fucking keys?” 

“Back pocket.” He said drowsily. I sighed and reached behind him. My hands searched through his jean pockets for the cold metal keys. “Having fun back there, because I’m sure enjoying it.” 

I suppressed the urge to punch him in the stomach out of fear he would vomit all over me. Finally finding his keys, I unlocked the door and threw my stuff inside, before lugging him in as well. Jisung leaned on the couch while I put my stuff on the table.

“Y/n it’s burning up in here.” 

“Jisung, you just have a temperature.”

“It burns like fucking hell! It’s too hot!”

Before I could stop him Jisung was shedding layers like a snake. He tossed his shirt somewhere in the small living room. He was sweating like crazy, his blonde hair sticking to his forehead. “Ji, come on let’s get you in the shower.” I started running a cold shower for him before rushing back to the living room to call May. It would only be a couple hours until she got home, but I should still let her know what’s going on.

While Jisung was in the shower, I grabbed some medicine from the cabinet. I had absolutely no fucking idea how to treat a spider bite. Antibiotics? Hearing the shower turn off I knocked before entering. Jisung had a towel wrapped around his waist and was leaning his head against the wall. “Y/n...”

“I’m right here, Jisung.” Cautiously I led him to his room and watched him collapse onto his double bed. Rummaging through his drawers I found some mostly clean sweatpants. “Ji, do you even do laundry?” 

“Y/n, I feel a little too fucking sick to do chores now.”

“I know. I know.” He slipped on the sweatpants and let me dry his hair. I wrapped his arms, covering the bite so it wouldn’t get more infected then it already probably was. Jisung’s temperature flipped like crazy. One minute he was burning up and the next he was freezing. 

A sigh of relief left my chest when I heard May call out in the apartment. “Y/n thank you so much for taking care of him.” She gave me a short hug before running to go get more meds. She would know better than I would, being an ER nurse. “Ji, do you want me to stay? I can call my parents and tell them I’m staying the night.” He slowly shook his head.

“No, it’s okay.” 

“I can stay really-”

“Y/n, I’ll be fine. You can go home.” 

He gave me a half-assed smile and squeezed my hand. There was no arguing with Jisung sick or not so I gathered my things and left. May promised to keep me updated and I told her I would have my phone next to me.

The walk back to my apartment seemed longer than usual. I couldn’t stop thinking about Jisung. When I got home, my parents greeted me before telling me they would be working tonight. My dad was a cop and my mom worked at a hospital downtown. It was rare they were even home, to begin with. Exhausted from taking care of Jisung, I rolled onto my bed and fell asleep.

This boy really texted me at five the morning telling me to meet him at his locker three hours later. If he wasn’t still sick I would for sure have throttled him. Except for the fact that Jisung didn’t look sick. Not at all. He looked perfectly healthy as he walked down the hall towards me. In fact, he looked...really....good. It pissed me off. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“Yeah, I got better.”

Jisung opened his locker like it was any other day and got his books. “What did you want to talk about?” He sighed and looked over at me. There was something different about him. Did his jaw always look like that? No. No jaw looks like that. 

“So this morning I woke up and like I felt completely fine. In fact, I felt the best I have in years. And this weird thing happened to me on the subway-”

Jisung’s words were interrupted by the sound of his locker closing, only the entire row of metal lockers rattled as his shut. “The fuck? Did we have an earthquake or something?” I asked looking around. “What? No. New York isn’t on a fault line.” Shrugging it off I turned back to Jisung.

“You were saying?” He seemed distracted now, looking at his closed locker. “Ummm.... I wanted to thank you for yesterday.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him. “Ji, you don’t need to thank me. I’ll always take care of you if you need me.” As I pulled away his hands stayed on my waist, which wasn’t totally out of the norm. Jisung was always a really touchy and flirty person. It drove me crazy sometimes, knowing that it was just his personality and not him acting on something else. 

“So this weird thing happened on my way to school this morning. My hand-” Again Jisung was interrupted. This time by the bell ringing for homeroom. “Hey Jisung, I’ve gotta go, but you can tell me at lunch right?” He nodded, his expression becoming more uneasy. As I turned his grip on my waist stopped me.

“Ji, I know you wanna tell me now but I have to go!” I said with a laugh. A nervous breathy laugh escaped his lips as he tried to pull away from me. “Well, you know how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you.” Arching an eyebrow I chose to ignore his weird behavior and walked off to my homeroom. 

When the lunch bell finally rang I took my food outside to where Ji and I normally ate. However, he was nowhere in sight. As if he could read my thoughts, my phone notified me of a text from Jisung.

Lix asked me to help him with some Chem work. Sry I can’t eat with you :(

I sent him a quick reply saying it was okay. It wasn’t the first time I had eaten alone and it surely wouldn’t be the last. To no surprise, Chaeyoung and one of her friends walked by. “Have you seen that kid? What’s his name? Jihyun?” She said in her shrill voice. It was hard not to hear her conversation even from twenty feet away.

“No, I think his name is Jisung. Han Jisung. He is in my physics class. Kind of a dweeb if you ask me.” 

“Well, that dweeb filled out. He was probably just a late bloomer, but like all of a sudden, he got really hot. Have you seen his arms and his chest? Oh my god! A girl could die.” 

The girls laughed and continued to objectify my best friend. They were right. Jisung had seemed to have had a huge glow up overnight. His lanky form did seem more toned and his arms were much more muscular than I remembered. 

“Can you believe he still hangs out with that new junkie girl? Like, please. He could get any girl he wants now. Why stay friends with that waste of space?” 

“That bitch is so full of herself. Literally, no one even likes her.” Chaeyoung said laughing. Having heard enough, I got up and decided to go to my next class early. It didn’t necessarily bother me what she had said. Chaeyoung always liked to mess with me.

All my classes seemed slower than usual and Jisung was answering my texts. At this point in the day, we would probably be having a meme war or a stupid conversation ignoring our teachers, but my phone was silent. Not a single notification. 

By the end of the day, I was feeling totally depressed. English was my last class and thank god I had it with Jisung. No doubt he would be late though. He rarely ever showed up on time to class. But, as I walked through the classroom door I did a double-take seeing my best friend in his usual seat right beside mine. 

He gave me an innocent smile. This was strange. Jisung was never early. He looked...normal. I mean other than the physical overnight puberty storm. He slouched in his chair his long legs spilling into the aisle, not that he cared, and he twirled a pen between his long slender fingers. 

“Yo, wassup, cutie?” He said as I sat down. “You seem to be the talk of the school.” He shrugged and shuffled through some physics work he had on his desk. “You jealous?” That stupid smirk appeared on his mouth. “No. Just confused.”

“Okay, class. Settle down. We are going to be returning to our analysis of Austen’s novel Sense and Sensibility.” 

I busied myself with taking thorough notes knowing Jisung would just fall asleep again or just play a random game on his phone. The teacher droned on making a seemingly not boring book a complete snooze fest. The lecture continued without end threatening to send me to sleep as well. Out of habit, I looked over at Jisung, except he was not asleep. Jisung was wide awake and he appeared to be listening intently. 

As if he sensed I was looking at him he turned and smiled at me before returning his attention to the front of the classroom. This was too weird. Where was my Jisung? Maybe he was still sick. That could explain the weird behavior, right? 

The harsh sound of the release bell brought me out of my thoughts. Jisung was already packing up his stuff. “Hey, you wanna stop by Tony’s on the way home? You can buy me a slice!” I said latching onto his arm. The girls were right. Jisung had filled out. Feeling myself starting to blush, I let go and looked back up at my best friend. 

“I can’t. I’ve gotta run some errands fro May and then Uncle Ben asked me to pick up dinner and some other stuff.”

“I can come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll text you later!” 

Without another word, Jisung raced out of the classroom. I knew Jisung pretty well and it was clear he didn’t want me around today. Alone-again- I rode the subway back to my apartment to be greeted by an empty living room. My mom had left a note on the counter leaving me money for dinner and saying Jisung was welcome to come over. “Yeah, well he’s too busy,” I said to no one in particular. 

It got dark pretty quick. All my homework was finished. I even managed to submit the stupid article on lunch menus. Eventually, I had nothing to do but stare at my ceiling. The news was getting pretty boring. After the whole Avenger’s fiasco, things had quieted down, and no interesting stories were in sight. By 11:30 I had given up hope Jisung was going to text let alone call so I did the next best thing. 

“Hi, May! Is Jisung busy?” 

“Hi, sweetie! Jisung got home about an hour ago. He said he was out with Felix. Should I tell him to call you?”

“No, no. It’s fine. You don’t have to tell him. I’ll talk to him later.”

“Okay, honey. Goodnight!”

Han Jisung you filthy little liar. If he didn’t want to hang out with me he should have just said so. Deciding I had finally had enough of this awful day I curled up under my covers and fell asleep.

Months had now passed and Jisung had started acting normal again. Well as normal as Jisung could be anyway. Our near daily trips to Tony’s had decreased to only twice a week and Jisung always seemed to be busy after school, though he made sure to text me back for fear of facing my wrath. 

“What do you think of this Spiderman guy?” I asked typing away on my laptop. Jisung lounged across my bed, the Saturday afternoon light casting a warm glow over his face.  He looked up from his place beside me. “Uhh...I don’t know. What do you think of him?”

“He seems a little childish and amateur, but he is a great story. Vigilante helping out downtown New York? That’s gold.”

“Childish? What do you mean childish? He’s professional as fuck. I heard he stopped a bank robbery the other day.”

“Yeah, and they found the criminals hanging from a lampost by their underwear.”

Jisung laughed and ran a hand through his blonde hair before looking up at the ceiling. “You’ve been talking about Spiderman a lot lately. What do you have a crush on him?” I scoffed, fingers flying across my keyboard. “Please. I don’t date children. Besides, I just think he is a great story.”

“You wanna order takeout?” Jisung asked reaching over me to get my phone. My dad was on duty and my mom was on call so Jisung had come over to keep me company. I did my best to pretend I didn’t notice how amazing he smelled as he leaned over me. “You know you should really stop eating junk food. You are what you eat.” I said distracting myself from how close he was.

“Well then if we are what we eat, I guess I would be fast, cheap, and easy.” 

Jisung winked at me, making my eyes roll. Jisung had grown at home in his new body and somehow he got even cockier than he was before. He groaned at my lack of response and instead let his head rest in my lap, giving him a good view of my screen. “Play with my hair, bitch.”

“Excuse me, dick. I’m working.” He laughed and unlocked my phone. I often wondered why he liked just sitting with me. I think I remembered him telling me once that he liked the sound of me typing. He said it had sort of a rhythm that only belonged to me. How he could pick up on that I had no clue. Like he had superhearing. 

“I ordered sushi. Don’t worry, I’ll pay.” Jisung said, adjusting his body slightly so he wasn’t at an awkward angle. I smiled continuing to write about our masked arachnid hero. “Please tell me you got boba too.” I sighed suddenly craving the sweet drink.

“Of course, baby. I’ve got you.” 

There was a moment of silence. Any minute now Jisung was going to break it. The boy couldn’t go three minutes without talking. “Do you think Spiderman is hot?” Jisung blurted out. 

“Jisung...do we need to have a talk?”

“What- no! Oh, what- no! I mean like do you think he’s hot?”

“The guy wears a mask; how am I supposed to know?”

He shrugged and played on my phone. “I don’t know. What do you think he looks like?” With Jisung’s mind, he wasn’t going to drop this until he got an answer. Saving my work, I closed my laptop and moved it onto the side table. “He’s probably like thirteen. I’m mean he is skinny enough to be a pre-teen.”

“No, like his face.”

“You are weirdly obsessed with this you know.”

“Answer the question already. I’m getting bored.”

I thought for a minute, my hand unconsciously moving to run through his blonde locks. What would spiderman look like? “He is probably just some random white dude. Dark hair, blue eyes maybe?”

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. The topic changed after that. Jisung told me about spending time with his Uncle earlier that day and we talked about his weird physics experiments. Soon enough, the food came and Jisung paid for it like he said he would. We spent the next several hours sitting in my bed eating sushi, drinking boba, and watching a drama Jisung insisted I ‘needed to see or my brain would explode out of my ears from being lame’.

After several episodes, my room was obscenely dark and my parents had yet to come home. My back rested against Jisung’s chest letting me feel the vibration of his laughs. “Hey, it’s late. You should probably head home.” He smiled when I made no attempt at moving or letting him up. “Do you want me to stay?” “Yes  please.”  He chuckled and pulled out his phone, calling his uncle and letting him know. 

Soon I began to grow tired, my head slumping back onto his shoulder. He poked my side, trying to wake me up. “Hey, go change for bed.” Sleepily, I nodded and shuffled out of bed to sift through my closet for a nightshirt. Jisung moved around getting comfortable while I changed. 

As I walked back over to the bed Jisung shut my laptop and placed it on my nightstand. When I climbed back into my bed he pulled me on top of him, wrapping his arms around my waist. It had been quite a while since Jisung had stayed over. It felt so nice just to be next to him, feeling the warmth radiating off his bare chest. The sound of his heartbeat lulled me to sleep. 

Jisung’s ringtone blared in my small room quickly waking me up. “Ji-” I said shoving my head under the covers. “I got it. Go back to sleep.” A quick glance at my clock told me it was two am. Who the hell was calling Jisung at two am? Jisung reached over me and grabbed his phone off the stand. He tried not to move a lot because my head still lay on his arm. “Hello?”

“Happy? What’s wrong?”

“Jisung tell the Disney dwarf to hang up. I wanna go back to sleep.” I whined, drowsily. Snuggling back into his chest, I reluctantly listened to him sleepily talk on the phone, Jisung not being fully awake himself. “Where am I? I’m at Y/n’s.....Yes....Yes, you can add the location to the list.” I felt Jisung run a hand through his fluffy hair and sigh.

“Mr. Stark said what? Yeah, yeah I have it in my bag....What now?....She’s gonna kill me....I can be there in ten.” Jisung hung up and started to get out of bed. “Woah, where the hell are you going? I need my personal space heater.” Jisung let out a tired laugh as he slipped his baggy shirt back on and rummaged through his bag looking for something. 

“I’m really sorry, but I have to go.”

“Jisung who the fuck is calling you at two am? What is so important that you have to leave?” I asked still not really awake and comprehensive. “Uhhh....my....internship.”

“Your what?”

“My internship.”

“Your what?” 

“My internship.” 

“Yeah-Ji- you keep saying ‘your internship’ like my half-asleep half murderous mind will understand what your saying.”

 “I got an internship with Stark Industries. They have uh... a problem....with some of the...code that I wrote....last week.” 

Jisung started slipping his socks back on as I stared at him in confusion. “When did you get an internship with freaking Tony Stark -You work with Ironman?!” He laughed and started searching for his shoes. 

“Y/n, go back to sleep. I’ll see you on Monday.” Then he left. I was alone once again in my room. A random siren went off in the distance and I just sat in bed. Suddenly, the police scanner on my dresser crackled to life. My dad had given it to me for my birthday a few years ago. 

We have a 647g Disorderly Conduct at 284 Hickom Av.

647g? Why bother calling that in at this time of night? That was just loitering. Sighing, I got up and walked over to turn the radio off. Another voice coming through stopped me. 

Disregard suspect has left the premise with another group of guys. Headed south down Hickom. 

South down Hickom street? What had my dad said earlier this week? Something about several high arms deals going down near there. If I could catch one in the act this would be a great story! Throwing on some pants and slipping on my sneakers, I grabbed my camera and put on my jacket. “Finally a great story!” 

Hickom Avenue was maybe about ten minutes away. The streets were pretty dark at two am, but it didn’t really bother me. My curiosity overpowered any fear I should have. My eyes scanned the area looking for any sign of the guys the scanner mentioned. Just as I was about to cross in front of an alley I saw them. Quickly I doubled back and pressed against the wall. 

“If I’m paying 4k for some lightsaber shit, I’d better get a demonstration, man.”

Carefully I peeked around the corner. Seven men stood in the hallway. Three were next to this heavy-duty van with blacked-out windows. This was definitely an arms deal if I had ever seen one. Which....to be fair...I hadn’t. But it was pretty clear. 

A guy with muscles bigger than my head pulled out a large weapon with green glowing lights. Quickly I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures. They proceeded to fire this huge light cannon around the alley. Holy shit. This thing was powerful.

“Okay, you got a deal. I’ll take four-”

Let’s dance the night away,

Let’s  dance the night away,

Yeaaaahh

One, Two, Three! Let’s go!

“Fuck,” I whispered ripping my phone out of my pocket and struggling to turn it off. “Turn off, come on.” Finally, I silenced the phone and turned to see if they had heard. Instead my eyes met a broad chest only a couple inches away. 

Okay....think, think, think. Too busy panicking. Can’t think. Uhhhhhh......fuck. I followed my first instinct and threw a punch at the guy’s nose. His head did not recoil like it was supposed to. He just simply cracked his neck and glared down at me.

Okay.....instincts bad.

Before I knew it I was struggling against the man’s grip as he dragged me into the alley. “We’ve got a visitor.” He said throwing me onto the ground in front of all the other men. They sneered and inched closer clearly quite upset I had interrupted their little party. 

“Make that two. Hey, how are you guys doing?” 

All heads turned to the roof of the liquor store we were next to. My eyes widened. There was Spiderman. Complete with the red and blue suit and cocky childish attitude. “Who the fuck are you?” The buff guy, who now had his foot digging into my stomach, said.

“Bro....Come on. I’m Spiderman. You know. I shoot webs and kick ass.” 

“Isn’t he that guy from YouTube that did the flip on that building?”

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS ONE TIME!”

The man scoffed and pressed further onto my stomach, making me wince slightly. “Scram, Arachne Boy.” The men around me laughed at I assumed the leader’s joke. The hero sighed and shook his head.

“See now I have to beat you up. You can’t just make fun of my name. That shit hurts, bro.”

“What the fu-” Before he could finish his sentence a web shot and grabbed onto his face and flung him into the side of the building. Soon a fight broke out. Trying to remove myself from the situation I crawled away as Spiderman fought all the men. 

“Ah!” 

A strong hand grabbed the back of my neck and hoisted me off the ground. “You aren’t getting away that easy, little girl.” The man sneered. A huge welt was on the side of his face from Spiderman’s attack. My airway’s started to close as he squeezed tighter. My hands tried to pull his fingers away and slapping at any place I could reach. Meanwhile, the last thing I would hear before I died would be Spiderman yelling something about Naruto running a dude into the next Millenium. 

As the edges of my vision started to fade, I heard another voice come closer. “Get your fucking mutant hands off her!” It screamed. I was dropped to the ground. Air filled my lungs as I took huge gasps. Looking up I saw Spiderman taking on the huge monstrosity of a man with nothing but his own two hands. 

“I was told never to play with guns. But I think today might be the exception.”

A web shot out of his fingertips and pulled the weird contraption into his hands. A bright light emitted and fired at the man, blasting him into the building wall. Within seconds Spiderman had wrapped up the villain in a little cocoon of sticky webs, keeping him secure. A quick look around told me he had already done the same to the others. 

The boy in the red suit danced around like a weirdo, while I sat on the ground. “Go Spidey! Go Spidey! Hell yeah! I made all of you my bitches!” I coughed still trying to get air back into my lungs. The white eyes on his mask widened. It must be some pretty advanced tech in that suit.

“Holy shit- Are you okay, Y/n...........I mean...wait-...random citizen I don’t know who means nothing to me personally. Are you okay?”

His voice weirdly got lower halfway through his sentence. Dazed, I looked back up at him. He offered me a hand up and gratefully I took it. “Thanks for helping back there,” I said, voice coming out a bit sore. He shrugged and puffed out his chest. 

“Yeah, I did kick some serious ass didn’t I?”

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my camera and started to walk away. “Wait! Where are you going?” He swung from a lamppost and landed in front of me the suit’s eyes widening and shrinking again. His suit must have facial readers or something. 

“I’m going home. I’ve got my story; I’m done.”

“Hey it’s not safe. Let me take you home. What would your friends say if you weren’t at school tomorrow?” 

Spiderman continued to follow me as if he were a lost puppy. I laughed when he almost tripped over a trashcan. “Okay, one- how do you know I’m a student? And two- I don’t really have any friends. People don’t like me at school.” He stopped in his tracks. 

“What do you mean- Are you getting bullied at school?” His words stopped me. He sounded genuinely concerned. By now we were halfway to my apartment. I simply stared at him as the old streetlights flickered and struggled to light up the sidewalks we were on.

“A couple people bother me, but I just ignore them. Look I’m gonna go home. Thanks for back there. You were a real hero.” 

He looked between me and my hand as I stuck it out for him to shake. Slowly he took it, his grip firm, but cautious. “You know, usually heroes get a thank you kiss for rescuing such a gorgeous girl.” I scoffed and pulled my hand away. 

“Sorry, Spidey. I’m not interested in cocky little shits who run around wearing masks.”

“Yeah well, you’d be surprised. What is your type? Bet, I’m still it.”

My eyes lit up thinking about him. “I guess I’m more of the boy next door type. They say you always fall for your best friend right?”

He blinked as if he was processing my words. What I thinking? A horny fourteen-year-old boy wouldn’t understand. “Night, Spidey. Thanks for the save.” Not letting him say another word, I headed back to my apartment. My apartment was still empty when I returned. My parents wouldn’t be back until after I left for school in a few hours. Reluctantly I went back to my bed, missing the space where Jisung lay only a few hours earlier. It was harder to fall asleep without him next to me.

My legs carried me as quickly as they could. I ignored the crazy looks from people on the street as I raced to May’s apartment. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I burst through the building’s main entrance. Knowing the elevator would take too long and it was probably broken again, I took the stairs up to the fourth floor. 

The door was unlocked when I ran into the apartment. “May? May!” I called, looking for her in the living room. Hearing small cries I turned to find her exiting the kitchen. With open arms, I let her hug me and cry into my shoulder. 

We sat in the kitchen in silence. Occasionally one of our cries would slip, but the emptiness would return. He wasn’t answering any of my calls. I was beginning to worry. May said they were together. Where was he? It had been hours since May had called me. The sound of the door opening made us both stand from our seats. 

Jisung walked in with heavy shoulders and blood on his forehead and smeared across his shirt. He had dried tears staining his cheeks. I had seen the footage of the shooting on the news with May, but the sight of Jisung standing before us made my heart break. 

I held myself back as May went to her nephew. They needed each other. I could wait. Whispers between the two were shared, most likely about her husband. She had already gotten a call, but hearing it from Jisung seemed important to her. After a moment she excused herself, saying something about wanting to go to bed. 

The two of us stood in silence. I had no idea how to comfort him. How could you comfort someone who just watched their uncle die? Jisung started to slowly move towards his room. Wordlessly, I followed. 

After I closed his door, I turned to find him staring at the walls small cries coming from his form. There were pictures of him and his uncle all over his room. Jisung sighed when I wrapped my arms around him from behind. He turned around so he could hold me to his chest. Hot tears fell against my neck as he cried. 

It felt like hours before he calmed down. Gently I led him over to the bed and sat him down. All he could do was stare at his hands as I grabbed a clean shirt from his closet and a wet cloth from the bathroom. There was no fight from him as I lifted the bloodied shirt from his body and put it in the hamper. 

Carefully, I lifted his chin and gently started cleaning the blood away from his face. I tried not to wipe away the tears that slowly ran down his cheeks. He looked broken-and tired like he hadn’t slept even before today’s events. My heart shattered when he finally looked me in the eye. 

“I’m not ready for this.” He whispered, more tears falling. 

Wrapping my arms around him, I let the clean shirt fall to the floor. “I know...” I tried to keep tears from falling from my own eyes. I concentrated on running my fingers through his hair and how tightly he held onto my waist. “You’re never going to be ready for it.” He cried even harder, making me want to scream for him. 

Slowly, I laid back onto his bed, holding him on top of my chest. “No one is ever ready for what you are going through,” I whispered. His body shook from crying and he buried his nose into my neck, holding onto me as if I were the only tether keeping him from floating away. “But, you are so strong. We aren’t faced with challenges we can’t overcome.” His breathing started to steady as my hand traced patterns on this bare skin of his back. “Sometimes I wish I was normal,” He whispered.

“Ji, you are anything but normal. And that’s okay. But for now...you can just be here. I’ll be with you. When you’re ready you can do whatever you need to. But...just stay here for now.”

He nodded and held onto me even tighter. I listened to his breath, gently rubbing his back and playing with his hair. When I knew he was asleep, I let myself do the same. Tomorrow would be another day. I would most likely have to leave and let Jisung and May grieve, but for now, I could be with him. Hopefully, that was enough. 

Early the next morning, I woke up to an empty bed. Jisung’s covers were loosely wrapped around me and his window was cracked open, letting a strip of sunlight in. Slowly, I sat up and rubbed my head. It was quite unusual for him to be up this early. Well, it was quite unusual for me to be up this early, but it was like my body had a sensor for when he was gone. I pulled my phone from the table and started to text him.

The sound of the window opening caused my attention to turn. I froze as I saw Jisung climbing through the window. “What the fuck!” He froze when he saw me. My eyes widened, taking the sight in. Jisung was standing before me wearing a familiar red and blue suit, a mask in his hand. 

“Y/n, I can explain...”

Was Jisung Spiderman? Was my best friend Spiderman? Holy shit! “Okay explain!” He simply stared at me, eyes wide. His hand came to scratch the back of his neck. His eyes avoided mine as my arms crossed my chest. 

“Jisung, might I suggest explanation protocol #38 for Miss L/n?”

“Oh my God! Friday, shut up! You aren’t helping.”

I watched as Jisung said to the AI apparently in his suit before he tossed the mask onto his desk. “You have an explanation protocol for me?” The look on his face showed that he knew he was in trouble. 

“See the thing is...I’m not Spiderman-...” He stopped when I glared at him. “Okay, I am Spiderman. This is my internship with Mr.Stark.” Without hesitation, I got up from his bed and started slapping his arm.

“This doesn’t even hurt, does it? You have superstrength. Oh my god, I’m going to fucking murder you.” An aggravated sigh left my chest. “So this whole entire time you have been swinging around the city saving people and doing flips on buildings and I was none the wiser?” I said turning back to him.

“That was one time! But...yes.” He stood awkwardly in his own room. “Look, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.” He gulped when my stern gaze turned back on him. “So, anything you ask I’ll answer.” 

