#this kid had like 5 seconds between picking up his poetry book and going to find Lancer

[ghostlyschwarbage]

Canon Danny Phantom Facts by the Episode Pt. 12

Season 1, Episode 12: Teacher of the Year

Danny used to have a pet gerbil that Tucker killed 

Danny can walk on walls 

Technus dressed up as Sam's Doomed character 

Doomed is actually such a stupid game: you play as futuristic soldier with a laser gun and go up against a troll with a club in Level 1, a monster truck in Level 2 and ninjas in Level 3 

Danny's parents genuinely care about his grades (they expect a B- minimum)

Mr. Lancer has a photo of himself dressed as a woman pretending to be his sister 

Danny is actually pretty smart, he just doesn't put in the effort due to being tired and not studying 

Danny cheats at Doomed by possessing his own avatar and using his powers 

[mouthfulloftoothpasterry]

Hooked

Summary: Harry and Y/n meet again. This time spending more time together and getting to know each other. 

warnings/ disclaimers: Swearing, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth. 

Harry was out searching for a book. He had left Loralie with his mother for the day since he had some errands to run and it would be a busy day. He had finished all of his books and he was on the search for another, maybe even some extra ones for his classroom. He had stopped by his favorite coffee shop and ordered his favorite black coffee to start his day of errands, then he went to the market to get everything for dinner tonight- he thought he might as well get it out of the way since he hates grocery shopping.

Now he’s on the way to a bookstore, he didn’t want to order it on Amazon or just go to a big chain store so he did a quick google search and found a small book store a block down the road from the coffee shop he had gone to. He wanted to find the book burning in water, drowning in flame- his sister had recommended it to him and now he was itching to read it.

He made his way to the bookstore, it looked like a homey place just from the outside of the store. It was a rust colored brick with two sconces on either side of the top of the book shop, a rather tall building- possibly a flat at the top. Harry looks at the cacti peeking through the windows, little flower stickers to decorate.

Harry walks into the book shop, opening the door making the golden bell at the top of the door frame sound off. As soon as Harry steps in he notes the warm scent, it smells like the owner had been baking cookies. “Hello!” He hears a cheerful voice sing while he steps toward the poetry aisle in search of the book. “Is there anything I could help you with today?” He hears the voice again making him turn his head. To his surprise it’s Y/n, he’s been thinking about her. “Oh, hi.” He says bashfully, smiling and stepping over to the cashier counter she was behind.

Y/n smiles, continuing to add price tags on the back of her new shipment of books. She had started her little business officially a bit after she had gotten pregnant with Milo. Milo’s dad had left her after she broke the news to him, they were in their early twenty’s (Y/n being twenty one and him being twenty two) so it was understandable that he didn’t want children yet but the way he dealt with the situation was just dramatic and too much on Y/n. So she put everything into her little book shop, she took out a loan and bought this place, starting planning and putting her all into it, it wasn’t easy but it was worth it.

“Hi Harry.” She says, adding a book to the stack. Harry blushes at her tone again, she’s hard to read. “Um… do you happen to have burning in water, drowning in flame?” He asks, whirling around her display of different styles and colors of bookmarks. He is a twenty six year old man, why is acting like one of his students who thinks he’s handsome? Y/n laughs, nodding while she pulls her mug up to her lips- Harry thinks it’s hot chocolate (and he’s right). “It’s in poetry, first aisle, third shelf, second row.” She says, impressing Harry in how she has memorized every single spot of her book store.

Harry gives her a tight nod, walking over to the poetry section and looking for the book. “Is this your place?” Harry asks, making conversation while the rest of the store is dead silent.

“Yeah, me and Milo live in the flat upstairs.” Y/n admits. Harry’s ears perk up, she didn’t say anything about a partner. He walks back to the counter placing his book down, not handing it over to her yet. “When did you open this place?” He questions, looking around the shop. He sees some crystals, some candles- that both look up for sale and also her personal ones. It’s cute.

“After I got pregnant with Milo. Right after Xavier left me.” She says, leaving Harry wondering. “Xavier is…?” Y/n sighs, rolling her eyes a bit. It’s only their second time meeting and she’s already giving him her sob story. “He’s what would be Milo's father.” She says, picking at her bare nails. She doesn’t consider Xavier Milo's father, he’s never been there for him so he’s not a father. Harry’s lips form a tight line, “um, Loralies mum died… so… we’ve all got baggage.” He laughs, trying to cut the tension.

Loralies mum had died, she died during childbirth. She already had a particularly painful and rough pregnancy with Lora and that was just extremely unexpected, Harry just thanks his stars everyday that his little one is safe with him. “That’s awful, Harry. I‘m sorry.” Harry smiles at her, “it’s okay. I’ve got my Lora so I’m okay.” Y/n nods, smiling and grabbing the book from between his fingers. “She’s a sweet girl.” She compliments.

Harry nods, feeling a little cocky over how well he has raised his daughter. “Is this all for you?” She asks, pulling out a small brown bag with the logo and name on it- they are cute. “Yes please.” Harry politely says, making her laugh under her breath. “If this is your first time here? You get a free bookmark with every book you purchase if it is.” She says, nodding over to the bookmarks. Harry nods, looking through the bookmarks and picking a random Fleetwood Mac one- cute, he thinks. Y/n adds the bookmark to the bag, setting it infront of him. “13.22” she says, Harry fishing his wallet out.

“Are you doing a lot today?” He asks, motioning down to all the books stacked around her while he hands her a ten and four singles. She shrugs, “the usual.” Y/n says, handing him back his change. Harry thinks for a second, pausing his response making Y/n a little nervous. “I could help?” Harry offers, setting his coffee on the table. Y/n gives him a questionable look, sharpening one of her eyes at him. “You want to put tags on books and reorganize with me?” She asks, making Harry laugh. He nods, putting a bookmark back in its place “see, I’m already helping.” He says cheekily.

Y/n smiles, shaking her head. “I guess you can help.” She says.

Soon enough they are sat on the brown carpet, mountains of books around them. Y/n has a blanket wrapped around her and Harry has his legs stretched out. Y/n is tagging books while Harry is setting by the book shelf closest to them organizing. “I swear they put something in the water fountain at that school, the kids are always running and screaming around my classroom while I’m trying to talk about how Van Gogh cut off his own ear.” Harry says, making Y/n loudly giggle, thinking about how Milo probably gives him a horrible time on Wednesdays.

“You like working where Loralie is?” She asks, Harry of course nodding. Loralie is his baby, he loves knowing she’s just up the stairs- especially if she were to get sick or hurt he would be right there to take care of her. “Yeah, I wish I could always be with Milo but one of us has to make the money.” She jokes which makes Harry laugh.

“She always comes waddling into my classroom screaming for me- which disrupts the class but I don’t care.” He shrugs, his mind going back to Loralie. “Oh shit, I’ve got to pick her u-“

“Hi! How are you, baby!” Y/n cheers, Milo running toward her then crashing into her in a hug. Y/n’s friend Mikaela had babysat Milo for the day while Y/n tried to get as much work done as she could. Usually on the weekends (like today) Milo will be in the store with her… which tends to distract her. “Um, I’ve got to go but we should do this again? Maybe… over dinner?” Harry asks, Y/n’s face lighting up.

“Are you asking me on a date?” She teases, Harry blushing and nodding. Y/n laughs, slipping her phone from her pocket, “take my number and we can schedule that date you’re begging me for.” She teases.

Harry gets her number, thanking her for the book and letting him stay before he slips out. Now he’s got to get back to Loralie. But he’s got a date!

**

Later that night when Harry and Loralie are practicing her memorizing her ABCs his phone beeps. He ignores his at first, just expecting it to be a stupid text from his friend Mitch, but once he looks down he sees Y/n’s contact name. “Keep going, bug.” Harry says, grabbing his phone from the carpet while they set on the floor of the living room, unlocking his phone.

Hii, im free next Friday :) let me know if that works with your schedule!

Harry laughs at her cute little smiley faces, trying to think up a response that doesn’t make him sound a thousand years older than her. The tip of his tongue sticks out while he types back his response, his eyebrows knitted in concentration.

Hello! Friday works, how about 5:30? I can pick you up.

He lays his phone back down and helps Loralie with her letters, pulling her onto his lap. “D is for Daddy!” She cheers, making Harry smile, chuckling and kissing her round cheeks while she squeals. Harry hears his phone ding, grabbing it and reading the response, thanking god she answered. He thought his heart would explode out of his chest. It was beating so hard.

That sounds good ☺️ see you then!

Harry got her to say yes, but now he has to deal with the anxiety of actually going on the date. What should he wear, where should they go? Should he be opening the door and pulling out her chair or is that not in-in dating anymore? He hasn’t dated since Loralies mum and his baby is two years old now, it’s been quite a long time since he dipped his toe into trying to charm a woman. He just hopes he’s still got it.

****************************

The day is here. Loralie is with her grandma so Harry can get ready for the date. He’s been panicking and running all around his little house. He showered and smothered himself in lotion and his best cologne- he wanted to smell nice for her. He was adding leave in conditioner to his hair (which he hardly remembers to do) to make it more silky and the curls look a bit prettier than they usually do- he doesn’t know much about hair, he just does what his sister tells him what his hairdresser tells him he should do.

He planned out an outfit, a pair of tan dress pants with a white tank top and a cardigan over it. He had thought over the outfit a bit too much, was it too casual for the date? Was the cardigan too much? He decided against his thoughts and layers some pearls on, sliding his rings on that were in a jewelry dish, placed in there before his shower. He takes a look in the mirror, readjust his cardigan before he gives himself a little nod. He feels good about this.

He makes his way over to Y/n flat, walking up the metal steps to her flat and knocking on the door. When she opens the door he notices just how amazing her home smells, just like her book shop. He needs to remember to ask her where she gets her candles. “Hi,” Harry smiles, looking his date up and down. She was dressed nicely. It was a sage green dress with spaghetti straps, it stopped a couple inches above her knee. Harry thought it was cute.

She paired it with gold jewelry and a black cross body bag. Dirty white vans to go along with it that added a child-like feel to the outfit. Harry thought that was cute too.

“Hi,” she smiles, glancing behind her. “You look nice.” Harry says, suddenly feeling hot. Y/n laughs under her breath, thanking him. “You look nice as well.” Harry smiles bashfully, looking down at his feet. “Thank you”

Y/n says her goodbyes to Milo, hugging and kissing him before thanking her friend again for watching him. It’s the same one from last week, Mikaela. They get into Harry’s car, a bit of awkward silent before Y/n breaks it, Harry stopping the tapping of his fingers along to the low radio once her voice interrupts it. “So, where are we going?” She asks, smoothing her dress out against her thighs.

Harry laughs, he’s not prepared for dates and for some reason he hadn’t thought about the most important part. “I’ll eat anywhere to be honest.” Y/n admits, looking through her window at all the different places.

Harry was looking around in a panic and he finally pulled something out of his ass that sounded good, especially on his teacher salary. “Olive Garden?” Harry says, trying to say it confidently but it definitely comes out as more of a question. Y/n’s eyes light up, she’s in the mood for bottomless salad and breadsticks. “That sounds heavenly.” And Harry is happy to hear that.

They walk into the busy restaurant, instantly getting escorted to a table. Harry is happy they didn’t have to wait- that would have just been embarrassing since he threw this together last minute. They sat in the booth, sliding in and getting comfortable. “So, how’s the bookstore?” Harry asks, pulling apart his breadstick. Y/n knocks her shoe with his under the table, she thinks it’s cute how bashfully he can get when just asking a simple question. “It’s good. How are your little art students?” Harry playfully rolls his eyes at her choice of words.

“It’s good. They are doing self portraits.” Y/n laughs, her eyes widening.

“How’s that going?” Harry laughs, shaking his head. “They look like shittier versions of Picasso’s paintings.” Y/n dramatically gasps through her laughs, “aren’t you supposed to worship the ground that man walks on? Why would you say that?” Harry rolls his eyes once again, chuckling at her. “I’m just behind honest!”

Their date goes on the same, they order their food, giggling while they eat and even getting into a little food fight with the leftover breadsticks. (They weren't being humble, they asked for another basket) They finished their food, “That was fun.” Y/n admits smiling. Harry nods, taking the check and opening his wallet. “Here,” y/n holds out her card, Harry shaking his head. “I’ll pay.” Harry shrugs her off, handing his card tucked in the black check book the waiter had brought over back to him before she can further protest.

Y/n scoffs, throwing another breadstick at him that he tried to catch but it’s too greasy. “Hey! I thought we had a truce?!” Harry questions her. She shakes her head, apparently swearing off the truce. Harry shrugs, thanking the waiter when he brings his card back along with their mints. “You better sleep with one eye open then.” Harry says, standing up and waiting for her. She laughs, standing up and pulling her bag over her shoulder. “I have a three year old, I basically sleep with them both open. You’re nothin’.” She says, Harry nodding his head in agreement. He knows just how she feels.

They drive back to her flat, Harry of course walking her to her door. “I had so much fun tonight.” Harry says, looking down before he looks up at Y/n. She smiles, blushing. She hasn’t dated since Xavier and she admired that to Harry tonight, they both admitted that they haven’t dated since their children’s parents so they felt a lot comfortable knowing they were both rusty.

“Me too, you’re a really sweet guy, Harry.” She says. She needs to remember to thank her forgetful little Milo for leaving his folder in Harry’s classroom. “Thanks for agreeing to go out with me. I was pretty nervous.” Harry admits a bit sheepishly. Harry is a bit giddy on the inside about them hitting it off so well, they were having the best conversation and at times they were getting extremely loud, probably annoying the people around them, but they didn’t care, they had fun. “Yeah, I was nervous as hell but I haven’t had this much fun in a while. Thanks for tonight.” Y/n smiles, leaning in for a kiss.

Harry’s eyes widen, but he still kisses her back. He hasn’t kissed anyone in so long he thought he had forgot how to for a second. His hands come up to cup her jaw, moving his lips with hers. “I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.” Y/n smiles, opening her door with red cheeks. Harry nods, a little flabbergasted. “Have a good night.” He says, trudging down her steps.

And now he’s hooked on her.

Tag list: @romionefp @iaalien @hopeyoustaythenight @evanjh

If you liked this please reblog and please tell me what you thought of it ☺️ thank you for reading!! I hope you all like the series so far I’m writing part three right now so it should come out soon ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind the Gap: Two

Shang- Chi woke up alone in your narrow bed and lay there for a long moment looking at the ceiling. There are plastic stars and dozens upon dozens painstakingly handwritten lines of poetry and little quotes. He wondered how you’d gotten them up there. And he wondered if you kept them because they comforted you. Or inspired you.

It was… weird seeing the parts of yourself you’d tried to hide for so long. The instruments, the books, the crystals. The way the room was flooded with colored light as the sun hit the stained glass. He thoughts of your drab little apartment. The orderliness of it. How minimalist it was. This felt better. Somehow all the missing pieces that gave him any doubts at all made more sense.

He looked at the photos. Little, frozen, out of context moments. People he didn’t recognize. Until he got to the end. Kai in Uniform and holding you, smiling while your chubby dimpled hands cover your mouth. You couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6. All puppy fat and big smiles. That made him feel warm. It was nice knowing that you hadn’t just sprung up somewhere fully formed. And that Kai, for all his unbothered attitude really did love you.

Behind him, he heard footsteps and whirled around to face the door. He wasn’t sure if it was you or not. But. He didn’t want to be caught snooping. So when Katy stuck her head around the door, he exhaled slowly. “There’s breakfast downstairs,” she said quietly, “You okay?”

“Better,” he said after a long second. “I just-”

“I know,” she said. “Her Godmother said she almost died and then-”

“And then she woke up,” he finished.

“And heard someone talking in her head, which- what?”

Shang-Chi made a soft noise that even he didn’t know the meaning of. Last night, he still hadn’t pressed on you for answers. You’d been so disoriented and tired that it didn’t seem quite fair to probe something that obviously caused that much pain. Even as he held you, you’d cried in your sleep, your hands fisted around handfuls of his shirt. And now he didn’t wonder why he frequently found you either awake and working or asleep somewhere else. You talked. Alternating between defiance and begging. It hurt. It tore at him like sharp pointed teeth. It still hurt even in the bright light of day. And he wondered if you couldn’t remember or if- if the Archive wouldn’t let you remember.

“Let’s go eat,” Katy prompted, linking her arm through his. “Lea said Y/N may not be back for hours… Something about everything being a little “off” after she loses a day or two of time.”

He nodded and reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged away from the pictures. His stomach making most of the decision for him. He wasn’t sure what food was down there but it smelled amazing. And he realized that he’d not eaten anything since breakfast the previous day.

In the kitchen, he pauses for a second to take in all the details he hadn’t noticed before. Too worried about you being alone in the bedroom in the attic. Bundles of herbs are hanging to dry. Everything is copper and scrubbed oak work surfaces. The windows are open and the smells from the garden and wet earth from the rain the day before mingle pleasantly with all the pastry smells and warm coffee. It’s comfortable in a way that isn’t manufactured for the house guests. It’s a working room. One that operates the same way year round. And Shang-Chi wondered what happened to keep you away.

Even as your Godmother, Grandmother and assorted cousins quickly ply them all with breakfast and hospitality, he can’t help but feel a little… Overwhelmed. Everyone is just so friendly and warm. No one questions them. No one is apprehensive. And as the talk flies around the table, it’s quickly apparent that you come by your humor and broody tendencies honestly. Your grandmother likes to fuss and she likes guests. She especially likes having ALL of her grandkids at home which he’s given to understand is rare.

Outside there’s the sound of horses and incoherent masculine whooping sounds after a while and She smiles, “I wondered if they’d be back before lunch.”

Shang-Chi watched out the window over her shoulder and she chuckled, “I don’t know how neither of them has never broken their necks jumping that back fence… It used to take years off my life watching them do it when they were small.”

“Daredevils, huh?”

She half shrugged, “It was almost impossible to keep either of them in the house… Wild things.” But there was more fondness than heat in her voice even as she shook her head. “Though their father being what he is, it’s no small wonder.”

He’s only half listening now as he watched you dismount from the horse you’d been riding. Your hair is messy and windblown and there’s color in your face and the careless half smile. There’s a warmth that spreads through his chest, even as his heart skips a beat.

You pause in the kitchen, looking surprised to find people there and glance at the clock frowning before checking your watch. Almost like you aren’t sure which one to believe. “Sit, Eat,” Lea scolds, pressing a mug into your hands and gesturing at an empty chair.

“I don’t think I can,” you say hesitantly.

The taller woman cradles your face in her hands for a second and turns your head to the side to inspect the still fading bruises, “Is it better or worse than it was?”

“It depends on how long I’m out for,” you say after a moment. “It still takes at least a day. But sometimes a week or more.”

“And everything else?”

“The only thing that feels right is being outside.”

Shang-Chi watches Lea and Kai trade worried looks while you studiously look at the mug in your hands after Lea lets you go and deposits you in a chair. “Try any way,” she said softly, setting a plate down in front of you gently. There’s not much on it. A little fruit, some fresh bread and some ham. But even from where he’s standing Shang-Chi can see some of the color leave your face.

“I should call the Aunts and tell them we’re going to cancel the party…” your grandmother said after watching you try to pick at the fruit before giving up and trying a bit of bread.

“I’ll be fine,” you sigh, “It’s just some nausea from getting smacked in the head hell knows how many times and the usual disorientation from not being in the same timezone as everyone else.”

“Smacked in the head?” Katy asked over her mug.

“I made my phone call. The last thing I remember is getting pistol whipped before I was yanked out of the driver’s seat… You would think, given that the Archive lives in my head it would do more to prevent head trauma but… Nah. Who needs grey matter?”

“Driver’s seat?” she asked, wincing.

“It the easiest way I’ve ever found to explain it. This is a meat mech and I don’t always get to drive… The Archive has two main objectives. Protecting the vessel that houses it AND protecting the balance of the universe by preserving knowledge… Anything that interferes with those goals is typically dealt with with extreme prejudice.”

“Typically?” This time it was Wenwu who asked and you half turn that direction and shrug, honestly grateful to not have to pretend to eat.

“Archives have never had their own physical body. By their own account and every corroborating account I’ve ever found they’re… spirits for lack of a better word. A manifestation of desperation. Probably resulting from things like the destruction of the Library of Alexandria and so forth… So they don’t really have any moral quandaries. Not the way a physical entity might.” You sigh and tilt your head, popping your neck to try and relieve some of the discomfort.

“So how-”

“I was the most powerful person in the room when a previous vessel died,” you say exhaling slowly.

“You were a kid,” Shang-Chi said taking the vacant seat on your right.

“It’s- Atypical- according to the Archive for them to inhabit children… Their ability to complete their task can be hindered somewhat by the physical ability of a vessel. But. I had the potential, I guess. So here we are.”

“That was a very coherent explanation,” Kai said mildly.

“Getting out for a while helped make some space to think,” you say shrugging again, “And i did promise an explanation.”

“Space?” Katy asked, frowning.

“Imagine putting all my books into Shang-Chi’s apartment then trying to find something,” you snort. “It takes effort. And a little time. And some shuffling around.”

“Hey!” he protested, throwing one arm over the back of your chair to tug you closer.

“It’s not my fault you live in a literal shoebox.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a nerd,” he chuckles, kissing the side of your head gently.

_________________

You stand on the dock watching the sunlight on the water and sink gratefully onto the warm wood. For a person as introverted as you are, being bombarded on all sides all the time is… Overwhelming. You can hear the people in the distance. The talking and laughing and general ruckus. It’s familiar. But right now you’d kill for silence.

And you aren’t sure but, you think that the Archive might have similar feelings. That in itself is a blessing. You’re tired. Your body is sore. And all you want is to crawl back into your bed.

“You okay?”

You half turn to look up at Shang- Chi and smile a little. “Just tired,” you assure him.

“Are you always… this way?” He doesn’t really know how to put it. Or if you really want company. But, he settles behind you and pulls you against his chest.

“Tired? Yeah. The Archive doesn’t sleep. It interferes with the mission. Which means I’m more often than not awake the entire time… Unless it affects the performance of the vessel. Then I can sleep.”

He doesn’t really know what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything. Gratified when you don’t pull away he pulls you a little closer and kisses the side of your head.

And not for the first time, you thank whatever gods might be listening for people who understand silence.

Shang-chi isn’t sure when you fall asleep. But when he hears the quiet little snores from your head being in a slightly weird angle, he smiles a little and adjusts you carefully to be laying more securely against his chest. It gives him some time to think.

For the years that he spent dancing around you as you started as a friend of Katy’s, he’d felt a pain. A sense that something was too raw to touch. It had made you feel familiar. It made you feel like a kindred spirit. A twin flame. Even as you both tried to hold back, to love people without letting them see the ugly things you kept hidden. Even as you’d tried to build a relationship on secrets. But now? This moment sitting in the sunshine on the dock with you snoring on his shoulder, it feels more intimate than any time he’d ever managed to get you naked. For you to be this comfortable with him… Not to belittle the sanctity of a drunk make out after a duet at karaoke but… It felt like progress. Real progress. He could see the person you were under all the secrets and little white lies. And somehow, it wasn’t very far from what he already knew.

Footsteps on the dock behind him make him half turn, careful not to jostle you awake. He’s not surprised to see Kai standing there. “Is she asleep?”

He nodded, reluctant to talk in case you weren’t as deeply asleep as you seemed.

“Good,” Kai said relaxing a little. “Listen, Grandma is going to turn this into a party… It’s Charity season and Y/N hasn’t been home for anything in… a while. So the aunts and subsequently all the kids are on their way. If you can I’d carry her into the house and put her back to bed. Once the kids learn she’s here there’s not going to be any more sleeping.”

When Kai noticed him frowning the other man smiled a little. “She means well. After… Everything happened Grandma just didn’t want her to be treated like a leper.” You stir sleepily and both men wince reflexively, “Can you-”

“I got her,” Shang-Chi answered, reluctant to let you go. Not even to Kai.

And to his credit, Shang-Chi thought, Kai let him go past without much more than a nod.

[hauntedbythefanficsofmypast]

BatMom- Jason Todd

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2[Here]

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Jason Todd, Her Toughest Bird.

Marinette paced the Batcave anger clear on her face as she waited for Batman to get back with his newest Robin. She couldn’t believe Batman would go this far, he knew damn well that wasn’t his name to give away. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Batmobile skidding into the cave and parking. Batman and the young boy getting out, the new Robin took one look at her before sizing her up with a glare.

“Who's the angry lady B?” He said looking ready for a fight, which amused Marinette slightly. But her gaze focused on Batman as she upped her glare.

“Hello B, we need to talk.” She said stiffly before looking down at the boy with a stern look. “Alone.” She said firmly gesturing to the changing rooms. Jason huffed, pulling off his mask walking passed her indignantly. Marinette wasted no time tearing into Bruce the moment the door was closed. 

An hour later Marinette walked through the halls of the manor a frown still on her face. She stopped outside an opened door looking in on the newly adopted Jason Todd-Wayne. “Kid,” She called out catching his attention. “want to go out for ice cream?” Jason scoffed, closing his book giving her a deadpan look.

“Ya great idea let me go out with a woman that obviously doesn’t like me.” He said sarcastically waving his hand at her in a go away gesture. “Why would I even want to go with you in the first place?” Marinette smirked leaning against the door.

