#we also found out What The Fuck happened to have our entire neighborhood blocked off by the police and it was some fucked up shit

[defendglobe]

a detective came to the house to interview us and kept commenting on how nice my dad's garden was. also my next door neighbor's interview ended up on the news.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

November/October Contest Submission #9: The Portrait, the Doll, and the Apple

Words:  ca. 7,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no Content: horror themes, haunting, suffocation, gagging, briefly alludes to the feeling of drowning, creepy doll, possession, surprisingly fluffy for all those cws

The Portrait, the Doll, and the Apple

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A gentle, chilly breeze swept a mass of crisp leaves past two young women, walking through an unfamiliar neighborhood, hand in hand. The taller one (by just an inch or two) with long, white-blonde hair, was walking on the narrow sidewalk, while her partner, a fiery redhead with impressive biceps hidden beneath her colorblock crewneck, trudged joyfully through the crunchy leaves on the patches of grass between the sidewalk and the street.

“Anna,” said the blonde.

“Yes?” Anna answered with a smile, without looking up from watching the leaves being loudly decimated under each of her footsteps.

“How close are we?” the first asked, “To my surprise?”

“Oh!” Anna stopped walking, looking up for the first time in an entire block. She looked around to find the nearest house number. “Ah! We’re getting close, Elsa. Are you excited?” She grinned, nudging her walking partner as they both continued their pace and the crunchy leaves picked up their song right where they left off.

“Of course I’m excited,” Elsa said, “But I’m also confused — where are we going? In the middle of a residential neighborhood?”

“Well…” Anna said distractedly, craning her head to look around the corner of the block they were reaching. “If you happen to glance this way, my love, you just might see—”

“Is that an estate sale?!” Elsa exclaimed.

Anna’s eyes shone brightly and she couldn’t contain her excitement. “Yes! I know how badly you’ve always wanted to go to one!”

“Oh my god!” Elsa was having trouble keeping her jaw in place. “This is… such a thoughtful idea, baby. How did you even find out about this?”

Anna squeezed Elsa’s hand as they approached the house. “They advertised! Imagine that, right?”

“You little shit,” Elsa smiled. She looked with wonder at the three story Victorian style house as they walked up to the property. A crow cawed from one of the tall, barren trees that lined the driveway, just before flying off in a way that made them both feel like they’d walked directly into a movie scene.

“I’m glad it’s fall,” Anna said. “This house would’ve seemed so normal in spring or summer, but right now it’s creepy as fuck!” She laughed with glee as they sped up along the driveway.

Elsa couldn’t care less about the creepy vibes— she was just there for the antiques and people-watching. “Let’s do this.”

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“Are you sure you don’t want help with that?” Elsa worried from behind the front door she was holding open.

Anna grunted. “Just — hold the door. That’s what — I need,” she said in bursts as she muscled a huge leather trunk up their front steps.

Once it was inside the door, Anna laid dramatically across the top of it, clutching her side and panting. “Jesus fuck. I should’ve thought about our walk home before I decided to take you fucking antique-ing.”

Elsa looked apologetic as she closed the front door, causing their wind chimes to jangle around. “I’m sorry, I should’ve helped more — or I should’ve given up when that guy tried to steal the trunk from us at the cashier table.”

“Nonsense — don’t be silly,” Anna coughed. “It was your surprise, I promised to get whatever you wanted home, even if it kills me! …And it might’ve…” she added in a joking mutter. “But hey,” she said, “what was with that guy anyway? We found the chest first; we hauled the damn thing through the house. Why would he swoop in at the end and try to outbid us like it was an auction?”

“I think different sales have different rules. They didn’t make it seem like he did anything wrong, so I guess it was all fine. But I’m so glad we won it in the end!” Elsa finished with a spark of excitement.

“Yeah, I guess the poor guy didn’t want to spend over $300 on a locked trunk with no key and no idea of what’s inside…” Anna teased.

“Come on. You wanna know as badly as I do,” Elsa said.

“Well, yeah, after dragging it halfway across town, you bet your sweet, voluptuous ass I wanna know what’s in this thing!”

“Exactly,” Elsa grinned and tilted her head with an air of victory. “How about I grab the bolt cutters from the basement and you do the honors?”

“Perfect,” Anna said, waving Elsa off from her spot draped across the trunk. “I’ll be here, recovering.”

A moment later, she sat up, “Wait — bolt cutters? I only need a bobby pin!”

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A few minutes later the trunk was unlocked. Anna smiled, pleased with herself, while watching Elsa hype herself up to open it. “You got this, Elsa,” she said quietly, “You can open this trunk and it will be filled with priceless treasures. Your loving sister did not pay three hundred and twenty dollars and haul this trunk three miles through residential neighborhoods for you to open it and find worthless junk. Just gotta have the magic touch…” Elsa took a deep breath.

“I can vouch for that,” Anna said, making Elsa realize Anna heard everything she just whispered.

“Vouch for…?”

“Your magic touch.” Anna raised her eyebrows, daring Elsa to challenge her.

Instead, Elsa’s face turned pink. “Anna.”

“What? We’re in our own home,” Anna whined playfully. “I can make dirty jokes to make you blush if I want.”

Elsa’s blushing face turned into an adorably disgruntled look Anna loved to provoke. “You have a point… But stop distracting me!” Elsa said, remembering the trunk. She touched the latch and whispered, “Just rip the bandaid off,” before lifting the trunk’s heavy lid with a satisfying creeeeaaak.

Both sisters peered inside.

“Well—”

“Shh.” Elsa cut Anna off. The entire top layer of the trunk’s contents appeared to be linen. Clothes.

The one thing they’d been hoping it wasn’t.

“Maybe there’s other stuff beneath…” Elsa started pulling out a few of the items. The clothes seemed to be mostly nightgowns from at least a century ago. Under a couple of layers, Elsa reached something that wasn’t soft cloth. “Hey, what’s this!”

She unearthed… “A fucking DOLL?” Elsa cried out in anguish.

Anna’s eyes lit up. “I love her. Gimme,” she held out her hands.

“Are you sure?” Elsa asked, never having judged her sister so hard.

Anna simply wiggled the fingers of her outstretched hands.

The doll was passed.

“She looks like me,” Anna said with a smile, touching the doll’s ginger hair and freckles.

“Yeah… that’s not making it any less creepy,” Elsa said. “Oh, wait. There’s other stuff down in there.” She rummaged around beneath the remaining nightgowns, and pulled out …a large, framed painting.

She turned it to face them; they stared at it.

Elsa opened her mouth to say something, and closed it again.

Then Anna opened her mouth. “She looks like me, too.”

“Uh, yeah. She does,” Elsa agreed, staring at the portrait of a young woman in an old dress, with red hair and freckles, looking stoically back at them through the canvas.

“I mean… not exactly like me,” Anna continued, “like, the face is off. It’s not my face. But you just don’t see that many gingers in a portrait-and-doll matching set, inside an old trunk from an estate sale, now do you?”

“No… you don’t,” Elsa said in a daze. She shook herself off. “That’s strange. But— like you said, it’s not really you, just an uncanny resemblance.”

“Right.”

“Let me see what else is in here,” Elsa said, finally turning back to the trunk.

It wasn’t much else, but Elsa did find a nice little trinket in the bottom: a small pewter apple figurine, with a golden finish. It weighed heavily in Elsa’s palm, and she immediately put it in her pocket. She loved the smooth, hefty feel of it — reminded her of one of those little grey balls that you can take out of a computer mouse — and knew right away that it was the type of thing she’d be carrying around for a while, just to fiddle with in her pocket. Plus, she was just glad to have found something she liked in the trunk.

She had learned her lesson about buying mystery treasure chests with no guarantee of anything worthwhile inside. It was one expensive lesson, and Elsa wasn’t even the one who paid for it.

Maybe that was why she let Anna display the doll and the portrait on the shelf in their bedroom.

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Later that night, Anna and Elsa cuddled in their bed, lazily watching a scary show on their tv. Anna was half falling asleep as Elsa rubbed soothing patterns along her arm. Her eyes were droopy but she could hear a man’s voice on the tv describing something spooky.

“…and once the possession is complete, the only way to regain control of their own body is for the host to eat something that belonged to the spirit during their life…”

Anna tilted her head. “I thought they were talking about vampires just a second ago.”

Elsa made a hum sound, then said, “Yeah, but they switched to this creepy tale about a doll. I’m about to change to something else because I don’t need that doll on the shelf getting any ideas over there.”

Anna elbowed her playfully. “My doll is not haunted, or creepy — she’s too cute! But you might as well turn the whole tv off anyway, I can barely keep my eyes open over here.”

“Aww, is baby getting sleepy?” Elsa said, nuzzling into Anna’s neck.

“Mmhmm,” she replied, “Maybe it was all that dragging-a-giant-old-trunk earlier.”

“You think?” Elsa laughed before squeezing Anna close. “Thank you for being mine, my strong, brave girlfriend.”

Anna closed her eyes with content as Elsa kissed her on the forehead. “And thank you for being mine, my smart, sexy sister.”

“Okay, yep sounds like it’s bedtime!” Elsa said, hiding her blush by turning off the lamp beside her.

Smiling to herself, Anna rolled over and was asleep by the time Elsa cuddled up to spoon her.

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Anna was in the dark.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, but it didn’t matter.

She was sitting comfortably in the darkness, settled into a chair.

Suddenly, a spotlight sparked to life and shone brightly down on her. She squinted against the light, but once her eyes adjusted, Anna realized she was seated in front of a mirror. Her body was illuminated in the amber light against the dark black, endless background behind her.

All she could see was herself, glowing before her.

Anna stared at her reflection curiously.

She tilted her head - or she meant to, but her neck stayed still.

Her entire body was still.

She could not move.

She could only stare straight ahead, into her own eyes.

It was hard to say how long she stayed like that before something changed, because what changed was so completely distracting, so wholly unnerving, Anna forgot everything she’d ever thought.

As she stared helplessly at her own face in the mirror, floating in the inky blackness of her surroundings, Anna’s features began to change. Her nostrils sharpened; her eyes narrowed and darkened; her forehead lengthened and chin turned upwards. Her face had morphed into the face of the woman in the portrait.

The woman stared boldly back at Anna, before dropping her gaze and tilting her head down toward her own lap. Anna was still motionless as she watched a smile begin to spread across the woman’s face, slowly at first. Soon the smile was complete but the lips continued to stretch past the limits of a normal grin, wider and wider, until—

Her head snapped up to look Anna in the eyes.

Anna gasped.

She was in her bed, under the covers, pajamas clinging from sweat. Panting, she threw off the hot comforter and sat up, letting the cool air of their bedroom envelope her. She was awake. She was fine.

It was just a dream.