“Who else knows?”

“Mr. Stark, Happy- the guy who is my supervisor-, and Felix.”

“FELIX?”

He flinched as my voice raised. Taking a breath, I calmly sat back down on his bed. He watched as I crossed my legs and turned off the sound on my phone. No way was I gonna let my parents interrupt this conversation. “How did you become like...this...” I asked pointing to his clearly toned physique.

“At first I thought it was just like another puberty thing. But, like puberty doesn't make me shoot webs out of my hands. I think it was that spider from the lab.”

“So do-...are all your...bodily fluids...like...webs? Like do you shoot webs out of everywhere or-”

“You wanna find out?” Jisung said with a smirk, coming closer. I did not hesitate to slap him. 

“You couldn’t think of a better name though? Spiderman, really? You couldn’t come up with something more aggressive?”

“Well, I mean...like - spiders are cool, okay!”

I could tell he was uncomfortable. Usually, Jisung always stood up straight and had some sort of a smile or smirk on his face, but he was truly nervous. He watched me expectantly, waiting to answer whatever questions I asked next.

“So when you said you were away on a company retreat for the weekend. That was actually you who was fighting Captain America and all that shit in Prauge?”

“Yes.”

“When you left that night, did you go to the arms deal?”

“Yes.”

“So, it was you who saved me.”

“Your welcome.”

“Don’t push it.”

Nervously, he let out a laugh. No matter how many questions I asked...he was still my best friend. I was proud of him. He was doing so much good. Don’t get me wrong I was still very pissed at him for not telling me. “You owe me pizza at Tony’s for the rest of the fucking year.” A sigh of relief left his chest and he wrapped me in a hug. 

“That’s fine by me. I’m honestly surprised you didn’t ask about the whole crush thing.” I pulled away to see that fucking smirk on his mouth. “I think it’s cute you’re in love with me.” He tugged me closer to his body, gripping my waist.

“Who says I’m in love with you?”

“Me.”

“You’re an asshole- you say a lot of stupid shit.”

“I’m an asshole, not a liar. There’s a difference.”

My breath caught in my throat when I saw his eyes glance down to my lips. I could practically feel my heartbeat pulsing through my entire body. It was true and he knew it. I was in love with him. “Well....what are you going do about it? Prick...” I said in a shaky breath. He let out a soft laugh, his eyes lighting up. 

“Kiss you....bitch.”

My heart went crazy as he pressed his lips to mine. Closing my eyes, I melted into his touch. This was definitely the craziest two days of my entire life. I never would have imagined I would have to comfort my best friend, find out he was a superhero running around New York, and then have him kiss me in his bedroom.

Jisung smiled as I kissed him back, draping my arms around his neck and threading my fingers through his blonde hair. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought kissing Jisung would be like this. Without his mouth leaving mine he pushed me up against the wall of his bedroom. He sighed when my teeth caught his bottom lip.

“Fuck...do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” He asked before returning to my lips. 

“Kissing me?”

“To be honest I’ve been thinking about more than that since I was thirteen.”

Ignoring my scoff, Jisung continued to attack my lips like he had found water for the first time after walking in a desert. His hands slid under my legs, making me shriek when he picked me up. In one swift motion, he turned around and threw me onto his bed, before hovering over me. “I love you,” He whispered, before placing a soft kiss on my lips. Slowly, he moved down to my neck, my hands running through his soft hair. Impatiently, I pulled him back to my lips. 

Our little makeout session was interrupted by the sound of Jisung’s phone ringing. He sighed and dropped his head onto my shoulder. “I have to get that,” He sighed and pushed himself off the bed, walking over to pick up his phone. My eyes couldn’t help but rake over him. Now, I could freely ogle how gorgeous his body was. I bit my lip, looking at the lines of his broad shoulders go down to his slim waist.

“Happy, now is not a good time.”

“Yes....among other things...” A blush flooded his cheeks as he looked back at me still laying on his bed. 

“Can’t Mr. Stark send someone else?”

“I’m not just going to up and leave.”

Getting bored, I got up and wrapped my arms around him. He tried to look over at me, but I just buried my face in his chest. Patiently, I waited for him to finished the call with Happy. Finally, he threw the phone onto his bed and kissed me again. “Do you have to go?” I asked against his lips. He pulled away another smirk filling his face.

“You want to go to Berlin for a week?”

“What?”

“Mr. Stark needs me in Berlin. Something about S.H.I.E.L.D and an Avenger thing. But, there is no way May will let me go. Especially after yesterday.”

��Why am I going?”

“Happy said I could take you with me, you know to convince May to let me go.”

I laughed and kissed him again. “Sure. I’ll go to Berlin with you.” He laughed and spun me around the room. “However, you are gonna be the one to tell my dad that we are going alone with no chaperone to a country where the drinking age is sixteen.” 

“Fuck.”

“Good luck, Ji.”

Requests are open, just send an ask my lovelies!

Masterlist

[grimoireofwritings]

Headcanons: The Magic Knight Captains & Their Art Styles

Just some random idea that came to me today while reminiscing on what the Captains do in their free time. I began to picture how it would play out if each of them were instructed to show us their art skills! Here's what I came up with.

Captain William Vangeance:

This man is not too bad at art! He doesn't put a lot of pressure on himself to make perfect sketches and he has low expectations for himself... So he mainly considers it a hobby set aside for his rare moments of leisure time. Since he's so chill about it, his sketches come out looking nice when he's more relaxed. This is usually the case since he prefers using his bird journal - he likes to bird-watch and put together little drawings of the winged friends he sees while laying all content out in his garden. He's no prodigy but his hand-eye coordination is pretty good and after years of practice his birds and trees turn out pretty impressive. Very embarrassed if asked to show people though.

Credit: Found in a "how to draw" guide.. no name

Captain Nozel Silva:

He prefers appreciating sophisticated art made by others.. and really doesn't care much for making it himself. If he draws anything, it'll usually be rushed - as he knows he's got more important matters to focus on.. Still, he is capable of putting together a sketch every now and again of something simple. Usually plain posable objects. At the end of the day, he's not really a big art freak and even at a nice art museum he gets bored after an hour or so.

Credit: unlisted. Message if you know where it's from!

Captain Fuegoleon Vermillion:

He likes art, a lot! Like William he's no prodigy, but it makes him happy so that's enough for him. He prefers to paint, and his subjects are often women, focusing on anatomy because he enjoys exploring movement / dimension through bodily posing. He likes painting silhouettes that are dancing and often have flowing clothing, or hair. Definitely focuses on the beauty, passion, and artistic self expression side of it. He isn't as open about it because Mereoleonna poked fun at him for it so much and he'd rather not deal with any of that again.. but people who know about it always talk about how he's quite talented.

Credit: Anastassia Orehova

Captain Yami Sukehiro:

He's listed in the manga's assorted questions brigade as the #2 ( Behind Rill) judge of artistic style and taste! He's got an excellent eye for art, and he can be really creative medium wise, but I still feel like he's a bit too lazy to sit down for a long time and really commit to a canvas or sketchbook. He doesn't find it rewarding enough for his attention span.. but he seems to be pretty good at making simplistic, cartoon styles really expressive.

Credit: Olga Shvartsur

Captain Rill Boismortier:

He is ALL about color, vibrancy, and bold presentation! His paintings are always so full of vivid life and brightness, it's clear to see he's a person carrying a wondrous imagination and endless creativity. Everything he's made seems like it's bursting with optimism and excitement, as if the artist couldn't contain himself. He is extremely versatile and can tackle almost any subject, which is super impressive for his age. His one flaw I'd say is that sometimes his paintings, despite being gorgeous technicality wise, can get a little busy or cluttered as he struggles to not get carried away with all the different expressive ideas he comes up with. He's still learning!! ( Bonus headcanon: Rill has a mandatory weekly art class set aside as "training" for the Aqua Deer magic knights.. Everyone attends regardless of their actual interest levels because nobody wants to handle seeing Rill devastated that people didn't show.)

Credit: Svenja Jodicke

Captain Dorothy Unsworth:

Pretty self explanatory? She's a kawaii sailor moon theme anime waifu. All her drawings are magical anime girls... But they only appear in her dreams, so nobody knows she can draw well!!

Credit: source link to deviantart page was a removed account 😭 please lmk if you know the artist

Captain Jack the Ripper:

Nobody wants to talk about Jack's art. He doesn't wanna draw and nobody wants him to draw. Anything he makes is simply a cursed image, no questions asked. He's got the artistic skills of a grade schooler... And even though he can be somewhat creative, the fact that there's always some kind of disturbing / violent undertone incorporated within the picture... It just looks like a demented child's drawing.

Credit: could not find name but it's a canvas displayed in "The Museum of Bad Artwork" labelled as "The Butcher" and tbh that makes it even more terrifying

Captain Charlotte Roselei

She's listed in the top three WORST artists / judges of fine arts in canon... Which is interesting to me, lol. I think she probably stopped trying a long time ago after being teased for how her stuff turns out, lol. She tried drawing or painting and would get frustrated with her inability to create an image she's picturing in her mind.

Credit: could not find name but it's a canvas displayed in "The Museum of Bad Artwork"

Captain Kaiser Granvorka:

I don't know a whole lot about him tbh but I know he is also listed as an excellent artist next to Yami. I think he'd be really into sophisticated art! Kinda like Nozel but far more dedicated and passionate about it. Still-picture images, but he finds a lot of joy in shapes and objects, and messing around with shading.

Credit: unlisted. Message if you know where it's from!

And that is all my friends!! I am still trying to hunt down some art credit for these images, some were on Pinterest or just unlisted altogether. I'm gonna put them down once I come back and edit this post when it's not 3am 😂 plz let me know if y'all can help me out with that. I know there's an online site somewhere that's made for this but I forgot what it's called???

This was a lot of fun to make though. If you disagree or have thoughts, feel free to reblog or come chat in my ask box! Goodnight luvs 🥰

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 14

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Leo's fear raises its head at the worst possible moment.

A/N: Finally some (slight) drama after I've drowned all of you in fluff in the previous chapters. Also, it was pretty exciting for me to finally get to explore Leo's studying life a bit more in this chapter.

I also want to take this opportunity to advertise a future fic of mine that I /hope/ to finish by the end of this week. The past week I've been working on a post ToN Caleo one-shot which is already over 4000 words long and at this point mainly needs some heavy editing to be posted. So stay tuned for that too if you like this ship!

Big big thanks to Cris for helping me a whole lot with this chapter! I really needed your science knowledge :’)

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! And remember that comments are the only reward I get so they would be much, much appreciated!!

Characters in this ch: Calypso, Leo. Jason, Percy, Annabeth

Words: 3000+

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / next chapter / AO3

...

“Mister Valdez? Are you listening?”

Leo snapped out of his daze. He was at his engineering math class and for the past 15 minutes the professor had been explaining to the group a problem that had taken Leo about 2-3 minutes to solve. Usually he did something else while listening to his professors; finish more calculations (sometimes even ones they weren’t assigned to do), doodle blueprints and ideas for future inventions into his notebook, write down a new joke he had come up with, or text Jason that he was bored. Weirdly enough, doing all that other stuff helped him to focus on what was going on in the lecture.

However, this time his mind was elsewhere; it kept showing him images of a girl with shoulder length reddish brown hair, dark brown eyes that seemed a bit harsh at first but softened when she laughed at his joke, a couple of freckles on her light skin… He could also hear her laughter and smell the cinnamon scent that probably came from the shampoo she used in his head. The previous evening had gone so well but he had no idea what to make of it; even if he did like Calypso (which he wasn’t quite ready to admit yet), could anything ever happen? They were flatmates. Things would sure get complicated if they got together and then broke up and would barely stand each other’s company… Besides, who was to say she’d ever like him? Sure, sometimes she seemed amused by his jokes but what other reasons did he give for her to like him? Not much, he felt.

Leo started to get frustrated because he couldn’t get those thoughts out of his head and he might have started to growl to himself if the professor hadn’t called him at that exact moment.

“Yes?” Leo answered unsurely, not having heard what the professor had asked.

“Good. Then you can tell me what the solution to this problem is.” The professor pointed at the long and complicated looking problem on the whiteboard.

Leo sighed of relief on the inside. They were still talking about the same problem that he had solved over 10 minutes ago. He could do this.

“X is 3,65, Y is 5,51 and Z is 7,24,” he said, sounding almost bored.

“That is correct,” the professor said, badly hiding his surprise. He had thought this kid who seemed to be living in his dream world would be utterly confused by his question. He turned his attention back to the rest of the class and continued: “Of course, the easiest way to solve this equation is to divide X with… Yes, Mister Valdez?”

“Actually, I disagree,” Leo said, now completely awake. “Why would you divide it when you can…”

“Which one of us is the professor here, Mister Valdez?” the professor cut him off. “You may think you know how to do this but there are plenty of students here who aren’t quite as advanced and that’s why it’s better to show them one way to do it rather than to confuse them by....”

“Yeah, right, my bad,” Leo said sarcastically. “If these students are so simple minded, then why don’t you give them more practical problems to solve? You know, things we might actually need in the work life instead of… that,” he pointed at the whiteboard.

A couple of people were brave enough to nod and hum in agreement to Leo’s comments but there were also a few that started laughing.

“Alright, that’s it, Mister Valdez. Leave my class.”

Leo obeyed gladly (that class was such a waste of time anyway). He packed his things and headed out of the room, grinning widely as he left to let the professor know he hadn’t won that battle. It was almost lunch time so he decided to already go to the cafeteria to wait for Jason whose class wasn’t too far either.

About 15 minutes later Jason showed up, and to Leo's surprise he also had company. Percy Jackson did occasionally join them for a game night or a sparring session but Leo almost exclusively saw him outside the university. From what he knew Percy was currently focusing on his swimming career and wasn’t studying anything. Now he had however joined Jason for lunch and that made Leo wonder if there was some specific reason for that.

“Hey, man,” Jason greeted. “You’re early today. Are they having enchiladas or something?”

“Nah,” Leo shook his head. “I may have gotten kicked out of the class.”

“What did you do this time?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Nothing, really!” Leo exclaimed. Jason kept looking at him suspiciously, though, so he had to add eventually: “Fine, I may have disagreed with the professor about some of his methods, but really, that’s all. Didn’t blow up the lab or anything like that.”

“One time when I was in the high school I told the teacher his pants were unzipped and I wasn’t allowed to participate in his classes for a whole week after that. Didn’t miss much, though, he sucked as a teacher,” Percy joined the conversation.

“That’s exactly what I thought about this guy!” Leo said and gave Percy a high five. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the pool at this hour.”

“Just checking the places,” Percy shrugged. Leo raised his eyebrow questioningly. “Fine, Annabeth thinks that at some point I should start thinking about my career after swimming so Jason said he could show me around today so I’d get an idea what it’s like here. Oh and, he promised me a free lunch.”

“Makes sense,” Leo said while already looking at the menu eagerly. “I’d come here for a free lunch too.”

“You pay for this one, though,” Percy pointed out.

“Back to the actual topic ,” Jason said, looking at Leo a bit worriedly. “You didn’t get into big trouble with that professor, did you?”

“I think he’ll go back to ignoring me again in the next class. “ Leo replied. “So no need to worry.”

“Good. It’s just that, after that last lab incident…” Jason started, referring to an incident that had happened in the previous semester, but Leo stopped him.

“I said no need to worry,” Leo said a bit louder. “I’ve got things sorted, OK? Just… let’s go to get that damn lunch now. Chili con carne, anyone?”

In reality, Leo knew that if he skipped one more lab class, the professors wouldn’t be that understanding. The saddest part about it was that he actually enjoyed the lab classes way more than the boring theory classes because there you got to try things out with your own hands, but… there was one big but. He couldn’t be there when…

“Leo?” he heard Jason’s voice somewhere nearby

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“You were just totally zoned out, I was talking to you like a full minute and I don’t think you heard anything I said,” Jason pointed out.

“Oh, sorry. Lots going on in my mind. So, what did you say?” Leo asked.

“I was asking about when we should meet up on Saturday? I have soccer practice in the morning and Piper has a meeting with her theater group at 1 pm but we’re free after that.”

“I have to ask Cal but I think I can organize my work so I’d be free any time after 4 pm.”

“Alright, sounds fine to me,” Jason said, but Leo could sense that he was still wondering what had been bothering him that much.

“So who’s this Cal person?” Percy asked when the boys made it to the buffet tables.

“My new flatmate,” Leo said simply, currently more interested in filling his plate than elaborating on his living situation.

“OK. I was just wondering because Annabeth mentioned that she’d been at your place, and apparently she’d helped to give this flatmate of yours a makeover.”

“Oh, yeah!” Leo said, remembering that meeting quite vividly. “From what I’ve heard they’ve been hanging out quite a lot lately. That’s good because… well, she’s new here.” Leo was going to say that she doesn’t seem to have a lot of people in her life, but decided that he didn’t want to reveal too much to someone who had never even met her.

“Where is she from then?”

“I think she moved here from New York,” Leo said. “And she’s around your age. Who knows, you might even know her.”

“New York is a pretty big place,” Percy pointed out. “I guess Cal is a nickname? What’s her full name?”

Leo was going to answer when he spotted the chemistry lab professor in the crowd and he quickly hid behind Jason.

“Don’t let him see me,” Leo said hastily. “He’s gonna…”

Leo didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when he heard the said professor say loudly: “Mister Valdez!”

Leo peeked from behind his friend.

“Hola, professor,” he said awkwardly. “Didn’t see you there.”

“Yes you did, you were just trying to hide from me. I wanted to remind you that today is the test day which is 60% of the mark. And that means that…”

“If I skip that test, I will fail the class,” Leo added, looking down at his feet. He didn’t remain like that long, though. “I’ll be there, professor.” He put up a brave face and saluted him as the professor just ‘hmmph’ed and turned away from me.

“I thought you said you have everything in order.” Jason raised his eyebrow once the boys had paid for their lunches and started to look for a table. “That didn’t seem like it.”

“Take care of your own business, Sparky,” Leo grunted and pointed at one empty table not far from them. “Let’s go there.”

“I’m serious, Leo,” Jason continued once they got seated. “Something is bothering you. We are your friends and we do care. You can trust us on this.”

Leo let Jason’s words sink in. Friends. Care. Trust. Since his mother died, he had always been the oddball, the outsider until he got a family who actually cared about him, Jo, Emmie and Georgie, but he still got a bit overwhelmed every time he realized that he really mattered to someone.

“Thanks, man.” Leo said finally. “I’ll… keep that in my mind. Promise.”

“Good.” Jason smiled at him encouragingly. “You can talk to us whenever you feel like it.”

After that the discussion moved to other things. Percy was hopeful that he was fit enough for a new record in his next competition and he didn’t forget to praise her little sister as well. Jason mentioned having seen his father at the campus but he had barely acknowledged his presence. Leo threw a few sarcastic comments here and there to let the others know he was listening. However, he had lost his appetite after hearing about the test. He had barely tasted his lunch and was now moving the rice back and forth on his plate as it got cooler. If the others noticed that, they didn’t say anything, probably thinking that it was better to let Leo open up on his own accord.

The lunch time flew by too fast for Leo’s liking. After separating from his friends he started heading towards the lab where most of the other students were already getting prepared. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in, hoping for the best.

The lab class started with a brief written test that made sure the students were ready for the practice part. This time would be particularly important, though, because it was testing them about pretty much everything they had learned so far in that class, and would be graded accordingly.

The written test caused no problem to Leo. He’d be able to name the lab tools by heart even in his sleep and the calculations weren’t much harder to him. However, he was already dreading the actual practice part for a very specific reason…

In the practice Leo would have to mix a few compounds together to get a chemical reaction. That was the simple part. But unfortunately for him, these said compounds would have to be heated in order for them to react. And of course you’d need a flame to do that. Now that was the hard part for Leo. He hated the gas burners and it had become a habit for him to skip a lab class when he knew they would be used. Unfortunately for him, that was fairly often because apparently the university’s heating plates were used by some other group at the same time, and that was also why he was about to fail this class. But if he could handle using the burner just this once, maybe he’d be fine… He knew he couldn’t afford to fail it because if he did, it might be a sign that he wouldn’t be able to do the job he was so excited about, and that would be a huge slap in his face. Maybe even bigger than he was ready to admit.

He measured the compounds and was ready to heat them when he noticed that a fellow student nearby had accidentally mistaken two of the compounds with each other, ruining the mixture. That gave him an idea.

“Pssst. I can mix a new one for you if you heat this for me.”

“What?” The other student looked at him with confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“I just told you. I can fix that for you.”

“You just want to flex with your skills, that’s all,” the guy said, knowing Leo’s reputation as the genius who however refused to join lab classes. Probably because he felt he was too good for them. “May I remind you that this is a solo practice!” the professor yelled from the front of the class. “No talking allowed.”

“Yes, professor,” Leo said quietly, but rolled his eyes at him when he turned his back. He read the instructions one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and when he was double convinced that he was in the part that he had dreaded, he breathed sharply and picked up his gas burner and some matches. He felt his heart starting to race and his hands starting to shake as he took one match from the box and tried to light it.

He tried once. Twice. Took a deep breath and tried once more. At this point his hands were shaking so furiously that the match fell from his hand. Realizing that he still couldn’t do it, he made a frustrated groan, dropped the match box on the table and started shakily collecting his things.

“Mister Valdez? Did you finish your task?” The professor raised his gaze from his desk and focused on him. A few others turned to Leo’s direction as well.

“No, sir.”

“And why not?”

“I. can’t.” Leo said with a voice so deep and raw that you rarely got to hear it from him. He left his unfinished product on the professor’s desk. Then he threw his bag over his shoulder and doors banging left the class.

He didn’t make it far when he felt his knees going weak and he had to sit down on the closest chair, burying his face in his hands.

…

“Thanks so much for showing me that place! It feels so good to see some nature even this close to the city,” Calypso exclaimed happily to Annabeth as they were walking towards the dorms. Calypso loved nature and she didn’t really feel at home in the concrete jungle, hoping that one day she could afford to buy a house from the countryside. She had once mentioned that to Annabeth who also enjoyed adventuring in the less crowded areas and had promised to take Calypso to one of her favorite parks nearby. They both had had free time from their classes that afternoon so they had decided to take the advantage of that and go to explore a bit.

The park had been pretty, having a small river running through it and little trails circling the trees. Calypso, who had grown near the sea missed seeing bodies of water so even the river had made her feel a little less homesick. The girls had been there for a few hours, taking pictures and having a small picnic while talking about anything and everything that had come to their minds.

Now, unfortunately, it was time to return back to real life and the assignments that were waiting for them at home.

“No problem,” Annabeth replied to Calypso’s comment. “Honestly, I think this break was much needed. I do love architecture and history and all that but sometimes my ADHD kicks in and I just need to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, it helps to focus again afterwards,” Calypso agreed. “Hey, do you have anything special to do this weekend? Leo, I, Piper and Jason are supposed to have a video game night on Saturday and I thought I’d ask if you want to join. You can ask your boyfriend too if you want, of course! I’m sure Leo wouldn’t mind.”

“What time would it be?” Annabeth asked.

“I haven’t asked Leo yet but he does work on Saturdays so probably not very early. Sometime in the evening. I can inform you when I know more,” Calypso promised.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in my mind. My boyfriend has a swimming practice twice a day so he may not be able to join us but I might!”

“Great!”

The girls had reached the area where Calypso lived so they turned to their own directions.

“I’ll contact you!” Calypso said before Annabeth was too far to hear. She waved at her in response.

Calypso was still smiling when she entered her flat, but the smile soon melted from her face when she saw Leo hunched on the couch, looking utterly lost. Calypso approached him cautiously, asking: “What happened?”

Leo patted on the seat next to him, gesturing to her to join him on the couch. She did, but when he didn’t say anything for a while, though, Calypso decided to be bold and wrap her arm around his shoulder. Leo looked at her with dark eyes, still appreciating the gesture.

“I may have to start making new career plans.”

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHAT I DID THIS THE BUBBLE GOT RIGHT

Like skirmishers in an ancient army, you want to be forced to figure out how to scale investing. If someone starts being rude, other users will step in and tell them to stop. When we make something in America, our aim is just to get you talking. We can stop there, and have something crude but serviceable, like a charcoal sketch. And whichever side wins, their ideas will also be considered to have triumphed, as if God wanted to signal his agreement by selecting that side as the victor. For nearly all of history the success of a society was proportionate to its ability to assemble large and disciplined organizations win needs to have a disproportionately low probability of the latter. We can afford to take more risk, and can start more startups total in their careers. And Microsoft is going to come back with the money; the only question is how much on what terms.

The worst ideas we see at Y Combinator are from young founders making things they think other people will want. And most importantly, what are you interested in? In the so-called real world this need is a great curiosity about a promising question. Wrong. Having your language designed by a committee is a big pitfall, and not just for the reasons everyone knows about. To see fashion in your own time, different societies have wildly varying ideas of what's ok and what isn't. This is a new essay for the Japanese edition of Hackers & Painters. So if you want to fight back, there are ways to do it than literally making a mark on the world, but have no other way to do that is to visit them. The eight men who left Shockley Semiconductor to found Fairchild Semiconductor, the original Silicon Valley startup, weren't even trying to start a startup, it's easier to say you suck than to figure out how to scale investing.

If some new technique makes solar cells x% more efficient, that seems strictly better. But really what motivates us is the completely amoral desire that would motivate any hacker who looked at some complex device and realized that with a tiny tweak he could make it run more efficiently. In the last 20 years, smoking has been transformed by a combination of factory farming and innovations in food processing into something with way more immediate bang for the buck, and you can even work on your own stuff while you're there. They still rely on this principle today, incidentally. Hardy said he didn't like math in high school and someone asked about my plans, I'd say that my first priority was to learn what the options were. If they don't have a problem doing acquisitions, the others should have even less problem. There's something about big companies that just sucks the energy out of you. One of the most successful countries, in the same portfolio-optimizing way as investors.