“First off I don’t know you enough to not like you, my anger at B will not be dragged over to you. “Second off we are going to Pico’s Ice Cream Gotham’s world renown Ice Cream Parlor, over two hundred flavors, I intend for us to eat so much Alfred has to pick us up. Finally B is paying and after your stunt with his tires, something tells me you’d be more than happy to waste his money.” She held up her hand showing Bruce’s Amex Black card held between her index and middle fingers. “So are you in or not kid?” Jason smirked, placing his book down and jumping out of his chair.

“Oh I am so down! Let's go get sick to our stomachs with Bruce paying!”

An hour later Alfred had arrived at Pico’s giving both of them a disappointed glare as they climbed into the shortened limo he had brought. Marinette and Jason laid on the floor facing each other, curled in on themselves.

“Was it worth it Miss Marinette, Master Jason.”

“Definitely.”

“Hell yes.” 

The two groaned out their response together shortly followed by a yelp from Jason after she had flicked his nose.

“Watch your language.” She said causing him to grumble while Alfred simply sighed, closing the door. A few moments later they felt the limo begin to move. Marinette closed her eyes trying to calm her churning stomach, well aware of Jason’s eyes on her.

“Why were you so mad at Bruce?” He asked softly, wanting to know yet not at the same time. Marinette was silent for a moment before opening her eyes, meeting his own. 

“B gave away something that wasn’t his to give away. Dick hadn’t let go over the title just yet, and Bruce in his anger ripped it away from him and gave it to you instead. He really hurt Dickie, that’s why I was so angry at him. Not at you, you’re innocent in this Jason.” She said softly groaning when Alfred took a sharp turn, showing his displeasure with his two current charges. “My anger is all towards B right now.” Jason nodded thinking over what she had said before he had another question.

“Why do you call him B, why not just say Bruce?” Marinette was silent before looking away with a slight blush.

“B stands for bitch and he knows it.” She said causing Jason to grin at her.

“Language.”

“Shut it little birdie.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, The Night Joker took him.

She sat at the door curled up crying begging for forgiveness, and Jason-Jason couldn’t find it in himself to give it. This woman, this woman had caused this, Sheila Haywood was no saint. No she was far from it, and unfortunately she was his mother. She was the one that gave birth to him, and now she’d be the one to help kill him. A dark part of him was happy she’d go with him but he’d never admit that out loud. His thoughts strayed from his so called mother as he watched the timer slowly countdown. Instead he thought of the one woman in his life that always tried. That was always there for him, that always stood up for him, and helped him build a relationship with his predecessor. He thought of the terrible fight they had, though he knew that it was mostly on his part. He had gotten too hard headed and Marinette was always stubborn and unwilling to bend with things she believed in. His Marinette wanted to help him meet his mother, she did even though it hurt her slightly and he had known it. She had helped him unlike Bruce who refused after the fight they had had, she helped even though it hurt. Yet he persisted and pushed and pushed until they finally found the women. Jason had insisted that he left for Ethiopia right away, planning to go alone. Ever protective Marinette had refused, told him he would not go alone and that they would go together.  She said she’d have everything ready at the end of the month, but that was not soon enough for him. He snapped at her demanding that she stayed out of it. He declared it was a family matter, and ignored the hurt in her eyes. She had told him not to be hard headed and that she was coming along. Only to be silenced and told that she was not going, he was being so stupid, he let his temper get the best of him. He told her she wasn’t family, that she was nothing but the woman that chased after his adoptive Father. Trying to find any excuse to have his attention, he regretted it so much when he watched her close in on herself. Her blue eyes dulled so much they looked gray, her ever perfect posture faltered but he hadn’t cared. He turned and left her there all alone. Just like he was now, all alone wishing that his mom was there. Wishing that his Marinette, his Mom was hugging him and running her fingers through his red hair.

“Jay-bird.” 

That was it, that's mom’s voice.

“Jay-bird, I don’t know if you can hear me, Gods I hope you do.”

He could hear the shake in her voice as his eyes landed on what he thought was his broken communicator. 

She’s crying, she should never cry.

“Bruce is on his way my little Fire-Cracker.”

She said choking back a sob, Jason twitched in his bond moving closer towards the communicator. His body protested every move as he made his way.

“Dickie isn’t on Earth right now but I told Clark he better get his ass off planet and to him as soon as possible.”

Jason let out a pain chuckle at her swearing, she rarely did it and it always surprised him to hear. Foul language was his thing; it should’ve never fallen from his mom’s mouth. Especially for the fact that she disliked crude language.

“Jay?”

She heard him, she can hear him.

“I’m here.”

He said his voice horse as he shed a few tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I snapped at you, after everything you did, I hurt you so much. I’m so sorry Mom. I should’ve stayed, I should’ve listened, I’m so sorry. I just want to be with you. I want to be with you so bad mommy.”

He said desperate for the women to know, desperate for forgiveness from his mother.

“Jay, my sweet baby bird, it's okay. Oh baby, I love you so much my beautiful boy. You wanted to find your birth mother and I will never hold that against you. You have nothing to be sorry for, you hear me?”

Nine Seconds.

Jason’s eyes remain on the timer.

“Mommy, I love you. Thank you for everything.”

Eight Seconds.

“Don’t-”

Marinette’s voice cracked as she cried into her hands.

Seven Seconds.

“Please tell Dickie I love him and he was an amazing brother.”

Six Seconds.

“Don’t-Don’t say goodbye, this is goodbye Jason! You hear me! this isn’t goodbye.”

She finished her voice in a pained whisper.

Five Seconds.

“Tell Bruce he’s an asshole, but I loved him.”

Four Seconds.

“Tell Alfred I love him too.”

Jason was crying uncontrollably as he spoke.

Three Seconds.

“Mom?”

Two Seconds.

“Yes baby boy?”

One Second.

“Don’t blame yourself.”

Marinette stared at the casket, unable to console herself and stop the tears. Her baby boy was in there, her tough little bird. He was gone and she wasn’t there, she failed him. A mother is meant to protect, and she didn’t protect. She should’ve followed him to Ethiopia, she shouldn’t have let her feeling of hurt get the best of her. A sob fell from her lips as her shoulders shooking, her posture breaking as she curled in on herself. Her baby bird will never fly again, he will never read her poetry or discuss his favorite books with her again. No, now she’d have to visit him here, for the rest of her life. Now she’d have to talk to a gravestone every time she saw her baby bird.

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Red Hood Finds her.

He watched her for weeks ever since he had officially come back to Gotham. Watching her as Ladybug, Lady Noir, and Marinette, watching the woman he had called mother. The mother that had seemingly moved on from him, along with his so called Father and brother. He saw her spend countless nights with his replacement, she had never gone on patrol with him as much as she did with the new one. She, of course, didn’t realize she was being watched. Old age he supposed his once mother looked much older since the last time he saw her, before he died. Black hair now greying and everything so perhaps he could not fault her for not noticing.

This night was special though, for weeks she had been fighting him with the so-called Batfamily. Tonight, exactly three days after he shot the replacement, she would find out that he was her ‘Baby-bird’.

He watched as she picked up the phone, no doubt Bruce or Alfred, his amusement faded when tears began to fall. He always hated when she cried, she was always so happy and collected. She rarely cried and when she did it was so heart wrenching, because Marinette cried with her entire body. He watched as she dropped the phone and rushed to the balcony, he saw the small red and black Gods following her. Heard her voice crying out as she threw the doors open.

“Plagg, Claws out!” 

She transformed and was traveling across the rooftops in minutes. She was making her way towards Bludhaven only to be met halfway by Nightwing. Immediately breaking down into her eldests arms.

“It's him, it's him, it's him. It's my babybird! It’s my baby! It's my baby!” 

Her cries caused Red Hood to flinch as he turned his gaze away from the mourning mother. He took one last glance before turning away returning to his current safe house.

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Saving him from Himself.

“Don’t do this.” Her voice called out, it was calm as always yet filled with pain. She limped toward him holding her side tenderly in an attempt to stop the bleeding from her wound. “Don’t do this Baby boy.” Red Hood growled leveling the gun on her as he turned away from the downed third Robin. He froze the moment he saw Marinette, not Lady Noir, not Ladybug, but Marinette, his Marinette. Beaten, Bloody, and Bruised, all caused by him and his men. She didn’t even flinch at the gun pointed at her even though it was clear that her injury was a bullet wound.

“Shut up you fucking liar.” He growled out red tinting his vision once again as he thought of her protecting his replacement. Thought of all the videos of her with little Tim Drake, the newest Robin, all the pictures of her at school events. The actual adoption of not just him, but of her perfect first son. That one had hurt him the most, she had adopted them but not him.

“I am a liar.” She admitted softly continuing towards her son. Looking up at the young man, but always her babybird. “I am. I promised you that I’d always be with you, that I’d protect you. I failed you and I have blamed myself every day. I should’ve followed you, I should’ve found you, I should’ve protected you. But I failed you instead.” She stopped with the gun barely an inch away from her forehead, and for a second she marveled at how tall her baby was now compared to her. She wished she could see his face, see how handsome her beautiful boy had turned out. While Dick had grown into a beautiful young man, she knew her tough little bird would grow into a very handsome man. “You have every right to be angry with me, but not him. He looked up to you, still does, he pulled Bruce, Dick, and me out of the dark place we were in after your death. Not once did he wish to replace you, not once did he shy away from mentioning you. If you want to take your anger out on somebody, make it me.” She closed her blue bell eyes picturing her little red headed bird with his mischievous smile, and love for literature. Marinette leaned her head forehead allowing the barrel of his gun to press against her head. Her free hand shook as she reached out, caressing the red helmet with her knuckles. She opened her eyes again, tears staining to fall from the now dulled grayish blue. “Just remember I love you my little Fire-Cracker, though you’re not exactly little anymore are you.” She choked out holding back a sob as she let her hand drop her legs shaking from exhaustion. “If you’re going to kill us then take me first. Please I don’t think I can bear to watch another one of my birds die.” She barely finished before exhaustion caught up to her and she began to collapse. She didn’t hit the ground though, no she was pulled into strong arms. Arms that held her tightly cradling her and providing safety. Red Hood stared down at the woman in his arms, the red having long faded as tears fell hidden by the helmet. Jason Todd-Wayne held his hurt mother in his arms as he let himself cry.

“Stupid woman, Stupid Mom.” He whispered before moving her so that she laid beside her newest bird. “Don’t say a word you fucking replacment.” He growled out as said bird looked up at him in surprise. “You better fucking protect her or else I will kill you.” He growled glaring at the small shy smirk on the bird’s face.

“Watch your language, you know her thoughts on cussing.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Bruce’s Death.

Jason Todd-Wayne sat atop Wayne Enterprises staring down at the city he was born into. Bruce was gone, he was gone and Jason didn’t know what to think of it. Dick was taking up the cowl, making Bruce’s actual son his new Robin. Tim had taken over Wayne Enterprises, the youngest CEO in the world. Meanwhile here was Jason still legally dead, and estranged from the family. With no idea what to do with his life, he had slowly waned from killing doing the same with her men. They very rarely killed, only those that truly deserved it, but ever since that night since he cradled his mother’s broken form. He hasn’t seen the family, he only knew of Bruce’s death from the video he had sent to the family. He tensed as a body sat down beside him, curling into her jacket. 

“Hello Handsome Birdie.” She said softly reaching up and caressing his cheek. “I’ve missed you.” Jason grabbed her hand holding it gently and rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

“I’ve missed you too Mom.” He admitted softly both turning to look out at the city in silence together. “Is he really gone?” He asked, not really wanting to know the answer. Marinette leaned against her son allowing her eyes to drift to their held hands.

“Tim-Tim says he might not be and is trying to find him. Dick, my poor bird is hurting so much he is scared to hope that Bruce isn’t dead. Then there is Damian, oh he is going to be a tough Birdie to crack.” Jason smiled softly squeezing her hand.

“Well you managed to raise me, you'll have no problem with him.” He said jokingly, causing Marinette to laugh shaking her head.

“You didn't call me ‘Father’s newest whore’ and then immediately attempt to kill me.”

“He did want?!” 

Jason asked with a protective glare on his face as he turned to his mom.

“Oh hush Fire-Cracker, I’ll get through to him.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, The Outlaws.

Red Hood could feel her eyes on him and his two companions. The fact that they didn’t notice was both irritating yet caused a bit of pride to fill his chest for only his mom could hide so easily.

“Kori, Roy,” He called out, pulling his helmet off his mask soon following revealing Jason Todd-Wayne to the night sky. “We have a visitor.” He said, turning to look at the shadows where Lady Noir resided.

“Getting better every day aren’t you Jay-bird?” She finally announced her presence to her son’s friends. She knew the both of them Roy better than Kori, it had been Dick that introduced them. Before the split in their friendships, she hated having to comfort her bird of the loss of his older brother. Lady Noir wouldn’t let her hold it against him though, or hold it against Kori.

“Hello mom” Jason said affectionately as he walked over to Lady Noir. She smiled, dropping her transformation and allowing her son to pull her into a tight hug. Marinette reached up rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Come to make sure, I’m not getting into too much trouble?” He asked, teasingly causing her to roll her eyes.

“No, I simply wanted to see how my son’s new team worked together. “ She combed his hair to the side gently with her fingers before grabbing his gloved hand in hers. “My birds rarely team up with others outside the family.” Jason glanced away a little nervous squeezing her hand gently.

“Well, what do you think? Of my small team here?” Marinette smiled softly glancing back at the two that had joined her son, before looking back to her son.

“I think you have found some very good friends Fire-Craker. They will care for you as you care for them.” She leaned up on her tiptoes, huffing slightly when Jason still had to lean down for her, and kissed her son’s cheek. “Be good to them and you shall have a strong team.” keep them safe. They will do the same for you, now run along my tough little bird.”

“I’m not little anymore.”

“Hush.”

“Yes Mom.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Returning to the Family.

Jason stuck his hand firmly in his pockets as he stared up at the manor. Marinette and Dick had both told him he should come for the holidays. If it had been just Duck he would have blown it off, but he’d hurt his mom too much in the past to do it to her. He didn’t want to go in, his relationship with Bruce was still incredibly rocky, and he really didn’t like the Demon brat. Though somehow his mom and older brother had both become rather fond of the brat. He shook his head and squared his shoulders walking towards the door, only to turn around and take the steps back down the stairs.

“I can’t do this.” He growled out kicking the snow glaring at it frustrated. “How can this be so hard! Just walk through the damn door, say hello to Alfred hand over your coat and then immediately find mom. Give her the stupid gift, then sneak out when the others distract her.” He said to himself, but he didn’t turn around he just continued to glare at the ground, his hands shaking slightly in his jacket pockets.

“Or, just putting this out there, you could turn around, walk through the door with me and spend Christmas with your family. A family which has been nervous to see if you’ll actually come tonight.” Marinette called out from her place on the steps behind him. Her cardigan wrapped tightly around her to chase away the cold. Jason turned slightly looking at her sheepishly until he realized she didn’t have a jacket on. “Personally I prefer my idea, way better than you sneaking away from us.” Jason glared slightly walking up to her as he unzipped his jacket.

“What are you doing out here with only a cardigan? I seem to remember you always complaining that I’d get sick if I didn’t wear a jacket!” He pulled his off wrapping it around Marinette holding back a snort over it reaching her knees. Marinette glared slightly as if knowing his thought process and turned up her nose indignantly huffing. “You’ll catch your death out here without a jacket Jason! Jason don’t forget your hat! Jason gloves are not uncool they make sure your fingers don’t get frostbite!” Jason said repeating all the phrases she had used on him when he was just twelve. Marinette reached out pinching his ear slightly causing him to wince, and pout at her, though he’d never admit it.

“I am your mother, young man. I have every right to make sure you wear proper attire for winter. And apparently I should have said it more as it appears, the only thing you were wearing is your jacket.” Jason rubbed his ear after she let go grumbling to himself about annoying mothers.

“Why did you come out here? How did you know I was here?” He finally asked before wrapping his arm around her shoulders walking her towards the door. He knew his mother never did good in the cold, a side effect of being the Champion of a Ladybug Goddess. Marinette huffed, shaking her head, giving him a pointed look.

“Timmy and I sat watching you stand outside for five minutes before he suggested I came and got you.” She smiled as Alfred opened the door for them. “That and Alfred had been standing at the door for a good ten minutes and I decided that ten minutes was enough.” Jason smiled apologetically at Alfred, hugging the elderly butler.

“Hi Alfred, I missed you.” He said softly, smiling brighter when the man hugged him back.

“And I you Master Jason, now come join the family. I shall take your coat from Mistress Marinette.”

Jason raised an eyebrow looking over at his mom who shook her head fondly.

“He insists that Bruce is going to marry me one day. It’s the only bit of denial I’ve seen him in, I shan’t mention it to him however.” She said with a mischievous smile, winging at her son. “Besides Bruce’s face when he brings it up is hilarious. Now come the boys are eager to see you.” She corrected herself after Jason’s pointed look. “Fine Tim and Dick are excited to see you. Damian doesn’t want to share me and Bruce can’t emotion so he hasn’t said it but he is thinking it.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, Alive Again.

Jason paced his room in the manor mumbling to himself while Kori and Roy sat on his bed watching him. Today was the day, he had agreed to announce that he had survived the explosion all those years ago. They had even come up with a rather ingenious cover story on where he had been. Though that was most his replacement, the kid was wicked smart.

“I can’t do this.” He said turning to Kori and Roy with a pleading look, as he gripped his hair with his hands. “Kori, get me out of here, please.” He said softly though they could both hear the panic in his tone. Kori chuckled standing up and walking over to him. She gently pried his hands from his hair gesturing for Roy to grab the hair brush. 

“X’Hal, Jason, you are overthinking this, and panicking. You can do this, I know it for you are not weak. You know you want to do this, doing this means spending more time with them.Yes, yes that’s not why you are doing this.” She said rolling her eyes when he opened his mouth to argue. She took the hair brush Roy held out with a bright smile. “Jason, this is a most joyess occasion! After today you can spend more time with your K’norfka, and Roy and I know you want to go places with her more than anything.” Jason huffed letting her brush out his hair hold his face as she tilted his head side to side.

“She is not my nanny Kori, she’s my mother.” Kori pinned him with a look as she squeezed his cheeks gently leaning forward.

“On my planet K’norfka, also means guardian. Of which she is, correct?” Jason huffed before nodding his head.

“Yes, yes, you are correct.” Kori smirked triumphantly before kissing him briefly and releasing his face. “Roy and I will be here waiting for you when you are done. Isn’t that right?” Roy nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist, smirking at his boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Oh we will be here, but I don’t know. From the look on Miss Marinette’s face we won’t see you for a while.” Roy said nodding to the door, where Marinette stood watching them. She slowly made her way over to the trio.

“Mom! I can, I can explain. Roy, Star, and I-were-uh-were really good friends-well no we are actually-well.” He was silenced by Marinette’s hand on his cheek, causing him to finally meet her eyes. Understanding and love shining brightly in her eyes, as she rubbed his cheek with her thumb, marveling at her tough little bird all grown up.

“You couldn’t have picked anyone better Jay-bird. They have proved themselves remarkably well, and have shown their love for you my sweet bird. And that’s all that a mother can ask for in life, that their baby is happy and loved.” Jason teared up as he leaned down wrapping his mom into a tight hug hiding his face in her shoulder, causing the women to giggle. Marinette softly stroked his hair resting her cheek against his head. She looked over to the two her son had chosen her smile not wavering but Roy and Kori could read her eyes. Happiness, acceptance, and a little bit of love shining in them as she silently thanked her son’s precious people.

“Now, let’s go. It’s time for Jason Todd-Wayne to enter the world again. This time though I’ll finally get to adopt you.”

———————————<3————————————

Jason Todd, A Prince Consort?

Jason stared at himself in the mirror tugging on the traditional Tamaranean clothing. He still couldn’t believe this was happening, Kori wasn’t even the Queen anymore. Yet her, Roy, and him had all been carted away to her home planet by her brother. News had spread far of her proposal to the two, and her home planet wanted to witness the marriage. Only two months after they became engaged they were getting married, and his family wasn’t even there.

“Lost in thought, Birdie.” 

“Just thinking about how my mom is going to kill me-Mom?!” He turned quickly looking at his mother, dressed in a lavender purple dress, obviously of her own design, that held elements of the Tamaranean attire.

“Surprise.” She said softly with a twinkle in her eye as she walked over. “Oh look at you, my tough little bird is getting married.” She smoothed out his clothing, a tearful smile on her face. “Koriand’r had a feeling her brother would insist on this. So she made sure that the family would also be picked up, she also gave me a few different items of Tamaranean clothing, so that I could make my own clothing.” Jason smiled at the mention of his soon to be wife.

“She is amazing, her and Roy.” He whispered softly, a smile taking over his face. Marinette watched him as a single happy year fell from her face.

“Gosh, first Dickie and now you. Now I just need to have Timmy and Dami find someone that loves them unconditionally. Then I could die happily knowing my sons are loved.” 

“Don’t joke about that mom, you won’t be dying for a very long time.” Jason said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Besides demon brat find someone, please.” 

“Jason.” Marinette said with a warning note in her tone causing Jason to grin at her. Tikki coughed, finally gaining their attention.

“Oh not again. Tikki stop out shining me will you!”

Marinette said smiling playfully at her dear friend. Tikki smiled a twinkle in her eye as she shook her head.

“No I don’t think I will Mari!” She flew up kissing Jason on the forehead just like she had done a year ago for her bug’s first bird. “I grant you and your mates Good luck and Fortune in your future together. Cherish each other always, I am proud of you, even if you’re a troublesome bird.” Marinette smiled softly looking up at her second son, her tough bird, her Fire-Craker.

“I am proud of you too Jason. You’ve grown into such a handsome young man, and have found yourself the loves of your life. That’s all a mother can ask for in life.”

“How much are my brothers going to tease me over being a Prince Consort.”

“Oh so much, that we’re thinking of jokes on the way here. A little scary watching Timmy and Dami work together, but you know Dickie, he can bring anyone together.”

Jason snorted rolling his eyes, Plagg chose this moment to show himself grinning at Jason.

“So, you’re gonna be a Trophy Husband now kid?”

“Plagg!”

“Ow! Oh come on Sugar-cube! Ow!-It was a joke!”

@mythogaychic

[benkouji726]

So I wrote my 5+1 Forlex fic, as I was saying earlier. I really lack impulse control when it comes to rnm, sigh.

Jealous Guerin may have some appearances in this fic too, but it’s eventually Forlex. 

This is the first part of it. I will try to update it daily, before I lose my nerves.

Five times Alex surprised Forrest and one time he didn’t

1.

It was supposed to be some harmless fun, at first.

Forrest was intuitive, to put it mildly. You didn’t grow up in a Long household and become this well-liked and popular family member by being dense, especially when you were gay. Besides, his gut feeling had saved him more times than he could count in battles, it was one of the reasons his buddies trusted him with their lives.

He was very good at reading people and situations around or between them. He didn’t always care what people thought of him, of others or of themselves, but he noticed all the same and would efficiently use that information to his advantage. Call it his people skills, but it was how he managed to live through his rebellious youth period, his military years, and now his adult life in a backwards town like Roswell, while never stopped being his colorful-haired, emo-poetry-writing, 20 pounds of personality in a 5 pound pocket-sized body self.

So he had known there was something between Alex and Alien Guy even when they first met at the Long farm. As they talked, it was like there were only them in the whole world. The air seemed thicker and more tangible, the atmosphere charged. Then at the diner, Forrest noticed the meaningful glance Alien Guy shot his way. When Alex sang that song, Guerin walked in and they seemed to have some soul searching conversations through their eyes only, well, it was really not that hard a guess who the song was for. And frankly, Alex needed to work on his poker face a LOT if he was ever gonna sell that obvious “it was a long time ago” lie.

But at the time, it hadn’t really mattered. Whatever it was between them, it seemed neither of them was going to make a move. And Alex was so hot sometimes he wondered how the hell he remained single in the first place, but he WAS single, and a smart guy like Forrest was never gonna miss out a perfectly good opportunity to make out with a hot guy and have some fun time with him.

It was supposed to be just like that, some fun, some company, some glorious make out sessions. Nothing heavy or potential heartbreak or anything.

Which was probably why he didn’t even realize he was falling for Alex until it was a bit of too late.

They were dating for two months at that point. Forrest had met almost all of Alex’s friends and family members (the ones who counted as friends and family in Alex’s book anyway), minus Michael Guerin. And Forrest had won them over one by one. He once overheard Liz call him “charming, funny, honest and loyal to a fault”, to a reluctant Isobel Evans, who had been giving him stink eyes ever since he and Alex had gone out, but in their last get-together thingy (Forrest honestly didn’t know how to call these, because they were irregular as fuck, both in schedule and in attending member counts), Isobel joined him at the bar when he was getting them the last round, considered him for a second, patted him on his shoulder without looking at him and said in a small but genuine voice: “You are not half bad”. So Forrest would call it a win.

In hindsight, it should have been his first warning sign that he cared so much of what Alex’s friends think of him. But in his defense, Alex was most at ease when he was with his friends, which meant he would always be sweet, adorable, sometimes sassy, sometimes soft, and had the unique sense of humor in a deadpan way, and Forrest was too busy being charmed to notice it.

So when his platoon buddies, Tony and Chris, came into town to visit him and he brought Alex to have a beer together, he was so caught off guard when Alex went to bathroom and Tony said:

“Man, you’re so gone on him, aren’t you.”

It wasn’t even a question.

Forrest spluttered, red faced, and said, eloquently: “uh, what?”

Tony and Chris changed a look, both amused. “You’ve been staring at him all night, Long. You look at him as if he hung the moon. You can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself, not to be PDA or something, but little touches, I think you didn’t even notice. He made a joke earlier, granted, it WAS hilarious, but the way you laughed, like you think he is the most funny guy in the whole world, which, no offense, is really not the case.”