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Six days later, Anna was getting ready for bed, slowly. She didn’t feel in a rush lately, to fall asleep and watch herself turn into the other woman. The dream had been happening every night, exactly the same. Because nothing had changed, she hadn’t brought it up to Elsa yet. She didn’t want to worry her over a silly dream.

Anna slipped out of her sweatpants and walked them over to the laundry basket. After she dropped them in, she noticed the portrait at eye-level in front of her.

“What the…?” she muttered, leaning in closer.

Elsa finished up in the bathroom and walked in. “What’s up?”

Anna turned to face her. “Um, nothing. It’s just… do you remember the look on her face?” She gestured to the painting.

Elsa narrowed her eyes. “Sure, she looked, like fierce. Stoic.”

Anna nodded. “Now she’s smiling.”

“What?” Elsa stepped closer. “Oh my god, she is. I… we must have imagined the other expression. Right?”

“Sure,” Anna sighed. “But that’s not the only thing. I have to tell you something…”

When Anna finished explaining her recurring nightmare, Elsa looked extremely concerned. “That is fucking disturbing. You know what—!” She grabbed the frame and turned the painting around on the shelf, to face the wall. “You can still keep her if you want but I don’t want her looking at us.”

“Me neither,” Anna agreed.

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Darkness.

Light.

Mirror.

Anna.

Paralyzed.

Morph.

Down.

Smile.

Teeth.

Up.

Gasp.

Anna’s eyes snapped open at the peak of her gasp and she awoke. Her lungs were completely full from her sudden quick breath, but she was stuck. Her back was arched from the bed and she couldn’t exhale — she needed to let the air out — she needed to breathe — she needed —

Her hands thrashed around — to her chest, to her throat, to the sheets, to Elsa — but nothing was changing the fact that her lungs were full of air and she needed to exhale. Her mouth was wide open and her chest was burning, begging for the spent air to be released, begging for a new breath of oxygen.

Elsa stirred from the thrashing, groggy. “Anna? What— what’s going on?” She saw the shape of Anna in the darkness, her chest raised high, unmoving. “Anna!”

Anna felt as if her lungs were a moment from bursting, that glimpse of terror when you’re unsure if you’ll reach the surface in time, spots of light dancing in her vision of the dark bedroom.

Suddenly, it was over and the huge breath rushed out of Anna’s mouth as she immediately gasped for more air, sending her once motionless chest into a heaving overdrive. She shook, crying with relief and fear as Elsa wrapped her up in her arms, chanting “You’re ok, you’re ok, I’ve got you. You’re ok.”

Anna breathed — just breathed, in and out — for countless minutes in the dark, sitting up in bed with Elsa clutching her tight.

After quite some time, Anna settled back down into bed. Elsa touched her shoulder and Anna knew what that meant: she rolled slowly onto her stomach and lifted the bottom hem of her shirt so Elsa could slip her hand underneath. Elsa used her flat palm to rub smooth circles all over Anna’s back, making sure not to miss any spots. The tender touches soon lulled Anna back into a comfortable, dreamless sleep.

Elsa was thankful to have Anna’s back so close beneath her fingertips. It let her feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She was calm. She was breathing. She was ok.

After a while, Elsa withdrew her hand and sat up on her side of the bed. She reached for something on her nightstand and held it tightly in her palm. As her mind raced about what they had just experienced, her thumb rubbed mindless circles on the soft, golden surface of her little apple figurine.

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The next day was Saturday, but Anna and Elsa were too tired from the interruptions of their sleep to do anything very fun. At the same time, they both wanted to get out of the house for what should be obvious reasons.

They settled on having a nice little picnic at the local park. The cooler temperatures of fall were looming on the horizon, but not quite yet. It was a pleasant day, with ample sunshine and barely a breeze.

Once they were out of the house, they felt a bit lighter — Elsa noticed Anna was acting more like herself when she immediately set their picnic basket down at a table so she could run and cannonball into a big pile of leaves nearby. She resurfaced, laughing with spontaneous joy. Elsa couldn’t help but smile at her girlfriend, letting the residual worry about Anna’s night terror slip away for the time being.

As Anna rolled around in the leaves for a minute, a little boy approached the ruckus, perhaps hoping to find a new playmate. When she poked back up above the pile, leaves coating her head, the boy stepped back in confusion.

“Um… how old are you?” he asked.

Anna laughed. “I’m pretty sure leaves don’t care if you’re five or twenty-five.”

“But…” the boy looked as if he’d been asked to explain algebra. “Adults aren’t supposed to… play.”

Anna’s face fell. “Who told you that? Listen,” she reached out from the leaves and took his hand. “You’re going to get older; there’s nothing you can do about that. But you should never stop doing something you think is fun, just because other people say it’s for kids. Okay?”

“Okay…” he replied, unsure.

“Learning how to enjoy your life is one of the most important things you will ever do when you’re becoming a grown-up person. Don’t be afraid to have fun.” She smiled. “You know, yolo.”

“I don’t think people say that anymore…”

“Sure they do, kid,” Anna patted his head as she stood up in the middle of the piles, leaves pouring off of her. “I just did.”

Anna made her way back to the picnic table where Elsa was unpacking their lunch across a tablecloth. She looked up when Anna approached and smiled. “Did you make a new friend?”

“Ehh,” Anna shrugged. “Too close-minded for me.”

“He was like six.”

“I know,” she said solemnly. “They got to him young.”

Soon the pair of them were digging in, enjoying sandwiches, potato chips, macaroni salad — the whole works. With the sun shining warmly down on them and the ambient sounds of children playing nearby, they felt like the events of last night were some forgotten dream.

Until Anna reached for a chocolate chip cookie and looked over Elsa’s shoulder to see a figure standing across the length of the park. It was a woman with long, red hair, wearing a full dress — staring directly at Anna. She froze, dropping the cookie to thud against the picnic table.

“What is it?” Elsa asked, concerned.

Anna glanced away to look Elsa in the eyes, and when her gaze switched back to the woman, she was gone. Vanished.

Anna stood up. “I saw — I swear, it was… her. I saw her,” she looked at her fallen cookie, no longer hungry. “I think we should go.”

Elsa turned around, searching for any sign of who Anna saw. That side of the park was completely empty of people.

“Yeah…” Elsa said. “I’ll pack up the things, don’t worry. Just sit tight.”

They were walking back home within a few minutes. Anna carried the picnic basket on one arm and, with the other, held Elsa’s hand as they quietly walked. Elsa’s other hand was in her jacket pocket, fiddling with the golden apple.

It was hot to the touch.

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When they got home, Anna walked in the front door and said, “ Why couldn’t it have just been vampires?”

“What?” Elsa said.

“Vampires would’ve been so much easier! Look,” she closed the door and locked it. “They can’t even come in without an invitation. Boom, problem solved.”

“We did willingly bring the trunk inside, though,” Elsa said.

“True. But still, a quick bite, a little blood loss, a probably-sexy creature of the night slaps a bandaid on our necks… Easy-peasy, we’re back to normal. Whatever this is,” she gestured vaguely, “doesn’t feel easy-peasy to me.”

With that, Anna started putting their leftovers away in the kitchen, giving Elsa a moment to slip away down the basement stairs. A few days ago, they had dragged the trunk down there together, to free up some extra space while they decided what to do with it and its other contents.

Now, Elsa was feeling worse and worse about the entire decision of bringing it into their home.

“I am never going antique-hunting again,” she muttered.

She reached the trunk, where it sat in the middle of a room they were using for storage in the half-finished basement. The trunk’s lock was in the trash, since they had no key for it, so she only had to flip the two latches before the lid could be creaked open. Inside, some of the old clothes still lined the bottom, but that was about it. The trunk was mostly empty and felt very normal. Insignificant.

How could this thing have caused so much upheaval in Anna’s life in such a short amount of time?

Elsa sighed, rubbing her thumb across her golden apple. She had liked having it close to her, but she worried it was connected to what was happening with Anna. The way it had felt so unnaturally warm in her pocket right after Anna saw the portrait lady… Elsa didn’t want it in the equation any longer.

She tossed it inside the trunk, where it rolled into the folds of a nightgown.

After gently closing the lid and latching it up, Elsa turned and left the basement.

She was back upstairs before Anna even knew she’d left.

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Anna gasped, eyes flinging open to the darkness of her bedroom. The breath she had taken filled her lungs, and would not be let out from her locked chest.

“Fuck!” she screamed in her thoughts, unable to make any noise through the impasse of air in her windpipe. She started to panic, not wanting to again experience the horror she had gone through the previous night.

But she had no control over the situation — only over her limbs. Anna smacked Elsa’s sleeping form as she flailed her arms around, grasping at the sheets. The pressure in her lungs already felt like it was maxing out — she wasn’t sure if she could stay conscious this time.

Her vision was sparkling like tv static.

Elsa sat up in alarm. “Anna! No no no, not again!” She grabbed Anna gently, shaking her. “Come on — snap out of it, baby. Let her breathe!” She was getting angry, looking around the room for the invisible attacker. “Let her fucking breathe!”

Anna’s back arched farther off the bed as her lungs screamed in silent torture. A wave of helpless fear rippled through her, sending her brain into a cold, unfeeling shock.

Was this it?

She was actually being suffocated from the inside out? A choking sound escaped her strangled throat.

She wished she could speak, to tell Elsa she loved her one last time before —

All the breath rushed out from her chest at once. She fell back onto the bed as she gasped again again, letting her lungs fill and empty, fill and empty as she coughed and dry-heaved. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she noticed Elsa wiping tears from her face. Then Anna noticed there had been a ringing in her ears only by its new absence, as the sound of Elsa worrying over her rose up into a level she could hear again.

“You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok,” she was chanting, holding Anna close to her chest. “It’s ok, you can breathe.”

Anna’s breath was shaky as she quietly let her mind catch up again. Her brain felt foggy, like it had just been aroused from a deep sleep. In reality it had been starved of oxygen and was now being flooded with it.

As she calmed down in Elsa’s arms, she looked toward the shelf just as the red-headed doll fell from it, hitting the floor.

Thud.

She and Elsa both stared at it for a long time, sitting up in bed. Silent.

Anna slowly got up, feeling just a bit frail and walked to the doll. She picked it up, closing her eyes to dispel a lightheaded feeling. She stood there, holding the doll and stared at it strangely. As she held it in her hands, the doll’s chest slowly expanded, stopped, then deflated again. Anna dropped the doll like it had burned her. “It just fucking breathed, Elsa.”

“What?!” Elsa scrambled out of bed, rushing to her girlfriend. She picked up the doll and waited. Sure enough, she saw and felt the doll’s chest begin to move. Without waiting another moment, Elsa rushed out of their bedroom and ran to the basement. She took the stairs as fast as she could and raced to the old, stupid trunk.