An ambitious kid graduating from college in 1960 wanted to work in the other direction. I was eight, I was rarely bored. When you stretch before running, you put your body into positions much more extreme than any it will assume during the run. Where the just-do-it model fails most dramatically is in our cities—or rather, exurbs. Brevity is underestimated and even scorned. And just as there is nothing wrong with yellow. And yet every May, speakers all over the country fire up the Standard Graduation Speech, the theme of which is: don't give up on your dreams. So it's likely that visitors from the future would agree with at least some of the effect of first class functions or recursion or even keyword parameters.1 C: Assembly language is too low-level. The best way to do this? This technique won't find us all the things we can't say that are true, or at least something like a natural science. People who worry about the increasing gap between rich and poor generally look back on the default explanation of people living in fallen civilizations.

Opinions we consider harmless could have gotten you in big trouble.2 There your job is largely a matter of destiny, the mere unfolding of some innate genius. I haven't decided.3 If I were talking to a guy four feet tall whose ambition was to play in the NBA, I'd feel pretty stupid saying, you can get away with this in movies and software because they're both messy processes. I liked. The millennia-long run of bigger-is-better left us with a lot of things for the better. Some will be shocking by present standards. It's hard for them to start with the labels. Could a trend based on them be that powerful? Dylan: Scheme has no libraries, and Lisp syntax is scary. Some tribes may avoid wrong as judgemental, and may instead use a more neutral sounding euphemism like negative or destructive. That's not a radical idea, by the way; it's the main difference between children and adults.

I think most Japanese executives would be horrified at the idea of building Facebook in 2004: organic startup ideas usually don't seem like startup ideas at first. Because a glider doesn't have an engine, you can't fly into the wind without losing a lot of big, serious programs started as throwaway programs. How many times have you heard hackers speak fondly of how in, say, APL, they could do amazing things with just a couple lines of code? A lot of the questions people get hot about are actually quite complicated. Hasn't she been taught to be? Suppose your company is making $1000 a month now, and choose those that will give you the most promising range of options afterward. And since risk is usually proportionate to reward.

Notes

A investor has a great thing in itself deserving. Make sure it works on all the other extreme—becoming demoralized when investors behave upstandingly too.

One father told me how he had to for some students to get fossilized. The amusing thing is, obviously, only Jews would move there, and instead of using special euphemisms for lies that seem excusable according to certain somewhat depressing rules many of the most accurate way to put it this way, they'd have something more recent. And no, unfortunately, I preferred to call the Metaphysics came after meta after the Physics in the beginning of the big winners aren't all that matters, just that they're really works of anthropology.

Interestingly, the other. The application described here is Skype. Investors influence one another directly through the buzz that surrounds wisdom in so many different schools of thought about how to appeal to space aliens, but they seem to want them; you have to tell VCs early on. I explained in How to Make Wealth in Hackers Painters, what that means service companies are up-front capital intensive to founders would actually increase the size of a startup than it would have undesirable side effects.

[fallstreakfeathers]

Don’t Look Down

[Ch 1 ] [Ch Rating: T )  [Word count: 4898 ) (Also posted under ‘Arkhelios’ on Ao3. https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956846/chapters/57618382 Do not repost to other sites. ) Update 9/21- grammar/etc has been edited and corrected. Should flow much better and clearer

[ If you had told Kita as she lay herself against her old pillow and pulled the scratchy wool blanket over her head that the next time she opened her eyes, she’d be trapped in a room full of attractive men who claimed to be demons, she would’ve offered to drive you to the nearest mental ward. And yet, here she was.]

 Kita sighed, shifting her arms into a more comfortable position as she shoved her face deeper in her own warmth. The room’s cool air sent a light shiver up her spine. She slowly became aware of the soft buzzing of voices, muffled by the pressure of her ears against her forearms. “... -eird way to sleep,” one said. She shifted in an attempt to hear better. “Looks like the spell is wearing off,” another muttered. Where...am I? She must’ve fallen asleep at the desk again. Go figure. 

She could feel the soft cotton of her pajamas, a t-shirt and sweatpants, and the small granola bar that she always kept hidden in its pockets pressed loosely against her leg.

I was sleeping… Did I leave the television on? “Welcome to the Devildom! As a human, it may take some time for you to adjust here.” What kind of name was ‘Devildom’? What the hell was playing? Some dumb new show, probably. Oh well. She could turn the television off later. For now, it would stay on and mask the sounds of vehicles and people in the streets. It was doing this remarkably well, Kita thought. “...Kita?” That was strange. Television shows rarely said her name. She blinked, raising her head from the hard surface below her and wiping at her bleary eyes before blinking as she tried to focus. She immediately sat straight, eyes wide with alarm as the fog in her mind finally cleared. In front of her was a group of men, eyeing her expectantly or with mild annoyance as she slowly glanced around the rest of the room. With a quick look down, she thanked every deity and spirit she knew of that she’d been too lazy to remove her sports bra that day. How long had she been asleep? No light fixtures hung from the ceiling. Instead, the lighting came from the moon that hovered brightly in the night skies beyond the windows of the room, and the candelabra scattered around the tables. Only a few were lit.

A large banner dangled above each of the cushioned chairs. Each had been decorated in gold, and the black silhouette of an animal stood ominously against the violet material. From left to right the emblems bore a peacock, crow, serpent, a unicorn, a scorpion, a fly, and the last held something she couldn’t quite identify. A bull, maybe? The banners could’ve used some better composition, in her opinion. The red-headed man in the center had paused for a moment for Kita to respond, frowning a bit when she watched him with wary eyes. “...Oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we?” Kita remained silent in her confusion, shifting slightly under the man’s golden eyes. She blinked once, and then again, before finally comprehending her small discovery with a sudden clarity. Gold, not brown or green or blue like most people. Contacts? They looked real. She took a quick look across the line of men seated in front of her. She was met with four sets of irises just as oddly colored. Black eyes watched her from under the peacock banner. She wasn’t sure if the red glow was natural or an effect from the fire. Next was a blond man with bright green-blue irises that looked not the least bit interested in her but had an intelligence she knew was far beyond her own. Beside him sat another male. He bore eyes like the colors of the rising sun and he regarded her with what seemed, to Kita, to be too much interest. The last held a grumpy expression and his violet irises stood out against his fiery orange hair. The seats that corresponded to the crow, snake, and bull were empty.

“I think the human might be broken,” the second to last murmured before the one beside him threw a warning glance.

“I suppose I should start by introducing myself.” It would appear… they kidnapped me? Kita resisted the urge to squint at the warm tone of his words. If this was real, then surely nobody who’d gone through the trouble of stealing someone from their bed...desk… home in the middle of the night would have their captives’ best interest in mind? No. She’d have to escape as soon as possible. She swallowed, her mouth dry and muscles tense, and she shook uncomfortably under the sudden hot flashes and lightheadedness traveling through her like fire. This must all be a strange dream, Kita decided. But it couldn’t be. Her anxiety was too real. The nauseating dizziness, like a ship on rough seas, was too visceral and she could feel every muscle as they cramped.

“My name is Diavolo.” So, when am I going to wake up? She considered making a break for the door, but quickly pushed the idea aside. She didn’t know what this building’s layout was, and there was sure to be people in the hallways. She’d never make it. Besides, the door was enormous and looked solid. It would take too much time and energy to open. Better to wait. “I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know me. Someday soon, I’ll be crowned the king of the Devildom.” He was the prince? Should she bow?… Maybe not. She stilled and blanched, sitting somewhat straighter in her alarm when the next word of the sentence finally registered. Demons? That was... that’s impossible. Demons weren’t any more real than werewolves or unicorns or dragons. Interesting and fun to read about or study in fiction, but completely imaginary. Why can’t I wake up?

“This is the Royal Academy of Diavolo. We just call it RAD.” Kita nearly snorted. She supposed having to go to school in Hell would make sense. She took a breath to calm herself and quiet her trembling. If these men really were demons, the last thing she wanted was to appear weak in their presence. Many monsters, she knew, fed off fear and other such negative emotions. “Why am I here?” 

I’m still tired. What time is it? She clenched her jaw before she had the chance to voice the offhand thoughts.

“I will explain everything to you,” the man in front of the peacock banner stated.

“Kita, this is Lucifer,” Kita opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it just as quickly, eyeing them both with a guarded expression as her discomfort, again, rose, “He’s a demon and the Avatar of Pride.” You’ve got to be shitting me. Of course his name is Lucifer.

“He’s the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man...aside from that, he’s also my most trusted friend.” Diavolo’s laughter was loud, joyous, and startling. She gripped her thigh painfully tight to hide her flinch. She was very much awake now, and she struggled to control her breathing again, cursing herself as the severity of her situation began to set in. She was kidnapped from her small and lonely home, in her sleep, and now she was sitting in what apparently was Hell itself, in a room with not only the Prince of the realm but Lucifer himself and what was likely 4 other demons of the same strength and cruelty. “Flattery gets you nowhere, Diavolo,” Lucifer muttered. “Why am I here?” Kita couldn’t hide the fear and irritation in her voice this time, and she chastised herself. “I’m not dead yet, am I?” She earned herself a slight chuckle from the prince. “You aren’t.” “This one’s really different from Solomon.” Why did that name sound vaguely familiar, Kita wondered. Probably some book she read. It wasn’t uncommon for names to be repeated. “Diavolo believes that we demons should start strengthening our relationship with both the mortal world and Celestial Realm,” Lucifer explained. Celestial Realm? Ah...If the Devildom was Hell, then that must be Heaven. “As the first step towards this goal, we’ve instituted an exchange program. We’ve sent two of our students to the human world, and two to the Celestial Realm. I take it you’ve figured it out at this point?” Kita frowned at the barely hidden smirk on the black-haired demon’s face. There had to be an ulterior motive to this ‘exchange program’. She doubted demons would want to play nice with everyone out of the blue. “I don’t remember agreeing to this.”

She shuddered at the thought of returning to school. She’d never done well in any class back in her own world. She drew, so she took Art, but failed that (somehow drawing was less fun when you were told what to do. Who wants to spend an hour painting fruit when there’s a hundred worlds to be seen instead?). She latched on to some bits of history, but it was always the parts that were glossed over. She hardly passed math (only because the instructor had taken pity on her final exam). Why bother learning some math theorem when the whole of space held a thousand and one secrets? How could she focus on English when the ocean’s depths remained unseen? “Irregardless, you’re here now. Your period of stay is a single year. You will work on the tasks assigned to you from RAD.”

Kita grumbled to herself. What was there that she could do that would prevent this? She turned to the prince in front of her. “I am the worst possible choice for this,” she reasoned, “did you even look at my previous school grades before... selecting me?” “You truly are quite different from Solomon!” he laughed. “After one year,” Lucifer continued, “you will compose a report about your exchange here in the Devildom.” “You mean kidnapping?” She couldn’t stop herself. I could just... not write the paper. They know that, right? “If you must view it that way.” Kita bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to distract herself from the fear still pooling in her stomach, her expression dark.

“Don’t glare like that,” Lucifer smiled, condescending and borderline cruel, “you won’t be abandoned all by yourself here.” Gee, what a relief.

“You’ll need someone to look after you. I think that person should be my brother, Mammon.” Kita wasn’t sure what it was about his remark that made her think the demon in front of her was up to no good, but she quickly concluding that she did not like him in the slightest. “He’s the Avatar of Greed and... how should I put it…?” he shrugged, “well, you’ll understand soon enough.” She hadn’t thought it was possible to admire someone any less as he handed her a small device.

“This is yours for as long as you’re here. Call Mammon.” She looked between Lucifer and the phone with distaste. “Can’t I just text him?” “I believe a call would be more appropriate.” “Texts are easier, and more practical,” she countered. “Call him.” Kita sighed, thumbing through the contacts and pressing Mammon’s name. It rang twice before a raucous voice erupted from the phone. “Yoooooo.” “Uh… hey?” “Eh? Who the hell are ya? You ain’t Lucifer!” he sounded as confused as he was relieved.

“Kita. I’m a human.” “Huuh? A human?” Was he always this obnoxiously loud? Kita held the phone off her ear, wincing. “Geez, I was gettin’ all chilly here thinkin’ it was Lucifer again. So, what business does a weak little human got with THE Mammon.” She nearly rolled her eyes. Who refers to themselves like that? “Apparently you’re in charge of me from now on.” She did not try to hide the distaste in her voice. Mammon snorted. “Hell no! There’s nothin’ in it for me. Whaddya even mean by ‘be in charge of you’?” The phone fell silent and then exploded in noise again as he yelled excitedly. “AAH! I get it now! You’re the other human exchange student! Yeah, g’luck with that. I ain’t got time to play babysitter. See ya!” “Listen here, jackass,” Kita snapped. She was tired. She was stressed, and she sure as hell didn’t need this. “I’m not happy about it either. You think I want some asshole demon telling me what to do? Lucifer called for you.” Mammon laughed. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Ya think the Mammon would listen to your bull just ‘cause you’re tryin’ to scare me with that name? I ain’t stupid.” She was abruptly aware of the demon behind her as he turned her shoulder towards himself so he could speak into the phone. She jerked herself out of his grip with a grunt, but allowed him close enough that Mammon could hear him. “You’ve got ten seconds… nine… eight…” Kita held back a laugh at the sharp yelp that squeaked through the phone. “YESSIR!” The call disconnected, and Kita shut off the screen. This is who was supposed to keep her safe here? Are they joking? “Sounds like you had a pleasant chat,” Lucifer said, a patronizing smile adorning his face. She had the sudden urge to throw the device across the room. Or at him. Throwing it at him would be much more satisfying. “Yeah, he seems about as trustworthy as the rest of you.” She smiled as sweetly as she could, hoping the insult would fly past him. It didn’t, and she didn’t miss the brief laughter from the green-eyed man. “You should show us more respect, human,” Lucifer growled. Kita glared back at him, hands clenched tightly as she stood and stared at him. She was silent a moment before she spoke, imparting as much hate and rage into her words as she could. “I will never respect any of you,” her voice left her with a hiss and the shadows in the room seemed to lengthen as Lucifer tensed angrily. “Well, if you were suddenly brought to an unfamiliar place and told that a stranger would take care of you, I’m sure you’d be anxious,” Diavolo interrupted softly. The room returned to normal, although Lucifer continued to glare at her. Kita nodded once at the prince, appreciating his understanding, and recognizing how easily he diffused the situation. “Mammon won’t be the only one helping you out,” he turned to Lucifer, “we still need to introduce our new friend to your brothers. It’s probably better that you do that, wouldn’t you say?” He must mean the others sitting here.

“Yes… As much as I dread the idea of doing so, you’re right.” Kita raised her eyebrow at his words. He didn’t like his own family? Well… there was one matter they shared in common then. Not that it was an excellent thing to bond over. “Come now,” the man in front of the scorpion banner said, his hair bouncing slightly, “you should be honored that you get to introduce a sweet and charming little brother like me!” Lucifer ignored his words. “This one here is Asmodeus. He’s the fifth eldest, and the Avatar of Lust.” Kita nearly cringed. So, what? He’s horny all the time? Gross. “Wh… I can’t believe you just totally ignored what I said,” Asmodeus frowned, “And not only that, you referred to me as ‘this one’. How rude!” The demon in front of the unicorn spoke next, eyebrows pinched together, “Hmph. At least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?”

“That one there is Satan,” he watched the blond with an unreadable expression, “He’s the fourth eldest of us. At first glance he may seem like a responsible demon with a good head on his shoulders, but looks can be deceiving.” Of course there’s a ‘Satan’ too. “So is insulting each other a thing with you all, or is it just you?” Satan smirked, but Lucifer let her go unanswered. “I am the Avatar of Wrath. Nice to meet you, Kita.” “Likewise.” I guess. “So what’s Avatar of Wrath even mean?” “It sums up what he’s about,” Lucifer explained,” he may flash you a pretty smile like that, but it’s all an act.” Wow, he really does like dragging his brothers.

“If you continue making claims like those,  you’ll just scare her.” Satan smiled. Kita wrinkled her nose. It honestly did look forced, and she leaned back in her seat, anxiety rising, as the surrounding atmosphere grew dark again. Angry. Kita didn’t like anger. It reminded her too much of memories she’d much rather forget. She mentally shook her head to clear it. “Don’t take him seriously, Kita. Lucifer enjoys speaking ill of his brothers. He’s the Avatar of Pride, after all.” “I’ve noticed,” she said shortly. “Are you done?” the black-haired demon sighed.

“Now, the one there with the grumpy look on his face is Beelzebub. He’s the sixth oldest.” It didn’t take Kita more than a second glance to realize the size of the demon. This guy was absolutely enormous and would’ve dwarfed her had they been sitting next to each other.

“Lucifer, I’m hungry,” the orange haired man frowned. He held his stomach with one hand as it erupted in a monstrous noise loud enough to echo through the room. “That’s too bad. Behave yourself.” Beelzebub turned his head, a crestfallen look on his face as he muttered, “I’m Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony.” “There are seven of us siblings in all. I am the eldest.” Lucifer said. “Mammon is the second. My other brothers aren’t here at the moment.” Diavolo chuckled lightly. “They will lend you their strength during your stay in the Devildom. To keep you safe, you’re to remain with them at the House of Lamentation.” Sounds inviting. Lucifer nodded before turning to Kita. “Most agree with Diavolo, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t vulgar demons out there who would harm you,” Lucifer told her, “if anything were to happen to you, it’d be our responsibility.” His expression turned dark and Kita could feel the warning behind his words when he spoke, “I won’t betray Diavolo’s expectations.” ‘Don’t make yourself any more trouble than you already have’, was the unspoken message. His face lightened a bit. “Although we will live together, you should still have the means to reach us at any moment. All our phone numbers are already on your D.D.D, along with a messaging app.” “I’ll send you a message!” Diavolo’s cheery tone cut in. “Isn’t that nice, Kita? Now you’ll be friends with the future king of the Devildom!” Satan grinned. “Texting doesn’t make anyone friends,” Kita muttered as she looked at the screen. Diavolo: This is my account. Diavolo: Feel free to send me a text at any time.   

The emoji he sent next was an odd, three footed bird creature. It was obviously angry, and oddly adorable. Have I irritated him already? She shoved the thought away when a glance at the prince revealed a face slightly twisted in concentration. Diavolo: Oh, sorry. Diavolo: I haven’t gotten used to this yet. Diavolo: You see, Lucifer is the only demon who sends me messages…

Kita supposed it would be intimidating for anyone to knowingly speak to the prince, but for Lucifer to be the only one who would text him? It made her almost feel bad for the guy. She replied with an emoji of a shivering shiba inu, confused at the random human world animal amid a hundred demonic creatures. Diavolo: Hahaha, that’s a cute dog! It took Kita a second to realize that he hadn’t laughed out loud, but he grinned at her before putting his phone away at the exact moment she heard muffled shouting from outside the room. “It seems the idiot has arrived.” A door slammed open behind her, crashing into the wall as a white-haired man stormed inside. “Hey!” Oh, God, his voice was even louder in person, “just who do the hell do you think ya are, human? You’ve got a whole lot a’ nerve summoning the Great Mammon.” “I wasn’t aware I could summon demons with a phone,” she smirked, against her better judgement, “thought all that needed a blood ritual or something? Maybe it was a goat.” Mammon glared at her. “Listen up, because I’m only gonna say this once,” he growled, “if you want to continue your pathetic existence, then hand over all your money. And anything else of value, too!” This sounds like a corny mugging. She should just keep her mouth shut. Every fibre of her being screamed at her to stay quiet. Unfortunately, she was never very good at listening to herself when she was frightened. “Do I look like I have money to you?” “Hey! I’ll wipe that stupid, happy-go-lucky look right off your face...by eatin’ you,” he barked. It was hard to take him seriously with the way he spoke, even as he leaned close to her. “Not if I eat you first,” Kita snarled, earning her another amused chuckle from Satan. “Like a weak human could ever do that.” “On second thought, I wouldn’t want to anyway,” she mused, “you look like you’d be tasteless and gristly.” “Why you-” He gripped the edge of her shirt. “Mammon, knock it off or I’ll punch you!” Lucifer snapped. Kita turned her sight to the prince in front of her as Lucifer wasted no time hitting Mammon and drawing a loud yelp from the younger demon. “This is what I’m going to have to deal with for the next year?” “Kita, Mammon here is the Avatar of Greed,” Satan interrupted from his seat, “he oversees all forms of it. Whenever he takes a liking to someone, they suddenly find themselves awash in money. From what I hear, if he breaks it off with someone, that wealth evaporates.” “He’s also a masochist,” Asmodeus snickered, “that part’s important.” Kita eyed him, no longer trying to keep her irritation and disgust hidden. There was no possible reason she could think of that she would ever need to know that.

“Indeed,” Lucifer said, “and it just so happens that I have a job for my masochist of a brother.” “Y’all, stop telling lies!” Mammon groaned, “I ain’t asked for that punch, and I ain’t a masochist!” “Mammon, you will be in charge of seeing to this human’s needs during the entire exchange. I expect your full cooperation.” “What?! Why me?!” Kita tried not to wince at the volume of his indignant shout. It really wasn’t as if she wanted the white-haired demon to tag along with her, and he was obviously about as fond of the idea as she was. That is to say, not at all. “You’re lucky, Mammon... I’m so jealous,” Asmodeus whined. “Then why don’t you do it?” Kita froze. Somehow, she trusted and liked Asmodeus even less than her current assigned sitter. Besides, Kita and flirting went together as well as oil and water. “Hell no, too lazy.” Thank my lucky stars.  “Just give up, Mammon,” Satan sighed, “there’s no getting out of this. You cannot refuse a direct command from Lucifer.” “But why does it have to be me?!” Mammon grumbled, “what about Beel? Why can’t he do it?” “We might as well ask him to eat this human,” Asmodeus said. “Mm. Yeah, I can’t promise I wouldn’t.” Kita wasn’t sure if it was the nonchalant way the man spoke that amused her, but it took all her concentration not to laugh. Maybe it was the absurdity of it all. At least he was honest? “You’re useless, you know that?” “Mammon?” Lucifer spoke softly, his eyes darkened and dangerous. “..Wh-What?” “Surely you’re not telling me you object to this arrangement?” The room darkened again as the flames of the candelabras flickered, and Kita shivered as a sudden chill ran up her spine. Mammon was silent for a moment. The room was quiet enough that Kita was certain she could hear a pin dropping from the hallway. “Ugh… I hate you guys, every last one of ya!” he growled, “fine... Fine, I’ll do it, okay?” Drama queens. She was going to have to spend a year dealing with the seven demons who quickly were becoming the biggest drama queens she knew. Great. Perfect. She placed her index and thumb between her eyes, rubbing in an attempt to quell her growing headache. This was all just too much. Her exhaustion had long since quelled the anxiety and fear she’d felt, and even her anger was slowly slithering back to the confines of her unconscious thoughts. Now, she simply wanted to go back to bed and pretend this hadn’t happened. “All right, human,” he spat the word like it disgusted him, “listen up. As much as I don’t want to look after your worthless ass, I’ve got no choice. It’s an enormous pain, and I’m too important for this kind of thing, but Lucifer told me to do it, so I will. You better make sure you don’t cause me any trouble, got it?” Kita crossed her arms, frowning. “...” “Man, there really is something wrong with this one…”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

It had taken another two hours to wrap up Lucifer’s basic explanation of what was expected of her and by the time it he finished, after countless insults and complaints thrown by her new ‘guardian’, Kita wanted nothing more than to scream and disappear into the void. Her anxiety was back with a vengeance and seemed hellbent on making her suffer. She couldn’t concentrate on anything but the tremoring of her leg as she bounced it off the floor to keep herself awake. “To sum it up for you, you will be an exchange student here at RAD for one year and you must do your tasks,” Lucifer said, “your tasks consist mainly of dance battles, and as you have no magic power, we will lend you a hand.” Ah. Right. Dance battles. These demons are fighting over my soul… by shitty dance competitions, apparently. “Why?” she had asked Diavolo. “Ordinarily, many demons would settle disputes via physical or psychological battles. I believe this is a much more peaceful solution that puts us in a better light,” he had grinned at her, “we aren’t savages.” They could’ve fooled her. She shifted against the intense heat wave that clutched her spine like a vice, tightening and choking her until she could hardly breathe against the lump in her throat and her burning eyes. She was so, so incredibly close to breaking.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. Don’t you dare show any more weakness in front of these things.

“I wanna make one thing clear right now: don’t blame me if someone gets eaten,” Mammon spoke, as if she wasn’t in the room, “‘cause it ain’t my fault.” “Lucifer, I’m hungry…”  Beelzebub grumbled. So I am... “That’s too bad. Now behave yourself.”

Beelzebub, again, turned his head away and his frown deepened. It was at least the third time the demon had mentioned his empty stomach, and he seemed increasingly upset each time. Oh, Kita’s shoulders relaxed in sudden amusement and understanding. Do demons get hangry? Poor guy. Kita rummaged through her pajamas pocket, pulling out the granola bar she’d forgotten about in the midst of all the chaos. “H-Hey… I don’t know if you’ll like this, but you can have it if you want?” Kita offered the large demon. She nearly snorted at how quickly his face lit up as he nodded. She pulled her arm back to toss the small bar to him and, despite missing her mark by at least two feet, he caught it effortlessly. “Thanks!” His smile seemed to brighten the room as he tore open the wrapper. Oh… it should not be legal for a demon to look that sweet. He looks sorta like a puppy, smiling like that. An enormous, really dangerous puppy… What am I doing thinking about him like that? Kita shook her head to clear her thoughts. Thank God it didn’t seem like they could read minds.

Diavolo seemed enthralled with her actions and she avoided his intense look by awkwardly staring at the ceiling, and then the table. “I have no more food, so don’t ask,” she told the prince, only partly joking.

Kita yawned, eyes beginning to droop in her exhaustion. It had been well past midnight when she’d gone to bed, and she wanted nothing more than to return to one, soon. “Are we done here yet?” she asked, trying to mask her irritation behind yet another yawn. “Yes!” Diavolo said,” as stated earlier, you’ll be staying in the House of Lamentation with Lucifer and his six younger brothers. They’ll escort you there now.” Wonderful.

“Humans, angels, and demons… I imagine a universe where each accepts the other. Where we are brought together as friends.” Kita rose from her chair as the others did, slowly trailing after the group as they moved through the hallway. So much for escaping as soon as possible. They surrounded her on all sides, and she was ready to collapse, anyway. “One year,” Diavolo called after them, “that’s all I ask of you. Good luck, Kita.”

[andoqin]

K-Dramas of 2020

Well, like the general mood of 2020, the dramas this year were uh, certainly an adventure. I was going to put all the dramas I watched this year here, but uh. This turned out longer than expected so I’ll guess I’ll separate K-dramas at the very least.