Tony drank some water after his long ass bullshit, and Chris went in for a final blow. “So in conclusion, you’ve had it bad, dude, like, we’ve-never-seen-you-like-this level bad.”

Forrest was dumbstruck at that. He must’ve seemed like a dumbass too, because they decided to take pity on him, and changed the subject.

“Anyway, you know we’ve been relocated to the nearby base, Tobias and Leo are near enough too. The others all cashed in some long-overdue vacation days so we can have a little get together for our platoon in Santa Fe next month. You should come too.”

OK, that was exciting news. He missed his buddies and would be very happy to spend some time with them.

But Tony hesitated a little before continued: “There is a catch though. We thought it would be nice that we all bring our significant others, or even our children. So it would be a more family style setting. It may not be your thing.”

The thing was, it would totally be Forrest’s thing. He just didn’t know how to say it. With his platoon buddies, he always seemed like the free spirited lone wolf, easygoing, open and honest, but never the one to talk about family issues or kids problems with. But he would enjoy being surrounded by family love and loud but innocent kids, so he opened his mouth to just say that when he was interrupted by a light laugh.

“What are you guys talking about, family and kids and platoon buddies all under the same roof? It’s totally his thing.”

Forrest was startled, both by Alex’s sudden reappearance and his seemingly psychic ability to read his mind. When he remained silent a second too long, Alex apologized.

“Sorry, did I overstep? You actually don’t want to go or...?”

“No! I mean, yes, I wanna go. I just, something they said earlier, it was a lot to unpack. But you are right, I would love to go.” Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Alex didn’t seem to buy it, but he was kind enough to drop it at the time.

On their drive home though, Alex picked it up again, as Alex would do, because he was a stubborn son of bitch like that.

“You wanna talk about what happened earlier?”

Forrest sighed. Best to just cut to the chase.

“Why did you say it was totally my thing? We didn’t often talk about family and kids, if any.”

Alex frowned, “No, we didn’t normally talk about that stuff. But it’s obvious you like family energy and friendly gatherings, isn’t it? Am I not supposed to know that?”

“But how? I served with my buddies for a long time, we trust each other with our lives. But almost none of them know it.”

“Forrest”, Alex smiled, “you like almost all of your family members, stay friends with a lot of them, despite some of them are real assholes. You even like hanging out with my friends and family too, not just because we are dating, but because you love being around people who give you warm family-like feelings. You organize every open mic night at the pony, and are genuinely interested in the acts and the people behind them, you like to talk to them about their lives and their relationships. You volunteer at the youth shelter. You are, simply put, a people person. You like people, you see good in them, you want to be around them and be a positive influence for them. You don’t necessarily tolerate stupid bigots, and you would be the first to call out their cowardice, but if they are willing to change and be better, you would want to believe in them too.”

He exhaled, oblivious of Forrest’s stunned expression, and continued.

“For a man who has that big a heart, I’d imagine spending some time with his buddies and their families would totally be his thing, don’t you agree?”

“Yeah, but...”

“And there’s also your poetry.”

Forrest was getting whiplash tonight, he could hardly keep up.

“My poetry?”

“Yeah, you gave me your emo poetry journal the other day and asked for my opinion?”

“I remember that. In fact, I remember it was a week ago and I still haven’t got any feedback yet.” If he was being honest, he would say he had been a little hurt by that too.

Alex’s face turned a shade pink. “I know I was being a little slow. But I just want to do them justice, you know? I’ve been reading each of them multiple times, so I can get the gist right.”

OK, hurt instantly healed. He really should be concerned how Alex’s words could so easily affect his mood.

“Anyway, the poems you wrote, they are all very pro-humanity, at least in my opinion. Like, the themes vary, some about personal journeys, some about lost love, some about struggling life, some about anger and pain. But the words have something like warmth attached to them, like despite all, there’s hope, and there’s good, in people, in humanity, in the whole world.”

He looked down at his hands then, voice quiet.

“And that’s the thing I like most about you.”

Shit.

“Shit”, It was definitely too soon, but Forrest just can’t not say it. “I think I might be falling for you.”

Alex looked at him right then, hesitated then determined: “I don’t think I’m there yet. But I think I could see myself heading down that road someday.”

He added in a more unsure voice: “Is that OK?”

Forrest reached out, squeezed his hand, and reassured him: “It’s OK”.

And it really was.

[bradshawwannebe]

Bits and Lost Pieces- Part one

A Chain of Silver- prologue

Bucky x reader

Summary: Soulmates gain what the other loses. But you’ve never heard of soulmates born in different centuries…

so in order to get the whole… picture, I’m going to be making this a fic. If i’m moving to fast… oh well. This is also loosly based off of a soulmate tik tok and a fic called I knew you by @klinenovakwinchester its amazing and wonderful and I fully and truly believe that you should go read it 

Warnings: there is slight angst and cuss words, mention of drugs and deadbeat parents but detail are very vague

---------------

“No, Mechel, I’m telling you I don’t have one.”

“Oh… come ON. You really can’ t expect me to believe that you don’t actually have a soulmate.” 

your best friend, Mechel, has been trying, and failing, convince you that you have a soulmate. 

“Ok, well, if soulmates were real, and I of all people have one, why haven’t I found anything? Have you gotten anything yet, from your soulmate? And that is where I'm gonna hit you with a hard no, you haven’t” apparently, whatever your soulmate loses, you gain. However, having something stolen or taken doesn’t exactly count. Mechel figured that one out when some hobo stole her wallet which also included her ID.

“No, I haven’t but that could mean anything, but that doesn’t mean that soulmates don’t exist. Weren’t your parents soulmates or something?” 

You deadpanned, right before you face palmed a bit too hard. “No, Chelly, my parents’ soulmates were drugs. That’s why we were handed over to my grandparents, you dingle berry.”

Her face fell ever so slightly. “N/n, honey, I’m sorry, but I can’t believe that soulmates don’t exist when my parents were. My mom got my dad’s boot… and she didn’t even know him then, and dad got her camera with her name on it. You, have to believe me when I tell you this.”

“Look, you shouldn’t be sorry, I’m sure soulmates do exist but mine probably fell off a train or something and died because I haven’t gained anything. Maybe yours is just super organized and doesn’t lose anything,” you weren’t lying, well not to her. 

Ever since you were little, you always thought soulmates were a hoax. Your father didn’t have one, always trying to find his after your mother left him for someone else, and then your father dropped you and your siblings off at your grandparents house when you were 15, and oddly enough you never asked either one of them if they were soulmates, it just never came up in conversation before. You’ve never had real proof.

“Well, Mechel, I have to get going, I’m opening the store up early tomorrow.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” she asked almost in horror.

“I don’t know, it’s my store, and if I wanna open up early tomorrow, I’m gonna do it,” you sassed standing up to boop her nose, which caused her to scrunch up her face.

“No one likes a smart ass.”

 “I don’t really know about that, I’ve always liked my ass,” you met Mechel when you were a freshman in high school while she was a sophomore and when you took classes to graduate together… God bless the teachers that had you two in the same classes. 

However, your best friend’s voice stopped you dead in your tracks when you got to the door, “It would explain a lot, especially the emptiness you’ve always felt, maybe yours died before they could lose anything.”

“Yeah, your right, maybe.” 

The revelation was really nothing but a self-deprecating jab at your lack of a soulmate, but you never really put two-and-two together. I mean, he might not have fallen off of a train, that would be sad and very painful. 

That night, not much sleep was gained, but you didn’t notice the silver chain that was laying on your night stand either.

-------------

“Hello! Welcome Starstruck Books,I hope you found everything nicely,” you said to the little girl with a soft kind smile.

“Me and Mommy want to find the kid’s books… can you help us?” The small girl looked extremely shy and almost like she didn’t know how to ask the question.

“Sure thing, sugar plum, how old are you?” you asked squatting down to her height. Feeling a warmth spread within your heart at the smile the girl gave you.

“I’m 5,” she said a bit louder counting her fingers to hold them up to you, and you held out your hand for her to take.

“Well, I think we have to find your mommy first, don’t you?” the girl’s hair bobbed up and down as she nodded and she pointed to the adult section of books off to the right.

“She’s over there,” walking over to her mother, you told her where you would be. Just in case something were to happen and she needed to find you.

“Hey, kiddo, how do you feel about poetry?” the little girl nodded and you showed her your favorite book as a child.

“What’s The Giving Tree?” the little girl was full of curiosity pausing between words while reading the title,when she asked you the question. Her brown eyes looking into your own.

“It's a poetic book by Shel Silverstein about a tree and a little boy. The tree loved the boy, and the boy loved the tree.”

The little girl looked thoroughly confused, “How can a tree love a boy?”

“I don’t know, but the tree gave the boy as much as she could, and as the little boy grew up, she kept giving and he kept taking,” at that remark, her eyes lit up.

“Can I take this to my mommy?” 

“You sure can!” she smiled big, grabbed the book, and took off. Her hair bobbing behind her.

“So when do you think you’re gonna be a mom?” you popped up, Mechel standing behind you.

“Oh, I don’t know, Chelly, probably whenever I get married,” you stood up, Mechel stepping closer to you.

“Well, I stopped by your house to-” 

“How the hell did you get into my house?”

“Shut up! That's not the point-”

“It kind of is…” and if looks could kill you be dead ten times over, “Ok, ok, I’m done.”

“Well, I went to your room to see if I could find anything that wasn’t yours and….” her hands whip out from behind her back holding something that you didn’t recognize.

“What-?”

“They appear to be dog tags, any idea where they came from?” that smug grin was what always got you two into trouble in high school. 

“Who-?”

“James B. Barnes.”

“I don’t-”

“ I know you don’t,” and with that she handed you the tags, “you’ve got customers.”

You were in a bit of a shock. So much so, you gave the little girl and her mother a discount on The Giving Tree but that also might have been because you wanted to. You haven’t figured that one out yet.

‘Ring, Ring’

“Hello?” you picked up the phone without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hey, it’s Mechel.”

“I kinda figured that, you lean-to.” 

“HEY! I am not a lean-to… what is a lean-to?”

“Well, firstly, you could have fooled me because you’re attached to me and it doesn’t seem like there is much of any reason to be doing that, and two, you seem like an extension of my dark counterpart.”

“No, honey, I am your dark counterpart, and as your dark counter/lean-to I want you to be happy. So I did a search.” If you can’t hear actions, then you must be delusional or lied to because the smug smirk in her voice was so real.

“What kind of search?” 

“On your James, duh. What else am I supposed to be doing with my life?”

“Well, Chelly, as head of security at the City Hall, watching the security cameras for possible threats.”

“Pfft, your so dense, that’s what my brother does, I’m a secretary at the police station, dummy,” Welp… some friend you are.

“I was testing your memory, now what did you come up with?” 

The hesitation in continuing the conversation on her part was… unsettling to say the least.

“James Barnes has an exhibit at the Smithsonian-,”

“Okay it means he’s smart, keep going,” you walked over to the door of the store, turning the sign to Sorry, We’re Closed!.

“Well, actually he was a soldier in the second World War. He fell of a… well he fell off a train in 1944. They never recovered his body.”

When you collapsed in a sobbing wet mess of tears, you don’t know, but then why did you end up with his dog tags?

“Oh,” you cleared your throat,” I can’t drive right now, not in this condition, could you-.., could you take me home?” It wasn’t a complete lie, per say, but you really just didn’t want to be alone.

“Yeah, babe, I’ll be there in 5.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

Well, this explains a lot.

With a small half smile you looked over at your best friend,”Well, I mean at least we know what happened to him.”

She sent you the worst glare possible, you almost thought she’d stab you, but the meaning was very clear ‘don’t do that to yourself’

“Well I mean I wasn’t wrong, but like... if he’s dead why would he have lost something? How could he lose anything if he’s dead? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself and you’re over analyzing, and that isn’t good, not now, not ever, especially not in this situation.”

“No, Mechel, you’ve said it yourself. I have a soulmate and at that point one would realize that when their soulmate loses something they gain it. My soulmate lost something. James. Is. Alive. He has to be. It’s logical-”

“No, Y/N, its not. That’s impossible. Have you ever heard of soulmates being born in different centuries? No. James cannot be alive, and that is proven by the emptiness you always feel, for Christ’s sake y/n he fell off of a damn train!”

“Then explain to me why you would have brought the whole thing up if you don’t believe he isn’t alive. Exactly you wouldn’t. Not unless you’re just so cruel you wanted to get my hopes up to tear them apart and I know you wouldn’t do that to me because we’ve been through some terrible crap together. Deep down, subconsciously, you believe he is alive. He lost his dog tags and if I have to find out why, or how. and If I have to do it myself, then by golly I will. I will do this with or without you, you brought the soulmates thing up, you broke into my apartment-”

“You gave me a key-”

“You broke in,” you said with a pointed glare,”He lost this. He has to be alive,”

“Okay, calm down.”

You went silent.

He has to be alive... he has to.

[roswelldetails]

RNM 2x10 - American Woman

EPISODE SUMMARY:

SECRETS OF THE PAST — After uncovering a cryptic message from the past, Alex (Tyler Blackburn), Isobel (Lily Cowles), Max (Nathan Dean), Michael (Michael Vlamis) and Maria (Heather Hemmens) set out in search of answers at the reservation where Alex’s mother grew up. Meanwhile, Cameron (guest star Riley Voelkel) encourages Liz (Jeanine Mason) to reach out to someone from her past after Auturo (guest star Carlos Compean) gets detained. Marcus Stokes directed the episode written by Rick Montano & Vincent Ingaro & Jason Gavin (#210). Original airdate 5/18/2020. 

DETAILS:

Tripp brings Louise to the Reservation in a body bag where the Navajo doctors are able to save her life.

"Your message said that you were gonna bring two women that would be no trouble.  This looks like a lot of trouble."

"I must have gotten the codes wrong."

"No, don't give me that Manes man nonsense. Not here in my own home."

"Her name is Louise. I promised her friend Nora I'd protect them. My brother triggered an ambush before I could get them here. And Nora…"

"Wait, what does the Air Force want them for?"

"They're not from around here. They're from...up north."

"Yìiyáh. No. She can't stay here… What if your brother comes here and finds a fugitive.  I can't put my people at risk for a white woman."

"Please. You're the only person I trust. If she doesn't make it, it was all for nothing."

"I'll have you remember that I was the one that saved your ass in Okinawa. I don't owe you anything. I'm only doing this because you're my family. And because I'm a damn fool."

A few notes on this scene:

--I don't know why Tripp pretends he got the codes wrong.  Unless he's spiraling and talking about the timing of the attack.  But it seems like he means the message that he was bringing them to the reservation.  Clearly things didn't go according to plan.  Though, it is always possible that we're still missing bits of the story.

--OG Easter Egg.  "They're not from around here.  They're from up north." For anyone who didn't watch OG, this is almost exactly how the exchange went when Max told Liz he was an alien in the 1999 pilot.

--Yìiyáh - I found nothing on this word.  I'm assuming that it's a curse word or general exclamation of negativity, but literally got zero results on google. It's possible, of course, that it's misspelled in the captions.  There were a lot of errors in the captions in this opening scene.

--While there really isn't any overt statement that Alex is half Navajo and this town is part of Navajo Nation (which has been in the news a lot lately and therefore is a good place in this country to be aware of), there's lots of clues or subtle enough statements that I feel like it can be accepted as fact, since: Harrison is a codetalker, the necklace is Navajo, tsela is a Navajo word. So I did a little peeking and it could work.  The closest Navajo town is about a 4 hour drive from Roswell.

Navajo Nation: 

(side note - Navajo Nation has extreme poverty but also is utterly gorgeous. And the Tribe gets income from tourism. Just a few places there that I'm dying to go? Monument Valley, Antelope Canyon, Shiprock.  Check it out.)

Liz comments on Max's irregular heartbeat, with literally no acknowledgment of the fact that she's straddling him and has a history of causing his heart to race...and other forms of lack of control (think 1x03).

"I'm excited about this though. You know Alex dug up all that info on our bio Mom. You sure you can't come?"

"Got to take my dad in for his blood tests. I want to check on Jenna too.  Cannot believe she's back in the hospital again."

"She's been in pain for weeks. I have no leads on the mysterious hunting van, and Charlie hasn't made contact."

"Hmm. To be fair, I do hear that phone service is a little spotty in flying saucers."

"Okay, I get that. You think my alien abduction theory is bogus."

"I know you're worried that this has something to do with you, but I don't think this is an alien thing."

"Cam and I had fractal burns on our necks. We had no memory of what happened. That's alien stuff. I just want clarity on something."

--Note that it's past time to abandon all hope of anything resembling a defined timeline for this show...once again we have weeks passing between episodes. This is the second time this season that the time passing has only been generically described as "weeks".  It's been at least a year since Liz came back to Roswell (per her conversation with Diego), but a year would be summer (late May or early June, specifically), and in this episode Isobel mentions that it's winter (which would be a year and a half).

Maria's pitch:

"In conclusion, esteemed members of the Roswell Tourism Board, while the Pony is normally a sanctuary for locals during CrashCon, I think that my plan to turn it into the Contact Cantina Pop-Up Bar will be a hit with alien fans."

"We're talking more money than we first speculated, aren't we now?"

"You know, Mayor Bernhardt, I forgot to tell you about our new morning cocktail… It's coffee, vanilla cream, and our best bourbon. Let me get you a double."

Note: so this is the famous Mayor Bernhardt. Funded by the Long family. Doesn't like immigrants. Had a racist relative who wouldn't give first prize to the black man.

Maria's vision…

Herself, younger, sitting at the Pony bar. 

"You have to let me go! You're just crazy! And I'm trapped!"

And then she runs from the bar crying.

She's not wearing the necklace.

Describing it to Michael:

"I had a vision, but it was more like a memory. Of a fight I had with my mom when I was younger."

Isobel interrupts Michael and Maria to pick them up for the road trip. Just a few relevant excepts from this scene:

"Pack your bags. We're going on a family road trip."

"Is this why Max wanted the day off?"

"In the photo of Max and Isobel's bio Mom, there was a water tower. Alex recognized that water tower from the town where his mom grew up. You should come with us."

Alex and Forrest talk in the Crashdown:

"Hope that limp isn't from a paintball injury."

"Nope. Those bruises have mostly healed. I just got a new prosthetic. Takes a minute to get used to. You working on your book?"

"I write my book on my computer.  However, I write my angsty emo poetry in an angsty emo journal."

"I'm actually working on some poetry myself. Well, song lyrics, technically. It's a lot harder than it was in high school."

"Yeah, writing was easier for me when I was a kid too. Feelings...we bury 'em now. You just got to find that thing inside of you that doesn't have a voice. Lend it yours. You know? Listen, I have like, zero musical talent, but if you need help with the worst part, we could, uh…"

"Actually I'm leaving tomorrow for a few days to go talk to some recruits."

Michael interruptus, and the conversation goes casual.

--What happened to "angsty nerd isn't really my type." Or...was it FORESHADOWING!!!?! 😂

--Oh hi there clear shot of Forrest's clearly Deep Sky logoed ring…

Cam has been having debilitating migraines that have been keeping her bedridden since the abduction.

Nurse Kate is a badass. she tries to keep ICE from getting into a patient's room. Liz hears her and hurries to the waiting room, where there's more ICE activity. Liz panics and tries to get Arturo out of the hospital, but she caught the attention of the ICE officers. However, Liz knows her rights.

"He has applied for his green card. I'm his sponsor, okay? This is his G-1145 right here."

"You can show that to the court."

"It's okay. Call the lawyer."

"No. He is a diabetic. It is illegal to detain a patient."

"Exigent circumstances. Move."

"No. Hey, this is an unconstitutional arrest and the ACLU will be all over you."

"Elizabeth, we respect the law in this family. If you're in trouble, who will take care of the mouse?"

--G-1145 is a request for confirmation that your green card application has been accepted:

--The timing of this all. Liz has been prepared for this moment all her life and would fight it to the point of getting arrested herself, if not for Rosa. Rosa's safety is the only thing that convinces Liz to step aside.

--As an only semi related note, this is a really interesting contrast to how they wrote Jeanine's character out on Grey's Anatomy.  

--Also feel like it would be remiss of me to not point out Liz's reactiveness and fightinf mentality is mirroring how Liz initially reacted to Max pulling her over in the pilot.

"Okay. So the Deputy on call says there's one detention center in the county. Here's the info."

"He doesn't have anything left in Mexico. No one. Nowhere to go."

"You can't think like that right now."

"I think like this always. Rosa and I used to recite our escape plan for if our parents got deported and we got separated in foster care. I begged my parents not to tell Santa where we lived because I was afraid he'd ask for papers. My whole life was built on a fear of this day coming, and it's here. If I'd have kept better track of his health, he wouldn't need these tests. I should have made him move to California. I thought we were safe being outside the hundred-mile zone, but after this election I should have known better. And I should have made him wear a sweater this morning because it's freezing out there. And what if he…?"

"...okay think. Is there someone we can call?"

"Kyle's at a conference, but I can have him call his mom."

"Do you know anyone with some real power? You know, Federal muscle?"

Cam gets dressed to take Liz to the Detention Center and Liz calls Diego for help.

The road trip group arrive at the reservation and meet Gregory Manes.  He says he remembers them all from high school.  He takes Max, Michael, and Isobel to learn about Louise while Alex and Maria go jewelry shopping.

Meanwhile Gregory is taking the Pod Squad to Louise's grave, but pauses for some flirting:

"You're still the Isobel Evans who convinced the basketball captain to pull four different fire alarms to get out of AP Gov, right? Yeah, legend. Here she is."

"Oh my God, it's covered in flowers.  It's winter."

"Rumor is they grow year-round unattended. She was a healer. I'm told she helped with trauma, addiction, that sort of thing. All without speaking."

"This another grave?"

"She was pregnant."

"Louise arrived gravely injured. And the baby didn't survive.

--Louise died the same day the Pod Squad came out of the pods, confirming that she is probably the old woman on the reservation that was described in 1x09.

--Michael found the mysterious purple flowers growing on Louise's grave.

Alex and Maria at the trading post.

"Are you okay? Seem a little off."

"I had a vision during a meeting this morning. It almost cost me a deal that could save the bar. Maybe I should just wear the necklace. Go back to being a social media guru. Slash barkeep. Slash magical trope in our redneck mayor's fantasy."

"So why did you really come today? Your ideal day off isn't fighting for the radio silence with Isobel Evans, so…"

"This is the back of my necklace. The word stamped in the silver says Tsela. The necklace is Navajo, so I thought maybe that was the jeweler, but no one I've asked here seems to know who made it. I just want answers."

"Well, there's a ton of silver jewelry for sale here. So why don't we just keep looking for something with the same stamp?"

Pod Squad sharing a bottle of acetone by Louise's grave.

"Noah said our planet was war-torn. But the hell they found here can't have been worth it."

"Do you think that Louise's baby died from her injuries or do you think maybe it was never going to survive?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I was pregnant. When you died. Obviously I'm not anymore. I just can't help wondering if that was my last chance. Assuming that humans and aliens can't procreate because they're different species. Maybe that little baby wasn't viable."

"You almost died during the abortion, didn't you? I could feel it. Noah almost killed you again, huh? Oh, I need a minute."

After Max leaves Michael offers to be a sperm donor for Isobel if she ever wants to have a kid.

Liz at the Detainment Center

"It's Ortecho. Arturo Ortecho. He's my dad. And he needs gliclazide and beta-blockers. I brought both."

"We can't take contraband here, but there is an infirmary on-site, if he's here."

"You know, out of curiosity, did Nebane Abienwi visit an infirmary before he died of a brain bleed in your custody? What about Johana Medina León? She was 25 years old, okay? People walk through those doors and they die...Who's your supervisor? You need prior approval before conducting enforcement in a hospital. There was a compliance memo."

"Right, a memo, which is just like a law only not. Unless you calm down, I'm gonna arrest you for obstruction."

"Okay, Liz, maybe sit down.  Sir, I'm Deputy Jenna Cameron, and we appreciate your interpretation of your guidelines, but we have an urgent health concern about an inmate here, if you just wouldn't mind checking the system."

Jenna goes with the agent…when she returns...

"Do you have a court case next week for a vandalism charge?"

"What? Yes, but I didn't do it. I'm just gonna plead guilty and pay the fine. It's nothing."

"They denied your dad's green card application because of a misdemeanor on your record. You can't be his sponsor."

Jenna's headaches overtake her. Meanwhile, the ICE agent comes back with news:

"Here just came up. Ortecho is being transferred to El Paso for his deportation hearing. You can see him there around Tuesday."

--Liz's misdemeanor is taking the fall for Rosa's vandalism from when she was arrested by Sheriff Valenti in 2x02.

Gregory takes the Pod Squad to see Harrison who is on his death bed.  Manes boys are always welcome here, the woman tells them. Harrison is the only one Louise ever spoke to on the reservation.

"He met my great uncle Tripp Manes fighting in WWII.  Harry was a code talker."

Michael gets Gregory to leave with him so that Max and Isobel can go inside of Harrison's head. Their conversation:

"You look like her."

"Harrison.  You look different."

"That was a lesson I learned from Louise. How to take your mind to a better time when you're in pain. Come on. I haven't seen the sky in a while. I'll tell you about her...I taught Tripp the codes in the Pacific. That's how we set up the rescue. He was supposed to snuggle Louise and Nora here, but the plan fell apart."

In the past between Harrison and Tripp:

"You've changed. The man I met on that ship obeyed orders."