Elsa flung the chest open, chucked the doll inside, and slammed the lid closed. Her fingers trembled as she fastened both latches. Click, click.

Anna appeared beside her after following her to the basement.

The two sisters stood in the dim room side by side, catching their breath and staring at the motionless trunk for longer than either of them could say. The seconds ticked by slowly and deliberately on a clock somewhere in the storage bins around them. The trunk was silent.

Eventually, Anna turned to Elsa. She cleared her throat. “Baby,” she whispered, “We should go back to sleep.” It was a quarter past three in the morning.

Elsa was reluctant to pull her eyes from the trunk, as if the second she looked away, it might spring open to attack them. She sighed, closing her eyes and turning to her sister. “Do you think you can sleep?” She asked gently. “After this?”

Anna took her hand. “If you cuddle me. Come on.”

“…Okay,” Elsa slowly nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

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Anna did fall back asleep. It took a while, but the feeling of Elsa spooning her under the warm covers was enough to lull her mind into unconsciousness.

She was floating in a dark space.

Not again, she thought with dread.

She tried to disassociate while the dream played out before her. Focusing on individual colors as the spotlight illuminated her reflection in the mirror. She was forced to maintain eye contact as her mirrored face changed and morphed into the woman from the portrait, but she focused on the eyelashes. They didn’t change very much.

Then, her head tilted down, as it did every night, and Anna looked at the shiny red hair on the exposed top of her head — not at the woman’s mouth spreading into a smile too wide, too full of teeth, too joylessly happy…

Then the head snapped up to look at Anna and she couldn’t help but gasp.

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Anna woke up in the darkness, and she could breathe.

But she couldn’t feel Elsa’s arms around her anymore. In fact, the mattress beneath her felt too lumpy and …hard.

She sat up but couldn’t see anything.

It was so dark.

Their bedroom was never this dark — not with all of the charging lights of various electronics plugged in around the house.

She felt around beside her for Elsa, but felt only wadded-up bedsheet.

“Elsa?” She tried to say, but no words came from her mouth.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness just a little, she noticed the edges of the room seemed too close. It was too small of a space.

Anna tried not to panic.

She raised her hands in front of her face, squinting to see them in the cold dark.

She let out a shuddering breath. “Oh… fuck,” she said in her mind.

Her hands were those of the doll they had thrown into the trunk.

The trunk.

Which she had just woken up inside.

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Elsa was fast asleep when a sudden movement jogged her awake. She had been spooning Anna when they both fell asleep, but now her sister was sitting up in bed. A wave of panic rose in her chest. She sat up quickly.

“Anna? Can you breathe?”

Anna turned her head stiffly to look at Elsa. “Yes.” She stared blankly at Elsa with a soft smile. “I am fine. Go back to sleep.”

Alarm bells rang in Elsa’s head. She pulled away a few inches and stared at Anna incredulously. “Are… are you okay?”

“Yes,” she repeated, then turned her head back with a mechanical motion to face forward.

Elsa followed her gaze and saw she was staring at the portrait on the shelf. She grabbed her phone and turned the flashlight on. It illuminated the area with the shelf and she squinted to make out the portrait. The woman in the painting was no longer looking blandly stoic as she originally had, and was no longer even holding a gentle smile like she did the last time Elsa saw her — now, she was wearing a demonic, toothy grin.

Elsa gasped and turned back to look at Anna. She was giving Elsa the same forced, evil smile, causing Elsa to scream in alarm. She scrambled out of bed, ran to the door and left, slamming it shut behind her.

She panted, trying to catch her breath, when she remembered the door only locks from the inside. She would have to find some other way to barricade it so that whatever that thing was in Anna’s body couldn’t come out until Elsa could figure out what the fuck was going on.

She ran through the house, searching for whatever might help keep the bedroom door closed.

Within a few minutes, she was able to jam a few pieces of spare wood under the handle and move some large furniture to block the door.

She stood looking at her work with trembling hands.

Now what?

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Doll-Anna scrambled to her feet, wobbly on the half-fused legs of her doll body, and abruptly hit her head on the lid of the trunk.

Cool, she thought. So I can’t stand up in here.

She plopped back down on a wadded bit of nightgown, which was now much bigger than a nightgown should ever be. It could have been vampires. It could have been fucking vampires and now I have my own goddamn coffin.

Anna punched the hard wall of the trunk with her little plastic hand. Ow.

She laid back dramatically and her head landed on something hard. OW. Sitting back up, she twisted to reach behind her. Anna patted the clothes back there until she finally came across what she’d hit her head on.

It was Elsa’s little golden apple, now substantially more apple-sized to Anna. It half-filled her doll-palm and weighed her hand down heavily.

She briefly wondered when Elsa had put it back in the trunk — but that didn’t matter, did it? Anna was inside a doll, which meant her body was— Oh my god. Elsa!

She had to get to Elsa, she had to warn her, or save her, or… She sighed. She couldn’t do anything from inside that trunk.

She needed to think. Think, doll-brain, think! She rapped on her plastic noggin.

So, the doll was… let’s call it haunted, by the spirit of the woman in the portrait, right? she began. That seems right. And when we got all that stuff, it, like, latched onto me. Maybe because I look like her. And it’s been wearing me down as I sleep with those nightmares, and finally it… what— possessed me? The doll possessed me? To switch bodies? So she could …be a person again?

Anna’s head hurt.

But there was something that felt familiar about all this.

That tv show!

She remembered the show Elsa was watching the night they brought the trunk home. Anna had fallen asleep during the vampire bit and woke up when the man was talking about… someone being possessed by a doll!

Oh my god, she thought.

What did that guy say? There was a way to save yourself… Anna held her head and thought hard, cursing her poor memory. Come on, think! Oh… I might have it. You have to eat something. Eat what? Eat, eat, eat… something that belonged to the person when they were alive!

Anna would have cheered if she could talk. Instead she triumphantly pumped her little doll-fist in the air.

Wait… she thought.

She needed something edible that the red-haired woman owned? Any food from back then was long-gone.

Except…

Anna looked down at the pewter apple figurine, dread filling her stomach.

That thing surely belonged to the same woman, right? It was with all of her belongings.

How the hell am I supposed to eat a giant ball of metal? Anna slouched.

Wait, maybe I can just tear a little strip of linen from her clothes and swallow that? She grabbed part of the nearest nightgown and tried to tear it, but her little plastic doll hands were struggling with the task.

She tried again, but the material was just slipping through her fingers.

She bit it and pulled, but her arms didn’t have the strength to strain against the fabric. It slipped again.

Fuck!

Anna panted from the effort she just used.

I’m gonna have to eat the fucking apple, aren’t I?

She picked up the heavy apple-shaped ball of metal. It was going to be like swallowing one of those giant gobstoppers from the candy machines that cost like four entire quarters — swallowing it whole.

Anna let out a trembling breath. She could barely handle swallowing a Tylenol pill with a sip of water. She took her vitamins as gummies.

Do it for Elsa, she thought.

+

Elsa was pacing in the hallway.

She didn’t know what to do. Should she call an exorcist? Were those only Catholics? Because she had sort of burned that specific bridge behind her when she and Anna left home together.

Maybe they wouldn’t care. Elsa opened a browser on her phone, clicking on the app with a shaky finger. Adrenaline was still coursing through her, making her feel wobbly. She backed up to the wall and let herself slide down to sit on the floor.

Just as she was googling for local exorcist services, a banging sound began from the other side of the bedroom door. Elsa looked up from her phone. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Elsa shouted with bravado she didn’t feel she actually had.

“Let me out, please!” Not-Anna’s muffled voice said. “I just want to live my life!”

Elsa was disgusted. “Really?! So you stole someone else’s? That’s very hypocritical of you!”

“Please!” More banging. “Just let me out and I will leave you alone. I swear to it!”

It was so weird to hear someone else’s strange speech patterns coming from a voice that sounded like Anna’s. Elsa looked back at her phone, deciding to ignore her.

She needed to find someone she could call.

+

Anna held the apple to her lips, kissing it. This is for you, Els, she thought. Please, give me the strength — I can’t do this without you.

With that, she opened her doll-mouth as wide as she could and placed the golden figurine inside.

Anna could barely close her mouth with the apple inside, and immediately gagged when she tested if she could maybe just swallow it quickly without thinking too hard about it.

She slapped her hand across her mouth, making herself hold it in despite everything inside her screaming to spit it out. A terrible metallic taste pervaded her taste buds — How do I even have taste buds? Or a gag reflex? she wondered. I’m a fucking doll!

Keeping her hand covering her mouth, Anna coated the apple with saliva. I can do this. Just — just do it.

With her tongue, she pushed the apple toward her throat and swallowed hard. She immediately wretched and clamped her hand tighter across her mouth. With a second rough gulp, the apple went down.

UGH! She gasped, grabbing her throat, hating the feeling of the huge hunk of metal sliding down her throat. But it was done.

Anna coughed once and passed out.

The lifeless doll slumped against the fabric once more.

+

+

Elsa was sifting through the few promising contacts she had found in the last ten minutes, trying to decide who might be willing to help her at 4:45 am on a weekend.

One man looked nice in his picture but seemed too religious for an exorcism. Like, she knew they were all supposed to be priests or whatever, but this guy looked like he wouldn’t believe her and he’d just take them away to a convent or something.

“Oh, he might work,” Elsa muttered to herself as she scrolled.

“IF YOU DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR IMMEDIATELY, I WILL REMOVE YOUR ORGANS AND FEAST UPON THEM WHILE YOU WATCH.”

The thing possessing Anna had somewhat increased her level of threat.

“Hmm, yeah, I think I’ll try this guy first,” Elsa said calmly, preparing to click on a phone number.

The pounding on the door picked up again. “RELEASE ME NOW, OR I WILL NEVER LET YOU SEE THIS FOOLISH GIRL AG—!”

Elsa tilted her head when the voice cut off in the middle of a word.

She heard a big thwump sound from behind the door, then nothing.

Elsa stood up, readying herself for anything.

It was eerily silent. She tiptoed to the pile of things in front of the bedroom door and listened.

Soon, Elsa heard a low groan and slight movement. “…Elsa?” came a quiet voice.

“Anna?!” she replied, trying not to feel too hopeful.

“Elsa, where are you? Are you okay? I tried to come back as fast as I could — did she hurt you?”

“Anna,” Elsa cried. “It’s really you! Hold on — I gotta get the door.” She started moving the furniture she had barricaded the door with, sobbing with relief.

Soon, she was able to rip the door open and found Anna laying on the carpet in front of their bed. Elsa was at her side in seconds. “Anna! I’ve got you.” She gathered her up in her arms. “What happened to you? How did you get back?”