Putting this behind a cut because Long.

Completed:

365: Repeat the year: I barely remember this one, but I gave it 8/10 on MDL, maybe I should lower that, because honestly all I remember are the time-travel meet up set and the main actors.

CHIP-IN: A short who-dunnit, which has interesting characters, although the show was very wise to be capped at 8 Episodes, because the “mystery” was pretty predictable and also starting to wear thin. Still, the younger cast was stellar and I hope we get to see them in more.

Diary of a Prosecutor: The cases in this drama were actually legit interesting to me and I found the politicking surprisingly not bad. People were flawed in very human ways, but the drama gave us enough time with our main characters to enjoy getting to know all of them.

Do you like Brahms: Contender for worst drama of the year for me, good lord I hated the way this tanked its story line, its characters and the romance. Is it believable that the main characters might act this way? ... Debatable. Is it entertaining to watch? Hell fucking no. Don’t watch this one, unless you like stupid misunderstandings and non communication. 

Extracurricular: Short action-y show on Netflix that makes me hopeful for what Sweet Home might be. 

Flower of Evil: Lee Jun Ki gets to suffer prettily. That is All. Okay Moon Chae Won and LJK were great together, but it got almost makjang-y by the end. 

Hospital Playlist: Delightful Slice of Life Medical show, that despite its delightfulness never quite got me. Very enjoyable and at 12 episodes it doesn’t overstay its welcome, but it didn’t stay with me either. 

Hot Stove League: Pretty entertaining and as a drama about sports management seems reasonably accurate? (Not that I’d know of course). 

Hyena: Flawed as heck in some aspects (the lawyer-plotting got lulzy and boring at the same time), but oh my god some of the HOTTEST chemistry this way from sunday. Joo Ji Hoon and Kim Hye Soo just crackled anytime they were on screen together and Joo Ji Hoon as the high powered lawyer who falls head over heels in love with KHS’s character who is more reluctant to act on those feelings is just *chefs kiss*. Also didn’t suffer the Dreaded Plot Denuement of 2020 (DPD2020). Sure the latter half wasn’t as tight as the beginning, but it stuck the landing and that’s all that matters. 

Into the Ring: Weird camera angles and sometimes overly sharp edited shots aside, this had a solid romance, great characters, great romance and almost made me want to get into community politics lmao. 

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay (Psycho But It’s Okay): The first half of this show is just *amazing*, the way the scenes transition is pretty much film-like and the main character trio is stunningly well acted. Sadly the story with the mom is resolved in the weirdest fucking way, but the drama decides to do the smart thing and just forget about it once that’s done and the finale made me cry ;_;. 

Itaewon Class: Sadly also suffered the DPD2020. I was really into the first half, loved the way the characters found support in each other, plus: a main trans character! Handled really well! Also iconic OST. I was one of the few people who was into the romance of the main couple, but the way the latter half of the plot developed was just completely nonsensical and felt like the writer was just trying to tie off the lose ends as much as possible. 

Kingdom Season 2: The first season was stellar and this continues the trend! Although it doesn’t quite reach the highs of the first season I am still so looking forward to season 3! More Joseon zombies please!

Money Game: I... apparently watched this, and looking at the logo there is some vague feeling of “Yeah this is familiar”. But nothing else...

Mr. Heart: Okay-ish BL drama that has it’s cute moments but nothing that made me go “Ooooh”. I am glad SK is getting in on this trend though!

My Holo Love: So all of those Robot/AI shows that came before that I’ve seen and had the premise of “Oh no, I’ve fallen for a ROBOT” when it either turned out their object of affection was either human or actually a robot, but their human counterpart was so shitty that no sane person would like them worked pretty well for me. This one didn’t. From what I remember the heroine does very much fall for the holographic version of this guy, but the human version is *different* and yet whoops the main couple is still human/human. Granted you can’t really do romantic kiss scenes between a girl and nothing, but the switch-over felt abrupt and the way our main lady just transfers her affections to the dude never sat right to me. 

Mystic Pop Up Bar: Quite a few dramas this year went with 12 eps, and were all the better for it. Hwang Jung Eum is incredibly hit or miss with me (mostly it’s miss honestly), but in this one she’s used really well and I liked the way the premise was used!

Private Lives: I recently wrote a longer post about this, but honestly another victim of terrible writing and maybe DPD2020. 

Stranger 2: Love! Not as much as Season 1, but man this writer is *so* good at writing smart and interesting plots and looking at things from many different angles!

Tale of the Nine Tailed: Flawed but man do I ever love the OTP. Like really really love it. Plus it stuck the landing for me in a way few dramas did in recent months.

The School Nurse Files: So weird. So fucking weird. And yet, so very entertaining. Thanks to its short length ( I think) some plot threads felt very much unceremoniously dropped, but it has a canon lesbian couple!

The World of the Married: Makjang to the Nth degree, got kind of exhausting by the end, but Kim Hee Ae is so good. 

Train: Yoon Shi Yoon gets to suffer prettily! 

When the Weather is Fine: Kinda mellow and sweet and I wish I could live like the main character does (just have a bookshop in the middle of nowhere and still no money issues??? The Dream) but for that also not super memorable. 

Where Your Eyes Linger: SK’s first major Webdrama I believe? Cute and as a foray into this genre not bad, but I hope this is just a taste of things to come.

Dropped:

Hi Bye, Mama: So many people loved this, I couldn’t get over the basic premise and the way my brain tried to tie the logic in this together made my head hurt.  The King: Eternal Monarch: Maybe KES dramas just aren’t for me, I didn’t like the plot or the main couple. Woo Do Hwan and Kim Kyung Nam were amazing though and please please I beg both of you do more stuff. 

18 Again: Nope. Lee Do Hyun is pretty, but the setup drove me bonkers and I pretty much liked no one. 

Zombie Detective: Yikes no thank you. Complete mismatch of tones I wanted and the drama gave me. 

Romantic Teacher Dr. Kim 2: Zzzzzzzzz. I found the first one mildly entertaining at least but this one just made me fall asleep immediately. 

Black Dog: Yeah I watched like 2 Episodes of this and lost interest. 

Search: I’ve watched like 6 eps and I know there’s zombies, but I couldn’t tell you much more tbh.

Start-Up: I watched 2 episodes in the beginning, didn’t think I’d want to live watch this and then just popcorned the tag until it got insufferable with the ship wars and this dropped out of my watch list pretty immediately.

Record of Youth: Pretty much the same deal as with Start-Up only in this case there wasn’t so much a shipwar as the tag showing me that this drama would *not* be my bag at all. 

Still Watching: 

Kairos: Hmmmm timey-wimey stuff. The FL is this close to losing me though. The fact I thought it plausible that she would murder someone just based on a TEXT from someone else says it all. (She didn’t, thank god, and seems to have found a few of her lost braincells, but by god she was frustrating). 

Birthcare Center: I like what it’s trying to say and the main character and her husband are very cute, but a lot of the side characters don’t really interest me. It’s only an 8 ep drama, so I might finish this.

The Spies Who Loved Me: Honestly I’m this close to dropping it. Only my intense love for Yoo In Na and fondness for Eric are keeping me going. But she might not end up with Eric and I’m gonna be mad. Honestly if they just went OT3 I’d be really cool with this, but despite the small advancements in dramaland, they aint ready for that yet. 

Lies of Lies: I watched 2 eps and I might continue (the premise seems hilariously makjang and sometimes I’m into that, but it’s *very* much on the backburner)

The Uncanny Counter: Delightful Webtoon vibe, with some great visuals and actually nice action. I’ve only seen 2 eps so far but at least they don’t want to make me poke my eyes out or make me fall asleep. Let’s hope it avoids the DPD2020 plague. 

[ink-flavored]

Writeblr Q+A

Tagged by @silver-wields-a-pen !! Thank you <3

Rules: Fill it out, post your answers, and tag some pals.

1. When did you first learn you enjoyed writing?

Well, I’ve known I enjoyed reading pretty much ever since I could comprehend words. Before I even really knew what I was doing, I would tell myself and my younger sister stories, and write down my day in a journal to have stories to read later. 

My first experience with creative writing was in middle school, when we were asked to write poems every day for our poetry unit. That’s when I remember actually enjoying the act of writing for writing’s sake, but you could count my 6 year old ramblings too, if you wanted!

2. Tell us about the first project you ever wrote.

The first one I remember, not sure if it was actually the first one I ever wrote, was about a girl who had a wereworlf-esque ability to turn into a dragon. It was pretty much my dream. It still is.

3. How does your favorite media shape who you are as a writer?

To this day, my favorite book series -- The Inheritance Cycle -- has influenced the way I write magic systems, telepathic connections, my penchant for fantasy, and is absolutely where my love of dragons came from. I’m not sure where I would be without The Inheritance Cycle, truly.  

But it’s not the only one! Reading House of Leaves was a fascinating dive into a genre I don’t normally read, and it really showed me that horror wasn’t just about gore and monsters (which is why I normally stay away). Playing the Dragon Age games showed me just how much you can do with characters. Probably some more I can’t think of have influenced me as well.

4. What's something you've wanted to write, but aren't sure you could? (A tv show, a genre, a style, a time period, a video game, etc)

I’d like to finish the game I started writing, one day. Maybe write some more.

I’ve dipped my toes into horror a little bit, but I know I’m not at all experienced enough to write a narrative in the genre. The problem is that I’m a giant wimp who doesn’t like being scared and also I’m squeamish. So that rules out a giant chunk of horror content for me to study lol

5. What is the thing that keeps you from writing the most?

Myself, for sure. Whether it be writer’s block, getting stuck in the fine details that don’t matter, or simply not having a plot to go with the story I want to write the most. 

That, and having to work a nine-to-five. I suffer at the hands of capitalism. 

6. How do you deal with an inner editor?

I don’t, really? I’m one of those people who’s half-editing as they write, though I’ve been trying to curb it lately. I’ve gotten over myself recently, not really caring what any of it says until I actually have to be editing. I just focus on having fun!

7. How long have you been writing?

Uhhhh... good question.

For Real Actually, probably since that middle school English class from earlier. Maybe “officially” the next year, but definitely around that time is when I decided I really loved writing and wanted to do it for a living.

8. What is your general writing process? Do you write chronologically? Do you do a lot of planning?

Pfft. Process, that’s cute.

I kinda do whatever? Stories come to me in all manners and in all forms -- just aesthetics, just a plot, just a character, just a single scene or line of poetry. I do as much planning as my brain allows, but I do like to have a skeleton outline of the main story beats before I actually sit down to start writing anything.

I absolutely love world-building tho. I do that so much.

9. Assign a scent to your writing style.

Oh, but that depends so much on WHAT I’m writing!!!!

But if I must choose... a scented candle in an abandoned house, covered in dust and falling to ruin. Comfort in a place where comfort should not be. 

10. One book you hope everyone reads?

Lately, I’ve been re-discovering Eavan Boland’s poetry, and I’m currently reading her most recent collection. I’d recommend anyone who wants to write poetry -- or even just likes poetry! -- to read anything by her. 

11. What is it about your least favorite genre that makes it your least favorite--and how might you change that to better appeal to you?

You know how they say hate and love are two sides of the same coin? There’s a difference between a genre boring me and a genre inspiring enough passion to incite hatred. That difference, reader, is wanting it to be better.

I used to think horror was the worst genre on the planet (anxiety and panic disorder notwithstanding) even though a lot of the genre has things I should like -- putting characters through trials to reveal their true selves, stories that make you think about yourself and the world, all that stuff. I hated it because, from what I saw in popular media, it focused too much on gore and was more concerned with being a scary story than an interesting story -- which has its merits! It just wasn’t what I was looking for.

Stuff like House of Leaves and Welcome to Night Vale really showed me exactly the kind of horror I like. Which is, little to no gore and scares that settle deep. There is so much about both that I think about to this day, episodes I haven’t listened to in months or years. House of Leaves is a story about the protagonist descending to madness and you get to watch it in real time -- knowing it could easily be you. I like horror that reminds us we’re all human, and that being a human is very, very scary on its own. 

So, more horror needs to be like that. 

12. Design a "collector's edition" for your first novel. Include items that might be of interest to your audience.

MAP. BIG HUUUUGE MAP. I love maps. It’s gotta have a big map poster in FULL COLOR, BABEY!!!!

13. If one thing was real from your project, what would you want it to be?

Dragons. You have no idea how much I want dragons to be real.

14. What's something you always include in your work? Do you have any other Easter eggs?

I like magic, I like dragons, and both of those show up an uncanny number of times in what I write. 

15. What is your favorite passage from your own work?

Jeez, that’s a tough one. I write so much stuff! But something I am very proud of is from a flash fiction called One Minute:

You cannot move, or the minute will reset. If you move, you will have to keep sitting. You will have to start over. The creature will surely kill you. If you move. The minute. Will. Reset. If you move. You. Will. Die.

It has been forty-five seconds.

You can’t see the creature, but you know that it’s big. It blocks the light behind you, casting a massive, dark, endless shadow. It is darker than a shadow should be. Darker than the night sky. Darker than the blackness behind your eyes.

You pray to God. You pray to any God.

It has been forty-nine seconds.

I like to read it out loud!! It sounds nice to say imo

Aaaaand, that’ll be it!

Tagging (no pressure!): @royalbounties @rrrawrf-writes @rainy-rose @blueinkblot​ @sunrisecitrusuniverse @tenacious-scripturient and anyone else who wants to do this!! Consider yourselves tagged!

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (3/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Shoutout to my spectacular beta @resident-of-storybrooke 🧡 I’m the worst writer and send her multiple chapters at a time instead of just the one, and she gets things back to me in record time! 

We get some background information on Emma in this chapter to further set up the story, and I thank you for reading! I’m really, really excited about a lot of the things I have planned for this story!

I promise they interact in all chapters after this

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“What are you getting David for his birthday?”

Emma looks to her right where Ruby is stretched out on her yoga mat, doing a stretch that definitely isn’t anything that’s taught in a certified class. She can’t tell if she’s gotten stuck that way or if she’s simply given up on getting some early morning exercise. They really have to start going back to spin class sometime soon. Maybe tomorrow.

“I bought him some new dress shirts.”

“That’s boring.”

“Have you not gotten him anything, Rubes?” She swipes her blush against her cheek waiting for Ruby to answer. She doesn’t. “The party is tonight. You know that, right? And we’re about to be at work all day editing.”

“Why do you think I’m asking so that I have time to get Graham to go get something on his lunch break?”

“You have no shame.”

Ruby falls onto her mat, star fishing out on the floor before propping herself up on her elbows, her bun coming undone so that it hangs messily on her shoulders. “I know. So, what should I buy him? He’s turning forty. Is he having a midlife crisis? Should I get him some hair dye?”

“Only if you want to be murdered.”

Ruby grunts before rising from her mat and stretching out. “Eh, it might be worth it. I think I’ll just get him a Shake Shack gift card. I’m not his sister. I can get away with a semi-shitty gift.”

She chuckles as she grabs her brush for her bronzer and runs it across her cheekbone, blending it in. “It’s not semi-shitty if he takes us to lunch with it.”

“True. Alright,” Ruby claps, picking her mat up, “I’m going to go shower, and then we can go to work. Ten minutes tops.”

It’s twenty minutes, which is actually less time than Emma was expecting, before she and Ruby walk out of their apartment, walking the three blocks to their train station and swiping their metro cards to get through the gate so they can take the ten-minute ride to the studios. They rarely have to go into the actual offices before ten. The only time they have to be at work earlier than that is when there’s an early game and they have to make their way across Manhattan to get to the fields. That’s a bit of a bigger commute. But this morning the weather is relatively nice, the trains aren’t crowded or full of people in T-rex costumes, and she and Ruby get to the office and through security before they have to be there.

She leaves Ruby on the seventh floor before going up to the tenth to the editing room, her eyes having to adjust from the brightness outside to the dim lights inside the room that’s really only lit by screens.

“Anton, how the hell do you live in the sunlight after staying in here all day?”

Anton twists in his chair to look at her before turning back to the screen that he’s working on, clicking on a few keys as he speaks. “It’s only dark right now because I’m trying to get the lighting right on this edit. Something is wrong with the shadows. Get Ash to set you up. You’ve got over eight hours of footage to go through, so this probably isn’t going to get finished today.”

“He’s only talking in about an hour and a half of that.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to get the filler and then your notes. It’s a whole thing when you have a big segment like this. You’ll get used to it.”

She nods even though Anton isn’t paying any attention to her, before stepping into the room and around some of the editors she’s never worked with until she’s sitting down at Ashley’s workstation, picking up the pair of headphones that she uses and rolling up to the screen as she watches Ashely piece together several clips to promote whatever tennis tournament is going on right now. She thinks it’s the one in Palm Springs, but she hasn’t really been able to keep up with things lately.

“Sorry about that,” Ashley apologizes, flashing her a smile. “Alexandria had a late night last night, and I didn’t get into work in time to finish this up until you got here. But now my attention is all yours.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s teething is all. It’s miserable for all of us.”

“I bet. I remember when Leo was teething. David aged about fifteen years.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs, patting Ashley’s arm. “I won’t tell you any other stories about miserable babies. Let’s talk the interview.”

Ashley nods and clicks around on her computer until she’s pulling up Emma’s file, all of the hours of footage broken down. Emma has a basic understanding of how all of this works, but it’s mostly above her knowledge and paygrade. That’s why she’s glad to have people like Ashley and Anton, especially when they can easily throw out shaky or unusable footage to narrow things down even more. She tells Ashley that she wants to work on the main interview first, to make sure she can show all of the pieces she wants, and then they’ll work on finding the filler footage and the music to be played in the background. This is the first time Emma has ever worked on an edited segment that’s more than one minute, so it’s all a whole new world to her.

“This is good,” Ashley murmurs, her voice a small whisper outside of the headphones. “Like, really good. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be this open before.”

“Jones? Jones is an open book.”

Her brows raise before settling back down at a regular height. “You are literally the most knowledgeable person on this subject in this building, and you think that Jones is an open book?”

“I mean, yeah. He’s baseball player, first and foremost. He’s young, hot, likes to spend his money and go out with every woman with big boobs and a pulse.”

Ashley actually laughs at that, rolling back in her chair before rewinding the video to a part where Killian is talking about his nieces and how they collect bobble heads, particularly his, and scatter them throughout their house for their parents to have to pick up. Emma remembers laughing at that, remembers thinking it’s sweet, but she’s not entirely sure why Ashley is showing it to her again.

“I know you probably hate him for asking you out like that, which was kind of a dick move, but anyone with eyes can tell he’s a sweet guy. I mean, he spent his injury break learning how to bake and sitting with his nieces so that they didn’t have to go to daycare. Yeah, he kind of had a period where he was pictured with a lot of girls, but that was when he was twenty-four and on top of the world. I mean, when you were twenty-four, you’re telling me you wouldn’t have been all over a pretty baseball player if you met him in a bar?”

“I hated all men at twenty-four.”

Ashely shakes her head from side to side, chuckling at her again. Emma hates to admit it, but Ashley is right. She knows that he’s not a bad guy, that’s not some sleazy player. No, he did not make the best decisions in asking her out last year, but in a move that surprised her, he very kindly apologized. And she really should not judge him over that time when he was pictured with girls all the time. For one, he probably dates as much as every other guy, but his dates happen to be publicized. She hates when women are shamed for dating, and here she is judging someone else.

His incessant flirting in all of his interviews and him asking her out have likely framed her view on him when she should know better than to judge by what appears on the surface.

She should also know better than to let a few pretty words make her trust someone.

“I met Sean at twenty-four.”

Emma sighs, curving her lips into a smile before patting Ashely’s arm. “And you two are wonderful. Let’s keep editing before we get distracted by you showing me a million baby pictures.”

“Dammit, Emma,” Anton groans from his seat, “the first rule of the editing room is that you don’t talk about baby pictures.”

After letting Ashley show her new pictures of Alexandra and those adorable chubby cheeks, they finally get around to some more editing, cutting questions that have repeated answers and editing out Emma’s laugh or weird coughing sounds so that she doesn’t look like a total maniac. There’s this part in the film where Killian is standing with his back to the camera and in front of a large set of windows that show off the field, and it looks like it could be a part of the Hall of Fame. It’s a gorgeous shot, and it’s where he’s talking about his hopes and dreams for baseball as well as wanting to get to live a normal life full of everything that his brother has.

Frankly, it’s beautiful enough to make her tear up.

They may just be her, though. As much as sports are about the statistics, about the executions, it’s also about the emotions. In the grand scheme of life, a baseball game doesn’t matter. These men getting paid millions of dollars to play a game don’t change the world. Except that they do. People live and die by the game, by the unpredictability, by the fact that it’s human beings out there pushing their bodies to limits that most people can’t reach. It takes everyone away from the world for a bit, lets them cheer for a happy ending, and even though the losses can be crushing, for just that little while, people feel hope.

Killian Jones coming back from injury, no matter how minor, to win the World Series, gave people hope.

It’s that thought process that guides her in helping Ashley and Anton edit the segment, and even though they only get about halfway through editing, they stop for the day so that Ashley can go home to her family and Anton to his while she walks down three flights of stairs to get to her office shoved into the corner of the corporate floor. There’s literally not even room in there for her to have an extra chair for someone to sit with her, but considering how little time she spends there now, that doesn’t matter. And it’s a step up from the cubicles.

Damn, her segment is going to be good.

This is…she knows she complained about it, and for the right reasons, but this is huge for her career. Right now, she’s more than happy doing post-game interviews and the occasional mid-game updates, but one day she might want to commentate or have her own show. One day she might want to move onto things other than sports. She’s getting ahead of herself, she knows. She simply can’t help it.

She’s excited, and she actually can’t wait to come into work tomorrow to get it all finished.

After sending a text to Ruby asking her if she’s almost ready to go, she logs into her computer and waits for her email to load, figuring she might as well get some more work done while she waits. Ruby’s timing at work is always so unpredictable when they’re not working together, so she has absolutely no idea when they’ll be able to leave to get on the train to Astoria. If only David was in the office today.

She doesn’t have much to sort through, just a few emails asking about the segment, another few talking about food that’s available in the office (she really hates that she missed those), and then another two from Walsh that she immediately deletes. They could be work related, but they’re most likely not.

Dating someone she works with was an absolutely horrible idea that she’ll probably never do again. Walsh is definitely an asshole, one that’s worse than all of the others, but he kind of ruined that workplace peace that she had for awhile. They’d both been stat checkers together, spent their days going blind reading spreadsheets and becoming friends, and when they both got promotions to journalists  (ones who actually got to write articles) at the same time, she was pretty sure that it was fate or something crazy like that. They got to have the same job, the same schedule, and she was in that phase of infatuation in a new relationship that it made her stomach constantly feel like it was in those pleasantly painful knots.

Then she interviewed and auditioned for the on-air job to work with the Yankees.

It’s a moment that’s changed her life in an immeasurable amount of ways, but the first and most obvious – before Killian Jones 2k18 – was that her boyfriend of over a year resented her. He resented her, belittled her for what she did for a living, and it all felt so painstakingly familiar that she had to break up with him before he damaged her beyond repair too.

The fact that he was cheating definitely helped that decision.

So for him to still work under one hundred feet away from her in the office and still send her emails on a regular basis is a pretty big sting.

There is no one who got more enjoyment out of her being asked out on live television than Walsh Osborne.

Ruby: I am in the bathroom curling my hair. Meet you by the seventh floor receptionist desk in ten.

Emma: Where did you get a curling iron?

Ruby: The makeup room in the studio.

Of course she did.

Closing out her computer and slipping her booties back on, she leaves her office and locks it up before making her way through the cubicles, specifically going out of her way to avoid Walsh’s desk since she knows he’s still in the office, and waits by the receptionist area with David’s present in her hand. There’s no one sitting there, all of the calls being forwarded through the machine, and she idly wonders where in the world Jacob is.

“We have got to get whatever curling iron it is they use in hair and makeup,” Ruby sighs as she walks into the room, heels that she was not wearing this morning now on her feet and her hair curled into perfectly styled waves. “Seriously, it’s fantastic.”

“It’s, like, over three hundred dollars.”

“We can split it. You ready to go? Graham is going to meet us there.”

“Does he have David’s present?”

“Yep.” Ruby loops her arm through Emma’s elbow, pulling her closer, before walking toward the elevators. “He wins the award for the best boyfriend today.”

“Who is he in competition with?”

“Your non-existent boyfriend.”

She pinches Ruby’s arm, but she doesn’t say anything as the elevator opens and they walk inside. It’s always such a pain to go to David and Mary Margaret’s townhome from the office, if only because of the amount of times they have to switch trains, but it gives she and Ruby time to talk about their days and scroll through their phone, checking up on everything that they’ve missed while working.

(She usually finds time to look while at work. Knowing what’s happening in baseball players’ lives is important to her job, right? It doesn’t make her creepy if they put it online.)

Plus, it’s a Friday afternoon, and that’s always the best time to see people dressed in odd costumes and eating full on turkeys on the subway.

Seriously. That happened once. It wasn’t even Thanksgiving.

By the time they get to the townhouse, it’s past six, and she can see cars parked up and down the street, Mary Margaret’s SUV sitting right in front of their home. She insists on driving everywhere, even when she comes into Manhattan, and Emma will never understand that. But she guesses that they live a bit outside of the most crowded parts of the city and the Mary Margaret is always toting Leo around to school and soccer practice or moving all of her crafts that she takes to her classroom. Emma loves her sister-in-law (it’s easier to say than foster mom’s son’s wife), but she is one of those people whose entire life could be found on a Pinterest board where Emma is more thrift store mashup even with her life being more established lately.

Not that there’s anything wrong with living life like that. It’s simply not Emma’s cup of tea.

“So, how many fortieth birthday themed things do you think Mary Margaret has in their house?”

“I mean, obviously forty.”

“Obviously.”

Graham is sitting on the front steps when they walk up, a small envelope in his hand as he stares down at his phone, and Ruby whistles, making him actually jump from his seat.

“What the hell?” he grumbles, clutching his hand and the envelope over his heart. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“It depends. Am I the beneficiary of your life insurance plan?”

“Oh my God,” Emma chuckles, shaking her head from side to side as she adjusts the box underneath her arm. “You two are disturbed.”