"Guess I saw what happens when good men fall in line with bad orders. I'm a Christian, Harry. When evil itself tells me to kill a woman with child, I disobey. Even if the evil looks just like my brother."

A nurse rolls Louise into the room in a wheelchair.

"Did you find a family for her?"

"There should be music where you take her. I think she's a dancer."

"You can give her a house full of music, Louise. Nora wanted me to protect you so that you could protect the child."

"No. He's coming for me and I can't even move. No. When the devil comes, I won't be able to fight for her. Please. It is hard to be a woman on your planet.  It's only gonna be harder still for her. Roy Bronson believed in meeting hatred with compassion. And I want her to be like him. A light in the darkness. A little star on the ground. I want that for both my girls."

"Where did he take the baby?"

"Can't say."

"No. Tell us where our sister went."

"She isn't your sister. Louise rarely spoke, but when she did, she spoke of two daughters. Two stars on the ground. She had no sons. You aren't hers. You came from something else...She lived for decades longer than she should have, trapped inside of a body that could no longer dance, waiting for a sign that you would be all right. She loved you."

Jenna wakes up back at the hospital.

"I asked them to run a new test. Your headaches are spinal headaches. Because there was a hole torn into your spinal cord."

"I'm sorry, what? My kidnappers gave me a spinal tap?"

"Do you mind signing off so I can look at your tox screen?"

"Yeah, of course, but, Liz, you don't have to do this, okay? Your dad, and…"

"I need a distraction. I can't leave for El Paso until tomorrow, and they're not letting him have visitors other than his lawyer until Tuesday, so...thank you for being here. You used your privilege to help me. I'm furious that I needed it, but I needed it."

--Reposado is a type of tequila

--Spinal Headaches:

Isobel and Max on what they learned from Harrison:

"You've always been different than me and Michael, okay? Always. You were the leader. From the start. I mean, you're the special one. You're the healer."

"I was. Now I can't even sneeze without my heart skipping a beat. All my life, no matter how weird things got, I never felt alone. Because I was your twin. Maybe I'm different. Maybe I'm a freak...I can't stop thinking about being chained up when I was a kid. It didn't feel like someone bad chained me up. It felt like I was the someone bad."

"Max, you're not dangerous."

"Saving people destroys me. But killing Noah? That felt good. I was high. And whenever I think about what he did to you, I want to chase that high. I wish I could kill him a thousand times. Louise mentioned the devil. Maybe something evil was chasing them. And maybe that something was me."

"Okay. I want to show you something. You see this hand on her shoulder there? See, Michael thought it was just someone who got cropped out of the photo, but no. Any female would recognize that body language. She does not want that hand on her. Louise said the devil would come. I think something evil was after them, but it wasn't you. I want to find out who it was."

Alex and Gregory:

"Hey, I just wanted to say thank you before we go. I also feel like I should congratulate you on getting out."

"Of the Navy?"

"Of the family. Getting out from under Dad."

"You got to break free of him, man."

"Do you feel free?"

"I don't think I get to be free until you are, Alex. You know, you're my brother. I wish that I would've stood up for you more."

"You know, I think he's actually getting a little bit better. It's like the stroke melted away the psycho in his brain or something." 

"If you can forgive him you should. Cast off the stone. Let me hate him for you. I owe you that much."

Back at the trading post with the whole road trip group.

"We scoured the store for jewelry that said Tsela on it, but nada. Although I did manage to spend an entire week's worth of tips anyway."

"Tsela?"

"Yeah it was printed on the back of my grandmother's necklace. I thought I might find some answers here."

"Well, apparently, it is Navajo for star on the ground. So, you guys ready to go?"

"Star on the ground.  Maria? What year was your grandmother born?"

"Uh, '48, I think?"

"Was she adopted?"

"Yeah. Oh my God."

"Your grandmother was my sister."

Note: The direct translation of Tsela is stars lying down. Interestingly, it's often a name in Navajo. When I googled it, the top results were names for Navajo boys.

Diego and Liz's conversation:

"Diego, I never would have reached out if it weren't an emergency. Thank your mom for me."

"The Senator was more than happy to call in a favor. She's always liked you."

"I like her too. We need more people like her."

"Look, we got lucky your dad got out at all, much less without an ankle monitor. And you pissed a few people off back there, so it's not likely that this is the end for you. Who's your lawyer? Or should I make some calls?"

"No, you've done enough. After what I did, I can't even believe you listened to my voicemail...How did you get here so fast?"

"I was at the airport in Phoenix when you called. Just had to reroute real fast."

"And how have you been?"

"Well, my fiancée left me. I'm kidding. No, I'm seeing someone.  It's getting pretty serious, so…"

"Good. Me too."

"Good. We can be friends...And don't take this the wrong way. Please tell me you're not wasting that incredible brain of yours writing alien hamburger puns."

"I am working on a few projects. Nothing I can talk about, but, I'm not wasting anything."

"Well, all the coolest studies make you sign NDAs anyway, so…"

"You know what? There actually is something...Do you know what butyricol is?  Worth a shot. It's this chemical I found in my friend's tox screen. I had never heard of it."

"Maybe you're slacking, Ortecho."

"I am sorry, it has only been a year. Did you literally forget everything about me?"

Note: I'm very pleased to say that when I googled butyricol, half of the top results were RNM related.  Definitely not a real drug.

Malex fight in the bunker:

"We're closed!"

"Hey, that alien console piece that Jim Valenti left me...You still have it?"

"No. I sold it on eBay."

"You didn't attach it to your console."

"I tried. Doesn't fit."

"So, Tripp left this for my dad before he died. My dad thought it was a code, but this is a reference sketch of this exact piece. My dad's been looking for this thing for 30 years and Jim Valenti had it all along...I'm gonna give it to him. I want to see what he does with it once he's got it. Look, if it didn't fit in your console, then it fits somewhere else. My dad could lead us there.""Your dad hunts aliens, Alex. He'll lead my family right off a cliff."

"I've protected you so far. That's not changing. Besides, he's different these days...I don't trust him, Guerin. I just…I'm asking you to trust me.""When we were kids, you believed people were good, despite humanity doing everything to prove you otherwise. And, God, I loved you for it. But what was charming when we were 17, it's just stupid now. How do you not see that? You believe there's some good in your father?"

"Yeah. Yeah I do. God forbid I have faith in people who don't give me a good reason to."

"That's not fair."

"No? Why is your hand covered? You miss your injury because you want to hurt. Your anger made you feel safe. I will always hate my father for what he did to you, but I don't want to live in that toolshed for the rest of my life. I don't want to walk around thinking that people don't change, that one day everyone's just gonna let me down, 'cause I am not building a damn rocket ship in a hidden lair. There's one way for me off this planet. And I need to believe in a reason to stay. I promise I'll keep you safe."

"Can't let you leave with that."

"What are you gonna do? Fight me for it?"

And then Alex leaves and is kidnapped. Hit over the head by an unknown assailant. The note from Tripp blows away.

Max and Liz are talking back at Max's house while Max drinks a lot of bourbon.

"You know, you never told me why your parents immigrated here in the first place."

"My dad wanted a family, but not in Juárez. There was no opportunity, no money. Women were disappearing there all the time. He didn't want my mom to be one of them. So he fled. You're wondering why your family came here."

"If I even had a family. I know so little about my own story. And the parts I thought I understood are just unraveling."

"Max. Family is the one area where I am certain that biology does not matter. Look, when I found out that Rosa was only my half sister that didn't change anything."

"This is different...There are only three of us on this planet, as far as we know. I mean, feeling disconnected from them makes me feel completely alone."

"Completely alone? I'm right here."

"When you needed a rescue today your Mensa society, old money son of a senator ex was there to answer your prayers. I couldn't even answer a call. You didn't need me."

"Oh my God. Okay, so would you prefer that I did need you? Would you prefer to come home to find me crying into my dad's windbreaker so that you can swoop me up and drive me to El Paso for his deportation hearing in the morning?"

"That's not fair. You wanted me to talk about today."

"Yes, okay. I'm sorry. I want you to feel better."

"Well, you think maybe you could go back in time and not meet someone as handsome as Diego? Seriously. He's like if someone mixed a cologne ad with a Kennedy. It's ridiculous. I will never feel adequate again."

"You're wrong. Max, let me be clear. You are objectively better in bed...And I never woke up on a Sunday morning to him singing Hank Williams in the shower...He never snuck unreasonable tips into my dad's checks. Or quoted Henry the Fourth. Coming home to you at the end of my worst days and my best days is the only rescue I need."

I actually found this background on the Ortechos to be fascinating.  In case you don't know Juárez is a pretty big city directly opposite the border from El Paso. It does have some huge crime issues. But it also is one of those border cities where the border is a little thinner. Like San Diego and Tijuana.  People live in Juárez and work in El Paso and vice versa.

If you want to see a really dark & gritty portrayal of Juárez, I'd highly recommend you to check out the American version of the show The Bridge.  Which literally deals with an investigation related to disappearing women.

Isobel and Maria at the Pony:

"She looks so determined."

"Yeah, neither of us would be here if she hadn't been. You know she was paralyzed 50 years and she still managed to use her powers to help ease troubled minds. You know how hard that is? To take on someone else's suffering? I mean, it doesn't just disappear. She would have been carrying all of that."

"She suffered so much loss."

"I don't know how to be worth it."

Michael on the bracelet.

"The beads are made with pollen from the alien flower. I found another plant growing at Louise's grave. Okay my working theory is that they grow from alien remains. There's this UFO lore about that Libyan desert where the flowers have been discovered before. You don't have to wear it if you don't want to. I know better than to think I can save Maria DeLuca. I hope you decide you can save yourself."

Max is still drinking after Liz went to bed.  At 4:04am Diego calls and wakes her up. 

"I made a call, about that toxin in your friend's system. Butyricol. It's a drug. It's a memory eraser. It was developed by a private organization and purchased by the military for weaponization. There's no approved application outside of violent combat."

Liz tries to call Alex, but he's too busy being unconscious in the back of his SUV.  So his kidnapper pockets his phone.

Max has a memory flash. There's fighting, weapons clashing, a woman's voice...all while he's chained down in the cave. Louise appears and kneels down to touch his shoulder.  He looks afraid, but she's trying to comfort him (even though she has blood splattered all over her white clothes). She smiles and nods and then cuts Max free of the chains with her alien weapon. She offers him her hand, but before he can take it a figure in white appears and he and Louise fight. Max cries out and hides his face.

Present day Max is visibly shook by the flash.

MUSIC:

1.  Shelly Fairchild "Worry No More"

2.  Powerslide "Just You And I"

3.  Will Fox "Against The Tide"

4.  Tommee Profitt feat. Sam Tinnesz "Bullet With Butterfly Wings"

[scarletwelly-boots]

Books Read 2020

I started off really good this year, what with quarantine and all. And then I got sidetracked by reading one hundred and forty-nine fanfics (and counting) (mostly Destiel; CW can kiss my ass). 

I read 30 books this year, which I thought was bad, but apparently I only read 24 last year, so not awful. I did the Popsugar reading challenge for the fifth year. There were 50 categories this year, so 60% isn’t too bad. So without further ado, let’s get started under the cut.

1. The Mermaid, The Witch, and the Sea, Maggie Tokuda-Hall (a book that’s published in 2020). This book, y’all. My god. It has it all: pirates, queer relationships, genderfluid characters, an intense plot. This book was so good. I definitely recommend this book. Pirates!!! And gay!

2. Somebody Told Me, by Mia Siegert (a book by a trans or nonbinary author). I don’t know how Siegert identifies, but I know they use they/them pronouns. This book was... okay but frustrating. A bigender teen, Aleks/Alexis, has a traumatic experience and moves in with their aunt and uncle, who is a newly converted Catholic priest. I liked the queer rep, but sometimes it felt like the author had these assumptions or prejudices about the Catholic church. Some of them were right, granted, and I’m not a practicing Catholic anymore so I don’t know why it pissed me off, but it bugged me anyway. So I guess if you don’t mind it seeming like the author did little to no research on Catholicism, then it’s a good book.

3. All the King’s Men, by Nora Sakavic (a bildungsroman). Who, me? Rereading my gay comfort trilogies during quarantine? It’s more likely than you think. Love the All for the Game trilogy. This is the third book in the series. It’s the best book in the trilogy. It is a series about a college sports team who play a made up sport called Exy, which is basically a more violent version of lacrosse. I’m not a huge sports fan, but the way she writes Exy matches had me on the edge of my seat. The team is made up of all “at-risk” students, the main character being a kid on the run from his mob boss dad. Trigger warning for the series for violence, sexual assault/rape, abuse, drug use, I may be missing some things. It was so good though.

4. Captive Prince, by C.S.Pacat (a book with a map). Back again with the gay comfort trilogies. This is the first book in the Captive Prince trilogy, and whoops, did I say love All For the Game? Love this series more. It’s awesome. It’s fantasy and gay and romantic. But the romance isn’t even the central part. Laurent is my favorite asshole. Damen is so sweet and sassy as fuck. HIGHLY RECOMMEND. Seriously. I can’t do this series justice.

5. The Foxhole Court, by Nora Sakavic (a book recommended by your favorite blog, vlog, podcast, or online book club). First book in the All for the Game series. What are you still doing here? Go start this trilogy!

6. Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine (a book that passes the bechdel test). This is such a good book. It was one of my favorite books when I was a kid. It’s basically a retelling of Cinderella, and if you’ve seen the movie version with Anne Hathaway, the book is way, way better. 

7. Loki: The God Who Fell to Earth, by Oscar Basaldua (a book with the same title as a movie or TV show but is unrelated to it). God, I cannot WAIT for the Loki show. Anyway, this is a new comic about Loki (obviously). I love anything with my disaster wife in it, so 100% I recommend it. 

8. As Drowning Men Clutch at Straws, by EA Roisin (a book by an author with flora or fauna in their name). Okay, so. Roisin is an Irish name that means rose, and EA Roisin is my (unpublished) pen name. In my defense, the manuscript is 186 pages long and it felt like an accomplishment when I finally finished rereading it for the first time since I finished it in 2015. Do I recommend it? I’ll let you know if it ever gets published.

9. Red White and Royal Blue, by Casey McQuiston (a book that won an award in 2019). I’m still rereading this book. I got interrupted because my sister wanted to read it and then I got a new book for my birthday. But this is, far and away, my FAVORITE BOOK. It’s so beautiful. It was very romantic (once they stopped “hating” each other), and gay. The premise sounds far-fetched: First Son of the United States falls for the Crown Prince of England. But, guys, it’s soooo gooooood. Highly, highly, highly recommend. 

10. A Beautifully Foolish Endeavor, by Hank Green (a book with only words on the cover, no images or graphics). This is the sequel to An Absolutely Remarkable Thing. This was just as great as the first, but I spent a good chunk of the book vibrating with anxiety. The stakes were way higher, and I don’t think I’ve been scared while reading a book since reading Jade Green (Phyllis Reynolds Naylor) in junior high (which was fucking terrifying, btw). But I definitely recommend it!

11. Crush, by Richard Siken (a book with a pun in the title). Guys. I read this book almost every year, because it’s quick and gorgeous and the title is accurate because it absolutely crushes me. This is a collection of LGBT (more specifically, gay) poetry, and OH MY GOD. This is in my top five favorite books. I read it all the time. This is the book that made me fall in love with poetry, back in high school.

12. The Raven King, by Nora Sakavic (a book with a bird on the cover). The second book in the All for the Game series. Trigger warnings for All the King’s Men apply to this one, too. 

13. 1014: Brian Boru, by Morgan Llewelyn (a fiction or nonfiction book about a world leader). If you know me, you know I’m a complete Irish history nerd. This book is about a very important battle that took place in Ireland, and the last great High King of Ireland, Brian Boru. High Kings are mostly just an elected title, who get paid via taxes from provincial kings and chieftains, but Brian was the only one who saw as close to a united, free Ireland as it got until 1921 (although since the island is split between the North and the Republic, it’s still not totally unified). I recommend if you like history.

14. The Magnolia Sword, by Sherry Thomas (a book by a WOC). Oh. My. God. So this is a retelling of the ballad of Mulan. Mulan is a very important story to me anyway (tomboy as a child, genderfluid, bisexual as fuck), and this retelling was so good and interesting. It also features one of my favorite tropes, Surprise Gays. I highly, highly recommend.

15. My Own Ways Through This Life, by Chris Viau (a book with at least a four-star rating on Goodreads). Okay, so it miiiight have a four-star rating because of me and my camp family all rating it, but it counts. This is a mixed media autobiography by one of my camp friends. He has written at least three books, and all are available on Amazon. This is the only one I’ve read so far, and it was really interesting. I definitely recommend it. 

16. Insomniac City, by Bill Hayes (a book you meant to read in 2019). This book was beautiful and heartbreaking. It was a Christmas gift from my brother. It’s a memoir about Bill’s time in a relationship with Oliver Sacks, a famous neurologist. It’s sweet and melancholic and funny. Huge recommendation.

17. Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens’ Agenda, by Becky Albertalli (a book about or involving social media). Still such a wonderful book. Better than the movie, I’m telling you. It was really good, and I definitely cried. If you liked the movie, read the book. It’s different in several ways. I think if you’re thinking in terms of trueness to the book, the movie was maybe not as good, but they’re both good as their own standalone things. But I highly recommend both.

18. Loki: Agent of Asgard, by Jason Ewing (a book that has a book on the cover). This is such a good series. It’s a great characterization of my disaster wife.  I love this graphic novel series. I love how they depict Loki, how he finally gets a goddamn redemption arc. It’s a really fun read. Check it out.

19. Kings Rising, by CS Pacat (a book with a made up language). This is pushing it, since they never actually speak in the made up languages on paper. But UGH. Third book in the Captive Prince trilogy, and hands down the best. Laurent and Damen finally let go of the goddamn longing and actually do something about it.

20. The Deep, by Rivers Solomon (a book set in a country beginning with C). This is pushing it, because it’s about mermaids (basically), but I think they’re in the Caribbean. I loved this book. It was so interesting. It’s based on a song by clipping., Daveed Diggs’s group. The premise is the wajinru (the mermaid people) originated as the infants from pregnant Africans that died and were thrown overboard during the slave trade. So like, it’s a pretty heavy book. But it’s heartfelt and sweet, too. Also more Surprise Gays, which came at an excellent time (November, post-Supernatual finale) for me. I highly recommend.

21. Written in the Stars, by Alexandria Bellefleur (a book you picked because the title caught your attention). I just finished this book tonight and it was so. good. It’s basically a modern, lesbian, fake dating rendering of Pride and Prejudice. And let me tell you, if there’s one thing I love more than Pride and Prejudice, it’s lesbians. It’s really really great. I highly, highly recommend. 

22. Running with Lions, by Julian Winters (a book with a three-word title). Thanks to All for the Game and movies like Handsome Devil and Boys, I have discovered that I have a huge thing for queer sport stories. So this book was really, really good. It’s got friends to enemies to friends to lovers, which is great. It’s got soccer, which is way more homoerotic now. And it’s got gays, which is really why I picked this book up. But it’s well written and the story is interesting, too. I definitely recommend.

23. The Prince and the Dressmaker, by Jen Wang (a book with a pink cover). Oh my god. AHHHHH!!! This book is amazing. It’s a graphic novel, so it’s a quick read. It’s fantasy and feels a little Cinderella-y, but that’s not the best part. The queer relationship is amazing, but that’s not the best part. The prince is genderfluid! Like me! And his mask name is Sebastian! Like me! (Okay, so my name is Bastien, but close enough) This was so so so good. I got it at a convention in February, and I was practically vibrating with excitement as I read it. I highly highly highly recommend. 

24. Girl Crushed, by Katie Heaney (a book by or about a journalist). I think I’d have liked this book better if it wasn’t so...similar to my life. The main premise is the main character is getting over a sudden and painful break up, after being dumped by her long-term (maybe first? I can’t remember) girlfriend. The ex has the same initials as my ex and acted very similarly, so maybe I ended up picturing her when the character came up in the book. The ending pissed me off. It was very gay and that wasn’t the entirety of the book, so maybe you’ll like it more than me. It was just too true to life for me and opened up some old wounds I didn’t want to open up. The author is an editor at Buzzfeed, so that’s how it fits into this category. 

25. Date Me, Bryson Keller, by Kevin van Whye (your favorite prompt from a past POPSUGAR Reading Challenge--a book published this year). This might be my second or third favorite book, goddamn it’s that good. It’s queer, obviously, and sort of fake dating? Bryson is dared to date someone new each week. He’s assumed to be straight, so all the people he dates are girls until Kai asks him. It’s really sweet, and there’s some issues with coming out to your family that don’t always sit well with me, but overall it was really good and it ends well. I definitely recommend.

26. Loki: Where Mischief Lies, by Mackenzi Lee (a book written by an author in their 20s). AAAHHHH!!!! Fuckin.... Okay, y’all know I have feelings about Loki. He’s my spouse and I love him to death. This book was so, so good. Loki gets sent to Victorian London to solve a mystery and meets a group of humans who know about Asgard and basically keep Midgard in order for Odin. Loki is canonically pan and genderfluid (as he should be), and Theo is a sweetheart. I wrote a 10k fic coming out of reading this book (Phantom Limb by Irishavalon on AO3, check it out.). I seriously recommend!

27. Because of Winn-Dixie, by Kate DiCamillo (a book by an author who has written more than 20 books). I read this with my third graders at the beginning of this year. Such a good book. I read it as a kid too. The movie is great but as always, book is better. Recommend.

28. Adventures of Charls, the Veretian Cloth Merchant, by CS Pacat (a book with more than 20 letters in its title). This was a reread of a short story that comes after the Captive Prince trilogy. Charls, the cloth merchant, was such a great side character in the CP trilogy, and telling the story from his perspective was great. It doesn’t have to be read after the other CP short stories, but at least the trilogy should be read first.

29. Fence vol.1, by CS Pacat (a book from a series with more than 20 books). I’m pushing it with this category. I read the first volume, but this is a comic book series, so the 20 books is more issues. This is very good too. It’s another gay sports story, and is probably going to be enemies to lovers, but they’re still enemies by the end of volume 1. Still recommend. 

30. Prince’s Gambit, by CS Pacat (a book with a main character in their 20s). Book 2 of the Captive Prince trilogy. Very very good. 

[thicctransboi]

Sam+ Grizz If new ham had never happened_ Full Fic

Friday

Sam watched the interpreter in front of the class explain today’s English assignment;

‘You’ll be working in pairs to annotate any poem or play of your choice. You have two weeks to turn your projects in, and I expect you all to work outside of school as well. Go ahead and pair up.’

Sam let out a sigh, dreading the idea of partnering up with someone in this class. He wouldn’t have minded, had Becca been in his class. Sadly, however, she wasn’t. She had AP English 6th period, the period after him. He watched as people immediately began choosing their partners and felt a sense of dread wash over him: he was going to be forced with whoever was left, no one ever picked him to do projects with. Who would want to be paired with the deaf kid?

To his surprise, he felt a tap on his shoulder, light and gentle. Turning, Sam saw Grizz standing next to him looking rather nervous.

“Hey, would you want to be my partner for the project?” Grizz spoke slowly.

Sam had grown rather comfortable with reading lips, but he couldn’t help but notice that Grizz’s were rather difficult to read, he must not use much diction in his words. He understood him though, and Grizz’s words confused Sam, and not because of his lack of diction.

“If you want, sure. But I don’t speak very well, it may make this more difficult for you.”

Sam had always felt insecure about his speaking, Campbell, his brother, having always had made fun of him for the way he talked.

“Oh no,” Grizz began, giving Sam a smile, “You speak fine. I’m pretty savvy with poetry and plays, and I noticed you always have good grades in this class. I thought we’d work well together.”

“Oh.” was all Sam could muster in that moment.

His interpreter was soon at his side, asking if he needed to be interpreted for. “No,” Sam said, “As long as you speak slowly and annunciate, I’ll be fine.” He gave Grizz a smile, and Grizz returned it.

***

They had exchanged numbers at the end of class, and Grizz felt nervous as hell at the idea of spending time alone with Sam. It had taken him a ball and a half of his own pride to ask Sam to be his partner in the first place, let alone to speak to him outside of class. Grizz had been pinning after Sam ever since he had met him and had been too shy and too anxious of what his friends would think to say a word to him.

He hated the way Sam got bullied, both for being deaf and for being gay. Especially from his own brother, Campbell. It took everything in him not to snap and go and rescue the handsome young ginger; but he couldn’t. His friends, while they were the best he had ever had, weren’t the most accepting group of people. He wasn’t even sure if they knew what the word ‘accepting’ meant, let alone how to spell it even. Grizz vowed on never seeing them again after high school, and he was planning to stick to that vow. They offered him no comfort or intelligent conversation; just a fun group of people to smoke with and blow off steam. He heard them use the word ‘gay’ as an insult to almost everything, even things that made no sense. Henceforth, he wasn’t comfortable exposing his secrets to them: Grizz was gay.

He had sat staring at Sam’s contact for over 20 minutes, debating on sending him a text to discuss when to work on their project. Though, he honestly just wanted to see him. He sighed, typing out a simple, “Hey, it’s Grizz.” and pressing send, feeling his heart rate increasing tenfold at the sight of the ‘delivered’ message. He nearly jumped out of his bones when he got a reply back, “Hey Grizz, I see you didn’t get the wrong number. What’s up?”

‘Oh god, what do I say?’ Grizz thought, he honestly didn’t think he’d get this far.

“Not much man, just was wondering when a good day would be for you to work on the project? And where?”