Anna moaned softly and looked up at Elsa. She felt extremely drained of all her energy. “I was… the doll…”

“Here,” Elsa lifted her carefully, “let’s get you back in bed. You need some rest.”

Elsa tucked Anna in, gently kissing her forehead as she mumbled about the doll and the apple.

Soon, the mumbles were replaced by gentle snores as Anna finally drifted into a restful sleep. Elsa watched her carefully until the rising sun cast a soft light on her features. She still wasn’t sure what exactly had happened, but she could feel a peace that hadn’t been present in their home since that trunk was dragged in through the front door.

Elsa finally crawled into bed, and settled herself under the covers. Even with the brightening of the dawn, she had very little trouble joining Anna in the chorus of snores.

+

+

+

+

Anna awoke from her dreamless sleep to a brightly lit room and the smell of pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. She gladly inhaled - and exhaled - all she wanted as she stretched, waking up her stiff muscles.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and got out of bed. As she walked to the bedroom door, she noticed the portrait wasn’t on the shelf anymore. “Hmm,” she muttered, “Good riddance.”

When she made her way out to the kitchen, Elsa was overjoyed to see her. “Anna! How are you feeling?” She set down the plates she was holding and came over to wrap her girlfriend up in a tight hug.

“Ooh!” Anna squeaked like a stuffed toy that had just been squeezed. She laughed, hugging Elsa back. “I’m feeling much better. How ‘bout you?”

“I am now!” Elsa said. “Are you ready for some pancakes?”

Anna’s stomach roared to life. “I’m always ready for pancakes, silly.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Elsa said before kissing Anna sweetly. She held Anna’s chin with her thumb as she pulled away. “I was so worried for you,” Elsa whispered.

“I know,” Anna replied, closing her eyes. “But you don’t have to worry anymore. I think it’s really over.”

Elsa brushed her hand across Anna’s soft cheek before saying, “If you can tell me what happened, when you’re ready… I’d really appreciate it.”

“I can tell you while we eat,” she said.

Elsa served them both pancakes with scrambled eggs and lots of maple syrup. Anna explained everything she experienced after waking up inside the trunk.

Elsa looked a little pale but didn’t interrupt Anna as she talked about being in the doll. When the story was finished, Elsa stared at her own hand, picturing the apple and imagining how hard it would be to swallow it as the doll. “I can’t believe you ate the apple!” she said after a minute. “You really swallowed it whole?”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said, “I know how much you liked it!”

“No!” Elsa quickly said. “Fuck that thing, I’m glad it’s gone.”

“Oh, speaking of gone,” Anna said. “I saw that the portrait isn’t in our room?”

“Ah,” Elsa stabbed a bite of pancake, “Yeah, I had to burn it, unfortunately.”

“Burn it?!” Anna was shocked.

“Mhmm,” Elsa ate her pancake bite and swallowed. “There wasn’t much left of it after the knife, you see.”

“The knife?!”

Elsa then explained the series of events that she had experienced while Anna was inside the trunk.

Anna’s eyes were wide by the time she finished, “Okay, yeah, I understand why you got a bit stabby with the portrait!”

Elsa nodded and drank some orange juice. “So that’s how my morning has been. I destroyed the portrait and made pancakes, now it’s noon. Would you be down for ridding ourselves of that trunk later?”

“Yeah totes, what did you have in mind?” Anna asked.

“Ehhh, maybe the lake?” she suggested.

Anna mulled it over, nodding. “Okay, yeah, I’m pretty down with that. Definitely locking it back up tho. After we check to make sure the doll is still in it.”

“Absolutely.”

They toasted to the plan with their orange juice glasses.

“Next time,” Anna said, “it better be fucking vampires.”

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 38 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. And thank you so much to @saiphl for the beta help!! XO!

Chapter Summary: The girls spend a summer apart, but then start their senior year, closer than ever.

Chapter 38: Feelings

Courtney’s dad had moved with his girlfriend to Berkeley earlier in the year, and both of her parents unilaterally decided that she should spend the summer with him for some “quality time.” She’d argued, she’d protested, she’d pleaded with Karen, she’d even cried; but in the end she had no choice but to go along with the plan, sullenly packing her things and boarding the train, defeated. Her only solace was that Roy was doing a summer program in Stanford for a month, which meant that at least they could still see each other on the weekends for part of the time she was there.

COURTNEY: JFC I’m gonna be sleeping on a goddamn fold out couch all summer. This is shit.

ADORE: Awww, so sorry, princess. Xx

COURTNEY: Lol, fuck you. You have no idea what this is like

ADORE: That’s true. I haven’t seen my dad for like ten years

COURTNEY: WAH WAH WAHHH YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO WIN

COURTNEY: ;)

ADORE: lol

The truth was, Courtney hadn’t really spent much time with her dad since the divorce. Sometimes it made her sad, thinking about how close they used to be. She tried to keep an open mind, but a big part of her was still angry about him having an affair, turning their lives upside-down, leaving her mom...leaving her.

Adore was right, though. As far as absentee fathers went, things could be much worse. One night, while he sat on the sofa (the one that doubled as the least comfortable bed she ever had) watching TV, Courtney wandered over and sat down next to him.

He looked up from the TV, surprised, a smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi.” Courtney shifted slightly, tried to shake the horrible feeling that she was sitting next to a grown man that she barely knew. “Whatcha watching?”

“Just the news...if things go well this year, we can take both the house and the senate,” Peter told her. “And in 2008, that fucking shit-for-brains will finally be done and we can get the White House, too.”

“That would be awesome,” Courtney agreed, letting her head rest on her father’s shoulder. He wasn’t perfect, that was for damn sure...but when it came down to it, she supposed she was lucky to have him.

-

Meanwhile, Adore had gotten a summer job as a counselor at an arts day camp, and soon began spending her days surrounded by loud, attention-seeking child star wannabes. Every day, she came home and collapsed in exhaustion, vowing to never, under any circumstances, ever have children.

COURTNEY: How’s camp?

ADORE: The worst

COURTNEY: I’m sorry

ADORE: It’s all good. How’s the homewrecker?

COURTNEY: Weird

ADORE: Is she teaching you any good stripper moves?

COURTNEY: No, she just like, chain smokes and talks to her birds

ADORE: She has BIRDS?

COURTNEY: Yeah man, I told you. WEIRD

ADORE: What are the birds’ names?

COURTNEY: Something in Russian, I dunno. I just call them Boris and Natasha

ADORE: Lol you’re so corny

COURTNEY: I did meet some pretty cool anarchist guys down the block  

ADORE: What’s their band called?

COURTNEY: Who said they have a band?

ADORE: What’s their band called, Courtney?

COURTNEY: Pussy Whisper

ADORE: LOLOLOLOL

-

COURTNEY: Okay, so...this is going to shock you…

ADORE: ???

COURTNEY: The Pussy Whisper dudes?

ADORE: Oh jeez, what?

COURTNEY: They’re gross

ADORE: Yeah, no shit

COURTNEY: i just really liked what Tristan had to say about late stage capitalism

ADORE: Right

COURTNEY: And Grant said I was smart

ADORE: Well, that was your first clue

COURTNEY: HEY!!!

ADORE: Lol, not because you’re not. Because dudes in a band called “Pussy Whisper” that call you smart are up to some no-good shit

COURTNEY: Right. Ugh

ADORE: Bird lady still a fucking weirdo?

COURTNEY: Yeah. Although she did take me to a yoga class this morning, so that was nice. She’s actually maybe not the most vile person on the planet

ADORE: Awww, look at you, falling in love

COURTNEY: Shut up

-

Once Courtney got over her initial resistance, she had to admit that Berkely was somewhat cool. Certainly more her speed than the bland suburban wasteland she was used to. She spent most of her days wandering around used book stores, head shops, or combing through racks of cute vintage dresses. One afternoon, sunbathing in the backyard of her dad’s apartment building (which was a converted Victorian house that she also had to regretfully admit was pretty charming), she made friends with a very affectionate marmalade-colored kitten. Turned out, the cat belonged to their downstairs neighbor, and soon Courtney found herself fully enchanted with the older woman.

COURTNEY: Okay I found a much better new friend than the PW boys. She’s our downstairs neighbor and she’s like 70 and so cool. She has pink hair and all her clothes are made of hemp. She’s gonna take me to an Iraq War protest on Saturday.

ADORE: Oh jeez. You’re gonna come back with white person dreads, aren’t you?

COURTNEY: lol it’s a nice look

ADORE: IT IS NOT

-

ADORE: Abortion should be legal until the kids are like...12 years old, at least

COURTNEY: Campers getting on your nerves?

ADORE: If I snap, will you visit me in prison?

COURTNEY: Of course! I’ll bake a nail file into a cake for you and everything. XOXO

ADORE: Good cake or some bay area bullshit?

COURTNEY: Gluten free agave-sweetened carob cake, courtesy of Patsy

ADORE: Fuck off

COURTNEY: Don’t insult Patsy. She’s been protesting since Vietnam, she’s awesome.

-

ADORE: HEY CHEERLEADER THIS IS WILLAM! YOU’RE A SLUT AND WE MISS YOU!

ADORE: AND I’M VERY DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DIDN’T FUCK THE PUSSY WHISPERERS

COURTNEY: Sorry bunny

ADORE: He’s high

COURTNEY: And you?

ADORE: Meeee? Whaaaaaat?

ADORE: Yes lol

COURTNEY: Lol, have fun

-

COURTNEY: Would it be really bad if I liked Katya?

ADORE: Omg are you gonna start calling her Mommy?

COURTNEY: Shut up!

COURTNEY: But seriously...it would be like, disloyal to my mom if I liked her, right?

ADORE: Are you gonna start adopting birds?

COURTNEY: No, I just think she’s kind of funny sometimes. I’m a terrible daughter

ADORE: Well, your mom IS the one who sent you up there for the summer. So…

COURTNEY: True

-

ADORE: So. Something happened last night that was...uh…

ADORE: Very

ADORE: ...

COURTNEY: ???

ADORE: Give me a minute...I’m processing...

COURTNEY: Tell me!

ADORE: Well, we started in Violet’s basement, drinking, and I’m not sure how but somehow it ended up being like 10 people

COURTNEY: Aww, was Violet sad I wasn’t there? Did she cry?

ADORE: lol, totally

COURTNEY: So what happened???

ADORE: Yeah, so...I went out to the backyard to smoke and Trin came and like...I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but I think I made out with her

COURTNEY: WHOA

ADORE: Yeah

COURTNEY: Is she gay???

ADORE: No, definitely not. We were just like, drunk and high

COURTNEY: Is everything cool between you??

ADORE: Yeah, I think so. We were laughing about it this morning. But like, I still feel a little bad.

COURTNEY: Why do you feel bad?