“Only my girlfriend is.” He stands from the steps and moves closer to quickly press his lips against Ruby’s. “You two ready to go inside?”

“Were you too scared to go inside without us, babe?”

“If I’m honest, yes. I’m not entirely sure what kind of party awaits us.”

“You and me both.”

Emma steps up the stairs and opens the door, knowing that it’s unlocked and that she can just let herself in. She immediately hears the sound of people talking, most noticeably Leo in his high-pitched voice, but everything looks as normal as it always does. The living room is still neatly arranged, a mixture of white and gray furniture, most of it antique, all scattered throughout. The dining room has place settings arranged, but no one sitting there, so she walks to the back of the home where the kitchen is to find everyone all standing around the island eating off of the veggie place that’s set out.

Huh. So maybe David turning forty means that everything is low-key. That’s a refreshing change of pace.

“Emma,” Leo screeches when he sees her, hopping down from the countertop and running toward her, pushing her back with the force of his hug.

“Hey, kid,” she laughs as she moves David’s present so that she can hug Leo back. He’s getting so big, is nearly as tall as she is now, and he’s only ten. She can’t imagine what he’s going to be like when he gets older. She doesn’t really want to. She’s that aunt who gushes about remembering the day that her nephew was born and grossing him out by talking about it. “Why are you letting all of these people eat my food?”

“Because you don’t like vegetables.”

“I definitely do.”

“You never eat collards, and I always have to.”

“Well, that’s because I don’t like collards.”

Leo scrunches up his nose, his face twisted in disgust like he’s eating those collards, before he grabs her hand and starts trying to tug her back to the entryway. “Come on, Emma, I want to show you my new Captain America shield.”

“I’ve got to go say hi to your parents, but why don’t you go get it and bring it down to show me?”

“Okay.”

He nods his head and then runs upstairs, his footsteps loud, and she turns back toward the kitchen to start talking to people who most likely don’t have Captain America shields in their bedroom. Well, they could. He’s kind of a big deal.

America’s ass and all that.

David is swiping a carrot through a bit of dip, and she takes the opportunity to put her present on the table before wrapping her arms around David’s stomach. He’s so incredibly warm, as always, and she appreciates the solid nature of him as his hand comes up to cup the back of her head, his lips pressing into her hairline.

“Happy birthday, old man.”

“Excuse me. I am in the prime of my life.”

She rolls her eyes, unable to help herself before pulling back and patting his chest. “Sure, if you think so.”

“I do. I’m glad you made it today.”

“And miss your  birthday so that I have to hear it every day at work? Never.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“It would,” Ruby adds in. “It would be one of those things that you’d bring up every opportunity you get. You’d feed it into her earpiece while she was on air so that she’d do that thing with her nose where it scrunches up all weird to make her look like a mouse.”

“I do not do that.”

“You do, sweetie,” Mary Margaret adds in, opening up the refrigerator and grabbing a bowl of what Emma sincerely hopes is Mary Margaret’s pasta salad. “It’s so, but it does make you look like a mouse. Or like you smelled something bad.”

“Well, I am next to a bunch of sweaty men. I could smell something bad.”

“True.”

“And Ruby, you can’t say anything. You talk in my earpiece all of the time.”

“That’s my job.”

“It’s not your job to talk about assess in pinstripes.”

“Eh,” she protests, clicking her tongue and tilting her head to the side. “I think it might be.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman Emma doesn’t know says, breaking Emma out of their little bubble to remember that there are other people in this house. “What is it that you do?”

“Oh,” she sighs, her mouth suddenly dry. She’s not conceited, she doesn’t think, but it’s been awhile since she met someone who wasn’t in her circle and didn’t know about her job. “I’m a reporter for the Yankees. Emma Swan. It’s nice to meet you – ”

“Jasmine Anwar. I teach with Mary Margaret.”

“She’s my teacher,” Leo adds in, running back in the room with a shield that’s nearly bigger than his body. “But I get to call her Miss Jasmine when she’s here, which is super cool because my friends don’t get to do that.”

“That’s our secret, though, Leo.”

“I know, I know. Emma, look at my shield.”

“Leo, it’s time to eat,” Mary Margaret says. “You can show off your shield afterwards, okay?”

“I thought we were eating cake afterwards.”

“We are.”

“So, when can I show off my shield?”

“After the cake, Leo,” David sighs before clapping his hands together. “Let’s eat.”

Inside the bowl was, indeed, Mary Margaret’s pasta salad, and in the oven was a tray of baked chicken, rolls, and macaroni and cheese. It’s the kind of meal that Ruth would make on the weekend or whenever David came home for a holiday, and for someone who eats cereal and Chinese takeout when Graham doesn’t feel like cooking, this is absolutely the best case scenario for her.

Thank goodness for David turning forty and Mary Margaret deciding to keep it low key with just a few friends instead of everyone from both of their offices.

(His thirtieth birthday was insane, especially when she thinks about the fact that Mary Margaret planned it while seven months pregnant.)

Most of the conversation halts with everyone eating, just a few murmurs here and there, but then Ruby gets a glass of wine in here – possibly two – and while Ruby can deal with liquor no problem, red wine gets to her. It’s the strangest thing, but Ruby’s already loose filter becomes, well, looser.

“No, do you guys remember the time,” Ruby hiccups, sipping on her drink while Emma very gracefully shovels more macaroni and cheese into her mouth, “that we were out in LA for work, and David nearly got arrested for walking out of a Walmart with a boxed fan because he threw away the receipt at self-checkout and they checked him at the door?”

“This is not that great of a story, Ruby,” David huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and tipping his beer bottle up to his lips.

“But it is,” Graham protests. “It was a twenty-dollar fan, man. All you had to do was pay for it again, but instead you were one more protest away from getting taken off to jail.”

“I paid for the damn fan. It was on the security video.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs as she slides her plate onto the coffee table, “but we only know that because you literally demanded to speak to the manager, had to sweet talk your way into the security office, and we spent three hours inside that building all because you can’t sleep without a fan in the room.”

“To be fair, you and I did have a great time while we were waiting. We bought that purple hair dye and streaked your hair.”

“Which was really dumb because I had to be on camera the next day.”

“It washed out.”

“Really? Because I swear I still have purple in my hair if it’s in the right light.”

She tugs at strands of her hair to prove a point while laughter bubbles in her stomach. God, she loves her friends. They’re the actual best. She doesn’t know how she got lucky enough to have them in her life.

“Your purple streaks are probably what made Jones ask you out. He saw that you had a wild side and couldn’t pass that opportunity up.”

She takes that thing about loving her friends back.

She groans, sinking down further into the couch and wishing that she had Leo’s Captain America shield to hide her face so that no one can see the blush that’s rising from her cheeks. Today is apparently a day to bring this up once every hour. It might as well go on her grave stone at this point.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic.

It can at least go in her obituary.

That doesn’t make it any better.

“Emma, can you get me Killian Jones’s autograph?” Leo questions, looking up at her from where he’s very enthusiastically scarfing down another plate of macaroni. He’s not going to have any room for cake at this rate.

“I’m not sure if I can, kid.”

“But you know him! He asked you on a date!”

She’s going to dye all of her hair purple, change her name, and move countries. That’s even more dramatic, but she seems to be on a role with being dramatic tonight.

Italy would be nice. There’s lots of pasta there.

“I’ll ask, kid.”

“I want it on a hat.”

“Leo,” Mary Margaret scolds, “use your manners.”

“I want it on a hat please,” he corrects before shoveling more food in his mouth. “Can we have cake now?”

[crystallized-iron]

So I got bored and answered an entire ask meme.

Describe your comfort zone—a typical you-fic.

My comfort zone for writing might be emotional angst. 

Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Sci-fi, the kind with ships and space aliens, probably similar to Star Wars but with my own spin on it

Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

I wouldn’t be so dramatic with the wording, but I will not write kidfic (that’s when some are kids and others aren’t, right?) or de-aging. I would only write characters as kids if it’s part of a super long series and they all age together. And I haven’t even done that.

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Charles Xavier supposedly died but his consciousness was recovered by scientists and then transferred to a cloned body of his. Then they get scared when he starts to actually use his power.

Share one of your strengths.

Painful scenes.

Share one of your weaknesses.

Fluff

Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

He rubbed his head. They just would not stop.

- sun is dropping - did you hear - the bodies should -

Bodies?

- be at the bottom -

His hand lowered to his side. Did he catch the thought of a murderer? He could pick it out over the usual hum. So he was nearby.

The door to the inn opened and someone walked inside.

There was a flash of a moment in Charles’ mind. A group of men. Their faces pierced grotesquely by their own fishing hooks. And dragged to the bottom of the sea.

The screaming was chilling. But… but...

It was no ordinary person that committed that sinful act. He was gifted, like Charles himself.

Someone bumped into him and Charles caught the image of a girl. Bruised. Starved. ‘They give one fish for using us.’

‘Using you?’

‘Our bodies. We would fight, but… Food is food.’

“Private room for one if you can.”

It was not out of pure cruelty, not from an evil nature. He was stopping those that brought pain to others.

“Charles, let’s go,” Raven said, key in hand.

“He is with us as well,” he stated, getting the man to turn and stare at him.

======

The Gifted, Chapter One

I like this scene here. We see Charles’ just picking up the thoughts of others because he cannot control his powers yet. We get a glimpse into what Erik did, and even why he did it (although that is also an earlier scene). But the closer Erik gets, the more Charles can see, showing that proximity is a big factor in what Charles can see when it comes to mind reading.

Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Charles faced him. “I am not sure how much I can tell you.”

“You read my mind.”

“It is the loudest.”

Erik folded his arms. “So what can you tell me?”

“Only about my life after the age of twelve. But I warn you, I am terribly boring.”

“You are a mind reader. How is that boring?”

“But that is just what I can do. Aside from that I'm a boring person, really.”

“Let me decide that,” Erik said.

Charles nibbled his lip while he decided where to start, his mind catching a question from the other man. “Of course you would want to know more about that.”

“Of course. Because you were hurt.”

Shaking his head, Charles said, “I really do not know who she is. That all happened just before Raven.”

“What do you mean, just before?”

He gazed at the floor. “My earliest memory is running. Just running. There is nothing before that.” His arms came up, wrapped around himself. “There is just the stars above me, the cool breeze, the night sky. Cold grass beneath me that crunched with every step.”

Erik came closer.

“My lungs were burning, my heart was racing, I… I just kept thinking ‘run’.”

“And you don’t know why.”

“I don’t. I was in the woods. And I tripped over a tree root. I suppose it was lucky. Raven happened to be hiding nearby. She found me.” He raised his head and looked at Erik. “In the dream, that woman… she… you know.”

“Choked me,” Erik finished for him.

“Yes. Well. That part, it… it must have really happened.” Charles swallowed down the emotions trying to force their way out. “I didn’t… I didn’t know until she said… there were marks.” He moved a hand down his neck. “I know my power is protecting me. Or I would remember all of it, or… maybe be even worse off. Not sure. But whatever it was had to be... really, really horrible.”

Erik stood in front of him. “But you survived it.”

“I don’t know how. I… don't want to know.”

=======

The Gifted, Chapter Four

This scene, I think I pulled it off well. Charles’ emotional explanation of what he does remember from the time just before meeting Raven.

Which fic has been the hardest to write?

That would be So Beautiful, simply because there’s a lot of subs but no comments, anywhere, period. The number of comments really does make a difference in how quickly something might be updated, you know. (And at this point, I’ve temporarily fallen out of MCU love and am now focused on X-Men, cherik specifically)

Which fic has been the easiest to write?

Currently, that is The Gifted. I’m already writing chapter 8, but only up to 5 is posted so far. Probably a good thing because I edited both 6 and 7 maybe three times now.

Is writing your passion or just a fun hobby?

Both. I am passionate about writing, but the fanfiction part has to be a hobby. Now I just need to get working on my original work more.

Is there an episode above all others that inspires you just a little bit more?

For me it’s moves, and probably X-Men: The First Class right now.

What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

When you’re writing a fight scene, you are doing it because you want the character to get hurt. Even if they run away, you need to have the injury goal in mind, because that determines the way the characters move and all that. So decide the injury goal first.

What’s the worst writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Never use -ing, never use -ly, never use blah blah blah.

If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

I can think of three right away, but I would say The Gifted.

If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Fuck... right now, cherik.

Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

Generally start to finish, but I will occasionally outline random scenes for the end. I’m always planning for the end and then get stuck in the middle.

Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

I’ve tried. Right now I have a tiny notebook map for The Gifted, and a few scenes outlined, but that’s it.

Stephen King once said that his muse is a man who lives in the basement. Do you have a muse?

I don’t think so. I wouldn’t know if I do or not. Maybe it’s James himself lol. His various characters influence a lot.

Describe your perfect writing conditions.

Cat is napping, tv isn’t super loud, I’m not expected to socialize, nothing I want to pay attention to is going to be on, it’s not after 9pm yet, I have ideas and the perfect soundtrack and plenty of empty pages to use.

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Depends. Prompt fills are lucky to get any revision. The Gifted goes through my own editing as well as my beta’s. Promised Love and A Lie to Live, when they were getting weekly updates, had one revision each, right after typing, and then were immediately posted. I stressed over those two a lot during that time though. Not doing it that way again lol.

Choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it into your current writing style. (Person sending the ask is free to make suggestions).

From Comfort Original:

It had been a bad night, the tower getting cooler than usual as the wind whipped around outside. Even with how well it was built, the windows still had a slight rattle against the force of it. Bucky hated the cold, too many negative memories involved. Watching outside, he knew he was safe, knew that the chances of something coming up this high, without him noticing it, were extremely low, but he still worried. He couldn't go back to Steve, though. Things had been getting a little complicated between them, mostly due to the man that had taken them in.

Edit:

The wind howled outside, chilling the tower more than usual. The windows rattled with every strong gust. Bucky stared outside. The cold reminded him of being thrown from the train, of being frozen for days, weeks, months at a time. It made him think of HYDRA, and even though he knew the chances of anyone sneaking up on the team here were extremely low, he couldn’t stop the worry from creeping up on him.

But he couldn’t even seek out his best friend for comfort after their fight over the man that had been kind enough to take them in.

If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

I already decided I will be doing this for A Lie to Live, because I know I can write it so much better now.

Have you ever deleted one of your published fics?

Never. Anything I’ve ever posted, you can still find it if you know where to look.

Although it looks like one site decided to delete my work. And my account. I have backups on my flash drive, I’m pretty sure, but still.

Always back stuff up. This was mostly original though. Too high rated for fictionpress.

What do you look for in a beta?

Mostly that they will be okay with the content I want to create. I tend to write darker stuff (had a beta for violent vampire fic and have a beta for dark x-men fantasy au), so it’s good to know they will be okay with that. Also things that I think may be triggering, I mention ahead of time before I write it. Just to be sure everything is still good.

Do you beta yourself? If so, what kind of beta are you?

I tend to be my own beta and mostly catch typos and reword stuff, change the flow if I have to, maybe move a scene or a chapter.

Being a beta for others? I fix grammar mostly. I feel like I’m shit at suggestions though lol.

How do you feel about collaborations?

I love them but they never get finished lol. There’s two people I’ve collaborated with on different stories over the years, one I started a page with, and someone that was interested, but that’s it.

My only issues these days, with the invention of google docs and able to write back and forth and all that, I am a shy writer so I will wait for the other person to leave the document, especially during... certain scenes...

And also, that the breaks in between adding a part does not exceed a week. The last one I worked on has now passed a year since anything added, so I don’t think it will be updated again any time soon.

Share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

LadyDarkPhoenix because she got me into fanfic and into the MCU fandom and her ideas are awesome. One of the people I’ve collaborated with for years over different stories.

NotEvenCloseToStraight has some of the best fics. I haven’t read any for awhile for a variety of reasons (not to do with her, my own distracted mind and now fandom switch really) but she is amazing and a sweet person.

Kellyscams has written some amazing stuff. Just, really check them out.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Um... Oh, this is tough. I think I’m mostly reading prompt fills and wips right now.

Maybe a sequel to Coming Home by helens78, only because I didn’t know how much I wanted Wesley/Charles until then. And then add in the implied interest in Erik as well, and yes.

Do you accept prompts?

I do.

Do you take liberties with canon or are you very strict about your fic being canon compliant?

It varies. Prompt fills lately are more canon compliant, but if I’m doing chapters, it’s way AU.

How do you feel about smut?

I love reading it. I somewhat write it in collaborations.

I panic and stop every other sentence when I attempt writing it alone.

How do you feel about crack?

It can be good.

What are your thoughts on non-con and dub-con?

Depends on the character and the situation.

Would you ever kill off a canon character?

I’ve killed Tony at least twice now.

Which is your favorite site to post fic?

AO3 for sure.

Talk about your current wips.

The Gifted is a fantasy AU in the X-Men Alternate Timeline Movies fandom

Promised Love is an arranged marriage fantasy AU in the MCU fandom

A Lie to Live is a fantasy AU in the MCU fandom

So Beautiful is a modern, no powers, college AU in the MCU fandom

Help Me is a sequel to Bite Me and it is a vampire au in the MCU fandom

Talk about a review that made your day.

This chapter made me feel feelings. My poor boys! :'( And well done with Erik's anger, lashing out and the aftermath. I understand you are upset, Erik, but that is not an acceptable way to treat a friend. And it's good that you realized that too.

===

This one especially. Also their previous two comments.

Do you ever get rude reviews and how do you deal with them?

Not really. Not since, like, high school.

That was a long while ago. I was still really into the LoTR movies.

Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one)

Bite Me

Bucky tried to block Aldrich’s blows with his arms but the monster gave him a harsh stomp to the stomach. Bucky coughed as he rolled onto his side, tasting his own blood in his mouth.

“I truly did want more of a fight than this out of you. How pathetic.”

“T-think so?” He looked up to see Tony coming back.

Aldrich caught the stare and turned, grabbing onto the wooden stake made from the leg of a desk.

“Shit!” Tony struggled.

“Thank you, Anthony.” Aldrich yanked the stake from Tony’s hands and, finding Bucky on his feet, thrust it through the other vampire’s chest.

“No!” Tony cried, trying to get past Aldrich to reach the man he loved, but his Master gripped his shoulder and threw him back.

“You were perfect,” Aldrich growled, “but I will never have your heart, will I? Not as a mate.”

Tony blinked away tears that threatened to blur his vision. “Never.”

Leering at the vampire that held Tony’s affection, Aldrich shoved the stake deeper, Bucky’s cold, dark blood gushing out around it, and then pulled it free.

A grotesque, thick flow fell from the hole in Bucky’s chest.

“No, no, no!” Tony needed to reach him, but he froze once the already stained wood pierced him next.

“You can join him, Anthony,” Aldrich spoke so sweetly, giving it another push to be sure neither would leave.

Tony stared at him. His chest felt wet, cramped, cold. Fear shook his body.

His knees hit the floor. “B-Buck...y...?”

But no response came.

As Aldrich walked away, Tony found himself all alone in a place that reeked of blood and horror. His vision began to falter. He grew so tired... so very tired... so very... very... tired...

[romantic-witch]

All You Had To Do Was Stay // David [Pt. 2]

imagine: david confessing about everything

please please read the first chapter first, it's right: here

inspired: you are in love (taylor swift)

warning: english is not my first language. please correct me if I have any grammar mistakes.

Zane, thanks to god, was really understanding of me editing the video by myself. I finished his last vlog and while uploading, he texted me, saying:

"I just filmed a quick bonus video, it's a brand deal don't worry. I'm gonna drive to San Diego to shoot some stuff so I'll drop off the memory card."

Zane making my life easier once again. I had no intention of going back to LA. At least maybe for a thousand years. I can’t, after that night. David tried to call me four times but I ignored two of them and missed the other two.

At least my beliefs didn't change. God sent me another so called "clue" and it failed so back to being an atheist, I guess.

The whole week passed really quicker than I thought. I went to some classes, learned I got an A from my multimedia storytelling class, and ditched some classes, for example that boring ass class named principles of public relations. Of course it's my worst class since I'm not a social butterfly.

I was out, doing some paper work for one of my classes when a text from Zane appeared on my phone.

"Babyy, we decided to shoot in Santa Barbara, so can you pick up the memo card from Scott?"

I responded:

"What was he doing with your memo card lmao?"

"He ran out of storage in his card."

"He says hi btw."

I sent a waving hand emoji and then texted:

"I'll call Scott when I arrive in his place."

He sent an okay emoji.

I handed my work from Google Classroom and started packing my stuff. It was 3.34 pm. It was exactly the time I would start my hour and a half road trip to LA, like every other Friday. I head back to my dorm, dropped off my textbooks and laptop, and with that I began my road trip to the one place I said I wouldn’t go for the rest of my life, with my Subaru SUV.

When it’s the decision of the boss, who literally pays for my student loans, I had to do it.

-

LA traffic is the worst. We literally had zero traffic back in the island. Guam, with over 100k citizens still managed to be the most amazing thing that ever happened to USA while people are praising the City of Angels with it's unbearable traffic and horrible pizza.

I was jamming to some '80s music and then my car, since it's connected to my phone, alarmed me saying:

"You got a new message from..."

The car lady waited a split second and then added:

"David. Do you want me to read it?"

I responded no and got my phone just to see the notification.

"Hey! Heard you were coming to LA? Can we talk?"

I literally threw my phone back to its place, the shotgun seat, and focused more to the road and Madonna.

Maybe if I stop talking to him, he'll think I'm just a piece of ass and stop liking me.

That was my mind set for this past week. Yes, I ignored some of my friends when we got into an argument, but maybe for 10 minutes. I have been ignoring David for the past week, and if he did the same thing to me, I would be pretty pissed. 

He loves Liza. I am just trying to help him see the truth, or the bigger picture. Every single person believes they are going to get married, have 3 kids and two dogs in a huge ass mansion by the time they are 30. Okay, maybe not that early, but still.

The traffic finally gotten better and I started to drive a little bit faster. At least I was not in the highway anymore. Highways give me anxiety and that is no good considering I will have another one just about 25 minutes, when I arrive at the house. But my car, most certainly, was not feeling too great. Some noises started to came from the back which I specifically turned off the radio to hear it.

I pulled over and saw a little hole in my tire, which let the air come out of it. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Why do all of these things happen to me in very specific times? I called someone that could help and waited for them in a nearby cafe for almost an hour.

Scott, Matt and David texted me, saying: in order,

"Hey, I'm going out to see a film with Kristen, text me when you come."

"Heard you were coming to LA, wanna binge the new Titans on Netflix and talk how bad it is?"

"Are you okay?"

"Are you okay?"

The message was continued with two other messages saying:

"You were suppose to come 30 minutes ago."

"I mean you are not suppose to, you usually come around that time."

I wanted to say something. At least tell him that my car broke. But I know for a fact that he will come up here and pick me up. So I texted Scotty.

"Hey, my car broke in Moorpark Street, I'll probably be around when you guys finish the movie. Just wanted to let you know."

"Oh god, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. No worries."

"Our film is about to start, should I sent anybody?"

"Noooo, but thank you anyways."

"Okay, I'll get to you after the film."

After about an hour and three minutes, the employee came and started to look at my tire. She explained that she needed to take it back to the repair shop since it looked like something looks like it stuck between my tire and my car.

She jokingly added:

"Hope, it's not a squirrel or anything!" and started laughing.

I just wished it wasn't and nervously smiled.

My car was starting to get it's place in the truck the lady came with and all I did was to stare at it and think of all the money this was going to take, I didn't realise I was silently crying until the truck started moving and I saw my car in the back of it.

The lady offered me a ride but her place was so off where I was heading, I politely refused.

I started to walk, the house was about 30 minutes away from where I was at. A quick nice walk, Pearl. That's good for your body.

I was walking for almost 5 minutes when a car honk behind me, gave me the chills.

It was the white Tesla.

David looked at me from the open window and said:

"Hop on!"

At this point all I wanted was to edit Zane's video so I did get into his car.

"Hi"

"Hey, Scott texted me but I had to look through the whole Avenue to find you."

"You didn't have to David."

"It's fine, it's fine."

We drove back to the house and didn't have a word.

I can feel his little glances from time to time, but I tried so hard not to look at him. Even once. The city lights were catching my eye, not him.

How can silence be this loud?

It was getting dark and after 20 minutes of driving, we finally came.

David stopped the car, which led the Tesla to open the car lights inside.

David immediately turn the lights off and started to stare at me. And I couldn't help myself but look deeply at him as well.

I got out of the car.

I felt a little tear in my right eyeball falling down, I immediately wiped it off with my hand.

I knocked the door. This was something nobody did in this house. I heard come in from, I'm assuming Jason, and went in.

I pull out my phone and texted Scott that I made it home and then asked Jason where the memo card is.

He said: "You should check the kitchen, it's where Scott edits the most."

I head to the kitchen and Scott's computer, with the memo card plugged in, was on the counter.

Me, being the bad bitch I am, pulled the memo card out of the computer which led to his computer warning me with the notification. 

David was nowhere to be seen. This was my time to escape LA and go back to Long Beach. I’ll catch a bus provided by my lovely school. The MTA Express bus station is not far away. 

The second I opened the house’s main door, Jason from the other side of the room, said:

“Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, gotta edit some stuff.”

“Well, David said he is waiting for you in Todd’s room.”

“Why can’t he, tell that to my face?”

Jason sighed and continued:

“Look Pearl, David might look like a 22 year old adult but he is a literal child. But you are an adult. I know what you are trying to do and I totally understand. But my only advise would be talk to him. Tell your feeling to him, whether it is positive or not.”

These were the only wise words I have heard from Jason. And he looked very sincere. 

“Okay.” I said and walked to Todd’s room.

Jason shouted from the living room:

“You are doing the right thing!”

Todd’s room door was closed. Before heading in, I took a deep breath and leaned my forehead beside the door. 

I opened the door. 

I actually never been in Todd’s room, for obvious reasons. First being, I am just an editor and that was the only reason actually.

A “Hi” came from David but it was quite like mice.

“Hi.” I said.

He was sitting on the bed. I don’t want to be near him so I just stood next to the door.

“So what you wanna talk about?” I said.

I knew what was about to happen but I asked him anyway.

“You know what I wanna talk about.”

“Enlighten me then.” I said jokingly, while sitting in front of David on the bed. 

With his classic laugh, David fell to his back and hit the head of the bed.