Grizz’s heart felt like it may burst at the seams from pounding so fast.

His phone dinged.

“How would tomorrow night work? My house? Campbell is supposed to be at some party at Harry’s, so the house will be mine.”

‘Shit, I was supposed to be there at the party with Clarke and Luke’, Grizz thought. But he found himself quickly typing, “That works. 8 sound good?”

Sam replied with a thumbs up.

***

It was now Saturday, 7pm, and Grizz was sure he was having a panic attack. He had changed his outfit at least five times and changed his hair from in his usual partial top bun, to hanging loose around his face. He finally settled on his hair down, his letterman jacket, a plain white t-shirt, and his letterman jacket and Vans. Sam’s house was 5 minutes down the road, but needless to say he arrived over 15 minutes early.

Sam felt nervous, he hadn’t had a guest over ever. Well, besides Becca of course. He had been Face Timing her for the past hour, asking how his hair looked, if his clothes were too tight or not tight enough. He knew he was overanalyzing things, but he couldn’t help it. Grizz had never spoken to him directly before. In class discussions, when Sam would speak up and have his interpreter help, Grizz would often second his opinions on whatever poem or book they had been discussing. But that was as far as speaking had gone. He admired his intelligence; he was far smarter than any of the jock-assholes he hung around with. Sam had caught Grizz staring at him a few times. But he was used to that, everyone loves to stare at the deaf kid.

Finally, at 7:56pm, Sam received a text from Grizz saying he had arrived. Grizz had been to the house only one time before, when Campbell had thrown a party when their parents were out of town. But Sam had stayed locked away in his room until Becca arrived to pick him up. Campbell liked to make a spectacle out of his deaf brother whenever he had parties.

Sam had never run that fast in his life to get to the door, but he quickly stopped to take a moment, he didn’t want to seem too eager.

When he opened the door, he noticed Grizz wasn’t suiting his usual topknot and stonner-esque clothing, but instead he looked much more cleaned up. His neck length black hair framed his face beautifully, his outfit showed that he actually had a shape, and as usual, he towered over Sam quite a bit. Though, Sam had never realized how tall Grizz actually was until now.

Sam welcomed Grizz inside and lead him up to his bedroom, suddenly feeling rather red in the face over the idea of inviting a guy up to his room. Sam’s room was heavily decorated; film and movie posters, art pieces, and picture frames scattered the walls. His large four poster bed sat in the center of the room against the back wall, across from the TV. His textbooks scatted across from it.

Sam turned to Grizz, “Well, did you have any particular poems or plays you had in mind?” He asked, sitting down on the bed.

Grizz shuffled on his feet awkwardly, looking down at the floor before backing up at Sam, his dark brown eyes meeting Sam’s light blue ones. “I was thinking Ginsberg, maybe. Though, most of his work would be considered too risqué for a high school English class.”

Sam couldn’t catch a few words, but he got the gist of what Grizz had said. “You can sit down, if you’d like. Ginsberg would be a good idea, lots of his poems people can’t seem to understand. But we should stay away from ‘howl’, I think the term ‘endless balls’ might make Mrs. Newberry upset.”

Grizz sat down besides Sam, a few feet away, a smile on his face. “You have great one-liners. But I agree. Though, I did have a question.”

Sam raised his eyebrow at Grizz for him to answer.

“Would you mind. I don’t know. Teaching me a few things in sign language?”

Sam chuckled lightly, “Why, are you planning on going deaf?”

“No,” Grizz began, laughing lightly, “I want to speak to you, well, sign to you. I want to be able to talk to you, you know, in your language.”

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, “I wouldn’t mind teaching you a few things. It might make things easier too.”

***

The next few hours were spent between the two boys; hand gestures being thrown, and signs being done the wrong way. Sam had been trying to teach Grizz how to sign ‘coffee’ as Grizz had requested, but he kept signing it wrong.

“Okay, this,” Sam began, showing Grizz the correct sign, “Is coffee. You just asked me to make out with you.”

Grizz’s face turned red before laughing nervously, “Oh god, I’m glad we cleared that one up.”

Sam laughed lightly, “Show me your name again, I want to see if you remember it.”

Grizz lifted his right hand, signing the ‘G’, ‘R’, and ‘I’ correctly before he fumbled. “How do I do ‘Z’ again?”

Sam reached across slowly, placing his hand over Grizz’s to form the right shape. Grizz felt his heart skip a beat, and his skin grow hot at the feeling of Sam touching him.

“Do that twice, and you signed your name.” Sam said quietly, catching Grizz’s gaze.

Grizz’s ears went red and he glanced down, letting his hand drop and pretending to check his phone. “It’s late, I should probably get going. But, thanks for the lessons. I’ll see you Monday?”

Sam nodded, actually looking forward to school.

***

Monday

Sam had been dealing with Campbell the whole of Saturday night and all of Sunday. Campbell had come home trashed, drunk and high off of god knows what. To avoid getting caught, he had gone to Sam. Having Sam pick him up and giving him hell all weekend. Sunday had been the worst part though. Once Campbell had sobered up, he was ruthless as ever. Basically, blackmailing Sam into not telling their parents, threatening him. He had punched him in the jaw, threatening for worse to come if Sam told anyone.

When Monday had rolled around, Sam was grateful. He got to see Grizz today, have lunch with Becca, and avoid Campbell for the first half of the day at least. He loved school for two reasons: learning and getting away from his brother. Now he had something else to look forward to, seeing Grizz in English during 5th period. Becca had tried to cover up his bruise this morning on the bus ride to school, but her foundation was way too dark for his pale skin tone.

*

The weekend and all of Monday morning seemed to drag on for Grizz. He had lied to his friend group to tell them he was sick this weekend. Which meant Monday he had to pretend to be too sick to go to football practice in order to make it believable. He lied, saying the only reason he had come to school today was because he had a test. Which, of course, was so far from the truth. He, however, could not tell them the truth.

By the time 5th period rolled around, Grizz was anxious to get to class; practically running the entire way there. When he arrived, he heard a commotion outside of the classroom, down the hall. He looked and saw Sam and his brother, Campbell, arguing. He noticed the way Sam’s signing was erratic and more dramatic than usual, and how Campbell was hardly signing, more like yelling and occasionally signing a single word. One word in particular made his blood boil.

‘Faggot.’

He watched, fuming, as Campbell stormed off down the hall, leaving Sam to slowly descend towards the classroom where Grizz stood in the doorway. As Sam came closer, he noticed the bruise on his jaw, poorly covered up by press powder that was way too dark.

Grizz stopped Sam, “Hey, you okay?” He spoke slowly.

Sam just nodded, his eyes filled with tears. “Yeah, I’m fine. Please drop it. Let’s go work on this thing.”

Grizz felt his heart break at the sight of Sam so emotional. So, broken looking. But he didn’t prod or poke, he simply followed him inside.

Sam sat in the back as usual, and Grizz sat in his normal seat as they waited for class to start.

Mrs. Newberry came in, looking rather tired, and followed by Sam’s interpreter. “Pair up with the partners you chose yesterday, I expect for you all to have chosen your poem today. I’ll be going around and writing down which one you’ve chosen.”

Grizz fidgeted for a moment before walking over to Sam, giving him a small smile as he sat next to him. He was grateful none of his friends were smart enough to be in this class, they would ask questions.

Grizz’s heart broke further at the distant look in Sam’s eyes. “I was thinking we could annotate ‘An Eastern Ballad’? It’s short, but it’s very up to interpretation.” He suggested, making sure to speak slowly and clearly.

Sam nodded, writing the name down in his notebook. “Ok.” He said quietly.

An idea popped into Grizz’s head. He quickly flagged down the teacher. “Mrs. Newberry? We chose An Eastern Ballad by Allen Ginsberg for our project. But I’m finding it difficult to concentrate in here with all the noise. Could me and Sam work in the library?”

Sam’s interpreter signed away Grizz’s words to Sam, and Sam felt rather confused.

The teacher nodded and smiled, writing down their poem and giving them both halls passes. She trusted them both, them being her star students. Grizz gave Sam a smile as they gathered their things and left the classroom, Sam’s interpreter leaving for his lunch break per Sam’s suggestion.

“What was that for?” Sam asked, stopping Grizz in the hallway once they were out of earshot.

“You needed space, I could tell. And people were being loud.”

“But the library is at the west end of the building and we’re heading towards the courtyard?” Sam questioned.

Grizz smirked. “That’s because we’re not going to the library. Follow me.”

Grizz gulped before taking Sam’s hand, leading him down the hallway. His touch felt warm and comforting, sending electricity up Grizz’s arms as they walked quickly. He relished in the feeling, never wanting to let go. Grizz purposely took the longest way to the back courtyard of the school just so he had an excuse to hold Sam’s hand a little longer.

When they reached the back exit of the school, Grizz lead Sam towards the tree lines, his designated smoking spot since freshman year. It was the only place they never checked for students. Ducking and crouching around and under branches and tree stumps, until they finally found their destination. A small circle was cleared, several stumps had been laid on their side for sitting.

“What do you think?” Grizz asked, turning to Sam.

He watched in adoration as Sam looked panicked, “What if we get caught?”

Grizz chuckled, “We won’t. Trust me. I’ve been coming here for three years now. Come on, sit.” He spoke, signing the word ‘sit’ as he did, remembering it from last night.

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the older boys attempt to sign, he was actually trying. He sat on the log beside Grizz, wrapping his arms around himself. It was autumn now, and he felt cold. Having had left his jacket in his locker.

“Are you cold?” Grizz asked, only getting the signs ‘Are you’ out, not knowing the one for ‘cold’

Sam nodded, “I’m skinny, it happens.” His voice was quiet.

Grizz could still see the sadness in Sam’s eyes, and he felt the sudden urge to comfort him. It then occurred to him that he was wearing his hoodie underneath his Letterman jacket.

He took a deep breath and prayed to god that this would go well, taking off his jacket and standing, settling behind Sam and draping the heavy fabric over his shoulders lightly before returning to his own log to sit.

His heart was pounding, and he couldn’t help but notice the small blush spreading across Sam’s cheeks.

“Better?” Grizz asked.

“Much.”

***

Friday

A week had passed, and Grizz was figuring out more and more that his fondness of Sam had tuned into a full-blown infatuation. He had checked out a book at the library on sign language, only to find out that apparently, BSL and ASL were two totally different things. So, he had resulted to the internet to try to impress Sam a second time. This time it had been much more successful. He also had learned so much about Sam, and he adored every bit of it. Except for the more painful parts.

They sat at Sam’s house, Campbell was supposed to be out for the remainder of the evening. They had long since finished their project, but Grizz kept making excuses to see him. Such as: spelling errors, alternate theories of different meanings of the poems, forgetting his jacket there on ‘accident’.

“When I dream, I still dream with sound. But not new sounds.”

They had gotten on the subject of dreams this evening, it was 11pm and they hadn’t touched their project since 8:30.

“What would be a new sound?” Grizz asked, genuinely curious. His signing, while still rusty, had improved massively. Using finger spelling when he didn’t know a word.

“My voice. I remember how it sounded before. But I imagine it’s a little deeper now.”

Grizz chuckled at Sam’s dry humor. It endeared him.

“I wish I could hear yours.”

They were sitting side by side on Sam’s bed, and Grizz felt the air was thick all of a sudden. He had looked up a certain sign two days ago after he had the urge the first time, but he was horrified of asking. Scared of rejection.

He found himself glancing at the bed as he spoke quietly, “Can you. teach me one more phrase in sign language?” He asked hesitantly.

Sam nodded slowly, trying to read Grizz. He had never seen him like this, nervous, fidgety, tears in his eyes.

“How do you say, ‘kiss me’?”

Sam felt his heart skip a beat, pounding relentlessly against his chest.

Grizz hoped he hadn’t said it clearly enough, that fear of rejection quickly swooping in and seeping through him.

But all fear was washed away as Sam leaned in, cupping Grizz’s face in his soft hands gently, his lips hovering over his for a moment before he closed the gap between them. Grizz’s head swam with emotions, yet no coherent thoughts. The feeling of Sam’s lips against his own sent shockwaves through his body as he found himself kissing Sam back. His lips were soft as velvet, his kisses tender and sweet. He tasted of coffee and bubblegum, Grizz tasted of chocolate and marijuana.

The kiss grew deeper, Grizz finding himself getting lost in the feeling as his hand reached up to fold over Sam’s. All of the pint up emotions, the holding back; it had all come to a blissful end.

Sam’s tongue ghosted over Grizz’s bottom lip, causing shivers to run down Grizz’s spine as he allowed his jaw to lax and allow Sam access. He had never imagined letting someone else take control, but he didn’t mind it at all.

Before he knew it, Sam was on top of him, sitting on his lap as he kissed him feverishly. Grizz had to suppress a moan at the friction being created by Sam’s rocking hips; knowing that they weren’t alone in the household. He let his hands travel up Sam’s sides, his fingertips gently grazing over every muscle and curve he could from underneath his shirt. He longed to go further, but he didn’t want to cause Sam to feel pressured. He tried mumbling his name, then he remembered he couldn’t hear him.

Placing a hand on Sam’s chest, he gently pushed him upwards. “Sam, we don’t have to keep going if you’re not ready.” He said, making sure to annunciate.

Sam suddenly looked bashful. “I’ve never. I’m a virgin.” He said suddenly, signing the words with shaky hands. “I know you’ve had others.”

Grizz felt his heart break. He was right, he had had others. But never another man. Only one other girl had he had sex with, a few he had fooled around with.

“I don’t mind. But I don’t want to disappoint you or mess up. And I don’t want this to be some sort of joke or experiment to you when it isn’t for me.”

Sam suddenly looked heartbroken. And Grizz felt like he was.

He sighed, sliding out from underneath Sam and sitting in front of him. “Sam, that’s not what this is to me. I promise.” He began, singing a few words here and there. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with another guy. But I can tell that neither of us are ready for this quite yet.”

Sam’s eyes were filled with tears. “Do you not want me?”

Grizz felt his heart shatter at his words. His voice sounded strained and broken. Grizz places a hand on Sam’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Of course, I do, Sam. But I don’t want to rush into anything. Okay?”

Sam’s eyes benighted slightly. “Okay.”

“Hey Sam? Would you want to come to the homecoming game tomorrow? See me play?”

***

Saturday

(Warning: some cursing, derogatory words, and a physical altercation is about to occur. Reader discretion is advised)

Grizz felt more anxious at this moment than he had before any football game. Not because the team they were against was hard to beat, far from it actually. No, it was because he knew Sam was watching. Sam had told him that he had never been to a game before, sports weren’t his thing. But, for Grizz, he had made an exception and drug Becca along with him.

‘Wait, so Grizz asked you to kiss him?’ Becca signed to Sam as they took their seats on the bleachers.

Sam nodded, ‘he asked me how to sign ‘kiss me’ and so I kissed him.’

Becca had taken to not speaking along with her signing for this particular conversation, wanting to honor Grizz’s privacy as well as her best friends.

‘I never pegged Grizz to be gay. And then what? He just, left? Or did something happen?’

Sam shuffled slightly in his seat, unsure of what to say.

‘Oh my god! Did you two sleep together?’ Becca was wearing a shit eating grin.

Sam smacked her arm playfully. ‘No! Well, almost. But he stopped it.’

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he continued, ‘he said he didn’t want to rush things between us, said he hadn’t been with a guy before and since I was a virgin, he didn’t want either of us to go too far when we weren’t ready.’

Becca smiled, ‘That’s a good sign!’ Sam gave her a questioning look so she continued, ‘If he had just been curious or wanted an experiment or something, he would have either had sex with you and left or stopped it after a few kisses then left. Not stayed and hung out all weekend! He likes you, Sam. Though, now that I think about it, I saw it coming.’

‘What? What are you talking about? You said you never pegged him as gay?’

Becca laughed, ‘Exactly. Gay. I never said I didn’t see him checking you out or looking at you longingly from across the cafeteria. He could be bi. You never know. Now shush! The game is starting.’

Not much to either of their surprise, West Ham had won, 12-0. The crowd cheered, and Sam and Becca quickly escaped to the parking lot to avoid the heavy crowd. Sam decided he’d send Grizz a text to congratulate him before leaving.

To Grizz: Hey! Great job tonight! Me and Becca are headed home, don’t celebrate too hard!

Sent.

Incoming text from Grizz: Hey, Luke’s hosting a party to celebrate at his house. You two should come!

Sam suddenly felt queasy. He had avoided parties for all of high school, always being made a spectacle and left out. But he wanted to see Grizz and congratulate him in person.

He sighed.

To Grizz: Okay, send me the address and I’ll stop by.

He pleaded with Becca to go with him, in case he had no one to talk to. But she said she couldn’t due to procrastinated homework but agreed to drop him off.

**

Sam could feel the pulsating bass from the loud music all the way out on the front patio of Luke’s house. His house was massive, expensive, and way too crowded by the looks of it. Colored lights flashed from inside as he stood there awkwardly. He had the urge to text Becca to turn around and pick him up but decided against it. Instead texting Grizz

To Grizz: I’m here.

Sent.

Incoming text from Grizz: I’m in the kitchen!

Sam sighed, shoving his pocket into his phone and heading towards the open front door.

Grizz had had two beers since arriving, determined to enjoy the night of their victory. But he was more looking forward to seeing Sam. He wasn’t sure how to react to him though, or how to approach him. It had suddenly occurred to Grizz that only a few people knew about them being partners on this project, let alone anything more than that.

He saw a familiar face in the crowd: Campbell’s. He never understood why Campbell came to the football parties until last year, when he had caught Campbell selling coke to a few freshmen. He had always creeped Grizz out and rubbed him the wrong way. But then again, Campbell rubbed everyone the wrong way.

He stood leant against the kitchen island, a beer in hand, waiting for to see if Sam would show. Finally, his phone buzzed, and he felt the sudden, yet now familiar, feeling of his heart skipping a beat.

He waited patiently now, watching the front door through the open floor plan kitchen for Sam. When he saw him enter, he felt a smile creep onto his face. But his smile soon faded, noting how horrified and uncomfortable Sam looked, not to mention the stares that were being tossed his way as he entered the house and made his way to the kitchen. Grizz gulped, thankful that the rest of the guys were elsewhere around the house as Sam entered the kitchen.

“Congrats!” Sam spoke, singing along.

Grizz gave him a small smirk, “thanks!” He signed, “I didn’t think you’d come!”

Sam shrugged, “I wanted to congratulate you in person. And, I was curious as to what the fuss was on this whole ‘high school party’ thing was about.”

Grizz chuckled lightly at Sam, “Well, have a drink. There are beers in the fridge.”

He grabbed him one and they stood in silence for a while. Well, as far as speaking goes. The house was booming with noise. Grizz’s phone was blowing up, upon answering it, he had at least 20 texts from Clarke telling him that there were people who wanted to congratulate him.

He turned to Sam, “I’ll be right back, a few people want to see me. Just one second okay?” He asked, signing what he could along with his words.

Sam nodded and gave him a smile, sipping on his drink. It tasted like shit, but he pretended to like it as Becca had advised him to do.

He suddenly felt exposed and alone as Grizz had left him. Without Becca as well, he felt out of place even further. Sam pulled out his phone to text her, telling her that he was indeed alive. But that might soon change as he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Campbell. He towered over Sam, his head cocked to the side and a dangerous smirk was displayed on his face.

“Funny seeing you here, brother.” Campbell said, not bothering to sign.

Campbell knew how to sign. But he only ever used curse words.

“What do you want, Campbell?” Sam said, signing along. He tried to keep his stance firm and tall, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

Campbell smiled and smacked the solo cup from Sam’s grasp, “Why are you even here, huh fag? Come to check out the football players or something?” He signed the entire sentence.

Sam wiped the splash of beer from his cheek, “fuck off, Campbell. It’s none of your business.”

Campbell chuckled to himself, shoving Sam roughly against the fridge. “I just want a night to myself! Is that too much to ask! There’s a reason I go out, you know. To get away from your disgusting face. Your intolerable presence. Ever since you were born, I’ve been forced to look after your sorry ass. Now you have the nerve to show up on my territory? You’re lucky I don’t- “

His words were cut off by Grizz interjecting, “Campbell! Is there a problem here?”

Sam looked at Grizz, a look that said, ‘leave it’. But Grizz was far from leaving it.

“A problem? No, Grizz. Not at all.” Campbell said, turning back to Sam. “Just stay out of my way, huh fag?” He shoved him roughly again.

He tried turning to walk away, but Grizz had seen enough. Yanking Campbell’s arm roughly, Grizz pulled Campbell towards him, “Watch your mouth! You’re not a football player, and I don’t remember anyone inviting you to a single party we’ve ever had. Piss off, now.”

Sam stood there shocked, he could barely make out Grizz’s words, but felt suddenly honored at the protection he was providing him.

“Lighten up, Grizz. I’m just teaching my Fag brother here a lesson, making sure he doesn’t check any of you guys out- “

Campbell’s words were cut off by a harsh punch being flown into his teeth, by none other than Grizz.

“I said watch your fucking mouth!” Grizz shouted, shoving Campbell further away from Sam and himself.

Campbell lunged at Grizz, Sam trying to intervene as he threw punches towards Grizz. But it was futile, two testosterones filled, 6ft tall men hurtling punches at each other was too much for Sam to stop. So, he did the only thing he could think of to do, he screamed.

A deaf person scream, or so he’d been told, is unlike any sound there is. It’s loud and pitchy, often deafening for others. And Sam knew it.

Heads turned, and Grizz stopped for a moment. But that had been a mistake. Campbell hurtled a punch at Grizz, catching him in the eye. Grizz went to attack again but was stopped when he saw Campbell take out his pocket knife. But Sam’s scream had not only caught Grizz’s attention, it had also caught the whole houses attention. Soon enough, the rest of the guard had got ahold of Campbell, knocking his knife from his hands and holding him back. Luke was holding Grizz back.

“Touch him again and I swear I’ll knock your teeth in!” Grizz screamed, “Don’t you dare ever come into one of my parties and speak to him like that! Ever! Especially not in front of me!”

He thrashed back and forth in Luke’s hold.

“Oh look!” Campbell yelled, “Sam’s got himself a boyfriend! And he has a fucking topknot!”

The guard quickly tossed Campbell to the curb, quite literally. Sam, however, rushed to Grizz’s aid as he sat in a kitchen chair, cradling his eye.

Grizz was breathing heavily as Sam found an ice pack, placing it gently over his swollen eye.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Sam said quietly, crouching down into Grizz’s view.

“For you, yeah I did.”

***

Friday

The rumors about Grizz’s relationship with Sam had spread like wildfire, much to Campbell’s help. He had been telling graphic and untrue stories about what he had supposedly caught the pair doing. And it was all taking a toll on Grizz. His friends had questioned him relentlessly, people stared and whispered as he walked down the hallways. He had avoided Sam, including his messages, all week. He didn’t know what to say to him, or anyone for that matter. But today they were supposed to present their project.

When 5th period rolled around, Grizz was tempted to skip. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie to nor abandon Sam. So, he came early.

Sam was waiting for him, sitting in his usual spot near the back of the classroom. His vibrant blue eyes caught Grizz’s, and he felt his heart melt. Grizz May have been sporting a black eye, but Sam looked somehow more broken.

He approached him slowly. “Hey.” He said simply.

“Hi. So, do you want to do the speaking? I made the power point, so it seems fair. I’m not in the speaking mood today.” Sam said quietly, his voice distant. His signing even seemed distant.

Grizz simply nodded and sat beside him, the tension between the two seemed to be toxic as they waited their turn. When the teacher announced their names, Grizz made his way up to the front of the class, Sam following suit as he plugged his USB into the teacher’s computer and loaded up the PowerPoint.

Grizz suddenly felt shy, exposed standing in front of the class. Though he never had issues with it before, everything seemed to have changed.

“So, for our poem we chose ‘An Eastern Ballad’ by Allen Ginsberg. Also known as ‘song’. Ginsberg was one of the Beat poets in the 50’s through the early 90’s. Okay so the poem goes, ‘Winds around the beaches blow:

Things being as they are, although

Half clearly understood, and I

Uncurious is mystery;

Such thoughts as once were my despair,

-The frantic sea, the silent air,

The changing moon and fridge shore-

I find delight me more and more.

I had not dreamed the sea so deep,

The earth so dark; so long my sleep,

I have become another child.

I wake to see the world go wild.’

“Now, there are lots of ways to interpret Ginsberg’s work. He used to often say that he never had any meaning for most of it, and that the reader should interpret it. It’s well known at this point that Ginsberg used psychedelic drugs to jumpstart his writing and to discover his style. So, it’s safe to assume that that is what he means in this poem by becoming another child and his soul being awoken.” Grizz began.

Sam’s interpreter was signing along for Sam to understand, even though Sam knew what Grizz was supposed to be saying. However, he didn’t see the plot twist that was about to happen.

“But, upon reflecting and rereading this poem, I have another interpretation. If you read Ginsberg’s letters up until this poem, he talks about realizing his sexuality… he uhm. He realized he was gay and how that realization opened his eyes. I believe, that this poem isn’t about realizing and noticing the world through the use of drugs. But it is about waking up and seeing the world through new eyes upon realizing who you are, as a person.”

Grizz was shaking, and Sam was speechless.

“That’s a rather interesting interpretation, Grizz. I assume by the two different annotations that the first was Sam’s interpretations and the second was yours?” Mrs. Newberry asked, easing an eyebrow.

Grizz nodded slowly, his eyes filled with tears.

“Mr. Eliot. What do you think of Grizz’s interpretation of this poem?”