ADORE: I mean, I dunno. I don’t want people to think that I’m like, some predatory asshole, you know?

COURTNEY: No one would think that

ADORE: My track record might disagree

COURTNEY: The only thing your track record shows is you’re a ho

ADORE: WOW

COURTNEY: I WAS KIDDING!!!!

ADORE: lol, I know

COURTNEY: XOXOXOXO

-

As much as Courtney tried, and as much as she made her peace with her summer surroundings, by the time August rolled around, she began to get increasingly homesick. Missing her mom, her bedroom, even Grandma Muriel. But especially, missing Adore.

COURTNEY: I really miss you

COURTNEY: Like so much

ADORE: Me too

COURTNEY: No like SO much

ADORE: Are you high?

COURTNEY: No, are you?

ADORE: A little lol

COURTNEY: I’m not high. I just love you.

ADORE: Aww, thanks babe

-

“DORY!!” Courtney squealed, practically leaping from her car the second she pulled into the driveway. She’d texted Adore from her last stop for gas, but she was thrilled to see her best friend actually waiting for her.

She wrapped Adore into a tight hug, her excitement causing her to pepper Adore’s entire face with wet kisses.

“Hi, okay, stop it,” Adore giggled. “Nice car, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I know, it’s pretty great. Peter gets a gold star for that one.” Courtney glanced back at the car, her dad’s old Honda Accord, shaking her new bangs out of her face. He’d surprised her with the keys just last week, and it had almost made her forgive him for leaving in the first place...almost. “It was kind of scary to do that whole drive alone, though. I’m very thankful to have made it in one piece.”

“Me too,” Adore said, with a grin that told Courtney she was home. “Now that you’re back, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ party.”

Courtney laid a head on her shoulder, sighing happily.

“You’re going to Darienne’s goodbye party on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Omigod! Dory! I wanted to make those peanut butter cupcakes that she loves, but you know I’m just absolute shit at decorating, can you help?”

“What on earth makes you think I’d be good at cupcake decorating?” Adore laughed.

“I dunno, you’re better at art than me,” Courtney said. “Plus, it’ll just be more fun with you.”

Adore pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Count me in.”  

-

School was going to be starting back up soon, and as Adore looked around the party at her friends, she couldn’t help but feel a little ambivalent. Summer had just been so nice, and having that small taste of freedom made her long to be done with school altogether.

Tonight, there was a big group at Pearl’s house--her usual friends as well as a bunch of the neighborhood kids, enjoying the pool and the warm evening air. Violet, Fame and Trinity lounged in the hot tub with April, watching the sun set. Pearl was standing at the grill, living her butch fantasy as she cooked up food for her guests, swatting Bob away with as he peered over her shoulder, trying to “help.”

It was a little bittersweet--Darienne had already left for Pepperdine a few weeks earlier, and Jamin for Cal Poly. Even though they weren’t as close as they used to be, it still felt strange, somehow, for them to be missing. Hell, it was even weird for Alyssa to be gone, the loudmouth head cheerleader now torturing people at UC San Diego, probably already sorority president.

A handful of people were dancing, including Courtney and Willam, twirling until they were dizzy and laughing.

“Ugh, I don’t want school to start!” Willam suddenly whined, reflecting Adore’s feelings exactly.

“I know, but this year we’re coming back as seniors, and we’re gonna rule the school,” Courtney said, imitating the line from Grease perfectly.

“Oh really? You think you’re Rizzo?” Adore challenged her.

“Why can’t I be Rizzo?” she demanded.

“Bitch, you are Sandy and you know it,” Adore laughed, grabbing a beer and sitting down on the back steps.

“I can be Rizzo if I want! Fuck you!”

“Yeah, lesbian! How dare you put cheerleader in a box! She can be whatever she wants!” Willam cried.

“That's right,” Courtney added, “I mean, I did spend all summer hanging out with a prostitute. What did you do? Day Camp?”

“I was a counselor,” Adore replied, laughing. She reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle. “Here, have another drink. And I thought Katya was a stripper, not a prostitute.”

“You don't know her. It's a very blurry line,” Courtney explained, taking the offered wine cooler.

Willam grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her away, spinning her around and around. “Less talking, more dancing!”

Adore shook her head, watching them with a smile, lighting up a joint. Roy sat down beside her--the last of his class, since UCLA didn’t start for a few more weeks.

“Hey, Delano. How ya doing, man?”

“Good...bro.”

Roy flashed some dimples at her, then just sat for a minute, unusually quiet, as they both watched their friends dancing like fools. Willam dipped Courtney low to the ground and she shrieked and giggled.

“God, she’s so fucking beautiful,” he said.

Adore wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. She nodded, leaning against the banister and sighing slightly.

When Roy spoke again, it was quiet. “I know, you know. How lucky I am.”

Adore looked at him, considering her reply. Finally, she just nodded and said, “Good.”

Roy gave her another smile.

“Make sure she stays outta trouble while I’m away.”

“I think I’m probably the least qualified person for that job,” Adore laughed, then held out the joint.

“Thanks, I’m cool.”

“Debatable,” Adore retorted, taking another hit.

Roy shook his head, chuckling.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Delano.”

“Aww...shut up.”

-

On the first day of their senior year, Courtney and Adore walked out of their fourth period economics class together, giggling over Laganja’s unfortunate new haircut.

“I feel bad for saying so, but it’s just so...”

“Hideous?” Adore supplied, and Courtney giggled some more.

“Yeah. Poor thing. Although it’s hard to say whether her hair is more or less tragic than Mr. Sutton’s awkwardness. He’s like a baby deer.”

“I know! But like, imagine trying to get the respect of students who are pretty much your age,” Adore laughed.

“How old do you think he is, anyway?”

“Uh, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he graduated with Kim and Angie. I think I remember him from when Angie did show choir.”

Courtney grabbed onto Adore’s arm, eyes wide.

“Omigod, you’re right! I knew he looked familiar!” she exclaimed.

It wasn’t until they were halfway down the hill that Adore noticed Courtney still walking with her. She hadn’t split off to go sit with the neighborhood kids like past years, simply walked beside her towards the oak tree, where Trinity and Willam already sat, sword-fighting with breadsticks.

“Are you...planning to join us?” Adore asked curiously, and Courtney bit her lip.

“Is that okay? I mean...it’s just a little weird without Roy and Darienne, so I thought…you can say no if-”

“Of course it’s okay!” Adore pulled her in for a side hug. “Everyone loves you, you know that.”

“Everyone?” Courtney asked, one eyebrow nearly to her hairline.

“Almost everyone.” Adore smiled ruefully. “And anyway, I want you here, so she can just deal with it.”

As it turned out, Adore was right. Everyone welcomed Courtney enthusiastically with open arms. And even Violet was unusually cool about it, containing her disapproval to some muttered asides to Fame, who promptly thumped her on the shoulder every time, akin to bopping a puppy on the nose with a newspaper.

Courtney didn’t seem to mind either way, cheerfully trading barbs with Willam and letting Fame “fix” her eyebrows, which were deemed “just too pale.”

“Are your pubes blonde, too?” Willam asked curiously, and Trinity began choking on her sandwich from laughter.

“Gross,” Courtney said, wrinkling her nose.  

“Actually, are they? I’m kind of curious,” Trinity said.

“Come on, cheerleader, just tell us!” Willam urged.

“You know, I quit cheerleading almost a year ago,” Courtney said.

“So?”

“He still calls me ‘New Girl,’” Pearl explained.

“Why are you stalling? Show! Me! Your! Pussy! Hairs!” Willam said, and Fame put her whole head in her hands, letting out a horrified groan before going back to Courtney’s eyebrows.  

“Careful, Bill, or you might get what you wish for,” Courtney sang, staring him down. “You really wanna see my pussy?”

“Uhh...no. Well, maybe...but no. Or…” Willam’s brow furrowed.

“Shit, you broke his little gay brain,” Pearl said, laughing.

“Omigod, that’s so much better!” Fame sat back on her heels, holding up a compact so that Courtney could see her new defined eyebrows.

“Oh wow, that is better! Thank you!”

After snapping the compact shut and handing it back to Fame, Courtney caught Adore’s eye, both of their faces melting into a grin. As Adore buried her smile into her sandwich, she couldn’t help but think about what a change it was from last year.

Maybe a sign of good things to come...or maybe the calm before the storm.

[joshslater]

Russian Dolt

Another Hank collab. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I was just about ready to give up and head back to the hotel. I’ve spent 16 years being a sales representative across Southeast Asia, and I know all the regional variations on the prostitutes fairly well. Here in Manila, a Russian girl would go for at least twice the price of a local. A Malay girl would go for a discount. But too much of the same old thing grows boring, and that’s why I was out in the bars tonight instead of just calling an escort to the hotel for a “massage”.

I wasn’t sure what I was after, to be honest, which was part of the problem. Maybe a threesome? A gymnastics girl doing tricks for me – and on me? I’ve heard that in some countries the Olympic teams even earn some side money in brothels. I’ve never found it myself, but that would be something different at least. So far nothing I had found had really turned my crank. I was polishing off a mediocre whiskey when I was approached at the bar by the man.

The guy was younger than me, maybe 25, and looked very Russian. Buzzed hair, tank top, tight jeans, flip flops, cheap tats and the don’t give a fuck attitude that their entire nation has adopted since they lost the Cold War. He smelled of smoke and cheap cologne. He looked to be in great shape. I didn’t want anything to do with him.

“I overheard you speaking of freak sex, yes?”

The accent was heavily Russian as well. This could be exactly what I was after, but it could also end up with me robbed and dead in a ditch.

“What’s it to you?”

“We have proposal. Have you had sex as not you?”

Despite the hot and wet climate, I could feel a wall of heat radiating on my other side as one real furnace of a man stepped closer to me. I turned my head and looked right into a black tank top. It was filled with a huge pile of meat. I looked up at his face and he made a silent nod. Perhaps not as stereotypically Russian, but still very much old Soviet stock, and presumably lots of old Soviet hormones, not all his. His muscles seemed to have muscles.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Sex as not me?”

“We have a thing that lets you do sex as if someone else. Understand? You could be me?”

“I could be you? Who would you be?”

“I would be you, for short time. Very short. Then you as me do any things, dangerous things. Nasty things. But safe for you. When finished, you are you and I am I.”

I was thinking really hard on how this scam worked. Was this just going to trick me out of 5000 pesos, or was the end goal to take me for all I was worth? The setup was intriguing. Performing sex as someone else… I’d certainly never tried that before. I didn’t want to let fear hold me back, in part because I knew, loathe as I’d be to admit it, that it often did.

“What kind of nasty things?” I finally answered.

“Many different things. You chose. How about fucked by wrestler?”