I giggled and asked if he was okay.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” 

We stared at each other for awhile.   

“I gotta go David, what were you gonna tell me?” I said.

I loved breaking the mood. David’s face went down.

“You don’t think I like you.”

“I don’t think about it, I know it for a fact.”

“How can you know something this personal about me? Think about that then!”

“David, I am just trying for you to see the bigger picture. I see how you look at Liza every single day. I see how you talk about her, those things are not the things you say about a friend.”

“Because she is not my friend.”

“Exactl-”

“She is one of my best friends. We shared a lot of great memories together but the conclusion not only Liza came, but me as well, we are better off as friends.” David bursted.

“I just can’t think of a single reasonable solution why aren’t we together.” he continued.

“I like you and you like me, but you are sitting here stuck in my past relationship more than I am. It might not show it that well but I really really like you Pearl. And I can’t think of-”

I kissed him. I, Pearl Manglona, kissed my dream boy. Well, he kissed me back as well. That was the big shocker.

The kiss became a little steamy when he let me sit on his lap.

And a little more steamy when he pulled his shirt off.

Which let me take off mine as well.

We kissed for maybe a solid forty seconds, after he started kissing my neck. 

He made some solid points about me while he literally confronted me just 5 minutes ago, but he did not knew about my sweet spot. 

I immediately started to giggle, which let me laughing.

David’s face lighten up and said: “I did not taught you were ticklish.” 

“Well I didn’t think I would be confronted by a 22 year old with the mental age of 8.”

“I really like you, wow.”

I went for another kiss.

-

Well thank you for reading!

Also very sorry that I couldn’t upload it sooner. Believe me, I was creatively exhausted.

lots and lots of love <3

zayn :)

[iwritekpopfanatics]

Reminiscent

Yoongi x Reader!

Genre: fluff, angst, Drabble

Warnings: slight mention of violence, tattoos

Summary: You and Yoongi were best friends when you were kids, but life took a toll on you two.

Word count: 911

A/N: Highkey got inspired by some blonde haired Yoongi edit with tattoos, but I can’t find the picture to it so rip :,)

————————————————————————

Yoongi and I first met when I was five. My parents came outside to greet our neighbor. They hit it off well right off the bat. My parents introduced me to a boy that was my age. After that, Yoongi and I were best friends. We did everything together. He seemed to be the shy and kind type, but when Jae took my pencil during class and wouldn’t give it back, Yoongi walked over and grabbed the pencil out of Jae’s hands. He then handed it back to me before he shot the most vehement expression towards Jae. Jae never bothered me again after that.

“Thanks, Yoongi. You’re my hero!” I squeaked as I gave him a hug.

In elementary school I grew slightly taller than Yoongi. I teased him about his height and patted his head, which irritated him the most. Everyday when I come home from school, I go over to his house to play games with him and stay for dinner. We had many playdates; during that time my parents and yoongi’s got to know each other.

In middle school Yoongi grew taller, which made me pout every time he teases me. We were both daring, and we liked to sneak out every night to play at the park.

“Hey, Yoongi,” I whispered to him as I cupped his face. His eyes meet mine; I felt like his dark orbs stared at my soul.

“Mhm?” he hummed.

I smiled and gave him a soft chaste kiss, which made his eyes widen.

“I like you.”

His expressionless face was nowhere to be found. My heart was racing as I anticipated for his reply.

“L-Let’s go home okay?”

I wanted to frown, but I only nodded.

We walked in silence. He snuck back through the window of his room, while I climbed over the porch railing and into the living room’s window. I tiptoed up the stairs to go to my room. He never answered my confession. Things were awkward after that, so I pretended nothing had happened. We telepathically agreed to ignore my confession.

In highschool Yoongi grew taller than me. My head fitted perfectly under his chin whenever he tried to hug me from behind.

“Hey, shortie” he cooed into my ear.

I frowned and wiggled my body out of his grasp. I never understood why he always did this. We weren’t dating.

“Shut up, I’m not short, Mr. Long legs” I retorted.

“It’s Oppa, not Mr. Long legs. Show some respect, I’m older than you” he muttered to me as he furrowed his eyebrows. I let my lips form a grin.

“Anyways, are you coming over today?”

I nodded.

We walked home together. Occasionally he would try to trip me, which resulted in me running after him to kick his butt.

As we neared his house, faint shouts could be heard along with glass being shattered. I gulped. I turned to Yoongi, but he wasn’t next to me anymore. He bolted straight into the house where the loud sounds suddenly stopped after he entered. I glanced at the door that was left wide open. I felt my mouth go dry as I walked home, leaving Yoongi and whoever was in that house to sort out the drama.

When I left my house in the morning, Yoongi wasn’t waiting for me outside like usual. I frowned. His absence left a feeling of loneliness.

Several weeks had passed, and Yoongi hasn’t been in school. I had to avoid the people trying to interrogate me about his whereabouts; the truth is that, I didn’t know where he had gone either.

When I heard he had dropped out of highschool I stormed to his house; only to find it empty. It was like he and his family had vanished.

It was my graduation, and I tried countless times to contact him. Yoongi hadn’t changed his number yet, but he never replied to my texts or read any of it.

I managed to score a scholarship to Yonsei University. I remember when I sneaked a glance at Yoongi’s dream college he wanted to attend. His first choice was Yonsei University. It was stupid of me to think he would be here when he had already dropped out, but I held onto false hope.

It was another boring lecture; I was sitting near the back as I took notes on what the professor was talking about. From afar I heard the door opening; someone had probably came in late, but the professor didn’t even glance up as the footsteps echoed through the classroom. I didn’t bother to look up, but I felt anxious when the footsteps got closer to me.

My worst nightmare came true when the person sat next to me. After Yoongi left, I became a social-introvert. I tried to not look at him, but I lost to curiosity. He had dyed blonde hair. His built yet slim structure made him intimidating. The tattoos that covered both his arms and ended where his wrists were sent a chill down my spine.

He felt familiar, the chubby cheeks and the somewhat slanted eyes along with the resting bitch-face he had on. He looked a lot like Yoongi. The man met my gaze and I almost jumped out of my seat.

“Hey, It’s been a long time Y/N.”

I never knew how much I wanted to see him until this moment.

“Hey, Mr. Long legs. It’s about time you idiot. I missed you.”

[rosedalemike]

“The Mood” blog #4: “The Giant has Awoken”

(Written Sunday, April 1st to Wednesday, April 4th)     Never have I grinded so much in one week as I did this past week. I just had so much drive to get things done and dig deeper with the dialogue & presentation of the show. I wanted to create something that would make people grab onto every second of the show more than ever by creating paragraphs of motivation with some smooth little intros to segway from song to song while I change guitars/tune/water etc. So pretty much every morning I'd start with making a little intro session for a song while jotting down notes about what I want the world to know about (kinda like these blogs). Then I'd finish the session at around noon, stem it out, drop it in the live show and export it for video editing while I went to the gym. Then I'd edit some projector video footage for it when I got back. It was super fun picturing myself on stage in front of a glowing-eyed audience giving them something more than just my songs.

     Between all of that, I was in and out of the garage repairing the light bar towers and re-programming the new replacement light that I picked up almost two months ago (see blog #3 about procrastination), taking care of the many booking odds and ends, and finishing drums for demos before the rented cymbals were due back on Saturday. 

     It was pure crunch time Wednesday before the Hamilton show. I made one last intro for Sustain and then I picked up Austin (local kid who lives to learn about gear and help with any live production) to help me with the final rehearsal with the new rig. There were still some Axe FX presets/scenes to be made and layed out as well as some last minute lighting issues that popped up. So actual new-rig-soundcheck and rehearsal did't get rolling until around 10:30. I dropped Austin off at two then programmed some lights for This Dissonance until about 3:30am.

     Thursday in Hamilton was stressful but amazing! I picked up all the new merch in Scarborough, loaded up the van, and was an hour late for the load in! My vocal coach, Tom Oliver, came out which is always great! I have a lesson with him this Tuesday night and I can't wait to work on some things that I'm sure we both noticed needed work. I could tell Tom loved the new show much more than the Rosedale shows he's seen in the past. He ran up on stage after my set, hugged me and said "Mike! The Giant has Awoken!" I knew exactly what he was talking about. What I really like about my lessons with Tom is that he knows exactly what useful exercises and knowledge I need to be reminded that singing is mostly a mental skill; its an easy skill and there's no reason to make it hard. He also teaches useful techniques for connection with audience/being present. So I know he was loving the new between-song-moti. 

     That between song motivation is so damn hard to memorize, though. It brings me back to the neurotic days of memorizing monologues for Drama class. I knew it was not gonna go word for word at the Hamilton show. I forgot about 80% of it but at least touched on the topics with those intros and videos doing justice. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the scripted banter. I don't want it to come out like I'm reading a script in my head (or even too rehearsed) but I know that it definitely beats me trying to wing it. And when it's right on point, the message is much more vivid and powerful. I just gotta put more time into it to get it more solid. Plenty of time to do that on the thousands of miles of driving ahead of me.

     Speaking of long drives, Friday was one hell of a mission to Montreal. About two hours into my drive Bryan called me. My aux input in my van isn't very loud so I had my phone in one hand while driving (totally illegal, I know. But I was watching the road just fine and straight in my lane.) Then a red car pulled up beside me and started yelling/mouthing "Get off your phone! Get off your phone!" They were getting pretty close to me and would not pass. It was actually getting pretty dangerous. I was explaining to Bryan what this crazy couple in the red car was doing and he couldn't believe it. Then I noticed the guy in the passenger seat got on his phone and made a call. I sped past them to get away from their nonsense. I had a pretty good feeling that they were calling the cops on me. So I ended the call with Bryan and sure enough, a couple miles later, an OPP car pulls off the shoulder and starts following me, puts on his lights, and pulls me over.

      "The reason I'm pulling you over is somebody reported you holding your phone making a call while driving." He said. I fed him some BS: 'my phone was clipped up here on the dash for GPS and my friend kept calling me so I had to keep hitting reject so I could see my GPS. I saw the crazy couple pulling up beside me super close so I sped away from them as I didn't know what they were gonna do next...' Just as he let me got, my GPS sang "Police! reported ahead!"... He asked if my GPS was telling me where cops were. I explained to him that the GPS app, Waze, lets fellow drivers report cops on the road, red light cameras, hazards, traffic etc. "Does it cost anything??" he asked. It was like the biggest epiphany ever for him. He was a pretty cool guy. I felt bad feeding him my BS and that I had to take that call but I've DEFINITELY done some much more dangerous things while driving. I actually felt pretty safe and alert talking to Bry about Saturday's plans with both eyes on the road. And it was a pretty crucial time to make up some believable BS. I've never had that happen before, though, it was a trip. The whole time the cop was taking my licence and insurance info I was just thinking "Goddammit, Ilan Musk, lets get this Google Ai driving stock in all vehicles already..." Come to think of it, that technological advancement/approval alone will basically create that extra 4-5 hours a day I was dreaming about in Blog #1...and if it messes up, it me$$e$ up!

      The Montreal show went extremely well. Other than my PTLS (Post Traumatic Leaving Stress) rattling my nerves as Worst Case Scenario's fans said their goodbyes right after their set, I was pretty confident with my crowd that we were gonna have some fun with my new show/rig's first headlining set. The crowd was super responsive; singing along, clapping, shouting out requests, dancing. I was once again extremely impressed with Montreal's vibes and really proud to have such awesome fans. The four doors and 46 winding stairs to get up to La Vitrola were, as usual, well worth the grind. It is the perfect venue with the perfect staff. I'll load my insane amounts of gear up those steps any day if that venue and scene continues to be that awesome. Also, Worst Case Scenario, The Moon and Back, and Summerled made it all possible by not only playing incredible sets and bringing out their awesome fans, but also helping me load my Big Dirties up and down those Death Steps. Jon from Summerled, especially, saved my life by sticking around super late to help me load out and letting me crash on his couch.

      I had to leave Montreal at 9:30am Saturday to get back to Toronto for my family's 4:00 Easter dinner at my cousin's. I left early to pick up Bryan from his cousin's (literally 5 minutes down the street) and head to Hard Luck for our 6pm load in. Another good 30 stairs to tackle at Hard Luck. Plus rain.

      But was it ever worth it! A bunch of people I haven't seen in years were showing up! Friends of family friends, people I went to high-school with that were a couple years younger, fans that finally got to come check out their first Rosedale show! The stage was a bit of a nightmare from the headliner's sound check, but I definitely put my foot down and took charge making sure the show didn't get pushed back too far and my set did not suffer. That is one of my biggest fears; when there is a good crowd at a show and it's time to really shine, you end up working with amateurs who are unobservant and inconsiderate. So I was putting out everyone else's fires from 6pm-10pm so that my set could be at it's best. And, as much as it was frustrating to deal with, I was really seeing it as an example of how going out of your way to help the less experienced is necessary to showcase your own creation. I also had a lot of help from friends getting my gear to the stage quickly.

    After the show, some friends were offering their help pack up my insane amounts of gear. This is a common offering that I really do appreciate, though it is hard to communicate that it is easier/quicker to do myself than to teach. Once everything is packed, all hands on deck definitely decreases the burden. But that's usually about an hour after last call. So I have to politely decline and somehow explain that it isn't a trust issue, it's just that I have some weird casings and windup methods to make it all fit and so the next day's setup as tight and smooth as possible. Some people get it, some don't. But in any case, I appreciate them being there for the show more than anything.

      I really don't mind doing the entire pack-up by myself all that much. I often get into this conversation with the venue staff as they impatiently watch my mad scientist maneuvers with wrenches and Rubbermade containers. 'This is the third most fun thing on my agenda' I'll tell them. Allow me to break it down: Order of most fun to least fun activities in Rosedale's common agenda: 

playing the songs (live/rehearsal and/or writing/recording etc.) 

hanging out with the people who were involved (saw the show, ran the session etc.)

gear management/assembly/load out 

driving (often involves eating / listening to music...but usually it's boring and time moves slow...and Red lights have my number)

going to the gym (many assets, but a miserable process)

promoting/booking/marketing. (Last and least. By far.)

     I guess it could fluctuate depending on the circumstances, but usually that's how I look back on the day in my head. And when I break down that list to venue staff, they definitely start to believe that I'm more sane than they initially thought. And if you guys could only see some of my inbox (on Facebook and Gmail especially) you'd see why promoting and booking is,by far, last on the list. Should there be anything else thrown into the agenda, it's definitely gonna be better than promoting/booking.

      I get thrown into the deepest darkest holes especially when I set out to promote. I don't take it so hard anymore if a venue or promoter throws their doubt stones at me. If anything I understand it more than ever because of the lack of respect/appreciation some of my once-most-loyal fans have these days. Don't get me wrong, I love my fans and want nothing more than for them to succeed and be inspired by what I do. But when they start doubting (by giving me their lame/fake excuses) or giving me shit for simply inviting them to a show instead of making conversation, that is just petty millennial bullshit that literally turns me whiter than my piano keys (hence the lyrics for Quicksand and Grey).

LYRIC PARTY, NARC STYLES:

I turn whiter than a song in “C” as I watch the room empty, “Nooo!” just press on, believe - “Quicksand” - ROSEDALE

If I take this world by the throat and I make it through what seems impossible; won’t be grey. ‘Til then, I’m alone “Grey” - ROSEDALE

      I'm starting to really believe that I get too personal with fans. I tend to consider them family and want to help them with anything they need especially if they just saw my show. And I can tell that they want to help me at the time and it's a great bonding feeling. But it seems like, these days, we gradually forget how much we want to help those people over time. Myself included. I mean, on one had I know I can't flip open my laptop everyday for 2 hours (humbly..) messaging every single Rosedalien personally asking them how their day went. But the other part of me really wants to show that I do genuinely give a damn about their lives and that they still matter to me. It's the reason I personally message them to come to shows! But over the past couple years it has really backfired. I have a folder entitled “WTF” on my laptop of screenshots from fans that either ignored me entirely or basically cussed me out for simply asking 'how are you?' or inviting them to a show. Some of these fans I've even driven home from shows so they didn't have to walk/uber, had long deep conversations with them about their lives/struggles, lent them my music for their own art projects, saved their letters/pictures etc. So it's messed up when I build a solid friendship with these people and then they ghost me or cuss me out when I let them know I'm in town performing again. It actually sometimes makes me wonder why I even still try.

'Why don't I just delete all my social media accounts and make music for myself to enjoy? Seems to be that way anyway.'

    That's another reason I started this blog and the between-song-moti. I feel like the reason these family/friends/fans get petty and insecure is that they are so invested in their friendships that their true purpose in life/goals lack attention. I definitely tend to over invest feelings with people I meet all the time, too. But because I'm so driven and focused on my goals, I don't need to see a message from them for me to feel like they care. I know they are my new allies and I have a mission in life to accomplish. I know that it is magnetic- accomplishing my goals is only gonna motivate them to get to work on theirs. But I'm often misunderstood because I get too personal with them. If I message a fan about a show, they feel like they're just another $10 bill at the door. Furthermore, fans see a picture with another fan and get jealous that they haven't received any recent Rosedale attention. Believe me, it's even more ridiculous than it sounds.

      So I've decided I'm not gonna be so personal anymore. I’ll just lay everything out publicly. Because these fans that get petty over me inviting them to shows are not actually interested in my art. They just want to feel extra important to somebody that is out tackling their goals. They need to feel like they matter more than other people, like it's a contest.

     Don't get me wrong, this isn't all fans. I still have a good group of fans/family that respect my absence from their inbox. They are happy/understanding to see me building my following and will make every effort to come see me in their area. I'm just saying there is a real phenomenon happening on the other end of the spectrum where fans feel like they're owed something more than the additional attention they already received from their fellow artists. And if they don't get it (OR if they now have a new source to fill their attention void), they're no longer interested in the evolution of that artist.

      I've been finding that the most genuine supporters I have, I've never really had to personally invite to a show. Weather they think Rosedale is a bigger deal than it is- or they just genuinely appreciate my art and that is enough for them; they come out to the shows almost every time and usually end up bringing some friends along too. I want to tell them how grateful I am for their support in more than just a 'thank you', but history shows that giving them anything more could create a reverse effect. They might even say things like "don't forget us when you're super famous" and now I laugh and say "don't forget me when I'm not famous by next tour".

      It's a really odd generation we live in today with social media. But maybe it has been this way for years. Maybe the reason why successful artists no longer go hang out at Taco Bell with their fans post-show isn't because they grew a big head; maybe it's simply because they now have a strict routine/schedule that has made them successful. Maybe hanging out at Taco Bell after the show and snapchatting their hours away wasn't getting them anywhere so they developed self discipline and new work ethic. And maybe those hangouts, as fun as they were, were actually creating a diminishing effect on their growth/Starlight/legacy to those fans.

I'm sure there's a word for it... Star Power sounds silly but maybe that’s kind of what I’m talking about?     

     Ever notice that, for most big bands, you won't even see the lead singer before the show? He/she is nowhere in sight! We used to joke about that all the time with the Zawacki's (Virginia Bandmates) back in 2013. They'd insist that as much as it would work for a tall frontman like me to hide in the van/backstage until showtime, I could never pull it off because I'm literally hanging from the ceiling and onstage getting all my gear in order before the set time. Fans and other audience members see me setting up all show and 99% of them subconsciously think "Ohh, Rosedale is just like the local bands...meh!"

    Bryan coincidentally brought that up on the way to the Toronto show Saturday. I laughed and told him he had a very good point. We laughed at how backwards most people are. (You'd think fans would see me going above and beyond the other local acts with my setup and think 'wow, we're in for a show tonight! We love our DIY hero!' ...but most don't... They just think I work at the venue!) Anyway, I've always thought that was interesting and relatable to the fact that I "lower myself" by personally inviting every one of my "fans" out to that given city's show. Again, though, don't get me wrong; I've also got some incredibly cool fans that actually come out and thank me for the invite/reminder. Most of them are in other bands, though.

      Anyway, I just had to rant that as both sides were pretty prominent in these hometown shows. Everyone goes through phases, too, myself included. So it's no longer surprising when a fan comes out from under the rocks and starts to turn on the support jets. And I'm sure those phases are conducive with my phases (online marketing streaks, live streams, authenticity etc... Whatever floats their boat!) ... (conducive...did I just use that word for the very first time correctly?? ...just googled it...looks right, yeah?)

       So I'll end it there! Sometimes authenticity takes multiple paragraphs! And I just realized a bit of a pattern; every second blog/week I eat like garbage and get all whiney and cynical in my writing/mood. (Hope you don’t mind. If you do, let me know.) I do hope you actually enjoyed this long rant/journal/blog and found some insight and inspiration! Go out and crush it regardless of how many fish fall off the boat! There are plenty more fish in the sea, just keep crushing it!

P.S I just ate two fortune cookies (cus I’m a pig) and they BOTH said this: 

[fangirlingnextgen]

Hell can look appealing (part 1)

A/N: Finallyyyyy it is here! It’s probably not the best fic to start with the next gen, probably because I started it months ago and finished only now smb. And I tried to edit that shit but tumblr refuses to save it so sorry for the mistakes I left, not my fault

And most of all HAPPY BIRTHDAY CASHEWWW LOVE YOU ❤💙💚💛💜💖

December 17th

POV Maxime

 Mom has no limit. We all know that. I spent my childhood keeping that in mind… But she still finds a way to surprise me.

 It’s a nice Monday morning. I quietly take my shower, enjoying that for once Lex is not here to steal the hot water. Since she was fired from high school, she has been living like a recluse. She eats at 3am and spends her day in front of TV, watching some stupid series or playing video games. That’s why I forced her to go with me to the palace this weekend. But it didn’t end up very well. She still refuses to talk about what happened with Brandon, she keeps saying there was nothing. She’s such a bad liar. Everybody saw how they were both acting weird during the breakfast yesterday.

 I am shampooing my awful curly/not so curly hair when I get an idea about what could have happened between them. “No way! No way!” Stop your brain Max, they didn’t have sex ! You are insane. Even a drunk Lex wouldn’t do that. She’s not insane enough to lose her virginity with a guy she hates… right?

 Someone suddenly opens the shower curtain. I let out a cry.

 “I heard you scream, everything’s fine?” Mom asks as if it was perfectly normal to show up in the middle of my shower.

 “MOM I’M NAKED.”

 She blinks, still holding the shower curtain. “I can see that. By the way you should stop wearing your awful sports bras which press your chest. You have a beautiful tits, sweetie.”

 “MOM STOP IT’S VERY AWKWARD. DAD TELL HER TO LEAVE!” As I guessed, he’s behind the door, I can hear his muffled voice answer : “I WON’T ENTER TO FORCE YOUR MOTHER TO LEAVE. DEAL WITH IT MAX.”

 It’s finally Lex who comes, looking particularly mad. “WHO DECIDED TO INTERRUPT MY SLEEP? I WAS HAVING A GREAT DREAM!”

 Why do we always have to scream in this family?

 “THE BREAKFAST IS GONNA BURN!” Dad suddenly shouts. The reaction is quite quick. Mom and Lex run out of the bathroom. I sigh in relievement, internally thanking dad for helping me to get rid of them.

 I take all my time to get ready for school. I don’t want to go in math. This class is so boring, especially without Lex. Together we always try to annoy the teacher enough to be kicked out of the class, and it works every time. I’m afraid of the day he’ll understand that the real punishment is to make us stay in class with him.

 I go to the kitchen and see mom and Lex fighting to have the bacon. I shake my head, grab an apple and join dad in the living room. He’s reading the newspaper and raises his head when I enter.

 “Hey, Max. Feel better?”

“They took all the bacon.” I groan. He laughs and pats the sofa. I jump on it.

 “Sorry, sweetie.” He doesn’t look particularly sorry. Sadistic family. I can’t even have my bacon for breakfast now. I deserve it more than Lex. Who’s gonna go to math class? Certainly not her!

 “What are the news?”

 “Mila goes to Kent to promote culture among the poorest.”

 “I already knew that.”

 “Not my fault if there are no more rebels to be on the cover of newspapers.”

 I read the article above his shoulder. I’ve always done that with dad; reading the paper every morning before going to school. This is our quiet moment, something we need if we want to survive to Mom and Lex and their usual exuberance.

 A loud horn interrupts my reading. I raise my head and frown. The car seems to be in front of the house.

 “WHO THE HELL DARES TO DO SUCH NOISE IN THE MORNING?” Mom and Lex scream at the same time from the kitchen. Dad and I look at each other, thinking about the same thing : the both of you. Lex runs in the corridor, ready to kick some asses. Mom follows her, her bat in her hands. God, no. Lex angry is frightening. Mom angry is even more frightening. But together ? Even Hitler would run away from them. Dad takes his cup of coffee and raises an eyebrow at me, asking if we should go out and prevent a new world war. I shake my head and bite my apple. Hearing them yelling outside is relaxing. It’s the sign everything’s okay in our family.

 Until the screams come back into the house and make my ears bleed.

 “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend had a car.” Lex says.

 I spit my apple. “What ?”

 “The car belongs to your dear Ken.” She can’t help mocking his name. I know she hates him. She hates all my boyfriends. I don’t know if it’s her natural feeling of superiority or overprotectiveness towards me, both probably. But it’s a little annoying coming from a girl who breaks up with her own boyfriends after a week or so.

 I sigh and take my bag that I let near the sofa yesterday. “Can’t you stop being like that ?”

 Lex raises her eyebrows. “Oh c'mon Max, even you is bored with him.”

 I cross my arms. “I’m not.”

 “Oh then why didn’t you run to him when I told you it was his car ?”

 Okay I totally am. I’m fed up with him, with all of him. His too long hair, his hands always on my hips or my butt, his awful voice always telling uninteresting things - I often want to sleep when I am with him-, and most of all his slimy kisses. I would like to say all of that to Lex right now, but Dad is next to us, and he already heard too much.

 I wave at dad and take my sister to the corridor. “You’re right.” I whisper to her.

 “I’m always right.”

 I roll my eyes. She is too confident about her intelligence.

 “Look Max… you should break up with him.”

 “It’s not that simple. He says all the time he’s in love with me!”

 I am not a monster, I don’t want to break his heart or even… get him angry. Angry is not a good option. At all.

 “He’s a sixteen-year-old boy. If he’s in love with something, it’s your boobs.”

 Why are people focussed on my breasts this morning ?