Elliot gestured for his interpreter to speak for him as he signed l, “I can see where he is coming from. But I disagree. Evidence shows that this is a spiritual awakening, caused by Ginsberg’s drug use at the time. But, Grizz likes to read into things.”

Grizz felt his heart plunge.

“Well, very well done you two. You may have a seat.”

**

Sunday evening, November 21st

Weeks went by, Sam ignoring Grizz’s texts, Grizz ignoring the questions from the guard and his other friends. It was soon late November, and the pair had not spoken. The winter formal was coming up, and Sam asked Becca to be his date.

“You know I hate those things. Besides, I’m not who you want to go with. Ask him, he’s been texting you nonstop for over a month now. It’s kind of annoying.”

Sam chuckled and rolled his eyes as they sat in Becca’s bedroom. ‘You know he wouldn’t risk his reputation going with me. Besides, you’re my best friend, I want you to go with me.’

Becca sighed, “Sam, talk to him. I hate school dances, you love them. It’s your senior year, go with the guy you want to go with, not your beard.”

Sam felt dejected. And conflicted. He refused to make a spectacle out of himself or Grizz. Grizz was obviously not ready for this yet, and that was partially Sam’s fault that it ended this way. Or, at least, that’s how Sam felt.

**

Sunday evening, November 21st

Grizz had been fidgeting in his room for over an hour now, anxiety coursing through his veins. When his mother called for dinner, he knew it was time.

Making his way downstairs and to the kitchen table, he rubbed the sweat off of his hands as he sat down across from his father. He was nervous, really fucking nervous. But he had to do this, he had been holding it back for too long.

He watched anxiously as his mother laid out their dinner on the table before sitting down.

Now or never, he thought to himself. “Mom, dad. I have to tell you something.”

***

Monday, November 22nd

Sam walked begrudged to his locker, spinning the dial around until the lock came undone. As he opened the metal door, a small slip of neon green paper floated to the ground from inside the door.

It was a note. He unfolded it and read it to himself:

Sam, the winter formal is next Saturday, I hope to see you there. I’ll be wearing green and pink.

-Grizz

Sam felt his heart stop momentarily. This couldn’t be serious, could it?

**

Sam, being himself, had arrived at the dance right as it started. Only to find out his ticket had already been paid for. He wore a white button down with a rose gold vest and a plaid neck tie. His ginger hair styled neatly on top of his head. He felt anxious as he made his way into the gym: lights were hung here and there of all kinds. Fairly lights, that changed color, random lamps and chandeliers. All fashioned in blue, silver, and white. The tables were dressed in silver table cloths with blue placemats and white flowers. Student council had gone all us for this one. He could feel the bass of the music through his shoes and he anxiously made his way through the crowd, finding a lone spot near the back at an unoccupied table. He suddenly longed for Becca. He had a bad feeling about this.

Time rolled on, and soon 45 minutes had passed with no sign of Grizz. He hadn’t shown, and Sam had given up and lost patience. He rose to his feet and began shuffling through the crowded dance floor. He was stopped in his tracks when he felt a firm, but gentle hand grasps his wrist. Turning, he saw Grizz. Towering above him in all of his glory. Wearing a neon green button down and a plaid bow tie in similar fashion to his own. Sam couldn’t hold back his smile.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Sam said, taking a step closer to Grizz.

Grizz could feel eyes on the pair, but it was too late to turn back now.

“Neither did I.”

Without another word, Grizz pulled Sam into him, pressing his lips against his. Sam happily kissed him back, standing on his tippy toes to reach him.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E47 (Jan. 15, 2019)

The ritual begins.

Tonight’s guests? Taliesin Jaffe and Travis Willingham. The episode? Episode 47: The Second Seal.

Announcements: 

On Wednesday, January 23 at 5 PM Pacific, Pub Draw will be debuting! A teaser was aired before MAME Drop.

Between the Sheets is coming back on Monday, January 28! Travis: “Who’s the host on that, do you remember? I think we had some notes on the host.” Taliesin: “I remember we had notes about what we liked, because it was faster.”

Taliesin is wearing delightful purple mismatched socks.

January 18-20 at Gallery Nucleus is the Art of Exandria art show!

Yasha’s playlist is available now!

Critrolestats: It’s been 42 days since the M9 were last in Nicodranas. Fjord’s 30th Natural 20 was this episode! Matt has rolled 31 natural 1s and 69 natural 20s, for a total of 100 critical rolls. Brian, taking offense to the subdued reaction from the crew: “WHAT SAY YOU TO THIS NEWS?!”

There’s discussion of the best durian delivery systems. Taliesin’s preferred system is “in pastry”. Travis’ preferred system is “nope”.

Taliesin had been wanting to use Divination more often, but didn’t want to bring the game to a standstill by using it every day. Taliesin: “Caduceus is a bro, man, and he was just like, I feel bad that Fjord’s hung up on this guy.” Within the confines of the spell, he was trying to figure out “what question can I ask that’s going to make Matt Mercer really mad to have to answer?”

The only other time Caduceus used Divination was to find a safe port.

Travis: “I’ve realized that I need to learn a lot more about Caduceus than I currently do.” Brian: “We all do.” Taliesin, with a slightly ominous laugh: “Caduceus is learning a lot about you guys!”

Fjord has come to terms with the fact that people are looking to him for answers while they’re on the ocean. “He’s not the leader, though. He’s not the leader. He’s just a participant in this adventure, and these people are nice enough to protect him the same way he’s protecting them.” He’s looking forward to sitting back a bit after they get back to Nicodranas, especially having the spotlight off him as a player for a while. Taliesin can relate after Percy’s prominent role early in the first campaign.

Travis prefers the party dynamic of people making decisions together---he’s personally not a big fan of one person calling the shots, because he loves having everyone contributing. Taliesin’s excited to see Sam taking the reins a little bit, especially as Nott.

Travis is amused that Jester and Caduceus can already use Control Water. Taliesin points out that there’s no reason for them to pack it once they’re back on land, whereas Travis will still have it all the time.

Does Taliesin feel guilty about avoiding the entire encounter with one die roll? “Guilt is for mortals.” He’s definitely broken some of Matt’s puzzles before in the past. He does feel a little bad that they didn’t get to do the ship fight.

Fjord is entirely excited, and “not intimidated in any way”, by his new powers. "Until that dog bites you, there’s no reason to be frightened of it.” After what Taliesin did last episode, Travis is going to read more about the spell’s details.

Is Caduceus bothered by all the deaths he caused? “It’s D&D, you have to make some allowances. If this were a real thing, there would be some emotional consequences for some of this. Seeing as how we’re in the game and playing it, he’s not bothered by it. They were things in the way of his mission to save something greater, and death is inevitable, and it’s especially inevitable if you’re trying to stop someone on a mission for the earth itself.”

Fjord wasn’t intimidated by the power specifically, but was probably a little intimidated by Caduceus. 

It’s why Caduceus isn’t bothered by what Fjord’s been doing. “He doesn’t necessarily have a good head for good and evil. He has a good head for natural and unnatural.”

Gif of the week: the Club Punch by @disasterjones​!

Caduceus’ gift of the book to Caleb was “just because they’re friends.” He’s aware that everyone has their own motives, but he also needs everyone to just get behind him at some point. Taliesin: “You need LAX friends. Everybody needs a friend to pick them up at LAX.” He doesn’t think anyone’s motivations are particularly dark right now, and he doesn’t have an especially negative view of anyone yet.

An out-of-context moment: Taliesin: “I can melt your mind.” Travis: “Please don’t.”

Fjord’s reaction to Beau’s disinterest in her family, and his insistence on getting Jester back to her mother, is largely influenced by growing up as an orphan. “He totally views the Mighty Nein as a family. There’s worth, there. He feels needed by these people, and he needs them. This is the most excited he’s ever been about life and what the future holds.”

If Fjord had never met the M9, “he would’ve probably been journeying up toward the Soltryce Academy”. Taliesin thinks he might’ve been weaponized and sent to the front lines.

Another out-of-context moment: Taliesin: “I haven’t burned an orphanage down in D&D in years.”

Caduceus wasn’t ashamed about not being able to read well. “Nah, he’s not a shame-based creature. Reading wasn’t really his thing growing up. He had siblings for that. He has a particular stripe of intellectualism, but he’s not particularly interested in the world outside his immediate perspective. If he didn’t really relate to it, why know it?”

Travis wants to know a lot about Caduceus. Taliesin, blandly: “You could ask.”

Taliesin mentions that he’s already dropped the name of Caduceus’ father: Cornelius.

Fjord doesn’t especially want to piss off Uk’otoa, and appreciates that what’s happened has made him exceptional, but at the same time, “he doesn’t want the end game that’s been shown to him.” He’s keeping up that balancing act.

Taliesin has been thinking that Caleb smells a bit like peat moss. “I think it’s more the teasing that he smells bad, I don’t think he actually does.” Caduceus legitimately thinks he smells fine. “It’s not, like, a sexy thing, like, ooh, hey. He doesn’t have a thing going on like that.”

Taliesin: “Travis is trying to kill everybody. Fjord is on the up-and-up.” Travis: “Not everything has to be homicide all the time.” Taliesin: “You are indeed captain of the Ball Eater, to be fair.”

Fan art of the week: Fjord underwater.

On Caduceus having adjusted to the ocean: “He is a big believer in getting comfortable where you are.” It’s a conscious decision he made. “This is fine. This is great. It took a little while, and Jester was definitely helpful.”

Fjord is making an effort to acknowledge Jester’s uncertainty and worry. “There wasn’t a lot of time to check in with Jester after the whole dragon thing. He feels bad, and I think I feel like Jester’s been a little quieter,” so it seemed natural to check in. Taliesin: “Jester thrives better when she has new people to interact with all the time.”

Taliesin’s attitude toward Yasha hasn’t really changed. “From his perspective, it was nothing he wasn’t expecting. Goth kids happen for a reason. He’s aware that she’s the one who’s up-front, and he’s just trying to make it as easy for her to move around as possible. He’s very aware that she’s still in mourning for a lot of things.” As soon as she’s ready, “they’re going to have a long talk about that.”

There are whole chunks of the Molly and Yasha interactions that only Taliesin and Ashley know about at this point.

Travis points out that the moment where Fjord put the sphere in his chest was Matt controlling the situation, and he hasn’t forgotten that, but he’s not sure if it might be an indication for something to come in terms of Uk’otoa controlling him. Taliesin thinks it may just have been intended to be a blueprint for Travis’ future actions.

Caduceus was “not a lonely kid”. He and his family were surprisingly social. “He had a nice childhood. It was pretty chill.”

Another out-of-context moment: Taliesin: “He was an old-man vampire with an ice cream truck. It was so wrong.” Travis: “Or so right.”

Fjord (not Travis) is frustrated with the lack of answers to his questions. “There is a final piece of the puzzle, but I don’t want to complete that.” Brian: “Who knows what you’d have to swallow?”

Fjord may have to accept that he’ll never get the answers he’s looking for about Vandran. Vandran showed Fjord the most “attention and care. Not necessarily kindness.”

Taliesin: “I kind of just don’t even want to deal with the war until it’s inevitable.” Travis: “I want to see the fringes of the war, only because Fjord hasn’t seen it. I’m more worried about people who have families and ties there. It was really fucking hard to be like, ‘Can we go to this temple now that we know the war has spread to your homeland? Cool.’“ Taliesin points out that they’re mostly not a group of people who are especially tied to where they come from. They’re both super fascinated by Beau as a character.

Talks Machina: After Dog

Recommendations for LA-area things to do if you’re in town for the gallery: In-N-Out, Disneyland, Golden Apple Comics, The Last Bookstore, Little Tokyo, Tar Pits, Museum of Jurassic Technology, Silver Lake Reservoir, Griffith Observatory, Getty Museum, Venice Beach, The Huntington, Descanso Gardens, the Apple Pan.

Brian and Taliesin discuss poetry, and Dani chimes in. Travis shares the literature he’s been reading lately with Ronin: “It’s like eight pages. It takes a while to get through.”

It takes a while for him to notice, and before that moment of realization, I accidentally get what is objectively the best screencap I’ve ever taken. “You look like an NSYNC member of Pee-wee Herman’s Playhouse.”

Out-of-context Brian outrage: “That’s the best technology we’ve got for minty-fresh hair for Travis?!”

[tozierpunks]

(7) Days and Counting of Stanley Uris

Commission for @tinyarmedtrex, some Stanlon fluff set in a classic coffee shop AU. I hope you enjoy!

(1)

On the first Tuesday of the month - April, to be exact - Mike Hanlon walked into his local bookstore with two objectives. First, he wanted to purchase the new fiction of the week. Second, he wanted a coffee from the Stone Oak Brew next door. The store came up in Derry when he was a kid, offering a home away from home. For years he came into this establishment, eager to read and sometimes write. He didn’t ever plan a story or poem; the words came to him with the day.

This first Tuesday of April - overcast and dreary, as he recalled - happened to be the first day on the job for Stan Uris. He worked as a barista in a Starbucks two towns over, but when he moved to Derry for community college, he needed a replacement job. While wandering through town, he noticed the “help wanted” sign, and the rest was history.

When Mike walked from the glass tunnel connecting the two stores, catching sight of Stan for the first time, his heart skipped a beat. His books slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a loud thump. Stan turned on the blender, just as they hit the ground, missing the sound entirely.

He wanted to order his coffee and say hi, but instead, he whirled around and left.

(2)

Mike withdrew money from an ATM for the first time in possibly a year, solely to leave a tip for the cute, curly haired barista. He broke the crisp twenty dollar bill into fives, planning out his next few trips. If he didn’t say anything today, he could at least be the guy who left a good tip. When it came down to the last five dollars, he’d have to nut up or shut up.

Approaching the counter, he smiled when he saw the nametag reading “Stan.” Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak, realizing he planned nothing to say.

“Lousy weather today, huh?” he began. Stan chuckled, looking outside and nodding.

Wanting to scream, Mike kept his smile plastered on.

The weather. THE WEATHER! The good Goddamn weather, Mikey, you idiot, he thought, pulling his card from his wallet.

“How can I help today?” Stan asked, pulling Mike from his chastising.

“Huh? Oh- yeah- um... Just a cappuccino. I’ll come back for touch ups every now and then,” he answered. Stan nodded, ringing up his order. His eyes flickered to the tip jar as Mike slipped the five dollar bill inside, his lips curling into a different kind of smile. This one was real, not just obligatory customer service.

“Thanks,” he said. “Any chocolate shavings or whipped cream? My treat.” Mike held up a hand and shook his head, turning to pick out a table in one of the corners.

His back against the wall, he took out his journal and pen. Biting off the cap, keeping it between his teeth, he scribbled a few notes in the first empty corner he saw. Stan came over with his coffee a minute later, sliding a muffin beside it. He didn’t stay long enough for Mike to properly thank him, with the words getting caught in his throat as his mind short-circuited being so close to Stan.

More customers came into the store, and Mike sighed, feeling around his pockets for the second tip.

(4)

“You’re an idiot genius, Hanlon,” Richie Tozier, Mike’s best friend and roommate, said. Blowing out a puff of smoke, adding to the heavy marijuana smell in the apartment, he handed the piece of paper back. Mike reread his letter, pride swelling in his chest. He was going to leave an anonymous love letter in the tip jar, along with another five. Perhaps Stan would connect the dots and give him a call. “A genius cause there’s no real risk to you, and an idiot cause what if someone else opens the letter?”

Mike snatched the joint from Richie’s fingertips, laughing as his friend whined.

“Now who’s the idiot? I’m gonna address it to Stan,” he explained. “I’m the one who’s anonymous.”

He was halfway out the door before Richie called out, “What if he thinks it’s from someone else?”

Immediately, Mike froze, thinking of Stan fantasizing over a Prince Charming who wasn’t him.

Grumbling under his breath, Mike stormed back to his room, wadding up the letter and throwing it in the trash.

(5)

Leaving ten dollars in the tip jar the next time he ran into Stan at the coffee shop, Mike thought for certain he would say something.

“Hi, I’m Mike Hanlon and I’d love to take you to dinner.”

He could be smooth like his dad was; of course if his mom had anything to say, she’d adamantly deny he was charming in any sense of the word. Mike wanted a love like theirs so badly, and he could picture it with this barista he hardly knew. Sure, it sounded crazy out loud, but he knew what he felt. He believed in love at first sight, and soulmates, and all the rest of the gooey lovey-dovey junk his friends laughed at.

Richie would’ve seen the flyer for an open mic night and disregarded the event as a hotspot for hipsters.

Mike looked at it and saw an opportunity.

“You write, don’t you? I’ve seen you, when you come in. You should sign up,” Stan said, wiping one of the tables near Mike. He blinked, looking from Stan, to the details on the neon orange page. Before he could ask (and try his hand at some classic Hanlon charm), Stan added, “I’ll be here. Fortunately not working.”

Pocketing the flyer, Mike nodded and said, “Good to know. I’ll see you there.”

(7)

Walking up to the tiny stage, nervously clearing his throat, Mike scanned the crowd for Stan’s face. However, before he could find it, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was now or never. No chickening out this time.

“I wrote a poem for a boy, but I didn’t know it,” he began. The room was silent. “I wrote a poem for a boy when the stars were clear in the sky, above my childhood home. I wrote a poem for a boy when I got drunk for the first time. I wrote a poem for a boy when I lost my father to cancer. But I did not know it. I wrote until I didn’t write for a year. Then I dusted off my journal and started writing again. I don’t know what this boy did while he waited for me to finish my poem, but I want to. I want to walk up to him and ask, “Hi, how are you? What’s your name? How’s your life?” I want to tell him I wrote the lines as follows: His walk is champagne and I will get drunk on his steps. His eyes are the only Christmas lights worth hanging. I want to live in the creases of his skin, where my anxiety won’t set in, and I am comfortable again. I want to do more than leave five, ten, and sometimes fifteen dollars in the tip jar until he remembers my order. Hi, I’m Cappuccino with Chocolate Shavings and Extra Whipped Cream. How are you? What’s your name? How’s your life? I wrote a poem for a boy, and it only took my whole life to get it right. I wrote a poem for a boy, and I only know his first name. I wrote a poem for a boy, and I hope he has an incredible love story. I wrote a poem for a boy, and I hope I share it with him.”

Mike stepped back from the microphone, and the crowd applauded him. Smiling sheepishly, he stepped off the stage, walking towards the counter. His knees were shaking; as prepared as he came to recite his poem, he didn’t expect the rush that hit him. Caffeine surely wouldn’t help, but he needed the drink.

The barista prepared to take his order, but another voice spoke up.

“Two cappuccinos please. Extra whipped cream and some chocolate shavings. Caramel drizzle on one,” Stan said. He slid his money across the counter, smiling at Mike. For a moment, neither of them said anything. The knowing look in Stan’s eyes said enough. Of course, Stan knew if he didn’t say something first, Mike probably never would. At least not until the next poetry reading. “I was wondering when you’d finally ask me out. You technically still haven’t, but I’m willing to work with what I got.” Mike chuckled, his shoulders slumping with relief.

“Good to know,” he replied. Glancing at the barista making their drinks, he added, “Why don’t we drink these outside? I’ve been trying to talk to you for a week.” Stan clicked his tongue, nodding.

“No kidding?” he asked sarcastically, before slipping his hand into Mike’s, lacing their fingers together.

[cbk1000]

So You Want To Read Literature In a Foreign Language

I’ve had a few language asks here and there and thought I would do a write-up specifically on reading in a second language, as that is A. My specialty and B. Most language courses are going to focus on speaking and listening comprehension. Which certainly isn’t a bad thing, but the vocabulary necessary to carry on a competent conversation in a second tongue is much smaller than what you’ll need to read even popular fiction, let alone books of more serious literary aspirations. I’ve arranged this list in order of approximate difficulty, but of course it will always depend upon the exact book/article/comic you’re reading and whether or not its vocabulary coincides with your own.

I’ll put this under a cut, as it will be quite long.

A few tips, however, before I get on with the list: the more you read, the faster you’ll improve, as with anything. If you have the time and drive to read an hour or more a day in your target language, you’ll be knocking out books in no time. In my first year of Russian I was reading for 2+ hours a day, and by the end of that year I was reading fluently with no help from English translations (as I used in my earlier months) and I could pick up just about any genre I liked. My Russian vocabulary, of course, was still not as advanced as my English, but I was able to read fairly complex literature and to understand the majority of the text.

If a piece is too hard, put it down. I can’t emphasize this enough. Trying to read something massively beyond your reading level is frustrating and will only put you off. There were books I had to set aside in my first year and even beyond just because, stylistically speaking, they were over my head. I could follow the main story, but I was missing enough details/subtleties in the author’s style that I knew I needed to set it aside and try again later when I could fully appreciate it. There is absolutely no shame in this; get a few more books under your belt, and try again in a few months. I have now gone back and read several books I had to set aside; you’ll get there eventually. Some pieces are very difficult; I didn’t attempt Solzhenitsyn’s ‘Red Wheel’ series (which was the series that prompted me to learn Russian in the first place, since later volumes hadn’t been translated) until I had been reading prolifically for over two years. My dude is dense, and also wants to go over every minutiae of the fucking Duma’s every meeting with you. It was also around this time that I started reading poetry; it was just too difficult for me prior to that.

Most of all: have fun! Reading not only improves your vocabulary, it expands your understanding of a culture tremendously, and allows you an access to it that you can’t get through translation. Think of all the history you can read!! The primary sources!!

Anyway, away with this rambling introduction, and onward to the actual useful part of this post.

Adapted Classics: I found a series of these in Russian very early on in my studies, and you’d do well to see whether or not you can find something similar in your target language, especially if you’re a beginner. These are essentially long-winded summaries of well-known classics with simplified grammar, so that you can expand your vocabulary without breaking your head over more complex sentence structure that you can’t yet comprehend. I read a simplified version of ‘Anna Karenina’, ‘Jane Eyre’, one of the Sherlock stories, ‘The Adventures of Tom Sawyer’, and ‘20,000 Leagues Under the Sea’ this way. They were extremely useful in growing my vocabulary while not overwhelming me with long, meandering sentences that would utterly lose me in the beginning of my studies (Tolstoy, I love you, but this is aimed directly at you. I REMEMBER THE CITIZENS FLEEING MOSCOW. 200+ WORDS BEFORE YOU THOUGHT TO PUT IN A FUCKING PERIOD). 

Comics: Comics are great. I read some Star Wars graphic novels in Russian, a few manga, part of ‘The Walking Dead’ series, and also some Archie comics, which I used to read all the time as a kid. Not only do you have pictures to help with context, but you don’t usually have challenging descriptive passages to contend with. It turns out that Russians pirate just about everything, so I was able to find lots of sites with huge selections of comics available to read free online. Do a bit of googling and see if you can find something similar in your own target language.

Fanfiction: If you’ve followed this blog long enough, then you know that actually I got my start reading gay Captain American porn in Russian, and it was brilliant, thank you very much, and I bet you I was just about the only beginner Russian student on this planet who could barely introduce themselves but definitely could have had gay phone sex. Fanfiction is not generally written in a highly literary style, so it’s easier to follow. Moreover, you’re dealing with characters, tropes, and plotlines you’re already familiar with, and that familiarity helps enormously. While English is of course the most widely-used language on AO3, you have many language options to choose from, and in a large fandom like Marvel or Harry Potter, you’re bound to find something in your target language. You might check as well to see if any massively popular fics in a fandom you follow have been translated into your target language; I’ve noticed that quite a lot with Russian.

News Articles: News articles are generally written in a simplified language designed to be accessible by the average reader, who’s actually not very good at reading at all. I’m sure this varies somewhat by country and language, but here in the States most clock in at something like a 7th or 8th grade reading level, as that, depressingly, appears to be the average reading level of the majority of the reading public. They’re short and will introduce some new words into your vocabulary in an easily digestible way. Also: most big magazine publications such as Cosmopolitan and People have several  different versions of their websites. The Russian version, for instance, is cosmo.ru instead of cosmo.com. The French edition is cosmopolitan.fr. Figure out what designation your target language uses in place of .com and you’re in business (unless you accidentally get a porn site). Do I like Cosmopolitan magazine? Not particularly. Did it teach me new sex terms in Russian? Absolutely. And that’s what we’re all looking for, right? 

Dual Language: At around 4-5 months into my studies, I started reading dual language texts. I did this first with short stories, and later with full novels. This is not for everyone as it requires you to constantly switch back and forth between your native and target language, and especially if you’re farther on in your studies, this might muddle you more than help you. I found at about 8 months or so I had to take off the training wheels, as my vocabulary and grasp of grammar was good enough that looking over at the English text was actually confusing me, because I had gone from laboriously, awkwardly translating everything in my head to just reading it naturally. But in the beginning, it was a much faster way to check vocabulary, and it also helped me to sort out grammar by comparing it to my native language. All languages are trying to accomplish the same thing, which is to communicate; they just do it in different ways. But you can find a common ground even between languages that are vastly different, as English and Russian are. You can find some dual language texts, or you can do what I did, which is to put the English translation on an e-reader, and get hold of a hard copy of the Russian. I would always read the Russian first, and only if I was confused/missing a lot of words would I look over at the English text. Make sure you compare a couple of translations and pick the one that is most literally faithful, even if it’s not a great translation in and of itself. I used some English translations that I actually didn’t care for as a translation, but they were very literal and therefore very helpful in sussing the original text.  