He gestured towards the pillar of meat on my other side. That surprised me. Back home where I grew up there was a lot of "God hates fags" and crude gay jokes, but I always thought it was a bit obsessive. It's a free country so they can do whatever they want, as long as they keep me out of it. I’d never had sex with a man before, obviously. Never even considered it. I was about to protest how I wasn’t a fag, when a small little voice at the back of my head pointedly said “Damn straight, but apparently he is one.” Well, if I was going to be someone else, then why not go for something truly wild and different? Something I would never put my own body through.

“How does it work? How do we do it?”

“We put your body somewhere safe. To keep your mind off it. Then we swap. When you are done, we swap again. 3000 pesos per hour.”

Twenty minutes later, if even that, the three of us were standing in my hotel room. The lobby was deserted, save for the night manager who gave us a disapproving look on our way to the elevator. On the way up, I made a quick estimate of what everything I brought was worth. I only had my carry on, some clothes, my laptop, cell phone and travel wallet. If I was completely cleared out by these guys, I could stay an extra day, have the cards blocked and reissued, use insurance to buy replacements, and be on my way. Not much to lose, really.

The big hunk of meat was Boris, because of course he’d be a Boris. He didn’t speak any English. The sleazy guy in the wifebeater was Mikhail, and he was now explaining the details of how he proposed we do this. He had a handcuff with a really long chain, so I could be cuffed to the bathroom water pipe and still make it to the bed. This would allow Mikhail, in my body, to stay securely in the room, watch TV, use the bathroom and such and such while I was out in his body. I was full of doubt. Step one really can’t be that I chain myself with handcuffs to the bathroom pipes? Mikhail saw my hesitation without me saying anything.

“You want to see first, yes?”

“Please.”

From his pocket he pulled out two thumb rings. They were plain iron rings with no inlays, but with engraved symbols running around them, which gave them a brutish look. He gave me one.

“Sit down. Put it on, right hand.”

I did as I was told, and nothing happened. He sat down next to me on the bed and unceremoniously slipped on his ring. Instantly, everything shifted a few feet to the side, and I suddenly looked out of his eyes instead of mine. It worked. It felt amazing.

His body was in such great shape. I ran my hand over the buzz cut stubble on my head, feeling the prickliness of it against my palm. Then, swiftly, just as quickly as I had jumped into his body, I was back in mine, looking at my hand. Mikhail had just removed the ring.

“You can see it works. You want to continue, yes?”

I sure did. I could scarcely believe this technology was legit. Perhaps it was magic. I know, magic isn't real, but then neither are body swaps. I put the ring back on, and wow, the rush. I was back in Mikhail’s body.

Mikhail patted me and got up. It was so trippy to see my body moving next to me. He quickly locked the handcuff to to his left wrist and then stepped into the bathroom to attach the other end of the cuff. He then stepped out again and gave me the key.

“Here, keep this safe. My suggestion would be to put it in the room safe, so you don’t lose it in the excitement.”

To my shock, he was talking fluent English now, without any accent.

“I will do,” I answered, immediately laughing a dumb Russian laugh. Wow, how stupid my own voice sounded. I sounded just like Mikhail in voice, accent and whacked English.

I immediately realized that whatever these rings did wasn't simply placing my brain inside Mikhail's body. That would just change the voice. But to also changed my accent and even words and grammar, which hinted at something more complex. It somehow both frightened and excited me, and I felt a stir in my pants. I wondered what else would be different, what else this body I now inhabited might be made of.

I put the key and my wallet in the safe, and locked it with 7478. Same code as my old phone, based on the Boeing 747-8 plane. As an international businessman I've had many trips on those. Boris started moving and ushered me out of the room, almost impatiently. As the room door clicked shut, I realized that I’m standing outside of my room with no key, no ID, a different body, and next to this oversized hunk of meat. I reminded myself that I can, at any moment, just remove the ring and appear back in the room. I could then open the safe, grab the key, unlock the shackles on my own body, and pretend like nothing had happened. As long as I have my hand free to remove the ring, there is no need for a safe word tonight. I chuckled with Mikhail’s voice at my own internal pun.

The feeling was amazing, getting accustomed to the body. I could tell my first thought was spot on: this bod was in great shape. It was lithe, almost sprightly compared to where I was at normally. Toned and packed with just enough firm muscle to have a bit of a swagger, it seemed. As we strode out of the hotel and into one of the waiting taxis, I ran a hand through my buzzed hair once more, feeling the spike of the flat cut against my palm. I tugged a little and played with the studs in my ear lobes.

Is this how fags felt, I wondered? Are these sort of bodies part of where their pride and sex drive comes from? I hadn’t given any thought before to the idea that men who are attracted to men might find their own bodies hot, too. I looked down at my forearms, noticing the fit power in them, the veins lightly popping. It did look good to me. I could feel queer thoughts, but I wasn’t ashamed or repulsed by them. This wasn’t me, but I could tell it could be very hot to play the gay. And looking at my arms, I felt an erotic buzz. I was starting plump up a little. I was legitimately turned on.

“In Soviet Russia, you not find faggot. Faggot find you!” I said out loud, laughing, thinking that I sounded even dumber than Mikhail did in this voice. One of my favorite jokes finally had a body worthy of it. Both Boris and the driver ignored me.

I suppose Russians didn’t usually make such a classic Russian joke, did they? Or did they? This really was the most out-of-body experience I’ve ever had, quite literally. Talk about risk versus reward payoff. I had to do it again.

“In Soviet Russia, big dick find you!” I found myself slurring, stupidly, and just hearing the ridiculous accent come out of Mikhail’s mouth, a mouth that was mine for the time being, made me snort with laughter again. I didn’t expect that the first few things I’d be doing in this body would be laughing my ass off. It was truly surreal. But it was hilarious, I mean, wow. Maybe it was my way of trying to find my sea legs after such radical change.

We arrived at a different hotel only 15 minutes away from mine, but looking at it they couldn't be further apart. If Mikhail and Boris looked seedy in the lobby of my hotel, they would appear posh in this neighborhood. I was still not used to this body, and wobbled a bit getting out of the taxi. Boris stopped and waited by the hotel entrance while I made a few jumps to test that everything is fine.

“Boris,” I say, my voice reminding me of some squirrel and moose thing – Natasha – Rocky and Bullwinkle – I can’t get over this accent –

“Boris, where is room?”

I find that I almost have a feel for the way the Russkies talk, I think, and that if I just roll with it, I’ll be able to work with it almost effortlessly. Boris started leading me into the hotel and down a hall. He stopped by a door and opened it, with a real key. Not one of those card reader doors. He entered the room and I followed.

First thing I did was to swagger on over to the mirror. I didn't get a good look while in my room before Boris ushered me out. Yeah, I pretty much looked amazing. This body, or whatever sense of sexual desire was in this bod, recognizes male beauty in a way that wasn’t apparent to me at all as a straight guy. This body is fit, it is toned, it is more tanned than I would have expected from a Russian guy. He must have been in The Philippines for a while now, I figured. The tats, which I thought looked like cheap pieces of shit from a budget tattoo parlor before, looked masculine, tough, and sleazy.

I looked like the mirror image of a guy who lived to fuck, drink, smoke and party, I thought- And I could feel that I was craving a smoke, too. But man, that mirror… I was boned, totally erect over a man for the first time in my life, even if it just was myself, in a way.

Mikhail had been wearing that rich brand of underwear to try to act like he was worth something, I suppose. What’s the name of it? I can’t even remember, not being an underwear type myself. To me, despite whatever he must have spent, the briefs and tats all just made him look cheap and trashy. But I liked it. It’d be perfect for tonight. I fully intended to take advantage of it all, go out for a while, have fun and bring someone back tonight. If things stayed chill, I was ready to fuck. Boris looked bored, and wasn’t even really watching me, so I was guessing things were cool.

I recalled Mikhail had blurted something out earlier about “Fuck Wrestler,” which I presumed meant Boris. And I had been thinking maybe I’d do that, initially, not really being sure what I’d do. But now that I was attracted to men, apparently, I really just didn’t think Boris was my type. Or this body’s type. Or whatever. He didn’t seem to be into me, either. I like the look of Mikhail’s body for sure, and it’s almost mesmerizing to me. Breaking away from the mirror is a bit of a challenge, I notice, as I put my tank top back on. Maybe the old line about Narcissus isn’t so far from the truth after all.

“Boris, I want to go to bar,” I said. “Gay bar. You know where?” “да,” the oaf answered.

I understood it as "Yes", of course, but I understood it in a fluid way. Could I speak it, too?

“Вы можете общаться со мной на русском языке?” I blurted to see if he could understand me. My own words sound like something an insect would come up with. They buzzed. They sounded slushy, and they sounded like shit. I really don’t know how folks can speak such an ugly language, how anything could evolve in such a strange way.

“да.” he said again, without any emotion.

There’s some male jewelry on the counter, I noticed as I started to turn out the lights. Dog tags, a pendant. I picked them up and put em on. Looks good- Wonder if Mikhail walked around with that, normally. The whole walk to the bar, I couldn’t help but to act cocky, shifting my posture, feeling playful with this body. Boris, as I found out by trying to chat him up, despite him being a man of few words, did have a pack of cigarettes to help me out with. Soon I’m bumming a couple off of him, and as soon as I could get away with it outside of the lobby, I light up.

The guys walking around Manila that we passed – some are kind of, I don’t know how to put it…not ugly, but not really attractive. I wasn’t really drawn to the girls, I noticed, but not the guys either, all that much. Some of them caught my eye a little more than others. I hoped when we got to the bar that I would find one of the Russians I was expecting to be there. Was that what my genes were hunting for, or was that what I just was expecting to find? A Russian? Would I be attracted to a German, a Frenchman or an American if I ran into any? Good luck picking one up with this voice, I thought to myself. But this is a sexy body. I bet I could pick up a lot of different kinds of guys. Gays aren’t really known for being particular, I thought. At least they’re known to do a lot of depraved shit with anyone. They aren’t like women. They have it easy, so I should too.

The thought of trying to hit on a guy, though I had no clue how to do it, seemed amusing. I felt a tinge of nervousness, but then I remembered this isn’t my real body. I could say anything. There’s a wallet in these jeans and I flipped through it. Was that arranged? There’s enough cash in there, 400 pesos, to drink for a while depending on the prices. I wonder if Boris would loan me more, but how smashed would I really gonna get? It should be more than enough.

Soon we were in the bar. I eyed the field. I spotted my prey almost instantly. Dark beard, full, thick. Bomber sunglasses tank top, twists of tribal tattoo down one arm. I wondered what sort of guy wears glasses in a bar, and I was thinking, fag guys do. And that’s you too, fag boy, so hop to it. And it was alluring, even as I knew it was done for affect. I didn’t care. He was hot.