 “If you break up with him within the end of Christmas break…” Lex suddenly starts. A deal, really ? She wants to make a deal with me ? She knows that I am the best at that game.

 “You tell me what happened between Brandon and you this weekend.”

 I can see she hesitates. God, it means it’s really bad. Or that she’s ashamed of it. Maybe I’m right and that they really slept together. Fuck.

 “Okay.” She finally accepts. I realize at that moment how much she wants to get rid of Ken. “But I let you until New Year’s Eve in these conditions.”

Monster. I don’t answer and look through the open frontdoor. Mom plays with her baseball bat while talking to Ken, who just looks at her bored. I know I really need to bump this idiot. For too many reasons.

December 30th

POV Alexis

  “We need to talk.” Dad tells me. I feel the shit coming, so I stay on my bed and put my headphones on. It seems Dad doesn’t have the patience to bear me today, he takes my mp3 and stops the music. “I am serious, Alexis.”

 I sigh. “If it’s about the car…”

 “Your mother and I know you didn’t burn it.” My mouth widens. For days I have been thinking they were avoiding me because of that. And actually no ?! Fuck them!

 “Please, Alexis.” I cross my arms. “Your sister is already in the living room.”

 I finally get up and follow him, slightly angry he waited three weeks to tell me he believed me in the burning car story. Once in the living room, I sit next to Max and wait for the parents to talk, arms crossed. Mom, who was talking to Max until I come, stands up and bites her lips. This is clearly more serious than I thought.

 “Do you remember when that Swendwish scientist came to Illéa few months ago ?”

 I frown and look at Max. She seems as confused as me.

 “Yeah.” I answer for the both of us. “It was about a missile or I don’t know what. He wanted your advice.”

 Mom nods, but looks clearly uncomfortable. It worries me, what is she going to tell us ?

 “He proposed me to work with him on it. So to go to Swendway.” Mom announces quickly.

 “WHAT ?!” Max and I scream.

 “According to Haiden, accepting it would improve our alliance with Swendway. It would be both an Illéan and a Swendwish missile. It’s a big opportunity for our army apparently.” (Forgive me I wrote that in May ok)

 What. The. Fuck. I’ve always found funny to have a mother who works for the army -it frightens everyone at school-, but now not at all.

 “So did you accept?” I ask.

 Mom crosses her arms. The worst is coming. “I was about to say no. But this is a big opportunity for my career…”

 And now we have to follow her in Swendway. Great.

 “Since when is your career more important than your family?” I scoff.

 I can see at her face that I hurt her, but I couldn’t stop the words. I’m still angry about the car story. And when I’m angry I act like a bitch.

 “It’s not, Alexis. I hesitated a long time… But you’re both old enough now I think.”

 “Old enough for what?” Max frowns, confused. “To follow you abroad?”

 “To live without us.” Dad ends.

 Max and I glance at each other.

 “Okay what have you planned exactly?”

 Mom and Dad look at each other until Dad decides to talk.

 “We knew you wouldn’t want to leave and had several ideas, including your grandmother coming here to stay with you…” Oh no, not Grandma. She’s worse than Aunt Andrea. “But we thought about something which should advantage everyone.” Advantage everyone ? I doubt it. If he was right, he wouldn’t take so many precautions to tell us. “You’ll live in the palace until we come back.”

 We could think that I would be the one who would scream first, because I always complain, but no. It’s Max.

 “The palace?! Why the palace? What about high school? I have swimming competitions in few weeks!”

 Dad pats her shoulder. “Max, we talked to the principal, you can still be part of the sports teams.” I tilt my head and frown, thinking. “Your statement implies that she won’t go to class…”

 “We may… have decided you would have correspondence school?” Mom sounds insure.

Oh fuck. As if I needed to study. I am more clever than all my teachers reunited. If I didn’t want to stay with Max, I would have been graduated years ago. Maybe I would be already operating, who knows?

“It’s easier than having to cross all Angeles to go to high school.” Dad explains. “And since any of the high schools around want to take you Lex… we don’t really have the choice.” I wrinkle my nose. I am not that dangerous. Okay I go to school with a gun in my bag, but no one is supposed to know that. And okay I hide a knife under my dress when I wear one. I just want to protect myself, nothing more.

 Then I remember that everyone thinks I am a pyromaniac. Except my sister and my parents, who MADE ME BELIEVE THAT THEY DIDN’T BELIEVE ME DURING TWO FUCKING WHOLE WEEKS. I WON’T FORGIVE THEM BEFORE A WHILE… unless they buy me a machine gun. I would forgive the worst things for a machine gun. 

  “Fine. We’ll do your correspondence shit.” I say. Max glances at me, astonished that I give up so quickly. “They’re not wrong. It’s not really a bad idea, Max.” She gets up and puts on a jacket she left on the armchair. “Okay, let’s move to the palace, if that’s what you want.” She takes her bag and the keys of my car -mom broke hers when she tested a new weapon, now she uses mine because the responsible doesn’t want to buy a new one. Max leaves the room without looking at us. “If you’re looking for me, I’ll be dumping Ken.” She says, slamming the door.

  Mom and Dad look at each other, then at me. We’re all thinking about the same thing. “We celebrate that?” Dad asks.

  “I order the pizzas!” I scream.

  “I’ll take our best wine in the cave!” Mom walks away dancing. “She’s dumping the asshole! She’s dumping the asshole!” She sings, going to the cave. I can’t help a smile. Okay, maybe I am not that angry with them.

January 2nd

POV Maxime

I find Lex in our bathroom, debating with herself.

“Should I take my chanel products or do you think I can steal some at the palace?”

I groan. The palace, always the palace. It’s been like that for days now. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to live there. Lex doesn’t seem to really mind. She thinks it’s better than going to Swendway. I still hesitate to follow the parents abroad, I didn’t tell her that. The idea of being locked in this golden cage for months… it drives me too crazy. I don’t think I can do that.

“Take your chanel stuff. You didn’t buy it for nothing.”

“True.” She agrees, and puts her products in vanity boxes. She has more vanity boxes than actual carboard ones I realize. I shake my head, but decide to help her. Maybe it will clean my mind.

We work in silence for a while, both thinking. I would like to talk about Brandon to distract myself but since she told me everything, she blushes and gets angry every time I try to broach the subject.

When the bathroom is empty, I realize how close we are to leaving. Tomorrow.

“It will be hell.” I tell Lex, talking about the palace, which she guesses easily.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror, thinking. If I wasn’t so serious, I would tease her about Brandon.

She turns her head to look at me. “A beautiful hell.”

January 3rd 

  We are at the airport, saying goodbye to Mom and Dad. I am pretty sure Mom is about to cry, but she hides it with threatens. I have never seen her so imaginative about punishments. More she is telling, more the ideas seem to come out naturally. She is so inspired… It’s frightening. Even Lex doesn’t say anything.

 Dad clears suddenly his throat. “Babe, we’re gonna miss our flight.” We look at the clock of the hall. Damn he is right. Mom and he hug us. “Please don���t make Mila too insane.” She says.

 “Show we gave you manners for once.” Dad adds, which makes us laugh. “And no boys.”

 We immediately step back, Lex ready to scream at this unfairness, but Mom winks. “I let condoms in your stuff.”

 “Tracie!”

 “You prefer that or being grandfather, Alan?”

 Lex and I roll our eyes. It isn’t the first time they bicker about it.

 “You’re insane.” Dad shakes his head.

 “Just far-sighted. Have you looked at the guards recently ?” She shrugs..

 “Does it mean you did?”

 She shrugs again. Dad pretends to be offended. “Should I ask divorce?”

 “C’mon, honey. You know no one makes me w…”

 Lex and I don’t let her finish. “THE FLIGHT!” They were going to flirt in front of us. Ugh. Luckily they decide to leave, waving at us a last time. Lex gives them the finger, her way to tell she would miss them.  Then she turns her head towards me, making a devilish smile. Oh no. No no no no. “Now, shopping!”

 I moan, while she takes my hand to go to the shops of the airport.

 Kill me.

 I look at the bags around us. I try to understand why Lex thought she needed to bring all her closet to the palace. Or why she had to buy new lingerie just because there were sales.

 Lex takes the bags and throws them on her way too big new bed. Her French Bulldog is sleeping on it and barks when she receives a bag on her head. Lex just shrugs, while I look around the room. All I can see is luxury. Okay it’s beautiful, but I already miss the simplicity of my home. I sigh. And I haven’t even spent one night here. These six months are gonna be a torture.

 “Stop looking like an abandoned puppy!” Lex suddenly says, making me raise my head. “I’m not an abandoned puppy.” I mumble. She sighs and comes closer, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “It’s been three days, Max. And you are the one who dumped him. You can stop being sad.” I don’t even know why I am like that. Ken was an asshole. I shouldn’t have started dating him at first. “It’s better like that. Max.” She continues. No, not really. Now I wonder again what’s the problem with me. Why I am so nice, why I forgive so easily, why I don’t want to hurt people. It always leads me to shit.

 “We’ll go to the shooting range tomorrow. It always makes you feel good.” She kisses my temple and goes back to her previous activity, smiling at me. I smile back, even if it is a little faintly. Lex is crazy most of the time, but she has also this sweet side that people ignore. She would kill them if they knew anyway. She likes it being a secret.

 Lex searches something in a bag, suddenly smirking. “And you know what also makes feel good?” I don’t want to hear the sequel. “A makeover!” I groan. Everything is an excuse to buy clothes with Lex.

 “I don’t need a makeover.” I complain. Forget the sweet sister part. She is actually awful.

 “Yes, you do. At least an underwear makeover.”

 “Lex!”

 “Don’t lex me! You wear sportbras and boxers! As older sister, I have to save you from that!” I narrow my eyes. She always remembers me she is the oldest. Stupid 17 minutes.

 “That’s very comfy!” I try to defend myself, but it’s too late. She hands me one of the bags. “Try them on, that’s all I ask.”

 “You can’t keep them for yourself?” I ask desperate.

 “I don’t wear D-cup!” She says pointing her breasts. She secretly complexes about her own size, maybe I should mention it and like that she’ll leave me alone? Uhm no. I’m too nice for that. Lucky Lex. I take my shirt off angrily and go to the bathroom, which is probably as huge as the room itself. Why must everything be luxury here? I’m afraid I’ll adapt to it too easily.

While I change, I can hear Lex in the room, talking to Barbara. I roll my eyes. She treats her dog like she would treat a baby. She even takes the weird mommy voice.

 “Can I see? Can I see?” She suddenly asks me excited.

 “No!” I don’t even want to look at my reflection in the mirror. I hate my body enough, no need to see it more than I have to.

 “I’ll smash open the door if you refuse!”

 “You have no strength Lex!”

 “But I have guns!”

 “You’re kidding? It’s just a bra!”

 “Exactly! So now open!”

 I open with a groan, just hoping it’s almost over. Lex applauses when she sees me, grinning. “You’re hot! Believe me, with that, you’ll soon forget your Ken!”

 “With a bra?” I scoff.

  She is about to answer when we are interrupted. “Hello? Anybody making that horrible noise?” A voice says from the corridor. Lex immediately frowns and leaves the bathroom screaming. “CAN YOU REPEAT?” I should maybe follow her to save the guy’s life. But her voice surprisingly calms down. “Oh, the piece of shit. I shouldn’t be surprised.” I close the door before Brandon can see me. He’ll comment the bra, I know it. This guy is such an idiot.

 Nevertheless, after what happened between him and Lex the other day, it would be interesting to listen to their discussion. I press my ear against the door.

 “Oh no…. Are you drunk again?” He asks.

 “No, why are you asking ?” She answers with a confused voice.

 “Because you’re in a palace room again? Maybe falling asleep on someone else’s floor for once?” I almost laugh. She is out of control when she drinks alcohol. I mean more than usual. I am not surprised she fell asleep in his room. She called me once from the attic of the neighbors.

 “Sorry but it is my floor. For the next 6 months at least.” The reaction comes quickly.

 “What?! This is not funny. Don’t joke about such things.”

 Lex gets angry, I don’t know why. “I AM NOT JOKING!”

 “Whose idea was this?!” Brandon says, panicked. I’ve never heard him panicked. Knowing Lex, she would ask me to make a tape to ridicule him later. “Why? Why next to my room!”

 “NEXT TO YOUR- FUCK” I would need popcorn right now. It’s getting very interesting.

 Unfortunately Brandon breaks everything and comes back to his usual behavior. “Oh so you already forgot? It didn’t mean anything to you?” This sentence is so ambiguous. What if Lex lied to me and they really had sex? I mean… you never know.

 “They separated me from Max, I wasn’t really interested in where I was.” It’s maybe the truth -people really think that settling us in two different floors will be enough to prevent us from our tricks apparently-, but it doesn’t mean she can use me as excuse!

 “I’m sorry to hear that, for you, but mostly my sake.” He answers sarcastically.

 “She’s already here anyway. In the bathroom.”

 Lex why? I was perfectly good here! I clear my throat. “Hey Brandon !” Okay now they are sure I was listening to them. Great.

 “They can’t separate us.” Lex adds.

 “Great, another.” I hear him say. Idiot. “At least you have a little restrained.” He says to me. Uhm… thanks? I decide to ignore him. “Lex give me my clothes back. I don’t want to stay with the both of you at the same time!” It’s time to withdraw.

 “But you didn’t try on all the bras I bought you ! Did you see the one in red lace? I love it!” She. Did. Not. Dare. Not. In. Front. Of. Brandon. Jefford.

 “WHY DOES THIS FAMILY ALWAYS HUMILIATE ME?” I scream in frustration. This kind of things always happens to me.

 “Restrained you said?” She tells Brandon.

 “Bras you said?”

 And now they’re flirting?! Guys I am still here! Please have mercy!

 “You won’t see them. But they’re really sexy.” She goes on. She wants my death I think. I swear tomorrow at the shooting range she’s the one I’ll shoot.

 “SHUT UP LEX”

 But they totally ignore me, too focussed on their flirty discussion.

 “Surprising, honestly. But I still have no answer as to why you are here”

 “That I have good taste in bras ? Anyway, mom and dad are gonna live in Swendway for 6 months and they decided we would stay here.”

 “That you have taste at all honey.” And it keeps going. Do that when you’re alone, guys. “But now at least I know at whom I’ll have to file my complaints; uncle Alan.”

 “Don’t call me honey!” Is all Lex finds as answer.

 “And dad is already in the plane. It’s too late.” I add, to remember them that I am still here. I EXIST OKAY.

 “And he had the idea. Mom wanted to let us live alone.” Lex finishes. Just saying but if mom trusts us on that, he could agree too. We are independent enough to live on our own. But I know he did that to be sure someone keeps an eye on us. As if it could stop us to do what we want.

 “Yes, but you may not expect it, but I can write letters you know.”

 Lex finally decides to give me my shirt back. She rolls her eyes at my irked face. “Oh, you can write?” She replies to him. I hold back a sigh. It will never end.

 “I can do a lot of things, such as being a quiet neighbour. Can you?”

 I put the shirt on and quickly go out of the bathroom. The ordeal is almost over. “She can solve an equation in her head, get angry quickly, lost herself somewhere even faster, sing and eating at the same time… but being quiet ? Certainly not.” In your face Lex.

 “I was afraid so…” And in your face Brandon. Good luck with Lex! I wish you a lot of noise with her! Wait.. that sounds weird, even in my head.

 “And don’t expect me to apologize.” Lex grins.

 “If you do, I might be afraid you’re becoming sick.”

 “It will kill me you mean.“

 Brandon, who was blocking the door, moves inside, closer to Lex. Now I can leave. Finally.

 “It’s too weird…” I start. Because yes, they need to know how weird they are together. Brandon and Lex… I can’t believe it. “If someone is looking for me I am on the roof.” I choose the roof only because Lex is afraid of heights and will never come there. The bra, Brandon and my other problems… that’s too much for me.

[aleatoryalarmalligator]

Life Story - Part 2

So, this became a little longer than i expected because i started remembering stuff, and i didn’t want to spend two weeks editing it down, and i still have more to go obviously. I am really glad so many people liked the first part of my life story. I would definitely have posted it sooner, but i was in the middle of my work week, so i spent most of my free time getting as much sleep as i possibly could.

In case you didn’t read the first part, here’s part 1.

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/160186590059/about-me-life-story-part-1 

Due to the font on my page, which perhaps i should change, but won’t at the moment, i would highly recommend copying and pasting it onto something you could see better without destroying your eyes. 

Anyway, 

The hardest thing about Kindergarten ultimately, even with everything said and done, was not any of this other stuff in my personal life so much as it was my kindergarten teacher Mrs. Denler herself. There was never a single child who ever came out of her kindergarten class who liked her, in fact she traumatized us all, some more than others, but everyone has their scars. She would steal toys from kids, and one time she even stole money. I can speak to her victims as adults, and it doesn't matter if it was a class she taught in 78' or 97' – we all feel the same way. She liked to psychologically and emotionally abuse small children. And even though the adults would watch her do this, it was like there was some kind of filter in their minds where they just refused to see it as a problem. She was a very mean person, but she would act a little nicer too when the adults were not in the room. She wasn't mean the way that the janitor is mean. She was not hardened by life, or under-appreciated. I say this as an adult who has the benefit of looking back at the behavior. She was mean because she wanted to see suffering. She was probably a sociopath.

I don't remember my first day of school, though the first part of it is on tape, so I know how it went. It's a somewhat boring videotape, that shows me taking about twenty minutes tying my shoes, eating pop's cereal, and Roxanne making faces at me while I cried about it, but most people seem to enjoy the video quite a bit. On the first day of school, I met the friend I would end up keeping in my life until I was in tenth grade of so. Her name was Sam. She had very short blonde hair, and I might have thought she was a boy, as this was what Colt's hair looked like. I was probably looking for someone who reminded me of him. She shared her cookie with me at lunch time. She was a very sweet little girl. My mom didn't know that I was supposed to bring my own lunch. We sat next to each other, she saw that I didn't have anything to eat, and she split her lunch with me. That was all it took for us to develop a friendship. It's hard to believe that it was once that easy to make lifelong friends.

Mrs. Denler would teach us the alphabet in a way that was unpleasant. She would sort of yell out words and sounds angrily. I was a very stressful for me. If we didn't perform to her liking, she would single us out and scold us in front of the class, make us recite our mistakes to everyone over and over, put us in the corner, force us to keep our heads on the desk for an hour. Make us stand in front of the classroom and be used as a demonstration to the rest of the kids was the worst. I was always in a state of shock. I could barely function. She was all about shame. It turned out that I was emotionally more fragile than my classmates. If she called me name I instantly became frightened and would not answer. She started singling me out. As the weeks progressed, I would feel waves of dizziness and fear every morning I walked into the classroom. My hands would shake. If I hadn't made a friend I might have broken down completely.

I didn't know how to explain to my family what was wrong. While I was in school, I could hear my heart beating in my chest frantically at all time. She never said anything in a nurturing way, she never hugged or comforted the students. And she didn't like me in particular. She eventually told my parents she thought I was 'mentally retarded'. And what made this even more difficult is that Mrs. Denler had very old fashioned superstitions that left-handed individuals were marked as naturally evil in the religious sense. And it just so happened that I am left handed. So my handwriting was poor writing with my right hand and this confirmed her suspicions that I was mentally challenged. But if she saw me use my left hand for anything, she would suddenly be upon me from behind, where she would either yank my hair, twist my ear, slap my hand with a ruler, or just grab my hand with hers, crushing it and force me to write with my right hand. I never knew when she was behind me. She would silently walk behind us as we worked, waiting for my devil hand to instinctively use the pencil. There was one day where she grabbed my write and hand squeezed it and forced me to write with it the for the whole class hour, all while telling me what a terrible child I was.

My parents eventually saw the bruises on my hands, and they had a meeting and told her she was not allowed to do that to me. This seemed to help somewhat and it forced her to stop grabbing my hands so hard, but she picked on me even more in class. When Christmas came around, I colored my reindeer coloring book print out as a red deer, rather than a brown one. Mrs. Denler was furious. As an adult, I absolutely cannot imagine being furious at a five year old for coloring an animal a different color, but she was completely out of sorts about this. She called a meeting with my parents to warn them that I showed signs of 'deviancy. My parents were sarcastic back to her, possibly because they could not imagine why they had to take time from work to talk about a crayon colored red reindeer.

I think the grand finale of that year with her was when I peed my pants. I was of course too afraid to ask to use the bathroom. You were not allowed to do that, and you would have to apologize to the class if you asked. She grabbed me by the collar and shamed me in front of the other students, telling them what a gross child I was, before dragging me up to the office to sit in a room and wait for my mother to come and get me. She told my mother in the office that she didn't think I would be capable of first grade and that I needed to be in her kindergarten class again next year. Thankfully my mother declined and I didn't have to spend another year with Mrs. Denler.

That was most of what occupied my life at that point, but there was also a boy who I became infatuated with named Dustin McFarland. He was a kind of pretty little boy. He had very long eyelashes and dark hair. I always imagined he was some kind of a prince. He was five or six, and looking back at my old pictures, he truly was just a little boy, nothing more, nothing less, but in my five year old mind he exemplified all that was handsome. I became obsessed with him in secret. I was so infatuated with him that I could hardly even think in his presence. I used to try drawing him over and over during the weekends. I made up stories in my head quite often where he would rescue me from someone evil, where we would get married and drive away on a motorcycle.

Roxanne found out I had a crush on him. I imagine she just put the pieces together or read the expression on my face. She had to know all my weaknesses. I don't know if what Roxanne did the coming week was an attempt to humiliate me, or an act of altruism to get me set up with the boy of my dreams, or both. But she decided to get involved, much to my anxiety and fear. Roxanne was a sixth grader, and the kindergartners were to read books with the sixth graders on Thursdays on the gymnasium floor. I wasn't allowed to be in my older sister's group since she was my sister. But we would usually change off what older student would read to us. Anyway, Roxanne gave me this funny smiling look that day, and she and her friends rounded up Dustin to be a part of their group. Something was definitely up. She did this with intent. I knew at that moment that Roxanne was going to blow my cover. For me at that young young age, NOTHING in the world was worse than someone finding out that you had a crush on them. You were better off dying. And Roxanne had something in mind, though she would not tell me what. I remember just melting. My insides felt like worms on fire. I was almost hyperventilating.

So, I remember feeling mortified as I watched her and her friend talk to Dustin from across the room. I could not hear them though. I saw her asking him questions and smiling to herself. She kept looking over at me. She was enjoying her power in the situation. At one point they both looked over at me. I was dying. I knew my cover was blown, but what could I do? I don't know how long things went on this way, but when the bell rang, Roxanne and her friend walked up to me. Roxanne told me that she had told Dustin everything. And then she told me that Dustin had a crush on me as well and wanted to be my boyfriend. I assume she expected this to be a relief for me. It was not. At was at this point that I broke down and started crying, in front of Dustin, my whole class, and all the of the sixth grade. I was horrified. My life was ruined. This was the worst news in the world to me at that time. I felt exposed. I was taken out of the gym crying. Roxanne didn't understand. She thought I would be happy to get a boyfriend. At my age she was taking boys into the bushes and kissing. But for me my feelings were ruined, the world I lived in was ruined. I was embarrassed and extremely ashamed. I instantly lost interest in Dustin altogether at that very moment. Something in me just shut down. And after that, I didn't have a crush on anyone until I was in 7th grade. My love life for quite some time after, was presumed dead.

I ended up seeing Dustin McFarland years later. He worked at the factory with me in 2013. I barely recognized him. He wasn't particularly handsome, or ugly. He was just a dude with a cap on his head. There were not beams of light radiating from him. He actually was a bit dumb to me. Still had the same eyelashes though. He basically looked like a redneck with falsies on. He introduced himself to me because he remembered me from school – probably not remembering what could have been between us, but just maybe. It was kind of a strange moment there and then.

My sister Allison was born at the end of that year. My mom spent most of these years pregnant. She had William, who died of course, and then four months later she was pregnant again with Allison. One month after Allison, she was pregnant again with David. My mother was attempting to have a son, to replace William, which I guess finally happened when they had David. Allison marked the end of me being the youngest child. I was then conveniently pushed as the middle child for those formative years, which has it's own blessings and curses.

Allison was considered a lot cuter than me. Where I had mousy brown hair, she had thick eyebrows with long lashes, and had perfect dark hair that curled into tight sausage curls and dimples, like Shirley Temple only with dark hair instead of blonde. People would always stop and want to touch Allison's hair. She could never keep her tongue in her mouth, which always seemed to be poking out from the corner of her mouth. I remember feeling a bit jealous of her, wishing I had curly hair that people wanted to touch and ask if it was real, but as Allison grew older, I tried to befriend Allison. She didn't like me – and there seemed to be no clear reason for this. She would not let me pick her up, or let me touch her stuff. If I got close to her, she would be very snotty and start to cry. She would throw things at me. It was like she was born from the womb with resentment for me. I have since racked my brain on what it could have been that caused her to dislike me so intensely. Perhaps in a past life I had really been a pain to her. She didn't get close to me at all till she was nearly four years old.

My mother bought an unruly female dog and they called her Sidney for that year. It was one of the many animals cycled in and out of the home on my mother's whims. Sidney often would try to run away. We had to keep the door shut. I was five and was not so good at keeping the door shut. One fine spring day, Sidney got loose, most likely because I forgot to shut the door behind me. Two minutes later I remember hearing this blood curdling wail and a screech. Everyone in the house ran down the street. Sidney had been hit by a semi. Her guts were strewn all over the street. We loaded her up and took her to the vets, but ultimately she had to be put down. Roxanne cried all night, and would often let me know that I had killed Sidney, which made me feel horrible. I felt guilty about that for years.

I had a extremely strict schedule in those days. Nobody made me have this schedule. I just seemed to make it happen for myself. I woke up at 8:30 am. I laid in bed till nine. I would then get dressed, have the same breakfast every morning. And I would go outside and sweep the driveway. I became very obsessed with sweeping. I could never get all the fine dust out of the driveway that I wanted. It was something I did every morning. People thought I was very odd. A lot of people would see me each morning and they tended to think I was pretty cute. And it was in this daily routine that I eventually made the best friend I ever had.