Books You’ve Already Read In Your Native Language: It doesn’t have to be a book you have practically memorised (though that will certainly help). Anything you’ve read at least once in your life will do. You’d be surprised how much will come back to you, and how much context will help you figure out any unfamiliar words. I picked up the Russian translation of Ken Follett’s giant-ass ‘Winter of the World’ about a year into my studies. His style is neither particularly difficult nor...impressive, but as it’s the second in a trilogy that follows three generations of multiple families from WWI all the way into the Cold War, it has a lot of military and political terminology that you don’t encounter in everyday speech. It’s also over 1,000 pages, so it’s rather daunting in a second language regardless. I had read it once before in English, probably some five years before I read the translation, and going into it I really didn’t remember that much. However, while reading, I found that certain plotlines would start coming back to me, and helped a lot in piecing together unfamiliar terminology, in addition to the words I already knew. Don’t focus overly much on every single word and trying to remember what it is in your native language; trust me, you will absorb a lot from context. Just let go and let it wash over you.

Translations: Translations are almost always going to be easier than a book originally written in your target language, if the texts are of comparable difficulty. For instance: ‘Les Miserables’ is easier for me in Russian than Solzhenitsyn’s ‘The Gulag Archipelago’. Both are massive, rambling texts with long asides on history and politics, and in English I’d say they’re pretty equally difficult reads. Certainly neither is what I would classify as light reading. So why is ‘Les Miserables’ easier? Because in a translation I’m not dealing with uniquely Russian slang and turns of phrase. Yes, some of it has to be Russified in order for the target audience to better comprehend it in their native tongue, but generally speaking it doesn’t feel Russian, if that makes sense. I can tell pretty much as soon as I pick up a book if it’s a translation. Now, French isn’t my native language, but I’ve used it as an example because I’ve read quite a bit of French literature in Russian translation, and fairly difficult authors/texts at that: Hugo, Stendahl, Zola, etc. etc. None of these authors are light beach reads, but they’re also not difficult for me to follow in Russian. And anything translated from English is even more accessible; most texts translated from English into Russian I can follow very nearly as well as I can read the original English. When you’re dealing with a heavy-hitter that’s writing in your target language, they can get up to all kinds of shenanigans and word play; a translation, generally speaking, is not going to be nearly so experimental. 

Dumas: Why does Dumas get his own section? Because you should read him, dammit. HISTORY. SWASHBUCKLING. REVENGE. Dumas is fucking fun. He also has a huge oeuvre to choose from. Additionally, while he does have a lot of plotlines to follow (and this is the difficulty of Dumas when reading him in a second language) and you definitely need to get your historical vocabulary up to snuff, he is not an overly philosophical author. His novels are fun, action-oriented, and someone’s always eavesdropping on a Secret Political Conversation of the Utmost Importance. I’ve read quite a lot of Dumas in Russian (actually more than I’ve read in English) and they are easy, entertaining reads. You might get a little lost in the politics of the era, but unless you’re already familiar with them, you’d probably be a little lost in your native language as well. Don’t worry; people will start dramatically challenging one another to duels again very soon. Also: READ ‘THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO’ SERIOUSLY FOR FUCK’S SAKE DO IT.

[andimarquette]

Introduce yourself to the rest of the class.

I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia. For many years I wrote under my given name, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, for the gay/lesbian and alternative press in San Francisco, including the Sentinel, Plexus, and the San Francisco Bay Guardian. I also published poetry and short fiction in a number of literary journals, and articles in various magazines and newspapers.

A few years ago I tried writing erotica under the pseudonym Pascal Scott. My erotic short stories have appeared in several anthologies including Thunder of War, Lightning of Desire: Lesbian Historical Military Erotica; Through the Hourglass: Lesbian Historical Romance; Order Up: A Menu of Lesbian Romance and Erotica; Unspeakably Erotic: Lesbian Kink; Best Lesbian Erotica, Vol. 2 (2017); and Best Lesbian Erotica, Vol. 3 (2018).

Now I’m trying thrillers. Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller is the first in a series of novels coming from Sapphire Books Publishing.

Who are you and what makes you tick?

What makes me tick? Writing. I truly believe that the writing life is the best life imaginable, and I’m lucky to be able to live it and to share it with my lover, who is also a writer.

What does it mean to you to be an author?

An author is a writer who has been published. A writer is someone who has pages of written words lying around that may never get the blessing of a publisher. Being published is a privilege. I’m extremely fortunate to be a published author. There are lots of good writers who never get published.

What makes a writer a writer?

Writing is an obsession. Thomas Mann said a writer is someone for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. The compulsion to write, no matter how your day is going, is what makes a writer a writer. The novelist Don Winslow talks about how when he committed to writing five pages a day, he forced himself to keep that commitment no matter how his day unfolded, including the day he was chased and shot at by drug lords.

A writer is someone who understands that it takes more than desire to write well. As Christopher Hitchens said, “Everyone has a book in them, and in most cases that’s exactly where it should stay.” Everybody has a story to tell, but not everybody can tell a story. Writers need to learn their craft, to study grammar, to respect the beauty of the English language, to take classes, to get a job at a newspaper, to do all the things writers have always been advised to do. And read. If you’re not reading, you’re not a writer. Read everything that’s good. As Jewell Gomez said recently, if you’re reading only authors who look like you, you’re not reading widely enough.

Are you promoting a specific book? Tell us about it. Include the book blurb if you’d like.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller.

Five days after the Loma Prieta earthquake strikes San Francisco, Emily Bryson, a young, everything-to-live-for lesbian SFSU student/part-time exotic dancer, is dead, her body washed up on a beach south of the Golden Gate Bridge. The medical examiner rules it a suicide, and the police close the missing person case filed by Emily’s lover, K. M. “Stone” McStone. Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Stone is introduced to Zoe Martinelli, office manager of Coppola Investigations, amateur sleuth, and student psychic. Stone and Zoe team up to find out what really happened to Emily. Was it suicide, as everyone assumes? Or murder? Or something else?

 Tell us about your biggest guilty pleasure. For example, to you sit naked in your pantry in the middle of the night and eat Nutella with your fingers?

Coffee. I joke about it, but I drink too much coffee. Seriously too much. But still, it’s coffee. I’m interested in watching where the American Psychiatric Association is going with their “Caffeine Use Disorder,” which came this close to be included in the DSM-5 (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, their bible). Now that they’ve depathologized sexual diversity and consensual kink, they’ve got to have somebody to pick on. Guess it’s going to be us coffee drinkers. I’m only half kidding here.

Tell us one thing that you’re passionate about. For example, would you strap yourself to an oil rigging a la Lucy Lawless with a Greenpeace sign in your hands?

Uh, no to the Greenpeace strapping. I’m passionate about my lover, the author Josette Murray. I’m passionate about writing, reading, words, books. That’s about it. Hemingway said he needed two things in his life to be happy: work to do and someone to love. That’s my formula, too.

What’s your writing process? That is, do you have a particular place you write and/or time of day? Do you have any particular things you do before you write? (e.g. do you listen to music, drink coffee, take dance breaks…)

I usually get up between 5:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m. and am at my desktop computer first thing, drinking coffee. I write until about noon, then break, and then take it up again in the late afternoon or early evening. This is my schedule now that I am retired, which is wonderful. When I was working fulltime, I wrote when I could—in the mornings before work or in the evenings when they were free, or on the weekends.

Tell us something that most people don’t know about you (unless you’d have to kill us, in which case tell us something that some people don’t know).

Like several of the characters I write about, I was a ward of the state of California and grew up in foster care. I know there are good foster parents out there, but there are too many bad ones, and too many bad group homes. The comedian Monroe Martin, who grew up in care, once joked that foster care is where they take you out of a situation in which you were neglected, molested, or abused and put you into that exact same situation. Too often that’s what happens when a kid goes into care. It did with me, which is part of why I became a writer.

Is there a book by another author that you wish you had written?

The Silent Wife by A.S.A. Harrison. Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. The Talented Mr. Ripley by Patricia Highsmith.

If time and money were no problem, where would you most like to go in the world?

Europe. I’ve never been. Back in my twenties when so many people I knew seemed to be backpacking through Europe and staying in hostels, I was busy working a survival job, finishing my BA (which took me nine years to complete), and juggling parttime assignments as a freelance writer. If I had all the money in the world—I’m retired so time isn’t the problem now—I’d travel more and see Europe. And I’d do more Olivia Cruises. I got back recently from a Sapphire Literary Adventures at Sea cruise with Olivia to the Caribbean. If I had money, I’d live on a Holland American ship and cruise the world with Olivia.

And finally, what sorts of writing projects are next for you?

I just submitted the second book in the Hard series to my publisher, Sapphire Books. It’s called Hard Luck: An Elizabeth Taylor Bundy Thriller. It picks up where Hard Fall ends and follows the Elizabeth character. I’m currently working on Hard Line: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller. Hard Fall took place in 1989; Hard Luck in 1996. It’s 2008 in Hard Line, and this third book in the series brings the reader up-to-date to that year in the lives of Stone McStone and Zoe Martinelli. And, of course, in every Hard book somebody dies, and there are disturbing circumstances and unanswered questions about the death. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a thriller, would it?

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Pascal Scott is the pseudonym of the author of Hard Fall: A McStone and Martinelli Thriller from Sapphire Books. Writing under her given name, Priscilla Scott Rhoades, her poetry, short fiction, and newspaper and magazine articles have appeared in numerous publications. She has a BA in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University and an MA in Liberal Studies from the University of North Carolina-Greensboro. After a long career in academia, she retired happily to Decatur, Georgia.

  www.sapphirebooks.com

Facebook/Priscilla Scott Rhoades

Twitter/pascalscottwrit

https://www.amazon.com/Hard-Fall-McStone-Martinelli-Thriller-ebook/dp/B07QFYNMC5/ref=sr_1_fkmrnull_3?keywords=hard+fall%3A+a+mcstone&qid=1558213269&s=books&sr=1-3-fkmrnull

  Back Cover Blurb

  Five days after the Loma Prieta earthquake strikes San Francisco, Emily Bryson, a young, everything-to-live-for lesbian SFSU student/part-time exotic dancer, is dead, her body washed up on a beach south of the Golden Gate Bridge. The medical examiner rules it a suicide, and the police close the missing person case filed by Emily’s lover, K. M. “Stone” McStone.

Stone, the university’s graduate admissions officer, doesn’t believe it’s a suicide. The Emily she knew had too much going for her to take her own life. Through a series of fortunate circumstances, Stone is introduced to Zoe Martinelli, office manager of Coppola Investigations, amateur sleuth, and student psychic. Stone and Zoe team up to find out what really happened to Emily. Their investigation takes them into the private lives of San Francisco’s exotic dancers and into Emily’s dark past where they discover that some secrets can be deadly.

Was it suicide, as everyone assumes? Or murder? Or something else?

Q & A with Pascal Scott

Introduce yourself to the rest of the class. I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia.

Q & A with Pascal Scott Introduce yourself to the rest of the class. I’m a lifelong writer, originally from California (Los Angeles and then San Francisco), retired now and living in Decatur, Georgia.

[peppusae]

[kth] lavender honey ch. 3

note: this fanfic has more than one part, so pls look forward for more!

lavender honey: kim taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, crack, college au, smut(?)

word count: 3k

💫

lavender honey

ch 3: in which taehyung despises knowing the sexual orientation of dead ‘literists’

"Hey, Taehyung, do you think Shakespeare is gay?" You ask, slipping into the seat beside him at the counter the next week.

Honestly, you're ready to change your dissertation topic from 'Kim Taehyung's various facial features' to 'William Shakespeare's sexuality' now, and you feel a surge of pride as you lean against the swivel chair and exhale in content at your new discovery.

It's a warm Tuesday evening, and the library is lined with dozens of students, most of them having their laptops turned on and typing like crazy. Perhaps they were those students who had an assignment due midnight, and you smile, glad that you had actually handed your work in a little earlier this time. Good job, you're actually patting yourself for a job well done as you take your seat.

Taehyung, however, does not smile.

In fact, his face scrunches up a bit as he stares at you with a questioning look.

"What sort of black magic are you doing again to twist my otherwise perfectly normal life, [Name]?"

Black magic. Apparently, Taehyung watches way too many movies.

"No, I'm serious. Am I the only one who thinks this way?" You wonder out loud, reaching for the thick paperback inside your backpack. "Look at this."

Taehyung moves a little closer to you in his chair, the rolling of the wheels making a few heads look up from their laptops and stare at him. The male hurries to give a sheepish smile, waving it off before he turns back to look at the book on your lap.

Look, this is what double standards are like. If you'd done the same, you swear the girls who are seated at the desks would have glared daggers at your fragile being, but it's Taehyung, and Taehyung's a hot dude.

Hot dudes always have it easy aka girls giggling like they've just discovered the kind of boxer briefs Jungkook wears.

Not that you've ever considered this before.

Anyways, back to the issue in hand-

"'Shakespeare's sonnets'? What's a sonnet, and what about it?" Taehyung wants to know, taking it in his hands and flipping through a couple of pages.

You kinda wanna punch him for being uncultured enough to not know what a sonnet is, but the fact that he asked what it is makes you forgive him (it's not his confused expression that looks so cute that forgives him, nope).

"A sonnet is a form of poetry which has fourteen lines," you explain, "It usually has like ten syllables per line, but I don't think that matters to you-"

"I'm surprised that you're actually using that brain of yours, for once." Taehyung muses, and you poke him in the waist, which in turn makes him chuckle and turn back to the whitish-yellow pages of the poem book. "Because you're right, it doesn't matter to me."

"Rude." You hiss. "So you see. Good ol' Shakeypakey here wrote 154 sonnets, okay? So, it was split into two parts based on-"

"Wait, did you just call a dead literist 'Shakeypakey'?" He asks, horrified.

"There is no word in the dictionary called literist. You can, instead, use-"

"That is beyond the point here, [Name]!"

"Listen," you hiss, snatching the book back from his clutches, "He has written 126 sonnets about a young man - a very fucking attractive man - and the other 28 sonnets are about a woman. Literally, he wrote at least 5 times more sonnets about the pretty dude."

"...So?"

Oh my god, there's a limit to beings freaking clueless but Taehyung likes climbing higher pedestals. Even The Himalayas would be ashamed. You shake your head in frustration.

"So! Why else would he be so obsessed with writing like 82 percent of his sonnet book about the man if he's not gay?"

Taehyung blinks at you in shock for a long moment, not moving a single muscle. You wonder if he was actually contemplating your reasoning, but then again... Taehyung was Taehyung, after all.

"Did you... do that math... just to..."

"Yes I did the math, so what? It makes so much sense. Maybe he's not gay, maybe he's like bisexual? Because even the sonnets about the Dark Lady was kinda kinky too so I think he has a lot of heterosexual shades too. Who knows."

"This is information I could live without, [Name]." Taehyung finally sighs, moving away from you and sighing. You watch as he begins to clear up his desk space, appalled that he wouldn't understand your very detailed reasoning.

If this is his reaction to your newfound discovery of Shakespeare's sexuality, then you sincerely hope Taehyung will never see your browser history with multiple search tabs of 'kinky Shakespeare'.

Plus that one meme you found of the poet's face cropped out and stuck to the ass of-

"I'm going to go put the books away." Taehyung announces, interrupting your fraying thoughts by picking up the handful of books that have been returned earlier.

Oh no you don't-

"Shakespeare was probably from a Victorian-ish era, you know? Those times when ladies wore metal frills on their skirts to make them more poofy and shit." You hurry to say. "His mama might have stabbed one of the metal frill shit into his ear if he said he was gay. Maybe he was in a polyamorous relationship, maybe he was the one who invented the idea-"

"Oh my fuck, shut the hell up." Taehyung hisses, standing up and stomping away. You blink at him as he takes the trolley of books, quickly making his way to the shelves and starting to put the books away.

Talk about being narrow-minded.

>

"So, your brother is Namjoon, right?" Taehyung asks the next day, slipping by your seat during lunch.

The cafeteria is excessively crowded, the jet line filled with students seeking a second helping of the ice-cream sandwiches they're handing out for free. According to Jimin, it's on occasion of Ice-cream Day, which you think is the stupidest invention that ever exists.

"Yes, but," you warn between gritted teeth, "Stop talking about it. I'd rather most people don't know. I'm not gonna be that one sister that the girls suck up to so that I'd help them get brownie points with Joon, like back in high school."

"You have a good point... It must have been hard for you, right?"

This makes you soften up a little, nodding back at the male who frowns sadly at you. So, even if Taehyung enjoys annoying you, he can be nice if he wants to.

"Oh, there's Jungkookie! Yah, Kook-ah, come here and sit with your Noona!" Taehyung yells from beside you, and the said brown-haired male's eyes widen as he pauses in his tracks, blinking at you two in surprise and his face going very pink.

You can't blame him, you must be at least two shades redder than he is.

You take it back, Taehyung is not nice at all.

"Over here, Kookie!" Jimin greets, patting the seat beside him. Yoongi lets out a small grunt beside you, and you sigh, giving your best smile to the freshman and motioning for him to join you lot.

Jungkook looks hesitant, quietly nodding and taking a seat right in front of you. Taehyung is paying for this later. Wait till you hide his library card. He's gonna suffer. And you're gonna be the one ugly giggling inside.

"So, Kookie, we were talking about how we can help Joon-hyung and Jin-hyung get together. Do you have any ideas?"

"Ah, so they do like each other. I always thought that too." Jungkook blinks in surprise.

"Even the kid knows. Why is it that those two little shits are the only ones who don't know how they feel about each other?" Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. "If they got together, Namjoon might stop writing depressing songs and start working on more brighter songs."

"Maybe they can go to a carnival. Seokjin-hyung has a thing for alpacas, right?" Jimin asks.

"That's a weird animal to have a kink for, but I'm not judging-"

"Shut up." You hiss, elbowing Taehyung, and the male doubles over, laughing and being proud enough to have elicited out a reaction from you. Jungkook watches the exchange in silence, and when you meet eyes with him, he looks away, turning to Jimin instantly and saying 'So? What about alpacas?'

Weird.

"Well, they can go to a carnival, Namjoon-hyung can play one of those dart games, or those ball-throwing games. He wins an alpaca plushie, and he gives it to Seokjin-hyung and tells him how he feels."

"That's like an unarmed battle with a bunch of sirens. Joon can't win no matter what he tries, he's not the most athletic nut in the world." You state.

"Si... Sirens?" Taehyung chokes, an eyebrow raises in confusion.

"Yeah? You know, those pretty fucked-looking female sea creatures that try to seduce idiots like you to get you into the sea and st-"

"I know what a siren is, you dolt," Taehyung sighs, "I took five weeks of Greek Mythology in my freshman year. I remember writing 'Sirens' in Google search and having nightmares."

"Then, why are you looking at me with that face?"

"... What face?"

"It looks like a fuck face minus the innuendo-inducing expression that you use. It's that face you make when you're confused to the level where you don't even know what speaking is, and you look like you accidentally ate ruined kimchi from a ripoff Korean-wannabe shop."

"I do not. And that's really specific, has that ever happened to you?"

"Down at Lindsay's Korean Meals stand a few blocks from the library. I had food poisoning for days."

"That's kinda sad. Was it recent?"

"Nah. I missed like four classes of Advanced Psychology classes near the start of the semester, remember?"

"Oh, then?"

"Yeah. Food poisoning is sad."

"Yeah. Please take care when you eat out, okay, [Name]?" Taehyung smiles at you, and the gesture is so soft that it makes you smile back like an idiot until you hear the sound of throat clearing.

And that's when you remember that Jungkook is staring at you two, and his expression is hard to read, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed a little as if... as if...

Wow, you really shouldn't be a language major after all, if you can't describe something as basic as an expression.

Another, more defensive side of you pipes in, claiming that it's fine, reading expressions are the tasks of psychology majors, which you clearly aren't.

It's while you have this debate, that Taehyung - who seems to have noticed the way Jungkook is playing around with the bowl of grapes in his tray - coos 'Kookieeeee, what's wrong?' in a sing-song voice.

Jungkook does not respond, eyes hard and now looking at you, and both the angel and devil on your shoulder that's having the language vs psychology war together stops, making you gulp.

"The heck is this tension here? Let me do some mood-making here with my funny humour that no one can get enough of." A loud voice has to say, and all three of you look up and see Seokjin holding his tray proudly, a smiling Namjoon beside him.

"No thanks, Hyung." Yoongi speaks, picking up his almost-empty tray of food and standing up. Jimin, seeing this action, scarfs down the rest of his kimchi and rice, following the older male a couple steps behind after saying a hard-to-decipher 'bye guys!'

"Well, it's okay. Jimin might get offended if he was here to witness this amazing question that I have for all you earthlings."

"But Hyung, you're an earthling too. Or, are you an alien?" Taehyung has to butt in, and you hush him, glancing at Seokjin so that he would say whatever he has to say and get it over with. Namjoon takes the now-free seat beside you, and all eyes are on Seokjin who plops his tray beside Jungkook's, hands on his hips and puffs his chest out with a big smile.

"If Jiminie eats a mochi, does that count as cannibalism?"

"Oh my god, please stop, Hyung." Taehyung mumbles, while, beside you, Namjoon is cracking up like the loser that he is.

You think you hear Hani and Hyojin giggling, while Jungkook just stares at Seokjin as if he couldn't believe what the male had said.

"This story won't be fun without my jokes-"

"YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD."

>

You're in charge of putting away the books for today, and the trolly is lugged to the side while you look up barcode numbers and do your job in peace.

But there's a being that taps your shoulder, and no one should really blame you for being scared and starting to scream. The light above the philosophy aisle is dimmer than the other isles, so it makes you wary of beings other than human.

But there's a hand that covers your mouth, muffling your scream. God. What a sucky way to die. It's kinda kinky if you think about it, but why is a stranger making you die at the philosophy aisle, at least let you move over to the language aisle, it's literally only three rows away for crying out loud-

"Noona, it's only me." The voice says, and you turn around, seeing Jungkook smiling at you with a fond expression, looking highly amused when you hide your face in embarrassment.

"Kookie, what are you doing?!" You hiss, punching his arm and taking a couple steps back - the kid was standing way too close for comfort.

"I wanted to say hello." He shrugs, watching as you pick up a book and place it back on the shelf. "Extra-credit, right?"

You give him a nod, waving the cardholder you have around your neck. The picture of yours had come out good, you had every right to show it off to the hot freshman, okay?

Jungkook takes hold of the card, smiling down at your beaming picture, and - wait a second, his finger just touched your left boob, rip virginity - he comes so close to you that it makes you slightly intimidated as you nervously look up at the male.

And wow, this must be what interactions with angels feel like; you can see the scar on his left cheek, his pretty doe eyes, and the slightly chapped lips of his from this close, and he-

"Noona, do you want to go out with me sometime?"

"Sure, I- Wait..."

"To see a movie and eat and stuff. You're majoring in language, right? I'm sure we can have a lot of discussions about the movie after it's over."

Wait wait wait pause rewind-

Hey, now that you think about it, dissecting a movie and over-analysing it sounds like fun...

"I mean, well, of course I wouldn't mind going with you, Kookie, but do you mean..."

A platonic going out, or-

"Definitely not a platonic going out."

Shit, did you say that out loud?

"Yes you did, Noona."

"Oh."

"This is probably selfish of me to ask, but, remember that really boxy white shirt you wore once with that blue skinny jeans? Do you think you can wear it for our first date? I really liked it, but for some reason, you didn't wear it after that one day."

Yes, because Namjoon accidentally splashed ketchup all over it when you both had gone to KFC for chicken and fries later that day.

But you aren't going to tell Jungkook that, of course.

"Um. Sure, okay, I'm good to go." You tell him, and you can feel your cheeks flushing in embarrassment while you aggressively take a stack of books and stuff them back on the shelf.

"I'll message you, then?"

You give him a thumbs up, too flustered to look at his face, and Jungkook responds with a small laugh, hands clutching on the hanging straps of his backpack before he quickly runs away. And only after he does so, are you able to let out a huge breath you weren't aware you were holding.

Dragging the now empty trolly, you make your way to the reception desk. Taehyung's laptop's lid is closed now, and he has his chin rested on his hand as he watches you make your way back to the desk and take a seat.

Wordlessly, he reaches a hand out and presses his hand on your cheek. You are about to protest, when he moves his hand back and raises an eyebrow at you.

"You're quite obvious, Ms. Kim."

"Shut up. I just accidentally bumped into Kookie when I was putting the books away, that's all."

"I know."

You expect him to tease you, but he doesn't. Even when you finish up work and Namjoon is waiting to pick you both up and drive you home, he says nothing to your brother.

"Hey, Joonie?"

"Yes, my dearest little sister to whom I will share half my food, half my world, half my milky way, and half of everything I have to offer?"

"You're buying me the same exact white shirt you poured ketchup over. I have a date and I need it."

"Oooh, did the freshman kid finally make a move on you?"

"Shut up. We're driving to the mall and spending half of your allowance. You'll do that for your dearest little sister for whom you said you would give half of everything to offer, right?"

Namjoon has nothing to say while he digs in to see how much cash he has on himself.

Serves him right.