I didn’t sit down by him right away, though. Boris and I took a spot at the corner, by the entrance. Soon enough, though, I wink at him on his way to take a piss. Why not? Nothing to lose, man.

Once he was out of sight Boris stood up, and surprised I asked him if he was going to leave. I kind of expected he would stick around to make sure I didn't do anything too stupid with Mikhail's body. He smiled for the first time, patted me too hard in the back, responded "Ты справишься" and left. And with that I was on my own.

Well, that’s all fine with me, because I was worried these guys might think I already scored Boris or something. Didn’t want that crimping my game. I was totally comfortable on my own, too. Fuck, it’s not my body. Still can’t get over how liberating it was to just know it.

The night got rolling, more folks were trickling into the club, and Bomber Glasses and I were talking, finally. He is German, but does speak some English. This body did the work for me, I thought. He was into me. I couldn’t help but be fixated at his beard, man, and the chest hair that foofed out of the top of his tank. He has a dog tag of his own around his neck. It’s all so sleazy and fucked up. It’s weird, knowing that what once would have repulsed now allured.

Soon he was buying me a drink. I wondered if I was attracted to powerful guys, as this was the first one who caught my eye out of the bunch, not that there were many to choose from. He was at least a good three inches taller than me. Darker complexion. Thicker hair, and of course that beard. That chest. Mine’s got just a little fuzz. I started to wonder if Russians were a hairy people compared to Germans. I didn’t think they really were, but some definitely are. The train of thoughts caught me by surprise. I’ve never before considered how hairy guys are. Must be the fag in me for sure. Wondered what mixing with this body for the night is gonna do to my mind, long-term. You know, like what if it’s like the long-term effects of a powerful dose of shrooms? That might not be good, depending. It felt OK in the trial swap we did earlier, so clearly it reverts without any seeming issues, but then that was just after a few seconds.

No time to be nervous, though. I wanted to get my money’s worth.

Now the guy’s looking at me, intensely, right in the eyes over drinks, and I was feeling like maybe the gays have a point about wanting their public display of affection. I was feeling like if this guy wanted to fuck out in the streets of Manila with me, I’d do it, despite the filth and chaos. By the time he was kissing me, right in the bar, and I was feeling his thick beard press into my jaw, and we’re speaking our stupid, malformed English to each other, all I could think about was the hard cock that might end up in my ass tonight if this kept going well. I wantws this guy to come back to the hotel with me.

“You and I,” I said, between kisses. “Go wild, with sex, you make sex with me. Hot as sex,” I went, fascinated by the chest hair he was got spilling out of the neckline, rubbing it with my fingers, playing with it, all as best as I could. He was trying to slobber on my earlobe stud and probe my tongue with his ear. We’re making a scene in the bar. I couldn’t care less. He stripped my shirt off right then and there in the bar so he could see my chest. He was playing with my pecs, rubbing the muscle, slapping my firm belly, my firm biceps. “Flex for me,” he commands. I've never done that in my life before, and don't really know how, but somehow I manage to make some tight abs for him. He is lost in admiration, I could see.

We walked out the backdoor of the club, his fingers in the back pocket of one of my jeans, not just kinda steering me, as I’m rather sloshed, but claiming me. Showing who is the top. He squeezed an ass cheek through the denim, and I loved it. He leaned in for another kiss. It’s a steamy night. I needed a smoke, so I lit one up, buzzed up, feeling dreamy as hell, wondering what "nasty things” would actually going to be like. A cock up my ass? I could take one, fuck if I care. Sounded glorious right then. I wondered if I could feel that desire in my ass that they supposedly get? Not yet, I thought, searching my thoughts to see if I felt anything, and decided that maybe it’s because I haven’t tried it, yet. I wanted to try it. This German guy, a man, had me feeling like a creature of beauty. I felt beautiful in a way no woman had ever made me feel before.

I can scarcely remember the walk back to the hotel, for all the alcohol, hormones and groping. I remember wanting to be rather cautious the whole while. Manila is just loaded with chaos, deep pits and potholes you can step into, nothing in the way of sidewalks, not to mention motobikes and jeepneys. The hotel was much too close to bother with a cab.

I remember thinking that the longer I stayed in this body, the more risk I was taking, but I’d come this far tonight and intended to finish it. We didn’t set a time limit. “When you are done” was the deal. That made sense, as they got paid by the hour. They’d want to give me time to fuck until I’m sick of it, presumably by dawn at the latest, and I would obviously want my body back. This set of jeans didn’t even come with ID, and most of my few bucks had already been spent at the bar.

As for the sex, this guy was experienced. I figured as much, but found it out fast once we were in the bedroom together. I mean, I had barely latched the door behind me when he really flaunted his power, flipping me right around, pressing my back up against the door, passionately taking my jaw in his big hands and kissing me, licking me, tenderly and firmly, all at the same time. It’s hard to describe. He was even licking up my neck in broad strokes like I’m a fruit that’s ripe on the vine. It was hot. I suppose I must be a fruit, at least for tonight, haha. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, on my breath. I wanted to hear my dumb, hot, sexy Russian voice again. I was fumbling to get him out of his tank, which should have been an easy move, but I was too drunk.

“Chest, man,” I said. “You hairy, man. You are hairy. It’s hot.” I sounded like an idiot, I know, but it’s hot to hear my voice, too, my slurring, Russian voice.

”Yeah, boy,” he went, feeling up my pecs. I liked being called boy by this guy. Made me feel young, sexy, which I am. And I knew it.

He was practically ripping me out of my briefs and threw me on the bed. He got me naked, and he has got coke. It’s not my body, I think. I knew what to do, believe it or not. I've been to the bars around Wall street and seen what happens in the men's room. So I snorted up a line off the glass counter, walked over, naked, lit up a cigarette right in the room. Didn’t see any non-smoking signs, at least. This isn't the kind of hotel that bothers with smoke detectors. He slapped me on the ass and I couldn’t believe this was me, just hanging out casually, naked with a guy who’s occasionally slobbering all over my lower jaw.

I snorted another line. I felt amped, like coffee, only crazier. I took more at once. With a cross-fade like this, I know it’s more dangerous. Not my body, not my problem.

He was wrestling me down. I loved the feel of my muscles pushing back against his, and I loved trying to toss him, to pin him down, but he was stronger. We wrestled a lot that night, playful. I was so drunk it didn’t really hurt even when he threw me to the floor and body slammed me. It’s just fucking fun, don’t know how to put it, that state when you’ve got adrenaline and passion and lust and a few drugs pumping through your veins.

Man, his cock was a thick one. At one point I remember him shoving his hand in my ass, licking and slobbering all up in my crack, and I’m just on hands and knees, drooling, playing with my own dick as it flopped around and dangled down, making slimy fish line circles of pre-cum in the carpet. Although most dicks in the world are uncut, it somehow felt wrong  that my dick now was one of them. Like peeing with boxers on. I was on my haunches, and he was fucking the living shit out of me. It hurt and I yelped out, but guy knew what he was doing, I told myself.

At one point, I half cum, forcing myself to hold it back, not wanting the experience to end so soon. “Try,” I said to him, stopping, getting up off my knees. “Try not to cum,” I said. I had pulled back, hard, using my groin muscles to stop it so I could save my load. A minute later I was good to go again. He put a cock ring on me, telling me that will shut the dick up. I don't know if he brought it or if he found it in the room. Everything was a blur. “You are my pet now”, he told me. He was pushing me down, going for my armpits, slobbering and licking all over them. I had no idea men did that. I was shocked, but it felt great.

There were other surprises. I didn’t expect to be gagging on his thick cock, or expect that he’d seemed to want to pleasure in making me choke on it. But I sure as hell did choke on it. “Spit on it,” he ordered, so I did. “Lick,” he said, so I did, licking my own spit on his cock. I was slobbering up his cock as much as I could with my tongue, thinking that must be what he wanted. It felt good to do. I mean, what an iron rod, what a maypole. This was better than eating pussy, I thought, for sure. I wondered if I’d feel that way tomorrow, realizing I wouldn’t, so I’d better make the most of it now. This would have just seemed sick to me yesterday.

“Fuck me, fuck hard, fuck my ass,” I said to him. My ass had almost started to throb after getting fucked for a while, and it was starting to feel almost empty when it wasn’t getting fucked. Crazy but true, like I wanted him in there. I wondered if this was the prostrate being activated. I could feel it, almost like a heartbeat or something, inside my ass. “Put it in,” I said, wanting him to fuck me more, wanting to understand these sensations better. My ass was sore and yet it just felt so good. Fuck the pain away, and why not?

We took a breather and it was hard to even keep my hands off him for a little while. I wanted to at least massage his shoulders, wrap my arms around him, stroke his legs. If I didn’t have a life of my own, a successful, straight life, I could almost love this guy. The feelings were just so intense, drunk as I was. Probably the alcohol was causing the feelings, but did it matter? He was so beautiful to me. He made me feel sexy. We knew what to do with each other, even as new and awkward as I surely was. The dumb Russian voice Mikhail had was awkward, so fuck if it would matter if my technique was, too. This was all for my excitement, not for the sake of the performance, I remembered.

How long did we fuck? It must have been hours. Time passes at such strange rates when you’ve been partying. I remember my cock being sore, the skin rubbed raw, the thing just aching from the weight of the cock ring, swollen up, but not wanting to stop. I wasn’t sure if I could even get the ring off at this point, drunk as I was. Fuck the pain. “Harder,” I grunted at one part. “Fuck me harder. Deutschland!” I shouted, playful, in lust, this German sex king… my own command sounded like a woof. I really was his pet. But he was also mine.

I didn’t just pass out, I blacked out. I blacked out hard.

I was utterly confused when I woke up in a hotel bed, but then memories started trickle in. The body swap. I clearly was still in Mikhail’s body, I knew, because I could feel it. I felt sore. Wait, why was I still in Mikhail’s body? Looking around I could see I was in the bed in his shitty hotel room, no German to be found. I got up while the whole body was screaming in agony. The bed sheets were pretty much ruined with semen and other fluids. What a mess. My head throbbed with a hangover worse than I have ever experienced before. I stumbled over to the mirror.

Young, muscled, and well-hung were the bright side of what I saw. Everything else I saw in the mirror disgusted me, even more now than when I swapped into it yesterday. I was naked except for the thumb ring and a cock ring. The dick and balls looked bruised, a dangerously purple color. I tentatively touched the dick and pleasure tinged pain shot through my body. It was swollen and had a dull ache, but a small part of me even wanted to play with this dick some more, as I was still horny as fuck. I didn't remember cumming. I didn't even dare to think about the agony it would be to remove that cock ring. I needed to recoup.