I was still five at the time, but getting close to six. I was doing my voluntary sweeping job, and there was this three year old girl who kept passing my house. Eventually one day she came up and asked me what I was doing. She was very bold. I don't recall exactly what our exchange was from that point, but she became a fixture to my life from that point on. Her name was Rachelle. Her family was incredibly poor. Nobody watched her. At three years old, she would travel a two mile radius away from home, on her own, and with absolutely no one's permission. Her mother was a religious nut, and her father was always drunk locked in his home repair shop, where they made just enough money to pay the bills. In the summer though, they didn't even have electricity. Rachelle was scrappy in a third world kind of way. She didn't get Christmas or a birthday. She only had one pair of clothing. Often the family did not get dinner. Her mother donated all the spare money the family had to charity. She likely befriended me at first because she thought our family could spare her a meal or two. She didn't have toys. She wanted to see what I had, and to see what she could get from me. She wasn't above stealing if she had to either.

In a way, this was really good for a kid like me. I was very much a dreamer. I was kind of controlling in my little world, and stuffy. I was fearful of most things, and clumsy. Rachelle over the six years we were friends, really pushed me to be a bit more rebellious. She got me in a lot of trouble. There wasn't a day that went by that we didn't do something we should not. She's the one who taught me to ride a bicycle, even though she was almost three years my junior. For all the years that my parents fought, my sister's partied, and so on, my childhood from that point on was more defined by my friendship with Rachelle. She essentially was my childhood. Because of this, I believe I have shaped myself to be more defined by my friendships than by my family.

We literally spent every day together for years. We would find each other after school. We were almost never separated. I don't think either one of us had a full personality without the other. We were completely in sync with one another, and we just operated as this single entity half the time. Occasionally, she would choose some neighbor girl over me to hang out with. This always upset me, but we always made up. My friends in my own class hated her, and they tried to shame me for hanging out with her. She eventually almost lived with us. Her mother made Rachelle go to be at 6:30 pm even in the summer when it was still daylight outside in every way, so she had a much better life over at our place where we went to bed at ten in stead. The only clothes she got were my handmedowns. Eventually everything she ate came from my house. All of her birthday and Christmas presents came from us. But she never seemed to feel sorry for herself. She was extremely resilient in that way.

On New Years in the beginning of 1996 my father and I went to the theaters to see Toy Story. This was a monumental occasion for me. I had been to the theaters a few times before, having gone to Jurassic Park, Lion King, The Mask, A Goofy Movie, and Joe's Apartment. But Toy Story looked different than all the other movies. I remember just feeling totally enchanted by that. After Toy Story, we went to see the park where they put up lights for Christmas. This was a very special night for me.

Roxanne and my father were getting along worse and worse. Roxanne was not pregnant yet at the time, but she would be within that year. Roxanne had run away for three days and nobody could find her. The police were called. When the police found her with a friend who's mother was cracked out, I remember the police holding a flashlight in Roxanne's eyes. I guess by whatever they saw in her eyes they could tell she was high. About a week later, Roxanne and I were playing in Allison's baby room. The intercom was on. My father could hear from downstairs. Roxanne took one of my toys, and she began breaking it, and pushing the button. I cried for her to stop but she would not. Roxanne had made a habit of breaking my toys in those days. She would break my toys, and then she would break her own stuff, and frame me just to see me get in trouble. She even shaved my legs when I was sleeping. Then she later pointed out to my parents that I was shaving my legs. I remember feeling very confused. Nobody believed me. I was ordinarily a very calm child, but I have always gotten pretty loud when I feel unjustly accused of something I have not done. I remember screaming and crying begging people to believe me, but since I was little nobody did.

Anyway, Roxanne was in the room with me, picking on me. Usually my mother just let her do whatever she wanted, and I would get punished. But my dad favored me, so today the tables were turned. Ordinarily he would have been at work this time of day. But he was not. He heard the whole thing from the baby monitor. He stomped up the steps and unexpectedly charged into the room in a flying rage like I had never seen. He was way crazy furious. Roxanne denied picking on me. I don't remember what he called her. I think he might have called her something pretty awful that you should not call a twelve year old. He then grabbed her and slapped her hard across the face. I started crying. Roxanne ran away and got a hold of her dad. Her dad called the police. My father told me to lie to the police and attempted to convince me that what he did was right. I lied to the police, but it was very obvious I am sure that I was lying for my father. In any case. Years later when my father was slapping me across the face I rethought about this incident some.

There was another incident later when I was in second grade that came to clash between my father and Roxanne. They basically hated one another at this point, and this was when Roxanne decided to tell our mom that my father had molested her years ago. She wanted him out of the house. Anyway, they had this kind of dumb program where a big set of chicklets was brought into our classroom, and everyone for a few dollars could take one home with them over the weekend. Little baby chickens are the sweetest little beings. They just want to be gently cared for and treated like the little angel beings that they are. I remember I was sitting on the floor, holding my little chicklet when Roxanne and my father began fighting, presumably about Roxanne wanting to go to one of her less than savory friend's parent's homes. It escalated somehow. My father ended up grabbing Roxanne and shaking her screaming at her. He was very loud. I remember curling up and trying to protect the little chicks ears. Baby birds are very sensitive and loud noises like that can simply make them keel over and die. I tried to ask him to be quiet, but in my father's rage he told me to shut up. As Roxanne walked off, He screamed at her and called her 'white trash'.

Later on, I asked my father what that meant. All I could think of was some postmodern art sculpture made of trash, except all of it was monochromatic and painted white. Why was Roxanne to be compared with something like that? At least that is how my mind invisioned it. This was the beginning of understanding for me that my dad was racist I think. He sat me down, like he was going to give me some nod of great wisdom. “White trash,” he said, “was when white people acted like black people.” I tried to understand this as he told me, and I imagine in some way I internalized this notion into some subconscious racism that I had to face at a later time in my life without realizing it had been ingrained in me when I was very young. The premise of this statement essentially, though he tried to explain to me that there were 'a few good black people' was that most people of color were essentially 'trash'. I didn't feel all that compelled by what he stated. What he said seemed wrong. What watered down version of MLK I had learned in school seemed to contradict my father's ideology in a pretty basic way. Furthermore, I didn't understand why he felt so much animosity for black people. There weren't even any black people in any of the neighboring towns. I had seen maybe two people in my entire life who were of color. And yet, he seemed to feel that they were some imminent threat to 'our way of life' and all things decent. Naturally being considered trash seemed very low. Because according to my father's values, you only had to state the color if it was some exception to the rule, implying that to be white was to naturally not be trash. But to be black, well, by your very nature, unless you tried very very very hard to live up to white people's expectations of you, well then you were just naturally trash.  

The town of Kendrick flooded in 1996. I remember looking out my window and down the hill. There were houses that were nearly entirely covered with water. There were people paddling around in canoes. School was canceled of course. It was the craziest thing I remember seeing at that point. On rainy days, when occasionally Rachelle had religious duties with her mother, I started playing Sega genesis quite a lot. More often than not, Roxanne would be listening to music on these rainy weekends. She listened to Ace of Base, Salt n' Peppa, Shania Twain, Oasis's famous Morning Glory album – which I grew to love and still do like quite a bit, and 'What if God Was One Of Us?' on repeat. For my sixth birthday I begged for a Howdy Duty Doll. It was kind of a gross strange doll. My goal in life was to be a comedienne

The house above ours was pretty big. At some point the Johnsons moved in. The Johnsons were Mormon. The father was a creep. I don't know much about him, other than he beat his children with a belt, a lot. The mother was a very high strung neurotic sort of woman who eyed and judged us non-Mormons suspiciously from her doorstep, and had trouble keeping her mouth shut. The oldest girl was named April. April was considered very unpopular in school. She really loved Baby Bop and Barney when she was a teenager. She still acted like a little girl. I think she probably had a rougher time at life than I could have known at the time. She adored Roxanne. Roxanne didn't want to have anything to do with April. Roxanne would try to pretend she wasn't home, but April would find walk around our house and look into our windows. It was a little weird.

Then there was Adam. Adam was a year older than me. We eventually became really good friends one summer, but then it kind of fizzled away soon after. Adam was always getting beat on by his father particularly hard. He always had bruises all over him. I thought he was pretty cool for the most part, but he avoided hanging out with me, since I was a girl.

Then there was Ashlee and Ayla. Ashlee and I never really got along well. She also had mysterious bruises all over her, and she talked an awful lot about sex. I kind of wonder if something was happening in their family that should have been reported. I tried several times to hang out with her, but she said and did things that bothered me. She was kind of mean, but it was more than that. As an adult now, I can''t pinpoint why I stopped hanging out with her per say. But I recall a very disturbing thing that happened that made me leave her alone. Ayla was the only one of them without bruises. She was I think, the father's biological daughter, and she was treated a lot better than the other kids were. She was about four around this time. Ashlee, Ayla, and I were hanging out in their fort in their backyard, when Ashlee told me she wanted me to see something cool she could make Ayla do. So, we were up in this fort, and she began forcing Ayla to french kiss her. The little girl resisted and was crying, so Ashlee slapped her in the face. I was not impressed. I told Ashlee she was gross. I tried to leave the fort, but she blocked the entrance. I had to fight to get my way out of there. She would not stop making her little sister kiss her. I got out of there somehow eventually, and I avoided being alone with Ashlee after that. There mother was always accusing me of corrupting her children anyway, and we weren't allowed to have most soda pops in her house.

In the summers of first and second grade, my parents were fighting a lot. This was the beginning of the end for them. It started with fights that seemed to stay at an agitated, but not outlandish level behind closed doors later in the night, but soon escalated to my father screaming so loud that neighbors three doors down called the cops alarmed. They sent me down to stay with my grandma Betty for the summers down in southern Idaho I think to keep me away from some of that. It was very hot and dry down there. Southern Idaho is a total desert. I can't say I am a very big fan of southern Idaho. It's basically like Utah. My aunt lived down there as well. She had a few horses that were on this woman's land. They had acres of corn fields, and I got to run through this endless corn field. It was quite liberating. There are things about childhood that you forget. You know you forgot something, but you don't know what that something was exactly. I spent a few summers at my grandma Betty's like this.

My grandma Betty was a bit boring. She chain smoked. She had a new cat, a Siamese fluffy cat named Shanghai. We would television together. She had an oven, but my grandmother was too afraid to use it. She was also too afraid to use the microwave unless someone was there. I got to visit my second  cousins who were a little younger than me once or twice a week. My cousins on my dad's side are all a lot older than I am. I don't know that they really liked me all that much. I still have a grudge against my cousin Matt. He put me in the corner for not eating my cole slaw. I hate cole slaw. Unless it's so un-cole-slaw-ish that they have basically taken away all but the very basics of cole slaw, I can honestly attest that it's one of my least favorite meals. I spent a good three hours sitting in a corner for not eating something my parents were fairly understanding about me not eating. I felt highly resentful for this, and never once did I give in even a little and decide to put that bad tasting stuff in my mouth. I had given it a genuine try. I genuinely did not enjoy it. I did not understand what the point of this exercise was other than for an adult to punish me for their own personal issues they had with themselves.

One thing I do remember that I did love a lot though, was a place called Discovery Zone. This place was basically like a McDonald's play area, only 30X bigger. It had several stories. You could get lost. Everything was extremely bright colored. Being let loose in this otherworldly maze was mind altering. I felt like a wild animal let loose for the first time in it's natural habitat. If there is such a place as limbo, than I am fairly certain that Discovery Zone modeled itself after such a place. The vibes were like joy and hell all in one.

At some point when Allison was two or so, I found her with a giant stab wound in her stomach. She had been playing be herself, but I really could not find the cause of the cut. Nobody saw it happen. We found no sharp objects. Nobody else had been around. She didn't seem to know either, though her limited speech prevented us from understanding her explanation. She was walking around naked, and didn't seem all that upset that blood was gushing out of her little belly. My mother rushed her to the hospital, and she got stitches. I remember they sent me to the store for something. I honestly thought she was going to die. I had never ran so fast in my life.

Most of my life though, was just me and Rachelle hanging out. We turned a shed like room that came off the side of my house into a fort. We hung out there for hours. Rachelle, assuming she had not stayed the night, would show up as soon as she woke up. She often had to stop me from sweeping, as I was still somewhat obsessed with the task. There were other things to be done. I would always begrudgingly stop and decide to do what she wanted, generally after squabbling to a certain degree. She always wanted to play with the Johnsons. I didn't want to. She eventually made the Johnson mother so angry she wasn't allowed back. Rachelle was a Catholic, so the Johnson family felt threatened by that I think, them being so Mormon. One of our favorite things to do in the whole world was steal. We would steal sugar packets from the diner. I believe this is why I developed a taste for aspartame. We would go in there for a glass of water, and then we would start filling up our pockets like crazy with the stuff. We would then go home and eat it. We tried hanging out at the creek, but I was honestly so clumsy as a child I could barely walked through those rocks.

There was also this old man named Bucky. Bucky wore suspenders and a little 20's style hat. He had a dog that looked like Wishbone. He walked around town all day. He always had these hideous cherry flavored hard candies he would give us when he saw us. I believe he stashed them in his back pocket just for the chance at spotting us. So part of our day was going about the business of finding Bucky. There was something more than a little off about Bucky, but we didn't realize it quite yet.

When we could, we would try to get to a nearby town where there was a library. In the library, they had MAD magazines. Rachelle and I thought the raunchy cartoons were the absolute best. We would flip through the magazines for countless hours, reading every dirty joke. There was one page once, that had a scene of hundreds of people fucking one another. It was so outrageous to me then. I could not believe what sin we were seeing. There was a thrill for me in doing bad things. It ended up becoming a bit of an addiction for both of us. Rachelle taught me how to ride her bike, and eventually one birthday I got my own, but eventually that was not enough for us. I was not to keen on stealing from the actual grocery store. There was a birdlike woman named Debbie that worked down there (still does in fact), and her entire life was built on the hope of being able to catch some dumb kids like us stealing a candy bar. Plus, I was afraid that if we started Rachelle would not know when to stop. She had absolutely no gage on when to stop doing something and it made me a little nervous. And if we got caught I would not be able to purchase ice cream after we swam at the pool, on those rare and wondrous days where we were given $4.50, which miraculously would pay to give us the entire day to swim in the pool AND we could buy ice cream cones.

So I begged Rachelle to not steal from Phil's, and instead we decided to start climbing into homes and apartments through the windows and exploring other people's houses when they weren't home. I never took anything, but Rachelle did. It was never anything seemingly that important. It would be a gallon of milk, or a pair of socks. One time someone came home while we were in the apartment. This forced us to jump out of a two story window, land precariously on a tin roof, slide down, and land on our feet painfully and then climbing under a fence that scraped our backs. It was loud. I also was about 50/50 on just turning myself in. I protested. I had to have been heard. I eventually just jumped and got it over with. Most of the people in town didn't like Rachelle. I don't believe this was fair given that she almost literally didn't have any support growing up. But they did have their reasons.

Rachelle's mother made Rachelle go to church functions 2-3 times a week. I always went along as well, given that this gave us the perfect opportunity to write 'fuck' in all the bibles. I never could quite accept Christ I guess. Christianity for me was a gaggle of angry elderly old women who hated me no matter what I did. It was some strange bum in a robe, staring at me from the clouds. I suppose I wanted to believe in something, but everything about church was extremely earth-bound to me. It catered to old people the same way that newspapers and canned peaches did. Nonetheless, I started going to Sunday school when I was six and stayed until I was nine. I learned absolutely nothing from these years.

I decided to make up my own religion. The Catholic church was a two minute walk from my house. It was surrounded by overgrowth, and it was coming off of a hill, that was covered in all kinds of mystical looking plantlife. It was a miniature forest. I imagined there was some God much bigger and older than the one inside the building. Rachelle and I were not allowed to go into the area because there was poison ivy. But it still got my attention. I think after awhile, we made this God very real in our imaginations. We decided to baptize ourselves with this new religion. I was a religion that only girls could be a part of. Our god was the earth. I didn't realize that I was simply recreating Paganism. One day, as it rained and we created little altars for the dark forest goddess, it began raining very heavily. We anointed our heads under the drainpipe that came off the church's roof.  Never in my life had I felt so liberated. I know this was just in my head, but I felt like I was capable of flying. I felt so happy I could laugh and cry. Rachelle did the same thing. Whatever we belonged to, it was something else from everyone else then. I guess I had caught religion there for a spell. Statistically, religion works like a drug at times for some people. And since then, I have had no experiences that I could say were religious. The situation is what it is. I am sure any people who heard this would make assumptions about what it was Rachelle and I experienced. I am going to go ahead and say it was due to brain chemistry and social conditioning.

There were two murders in Kendrick that took place around this time. Kendrick had gotten to be a somewhat violent little town for a few years. Drug use was extremely high among the teenagers of the 90's, and the groups of kids my sisters hung out with. The first murder was of this one kid, I don't remember his name. He was borderline mentally handicapped, but someone had been foolish enough to give him a bunch of drugs to deal to his fellow high school classmates. They gave him tens of thousands of dollars worth of drugs. He didn't sell much of it. Instead, he used a lot of it, and gave it away for free. So another guy named Cody from a town twenty miles away took him out into the woods and shot him and hid the body. Nobody ever found the body, and there was never enough proof that he did it, but many people heard the gunshot, one of them being my former roommate Josh (way way later in the tale). A lot of people in town knew what happened, but nobody did or said anything. It was kind of like that movie, Rivers Edge. Except there was no justice for this kid. The police did a lazy job looking for him and gave up very fast. Police around here really don't like to get out of their vehicles. Everyone just accepted it and moved on.

The second murder happened up in the hills a ways. He was Chuck Palahniuk's father. Chuck Palahniuk, is the person who wrote Fight Club, for those who may not know. I don't think him and his father were very close from what I gather. The details of the story are slightly hazy, but basically Chuck's dad stole some other man's girlfriend. Somehow this guy also knew people in Kendrick. So, he killed Chuck's dad in order to get revenge for him having stolen his girlfriend. I don't recall if he killed his ex girlfriend as well. But in order to hide the bodies, he and his friends, who happened to be my school bus driver at the time, and his wife, helped him attempt to set up the whole scene like it they died in a fire. The whole thing didn't work, and my bus driver, his wife, and their vengeful friend all went to prison. I remember being young, and wondering where the heck our bus driver went that looked like a pirate and hated children. There were whispers that he had done some horrible crime, but I actually didn't find out exactly what till I had a chance encounter with a clerk at Hastings fifteen years later.

My mother had complications with giving birth to David. I am not sure of the severity. I was sent into this playroom that was the biggest disaster big sty ever in the hospital in Moscow ID. My father was shaking and seemed panicked and frightened. This might be an overreaction on their parts, given they lost William. I am not sure. My mother claims she almost died. The doctors say she didn't, and since my mother makes up illnesses all the time (she has a complex), I am going to believe my father and the doctors. David's head however did get misshapen slightly getting pulled out. It gave his head an egglike appearance for several years of his life. He now looks mostly if not completely normal, and what strangeness there is with his head-shape he covers it with thick dark hair. But there might have been some damage. We will never really know.

He was the ugliest baby I have ever seen though. His jowls were enormous. His eyes tiny. His jowls hung low,and seemed to almost be connected to his neck. Onlookers who ordinarily get excited when they see a baby looked at him and turned their heads away. He was very fussy. He had lots of allergies. He was always sick. I didn't see him that often. She sort of became obsessed with him and kept him in a room with her alone most of the time. Allison was no longer all that special to her, so she was left to Shirley Templing up to Roxanne. My mother really never did like Allison and I quite like she liked David.

It was around this time that Roxanne got pregnant. She was still twelve. Roxanne had hooked up with her best friend's way-too-old older brother. He had no interest in being the father. Roxanne was still playing with dolls occasionally when she got pregnant, and now she wasn't going to model for seventeen magazine or even finish eighth grade. She was going to be a mother she decided. The whole thing was very alarming. The plan was at first, concocted between my mother and Roxanne, my grandmother Marie, and Maria was to pretend that the baby was Maria's somehow. They would send Roxanne to live up north with my grandma Marie, and she would have the baby in secret away from my father, so he would never know. This didn't work out eventually. And eventually he was told. This is when fights started bringing the police out to our house. In a way I can sympathize with my foolish father. My mother had stopped working, though she was getting her license to be a nurse at a nursing home or to take care of elderly people in their home. She had spent 80,000 dollars on garbage essentially and this forced him to take on three jobs, two of the full time just to pay the bills. She kept bringing pets home. She put him in a situation where he was expected to reprimand Maria and Roxanne and then when he did the best he could (which was usually a chauvinistic failure), all three of them would turn against him. He was drinking too much to cope with it all, there were babies all over the floor and my mom stopped changing diapers so he had to rush home to do it for her, and then he found out that Roxanne was pregnant, and he wanted her to give the baby up for adoption, but nobody wanted to do that. I can definitely sympathize with how trapped he must have felt. On the other hand, he had this coming.

So, with all this turmoil at home and stress, he decided to focus all his energies on me. I was the only positive thing in his life at the time. We went camping every weekend. We generally went out to a place called Buffalo Hump. It was a place that could not be reached most of the year. Idaho has a good deal of areas where people cannot go called The Wilderness Area. You can see it in the center of Idaho on just about every map. We camped on the outskirts of these places, and then we would backpack up these great peaks. He started talking badly about my mother a lot, and about my sisters. He became obsessed with doing this. I started copying him in order to gain his approval. It became something we did a lot. I remember it kind of felt gross somehow. Like, I felt like I was being very disconnected from my mom and my sisters. It wasn't that we were very close, but it started to feel like I really wasn't allowed to love them anymore. I didn't know what the right thing to say in any given situation was anymore. Because my mother clearly could tell that my dad had been 'talking to me', and she started quizzing me. I tried to stay loyal to my father and didn't tell her anything. It became this really unpleasant thing. I eventually simply chose my father's side, because he seemed to at least like being around me. My mother only seemed to care about David.

It was in these trips that I would also ask my father questions about life. I had already doubted the existence of Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, the Easter Bunny, and God. My father admitted to me that non of these entities were real. I think out of all of them, I was most disappointed that the Easter Bunny was not real. This might have been because I could not imagine what sort of Rabbit could maneauver his paws well enough to place eggs in hiding places all around the yards of every boy and girl in the nation. I liked to try to imagine this Easter Bunny, an ordinary squishy little rabbit with long man arms coming out the sides. I grew fond of this idea, and it was sad to let that go.

My mother became intensely jealous of these camping trips, so one day she came out to find us. She had baby Allison and baby David with her. It was a four hour drive. Nobody was really expecting her to come, and I am not even sure how she found the camp grounds we were staying at. Just as she got close to the camper, I started talking about my mother, and I don't know what I said, but it could not have been more perfectly – or horribly planned. My father had, in his own need to be validated, trained me like a parrot to say anything negative about my mother in order to make him feel better. Just as she was approaching the camper I think I might have said something about my mother being stupid, about not loving her, and about how glad I was that she wasn't there with us.

And then she was standing right there in complete shock in the camper doorway. She looked completely floored. My dad looked incredibly guilty and stupid in that moment. He momentarily tried to punish me for it, as though all of this had come out of the blue. But it seemed phony. My mother was a mess of tears and honestly looked like someone had just punched her. I don't recall what happened after this. I think my dad tried to chase her down, but she drove away. I was left scratching my head. I realized I had said something I should not have said, but my father had seemed to be really clear that up to that point, me saying these things was the right thing to do. I felt really alienated at that moment.

One of my father's part time jobs was at a health food store in Lewiston. The building is empty now, but next door to this was this joke store. There aren't very many of these stores anymore, but there used to be these weird ass stores where they actually turned a profit selling creepy greeting cards with overweigth women with missing teeth eating whole cakes, fake puke, jumping beans, fake ice cubes with a fly in the middle, fake cigarettes with some dust in them to look like smoke, magic sets, woopy cushions, and tons of comic books by Robert Crumb, and I presume because of the 18+ only signs above a curtain that always seemed shut, they must have had porn in the back. I spent hours and hours in this building. I wanted to be a ventriloquist after all. This was my kind of stuff. I was sitting in this room looking at one thing or other, when on the radio it was announced that Bill Clinton, our president had been caught having an affair with Monica Lewinsky. I honestly thought it was part of the store. I thought it was like a gag along with everything else.

My father became OBSESSED with hating on the Clintons after that. He started listening to Rush Limbaugh every day. He started saying stuff about feminists ruining the nation. He often made jokes about Monica Lewinsky though I noticed, more than he did Bill Clinton. He talked often about how gross and fat she was and how nasty our president was for wanting to have anything to do with a woman that looked like her, even though his wife was 'bad enough.' I am sure he must have been channeling some of his anger at my mother onto Monica Lewinsky. But it seemed like this was something he could just not get over. He made fat woman jokes all the time about her. It felt like this woman was the nation's punching bag. Years later, she did a Ted Talk. Having the experience of watching her get taken down like that really did in some way shape the opinions I had of myself in my teen years. It was not healthy for me to have listened to so much of. Because at the time, I didn't really believe my father could be dead wrong about anything.

A few weeks later there was one final fight between my mother and father. Roxanne I don't recall being there. Basically, it was the one fight that was going to in my father's mind – change my mom's mind about Roxanne being allowed to be a mother at such a young age. My mother would not be dissuaded. She seemed to think that Roxanne, in all her twelve years of life had the experience to be a mother, and that her pregnancy was a very normal thing. My father on the other hand was losing his mind and could not seem to cope with this. Everything had played out to this final fight. I don't know if I was crying. I remember most of these fights as being somewhat like a movie playing out. My dad is an extremely loud person. Nobody can really win because he will yell over anyone and his voice being louder will go over yours, and you will lose. So my mother was trying to fight back, and what essentially my father kept saying was 'THE BABY WILL BE A BASTARD!!!! THE BABY WILL BE A BASTARD!!!', which was another word I had to ask about later. He ended up also calling my mother a selfish pig. I am sure everyone down the street could hear the whole thing. My mother's teeth were gnashing angry as she said whatever it was she was saying underneath my father's repetitive bastard shout. My mother ended up pushing my father. He fell into the couch. I don't know what really happened after that. I think I was upset. I do remember later that night, I tried to talk to my mom. I felt very confused, and pressured by both of them to pick a side. I tried to talk to her, but I remember her very clearly telling me in a monotone quiet voice 'You are ruined. Your father has ruined you. I don't want to see you anymore. Go away.” I left the room.