And you find it oddly uncharacteristic, the way Taehyung wordlessly waves goodbye to the two of you and leaves, when Namjoon stops by the younger male's apartment.

read next: ch 4

[evaceratops]

tag games

there are like 10000 of these in my drafts so i’m going to do them all at once in one big post, organized by who tagged me

tagged by @leopoldjamesfitz

name: eva

gender: female

height: 5′0″

sexuality: ace as heck

what image do you have as a wallpaper? fire emblem awakening cutscene screenshot

where do you see yourself in 10 years? livin the dream as a researcher at the monterey bay aquarium

if you could be anywhere right now, where? yosemite national park, or monterey

what was your coolest halloween costume? ... is it weird that i legitimately can’t think of one

last kiss: uhhh i’m assuming this is in a romantic context, so never

have you ever been stood up? this would require having been planning to go on a date in the first place, so no

what’s your favorite 90′s show? is kim possible from the 90s

favorite pair of shoes: there’s these black and gray tennis shoes that i really like

favorite fruit: cherries

stupidest thing you’ve ever done: download fire emblem heroes i legitimately forgot about chem lab once and missed the entire thing and didn’t realize until a week later

favorite book: .. you come into my house and ask me to choose One, you absolute fool,, just to spite you my answer is all 35+ books of the warriors series

colors i’m currently wearing: black, brown, denim

last band shirt i bought: 5 seconds of summer, like 2 years ago

last band i went to see live: the oh hellos!

last song i listened to: masterpiece theater III by marianas trench

lipstick or chapstick: definitely chapstick, i’ve always hated makeup

last movie i watched: pacific rim uprising

last 3 shows i watched: i think i watched a few episodes of total drama island and pretty little liars with my sister recently, and the third... probably voltron?

3 characters i identify with: arc trooper echo from star wars, ricken from fire emblem awakening, pidge from voltron

books i’m currently reading: the song of roland for my medieval history course, aaaand i’m in between the first and second books of my reread of the dawn of the clans arc of warriors

what’s your favorite song(s) to sing/hum? probably willow tree march by the paper kites

what’s your favorite flower/tree/plant? italian cypress,, and most other evergreen trees tbh

favorite colors? navy and pretty much any shade of blue/grayish-blue, dark red, gold

what do you always doodle? it varies depending on what i feel like that day but yesterday it was cats and dinosaurs

how do you take your coffee/tea? i can’t have caffeine so i don’t drink coffee at all and i rarely drink tea, but with tea i’ll use like 3 entire packets of sugar and nothing else

favorite candle scent? pine, or the ocean

sunrise or sunset? is this referring to the warriors books with those titles or the actual times of day sunset

what perfume do you wear? none

what’s your go-to dance move when you’re alone? ... i don’t even know

favorite quote? shrug emoji,, i just don’t think about this stuff i guess

favorite self care routine(s)? taking a long bath/shower and then going to bed early or reading a book i like

what color are your eyes? grayish-blue

what’s your favorite eye color on others? i’ve always thought brownish-green looks pretty cool

favorite season? why? fall/winter because i like cold weather and rainstorms

cheek, neck, or nose kisses? cheek kisses but also why aren’t forehead kisses on here

what does your happy place look like? anywhere in the sierras or along the coast of california

favorite breed of dog? i’ve always thought huskies are really pretty even though being around big dogs makes me a little nervous (i am 110% a cat person)

do you ever want to be married? if so, what colors would you pick for your wedding theme? no

cursive or print? print

favorite weather? THUNDERSTORMS.

Rules: Choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions.

i choose: heck, let’s go with the 3 i’ve been most into recently!

star wars | fire emblem | warriors

the first character you loved: 

anakin skywalker. i still remember being indignant when ahsoka talked back to him in the tcw movie | either lissa or frederick | probably dovewing (i borrowed the fourth apprentice from a friend and read that first before going back and reading the rest of the series)

the character you never expected to love so much:

probably ezra bridger, tbh! i started watching rebels purely for ahsoka and rex and did not expect to get so attached to the ghost crew literally within the first 5 minutes of spark of rebellion | TAKUMI | ... god, it’s so hard to remember these things, the first time i read these books was so many years ago... squirrelflight, maybe?

the character you relate to the most:

echo! i used to read encyclopedias for fun as a kid so i understand his love of the reg manual | probably sumia? i don’t quite have self-esteem issues like she does but i do tend to downplay my strengths and kinda write myself off. plus we both love reading and even tend to prefer the same genres (mostly fantasy and fiction) | leafpool because i too spend a good deal of my time pretending everything is fine even if it’s not and trying to fix my mistakes,

the character you’d slap:

wat tambor | fernand | clear sky. i’ve had enough of that dude

three favorite characters (in order of preference):

anakin, kanan, rey | gaius, takumi, lissa | JAYFEATHER, lionblaze, bramblestar (if i’m being totally honest jayfeather alone is favorite characters #1 through 10 for this series i love him SO MUCH no one else even comes close)

a character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

... i don’t really care for ventress? i don’t dislike her, but i don’t seem to like her as much as everyone else does. i thought she was cool the first time i watched tcw all the way through, but now... | cherche, maybe? i don’t think i’ve ever really disliked a fire emblem character - at least not one from any of the games i’ve played - but i’m not as interested in cherche as i used to be | sorry, dovewing

a character you did not like at first but now do:

ahsoka, believe it or not. i don’t remember caring about her too much when tcw was first airing, but i really like her now | camilla | as usual i never really disliked hollyleaf but i like her more now than i did the first time i read the books

three OTPs:

anidala, kanera, ultimate rarepair™ arcmaiden | the Original Rarepair™ ricken/lissa, chrom/sumia, gaius/robin | bramblestar/squirrelflight, lionblaze/cinderheart, hollyleaf/fallen leaves (honorable mention for bluestar/oakheart bc i do love me those classic and tragic Forbidden Relationships but hollyleaf falling in love with a literal ghost is just too good of a concept and is therefore slightly higher in the rankings)

tagged by @minhoruns

rules: bold your aspirations!

AIR: I have small hands • I love the night sky • I watch small animals and birds when I pass them by • I drink herbal tea • I wake to see dawn • The smell of dust is comforting • I’m valued for being wise • I prefer books to music • I meditate • I find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE: I don’t have straight hair • I like to wear ripped jeans and overalls • I play an organized sport • I love dogs • I am not afraid of adventure • I love to talk to strangers • I always try new foods • I enjoy road trips • Summer is my favorite season • My radio is always playing

WATER: I wear bracelets on my wrists • I love the bustle of the city • I have more than one set of piercings • I read poetry • I love the sound of a thunderstorm • I want to travel the world • I sleep past noon most days • I love dimly lit diners and fluorescent signs • I rewatch kids’ shows out of nostalgia • I see emotions in colors and words

EARTH: I wear glasses • I enjoy doing the laundry • I am a vegetarian or vegan • I have an excellent sense of time • My humor is very cheerful • I am a valued advisor to my friends • I believe in true love • I love the chill of mountain air • I’m always listening to music • I am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER: I go without makeup in my daily life • I make my own artwork • I keep on track of my tasks and time • I always know true north • I see beauty in everything • I can always smell flowers • I smile at everyone I pass by • I always fear history repeating itself • I have recovered from a mental disorder • I can love unconditionally

rules: spell your url out with song titles

exeunt - the oh hellos viva la vida - coldplay anna sun - walk the moon caves - haux earth - sleeping at last red hands - walk off the earth all the right moves - onerepublic the royal we - silversun pickups ophelia - the lumineers pompeii - bastille stay frosty royal milk tea - fall out boy

tagged by @autisticpadme

rules: list the top ten songs you’ve been listening to lately

masterpiece theater III (by marianas trench), willow tree march (by the paper kites), 3. wake up (by arcade fire), valley - reprise (by the oh hellos), you of the light (from the fire emblem: fates soundtrack), the royal we (by silversun pickups), the last of the real ones (by fall out boy), alight (storm) (from the fire emblem: fates soundtrack), where is your rider (by the oh hellos), enishi (from the fire emblem: fates soundtrack)

[itsnotresilience]

How I Dealt with Divorce...the first time

A reflection on selected essays, poetry, journal entries from 2000-2003

In 1999, I met my first husband, Dylan. Lots of people don’t know I’ve been married three times but many do. I don’t hide it. If people want to understand how that happens to someone who’s 42, I’m willing to share the story I think is appropriate. Most people get the, “ he was my starter husband story”. We were young, naive and not right for each other and in the end we figured it out quickly. That’s a generally true tale, but not the right one for people who really want to understand how things like that happen.

Dylan was pure magic. He was joyful, silly, and incredibly talented. He was an amazing singer and guitar player. He was at his best playing jazz or picking folk songs for kids. I was drawn to his positivity. I can still say today that for the most part, he loved me, he was utterly kind to me, and he tried his best. I met Dylan while we both were working at Cellophane Square. He was 9 years older than me (22 to 31). He still lived with his parents and with his older brother Jamie (if I remember Jamie was 36 or 37). It’s important to know all that because he was at a somewhat arrested state of his life because his mom really coddled him. She was a great lady but didn’t push her men to move on, namely because her relationship with her husband sucked. It took awhile for Dylan and I to get together but looking back, he was a rebound that went too far.

I was just out of an emotionally and toward the end, physically, abusive relationship. That’s the sort of relationship I was used to though. After I broke up with my high school love early in my senior year (1994). I had a string of horrible relationships. It’s what I felt “ I deserved”. We will talk about that era some other reflection essay, but just know that’s where I was coming from. In a state of heartbreak, depression, and insecurity, I saw this light, this magical Dylan and he was my redemption from darkness.

I was incredibly strapped for cash during this time (I ended up getting a second part-time job to supplement my income while STILL going to school). I had to give up my apartment twice in a year and my ex ended up with our cats because I had to move in with Dylan, who was allergic to cats. It was devastating to give up my cats. I knew my ex wouldn’t abuse them. He was always loving to the animals, it came down to what I felt I had to do.

Living with Dylan’s family in now one bedroom of space that was mine but shared was odd. I’m not someone that’s used to a loud and active household. I had been living with just my parents for a few years before college and even before that, the most activity was fights between my dad/mom and my older brother. The loudest thing in our house was the TV if my dad was home because he’s deaf in one ear. People talked loudly in our home but it wasn’t a house filled with talking.

Dylan and I lived with his family for a year. If I had paid attention, I would have seen the signs that he wasn’t the right long- term partner for me. His mom took care of everything for him and wouldn’t allow me, beyond a meal here and there, to do things for ourselves. It made me uncomfortable to be taken care of at that age. My mom might do my laundry or buy me some groceries if I came to visit from Bellingham but I was fairly used to managing my own life by that point. We had decided to marry and that wedding turned into an elopement to Reno.

There’s not a lot to share about the wedding. I ended up having strep throat. After we got married, we moved to south Edmonds. It was familiar territory for me, but not Dylan. He had to start over in many ways, and I wished I’d recognized that more. Nearly all his friends were in Bellingham. He only had one friend that lived in Fremont at the time. He got a job at Top Foods and I finished school and went back to working at the eBar at Nordstrom’s in Alderwood. I was doing night school so I would work from 6-3 and then go to school from 5-8 or 9. It was long days and honestly, even reading my journal I don’t know how I managed it all. I wrote, “I’m tired” nearly everyday. My poetry is about what I was learning or the roles we take on in marriage and household.

Eventually, we moved to the UDistrict to a very nice townhome. Dylan got a job at Trader Joe’s, where I still believe he works at in Bellingham. I had about a year left of school in 2001. I was immersed in political science courses at the UW, studying for my LSAT and planning for law school. I don’t recall ever asking Dylan if he cared where we lived. I was dreaming of UC Berkeley and working toward the LSAT score. My days at that time were full. During this time, my journal entries talked about my law school plans, meandered about the magical box sets of music I created for my friends and talked about how my husband never did any chores in the house ( he couldn’t even use a dishwasher!).

Then, very early in that year, 2001, around March, things start taking a dramatic turn. I had lost a few pregnancies with Dylan. I frankly lost count. I have a entry that says, “ I lost another baby I’m not sure I wanted.” I wish I could tell you now what I felt. It seems clear now I was going through the motions in some state of grief. Dylan’s mom was particularly high-pressure about grandchildren and every time we talked to her I felt like a failure and she would offer super helpful advice like, quit school or slow down or work harder on getting pregnant. Getting pregnant felt like something I should just do, and not what I wanted. And on a side note, how the fuck do you explain to these type of people that with each loss, I’m reminded of my sexual assault and what those boys did to my body. My body again didn’t seem to belong to only me. I began to harbor resentment toward Dylan, pull away my affection and love. I have one poem that’s four lines in June 2001.

“Why can’t you see me

Why am I just a vagina with a smile

You play guitar and sing this song I can’t stand to listen to,

do you know I’ve hated you for awhile?”

It is clear to me that I was in turmoil between what I was socialized to be and the woman I actually was. I wasn’t having dreams of being a housewife. I was dreaming of changing the world and affecting the lives of women like me, women who were altered irrevocably by men. Some of you who know me now or even met me 10 years ago, know nothing of this Meghan. I only have two friends remaining from this period of my life, one a friend from high school, the other, a friend from college and weirdly also high school. I still keep in touch with friends fro western but we didn’t interact much during this time. I didn’t even interact with my family much, save holidays.

Then came 9/11. My journal entries starting in 9/11 became very long and I wrote long essays everyday until September of 2002. My day started by driving to work around 5 am to get to Lynnwood and open the bar. I prepped all the salads and sandwiches so had to get that all done before opening the gates. I was running through my mind the days stuff that needed to happen. I was starting school again in a few weeks after going to school over the summer. I was thinking about the books I needed to buy and the other ducks I wanted to have in a row. Around 6 am, while I was driving, the first plane hit. I remember thinking, and I wrote it down later, oh that’s good, no one is in there. I hadn’t registered the time change and it was still possibly a terrible accident. I got to work and got busy. I didn’t have a radio in the kitchen workspace upstairs in the Grill, but turned it on when I got downstairs as was my habit while setting up before I had to start the Muzak.

I wasn’t really listening to the radio. My first customer who came in (nearly always another Nordstrom employee) looked pale and sick. I said, isn’t devastating about the plane? She said, and I’ll never forget it, ever, I wrote it down for safe keeping (I should note that I carried around a pocket notebook everywhere at this time I didn’t have a magic device to store my ideas on the go), “another plane hit the other building.” And we just sat there in silence for what seemed like forever. I thought I’d said, “ what?” But I didn’t. I made her coffee and then in kind of a trance turned the radio back on. I was now aware this wasn’t an accident and there were thousands of people trapped in these buildings. There was no turning back or avoiding. This had happened.

My boss came in next and elected to send me home. Everyone that came in was in some state of shock. I believe Nordstrom’s at least closed around 10 that day. I came home and for the next amount of what seemed like forever, I watched the news. I cried. I felt so much loss. I didn’t know one person, but you don’t need to. The shots of people desperately flinging themselves out of high story windows was enough to see human devastation in real time. I didn’t really register how this would alter my life so drastically, this moment. When my husband came home, I was crying, I was scared, I was anxious about war and now, my future. I’d spent all day imagining what was going to unfold from this moment. And he said, (yep, wrote it down), “ everything will be ok. The sun will be out again. Tomorrow we can smile.” I sat there and just stared at him in amazement. I said, “it’s not going to be ok tomorrow”. We got in a huge fight because he kept pushing me to snap out of it. It was very clear we weren’t in the same place, and now I’m convinced, not even the same planet of emotional and mental interaction. It was his natural predilection to be his way and really I was reacting the way I would.

I had registered I think in August maybe but it was definitely pre-9/11. I had had interest in taking more classes focused on international politics. My magical choice for first quarter 2001? Middle Eastern politics. I had three classes, one on the history of Middle Eastern politics, one on the role of Islam and Islamic Fundamentalism on the politics in the region and one deep-thinking not-gonna-solve shit class on the conflict between westernization, globalization and Islam. There was part of me that was excited, to have a place where I could figure out why these suicide bombers did what they did, why they were filled with so much hate and rage. Little did I know it would be my means of isolating myself, from everyone and everything.

I had one professor who was a Yemen expert. He was white. It strikes me know that they were all white men telling the stories of the many distinct cultures and ethnicities and religious beliefs of that region. The western culture elites, deciding what the experience of these people were. It still offered a perspective not found on our TV at the time. By now, we were at war and enacting the worst civil rights infringement law in decades, the Patriot Act. In exchange for “security”, we gave up privacy. To combat “terrorism” we signed away the civil rights afforded to suspected criminals- allowing a suspect to be questioned without much more proof then their religious preference and quietly allowing the long term imprisonment and torture of political prisoners/network terrorists, without any access to representation or contact with family. I had a friend at the time, a Syrian born American who was held with her brother for two days because she checked out a book on islamic fundamentalists at the university library. She was on an FBI watch list- a 20 year old American citizen who’s worst crime was being from Syria.

I started to feel angry about my two realities colliding so drastically. I developed empathy, not acceptance, toward the terrorists. This is hard to communicate reader, and likely hard for you to read. I was immersed in another side of the same story we were living, I didn’t believe we were at war with the right country for the right reason. I didn’t think people were justified in their broad statements about Muslims, the Islamic faith, or Middle Eastern countries. The Middle East, for Americans, was just some homogeneous blob. I felt in conflict with nearly everyone outside of school. Anytime I attempted to share context or information, I was told, even by family members, to go march in those peace protests with my little sign. I was extremely isolated. I moved through the world that way, even though I took different courses, for the rest of my BA time.

I did well on my LSAT and got accepted to my dream school, and told NO ONE. I wrote in my journal only a short entry that day in February 2002. “ My dream seems like a nightmare. I have no future, that’s what the news keeps telling me. There is no job for me. I will waste my money and change nothing.” I didn’t make a decision to not go so much as avoided it all together. In May, I quit my job at Nordstrom and got a soulless job at Key Bank. I hated every second of it. I, felt, well, that’s that. I’d also developed a pretty hard partying lifestyle. I was done with school, so I had less structure. My husband worked nights, so I was lonely. I didn’t want to sit with where my life was, so I escaped with a friend from work who was involved with a band. After one hard night of partying and sleeping at her home, I woke up and the drummer of the band was there and he expressed interest in me. Not in that hitting me sort of way, but was interested in who I was. I hadn’t had that feeling from a person who I wasn’t in school with for awhile. I decided in that moment my marriage was over.

Lots of other things happened between Dylan and I that really broke things but they seem less important than they used to be. We damaged each other in our own ways, unnecessarily. He made unchangeable choices, and I was living a separate life. My dad attempted to talk us into therapy and reconciliation but we were both angry and done. It took another 4-6 months for our divorce to happen. I moved out to an apartment in Ballard with a faux brick wall. I spent nights either partying hard or at home crying. I moved on to the drummer rather quickly. I’m not ashamed of that now, but was in 2002. I felt like I was heartless and messy and a failure. I didn’t care about tomorrow, let alone my dreams I had flushed down the toilet.

This is where things get really tough. I’ve only told my closest friends about what’s coming. One night, in November of 2002, I was struck by loneliness, heartbreak and the abusive relationship I now found myself in. I had given up the person who at least didn’t put me down, for a man who thought it was funny to call me a bitch then demand sex, then demand that I fix his problems and then not call me or answer his door for a week. When sober, I felt every inch of my callous, naive, and rash decisions. That night, while on the phone to a friend, I said I wanted to die. I really felt that. I didn’t want to live in the mess I’d created. I didn’t want to be stuck in that place anymore. She said she would call 911 and I hung up on her, angry at the perceived threat. Approximately 10 minutes later, EMTs were knocking on my door. I was asked whether I’d attempted to hurt myself and whether I was a risk to myself. I don’t even recall nodding yes, but I must have because they took me to Harborview. I was left handcuffed to a gurney for what seemed like hours. No psychiatrist or doctor ever came to talk to me. A nurse and an SPD finally came by to see if I wanted to be held for psychiatric evaluation and I said no, and was released. That was a mistake. That was my opportunity to avoid what later would develop as the breaking point, my rock bottom. That night should have been my wake up call to call my family, my friends and ask for help. I didn’t do any of that. Instead I wrote in my journal about this friend, “ I fucking hate you and what you just did to me”. I escaped to my anger toward that friend which was a relief from my depression and anxiety. I lived in that anger towards her, blindly making the same mistakes, until early January 2003.

I know, this is like a whole chapter of my book by now. This is more than you think you might want to know. I hope my sister reads this because she needs to and I hope she understands why. This is strangely cathartic spilling out the build up to my second of four major Meghan meltdowns. My ability to burn absolutely everything down is about reach epic proportions.

In late December of 2002, I found out I was pregnant. I had this thought of rolling the dice and seeing if I’d just lose it. I also had this delusional idea that maybe this would make the drummer love me. He’d want a life with me. When I told him, that delusion ended fairly quickly. He immediately asked me how quickly I could get rid of “it”. He asked me if “he needed to be involved”. I am not sure how I did not already hate this person but it’s likely because I hated myself far more. I developed a plan to get the pill and spend the weekend with a mutual friend of myself and the drummer. They were and are a lovely, big-hearted couple who were happy but cautious to help. Cautious because they knew I had these ideas of getting love and support from the drummer but they knew his capacity limits.

The first day at their home I took the pill and the couple made me fried chicken which was my chosen comfort food. We watched some movies but I mostly cried and obsessed about the drummer, where he was, what he was doing, why he wasn’t there and checking on me. Eventually, he contacted the male of the couple and said he wasn’t coming to see me. I was devastated, in pain, hemorrhaging and aborting a pregnancy. I ran into the room I was staying in and took a half bottle of ibuprofen with several guzzles of wine. My friend kept pounding on the door, pleading for me to answer. I finally came out and said, I took something because I want to die. The couple took me to the emergency room and I had my stomach pumped and was asked again if I wanted a psychiatric hold and I again refused. We went home in silence with my woman friend only saying, “I’m so mad at you right now.” I didn’t hear that really. I didn’t see what I had just put them both through. It took her a very long time to talk to me about it and that friendship never recovered. I won’t ever forgive myself for putting them through that, for being so wrapped up in what was happening to me, I saw no one else.

The drummer came to pick me up then took me to his apartment and broke up with me, saying he couldn’t handle what the relationship had become. I begged and pleaded with him to love me or at the very least, let me stay the night and not let me be alone. I woke up at his apartment with him passed out drunk on the floor. I got a call from my boss letting me know I was fired because my attendance was abysmal and I’d called in the night before. The drummer took me home.

I walked into an empty apartment and suddenly felt the rush of everything that had happened in the last 48 hours, the last few months, and the last few years. I sat on my couch crying and shaking and just thinking about death. I knew in my heart I would try again, that this misery had taken a hold of my body, that the tide was too strong to stop me from being pulled under. I remember getting a pamphlet from Planned Parenthood with a contact for emergencies related to my procedure, so I called it and I said, “I don’t feel safe, I need help. I want to kill myself. “ I may have said other things but I don’t remember and I didn’t write them down, I was sent to a counselor who asked me tons of questions and I proceeded to spill my guts about every real and perceived wrong done to me. I said whatever I needed to say to make this person want to help me. She asked if I had someone who could come and help me make decisions. I had her call my sister. I won’t ever know what that was like for my sister, at the time an active SPD officer, to sit there and hear the real and the unreal things my mind had concocted as evidence of my illness but I’m assuming she had to know I was very unwell. It was agreed I’d be admitted to inpatient psychiatric care at Swedish on Cherry.

The next ten days of my life were surreal. I lived in scrubs. I took regulated medication morning, lunch and dinner. I ate cafeteria food. I had group sessions, individual therapy, art therapy. I could call friend or write them emails. My roommate was a woman suffering from debilitating postpartum depression. Another woman in my group was schizophrenic and not allowed to use utensils while eating- she taught me the most of anyone during my stay. I picked up a smoking habit because it was something to do that wasn’t controlled by someone else. I called the drummer over and over, leaving him desperate messages for him to come see me and I know now I was asking him to confront me. My sister came and brought me clothes. I spent Valentine’s Day in therapy and then crying and pledging I’d get back at everyone who’d wronged me, abandoned me, rejected me. I was filled with rage for the drummer. I was going to show them all I wasn’t a loser and a mess. I’d get my life together.

When my sister came to pick me up, she let me know we were going to get me a cat. She said it would give me something to take care of and live for. That was the day I picked up Coltrane. We came home with him and life felt a little less empty. I was starting a new job in a few weeks so I had time to become friends with him. He became my reason for living.

Several months later, the story of the drummer finally ends. I was bound and determined to get some priceless records back from him and half the cost of the procedure. He dodged me for weeks and finally set a time for me to come. I picked up the records and stood there while he wrote me a check. He asked me how I was doing, I lied, and said, “great”. He asked me if I hated him, I lied and said, “no”. He then handed me the check and said, “ it’s not enough I had to go through this I now have to pay for it too”. This statement is seared into my memory. I’ve never had to write it down. That night in April 2003 I wrote only this, “never again.” In July, the drummer called me and wanted to make an apology tour. I made the date, walked up to where we were supposed to meet, made sure he saw me outside, waved, and then left. I got in my car and wrote this in my pocket notebook, “I’m not here to make you feel better anymore. You deserve your guilt”.

My life over the next several years slowly got better. I created new boundaries that I thought were permanent- things that couldn’t, and wouldn’t, happen again. I still deal with the trauma of this period. Much of it is still painful to share. I hate the drummer as much as I did in 2003. I hate him so much I refuse to say his name. I believe him to devoid of human decency and a sociopath. Maybe someday, I’ll turn that corner and I’ll find a way to forgive how I let him treat me. Maybe some day, I’ll forgive myself and hate myself a little less for what I put myself through. Maybe I’ll forgive myself for taking all my chances and privilege for granted. Maybe I’ll tell my sister how sorry I am I put her through that and how she saved my life that year (hey, if you’re reading this, I love you).

My life got better. I saw that I could keep myself together and be a better person. I could love my family and friends more and open my heart. I did all that, but still kept a part of that rage always with me, waiting, in the wings, to come to life again in 2009.