I knew Boris and Mikhail were basically showboating a lot of this from the get-go, but after all that, I was really tired of this immersive experience shit. I didn’t know where the German went. I didn’t know if he even kissed me goodbye, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter. This was the wildest trip I’ve ever been on, and definitely worth it. But I didn’t want to deal with this body. I didn’t want to be a fag any longer. I reached to remove the thumb ring when a sudden fear came over me, like I needed to think this through. I paused.

When I remove the ring, where would I end up? Strapped to a cross in a BDSM dungeon? In a Filipino jail? Who knew what sort of Willy Wonka arrangement these guys had in store for me? Hopefully this is just part of the game, or it’s something else that I’m not thinking of. I was trying not to panic. I was not feeling amused anymore. I just wanted out.

I was hungry, thirsty, sore, emotionally drained, horny, and I had a godawful craving for a smoke. Whatever they’ve done to my real body, it couldn’t be any worse than this.

I removed the ring.

Nothing happened.

I screamed. I punched the wall. I screamed ‘fuuuuuuck!’ until I was sobbing on the filthy bed. I was reduced to a crying mess, not surprisingly.

This is my body now. A trashy fag’s body, with an unrelenting sex drive, a smoking habit, a drinking habit, and I no doubt more addictions waiting to be discovered. No surprise he was eager to ditch it. I'm sure my hotel room was cleared out by now, the credit cards emptied to the limit. What would I do with the stuff there anyway? Clothes that doesn't fit and a passport I can't use. This is who I am now, and there is no way to even begin to explain it to anyone, without seeming like a madman.

I really needed a smoke.

[keeponshouting]

After Infection

This is a rewrite and hopefully eventual completion of a massive multiverse mash-up of my OCs with a couple belonging to @whenromancesmoked and a few others from back in the day. I have absolutely no idea if anyone else is going to be interested in reading this (ok, I know a few people who will probably read it) but psh. I’m having fun and want to share.

Note: This is also a George Romero tribute of sorts. Like I started it for giggles because my PB for one of the characters was in the Dawn of the Dead remake and it just snowballed, which I guess means I should throw a WARNING: ZOMBIES sign up here or something. Anyway!

After Infection: Dawn of the Dead

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – or, well, more accurately, it had seemed like the right thing to do. There was a request from fellow hunters in a small town a few hours’ drive south and things had been quiet lately back home so Nate had figured that they could spare the time and energy. Besides, Dennis had been going pretty stir crazy for a while. Even if it was a hunt, it would be a good excuse to get out on the road for a while, a sort of vacation.

It had not turned out even remotely like a vacation.

They had been a little too late to the original party but apparently just in time for things to get much, much worse. Nate had brought a variety of tools just in case but he had primarily been prepared for an infestation of what locals called “hell rats,” a creature that was pretty common in the south and usually pretty easy to handle if you found their nests quickly enough. Sure they were venomous but as long as you were careful… He had not been expecting an infestation of zombies.

“The lot looks pretty clear right now.” Dennis is hunched over at the door, using the peephole to take a quick survey of the goings on outside their hotel room while Nate brews a second pot of coffee to get him through whatever the morning brings. After all, as long as decent coffee is available, he might as well take advantage of it. Lord knows he might have to go without for a while and God help his poor boyfriend’s patience if that happens.

When Dennis stands up straight again, his head is just about even with the top of the doorframe and he yawns as he leans back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. “So, come up with any plans yet or are we still waiting for the caffeine to kick in?”

Nate snorts into his cup and foregoes actually taking a drink for the moment in order to respond. “You ask that like I have any idea what sort of plan to use here. I’ve met exactly zero hunters who’ve actually had to handle zombies in the past decade at least. I honestly don’t think they’ve ever been a problem this far north before.”

“Well, there sure are a lot around here for something that’s never been a problem.”

“Some forms of infection can spread at an exponential rate in populated areas.” He drains a good half of the coffee in hand. “Our best bet is probably just to find out if there are any other non-infected people anywhere around here.”

Dennis flops across the bed, face down, with a muffled grunt.

Nate just silently continues drinking as the percolator finally finishes beside him and he very seriously considers making a third pot, just in case.

---

Zombies – shambling, groaning, flesh-eating, nearly Hollywood perfect zombies. For fuck’s sake. This should have been such an easy fucking job and now there are zombies.

Viktor strings together another line of curses, voice little more than a low growl, as he chambers another cartridge. Beside him, a terrified little girl whimpers. He simply scowls, sets Glock number one aside, lights a cigarette, and pulls out number two. “Zatraceně zasraný vědci.” Leaning over toward the window, he catches sight of a proper target and empties the last bullet into the back of its skull. What a fucking cliché.

This was supposed to be simple. They had agreed on that fact the moment that the specifications of the job had crossed the table. It should have been routine, easy money. Three towns, three targets, each plan the same; get rid of the scientist, call their employer, and let the clean-up crew come in and deal with the rest. The first two hits had gone off without a hitch. So, of course, it just figures that last one would have to be so much more complicated than it should have been.

“I—I—I w-want m-m-my d-da—daddy.”

Viktor’s jaw clenches as he exhales – slow and even, two thin streams of smoke – as he reloads the gun in hand and wills himself to remain calm. His patience is wearing thin at this point, though. He had not planned for going into this as usual and coming out as a babysitter. The target’s five-year-old daughter was not supposed to be in the house at the time of the hit. She only stayed with him on the weekends. What an absolutely brilliant turn of events that this was apparently the first Monday that she had ever spent with her father.

Dropping his half-smoked cigarette on the floor, he shoves himself up to his feet. He had lost contact with Miguel some time earlier, likely as a result of the scientist’s neighbor backing into an electric pole at full speed after one of the zombies had rushed her car. The impact had cut power to the entire neighborhood and he can only assume that it must be the cause of the interference. With long-range communication down, that leaves only one alternative: he needs to get within the functional range of their radios. Unfortunately, the hit had been planned for the late evening and he had only been able to make it as far as a vacant apartment building a couple blocks away before night had started to set. From here, short-wave does him about as much good as a water pistol.

“Come on.” Viktor has already reached the door and taken quick stock of the corridor beyond by the time he bothers to look back. Unsurprisingly, his unwanted charge remains unmoved, still curled up as small as she can possibly make herself, which is pretty damned small.

“A-are you g-g-gonna take me b-back to da-daddy?”

God give him strength but that stuttering is getting real old real quick. “Ne.” He swings the door open as quietly as possible and waits for a moment, listening for any movement outside, before carefully stepping out and making his way to the stairwell. With the knowledge that their escape route is currently free of hostiles, he takes a deep, centering breath and heads back to where he began.

“Look, holčička.” He crouches down in front of the child and tries to sound as reasonable as possible. Given his current level of frustration, he thinks that he is doing a fairly decent job. Miguel, however, would likely disagree. “Either you just come with me and go wherever I go, quietly and without complaint, or I leave you here. Your choice.” Yeah, Miguel would definitely disagree.

From the way that the little girl’s eyes go so much wider than he would have ever imagined possible, he feels safe in assuming that she disagrees as well and, five minutes later, they are creeping down an alleyway with more stealth than Viktor ever would have expected of a kindergartener.

---

What was taking so long?

That is the question that had led Alex out of the band’s bus and that was the question that he now wants to keep from crossing anyone else’s minds. This is all way too fucked up, like the should not be real kind of fucked up. None of this should be happening.

On the ground, backed up against the flat tire of the car that their driver had originally gone to help, Alex kicks hard into the jaw of what may have once been a perfectly lovely young woman and sends her sprawling backward where she lands on top of the monster still gnawing on the corpse of a man who should have still been living and breathing and driving their goddamn bus. Alex’s hand gropes around behind him for anything even remotely useful as a weapon and lands on the tire-iron just in time to smash it into the face of the dead woman once more lunging in his direction. Another strike as she tries to get up and he cringes and almost loses his lunch at the feeling of her skull cracking open and her brain splattering across the pavement. Hell, he really might have lost it if not for the howl coming at him far too fast. This time, he opts not to look as the hears the wet crunch and just leaps to his feet and starts running back toward relative safety.

“Alex?”

Oh fuck. “Stay on the bus, Val!”

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Niccols! What the fuck is going—”

Alex fails to hear the rest as he spins around to slam the tire-iron as hard as he can into something else behind him. This time it gets yanked right out of his hand as the body drops and he scrambles back onto the bus, practically picking up a protesting Val in order to get her out of the way of the door that he immediately slams closed. He lets her go as he collapses into the driver’s seat, wide-eyed and hands shaking, and it takes him a moment to register the sound of his dog whimpering by his knee, let alone that of his own name. When the world comes back into focus, though, Val is staring at him in horror. It takes him another moment to realize why.

“Alex? What the fuck happened?” Whether she sounds more panicked or angry, Alex is far too dazed to tell. Her hands reach for his face, his shoulders, moving down to check every inch. “Are you okay?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises a hand to wipe at his face. No. No he is not okay. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Val does not look like she believes him at all. “Is that—Fuck. That—That’s blood! Why the fuck are you covered in blood?”

Breathe, Alex. Always a good plan to breathe. “Shh. Don’t…” Never mind. Telling her to keep it quiet is pointless. Everybody else will have heard it already.

He shoves himself back to his feet, legs weak and wobbly, and stumbles as he makes his way through the curtain that separates the cabin from the rest of the bus. It is instantly evident that the rest of the band did, in fact, hear all of that. All three of them are already staring at him before he even properly steps into view. He is pretty sure that Sasha is the one choke out an “on shit” and it is definitely Macy whose response comes out as barely a squeak.

“Blood?” On his feet now, Macy rushes in to cling to Alex’s shirt, bodily fluids not withstanding. “None of it’s yours, right? You’re not hurt? You’re okay?”

Again, Alex reminds himself to breathe, turning just enough so that he can see where Val still stands in the doorway, Parker lying on the floor a foot or so behind her, his ears back and expression scared. For her part, Val is gripping the doorway so tightly that Alex can only assume that she is trying very hard not move and crowd him any further.

“None of it’s mine.” He looks at the faces around him, all of them staring, all confused and various degrees of frightened. It brings everything right back into focus. “We need to—” It takes a deep breath in and a slow breath out to get his thoughts back in line. “Everybody grab a bag, pack food, necessities, just—just whatever.” Stepping a little closer to Val, just near enough to pull one of her hands down from the wall and give it a quick squeeze. “We gotta get outta here.”

---

Nate leans out of the passenger side window just far enough to level his sights on one of the creatures that already looks less human and fires. One shot, between the eyes, and it hits the ground and disappears beneath the feet of its companions. He hears a quiet gagging sound come from the driver’s seat and finds himself feeling a bit queasy in turn. They are both going to need to make some real changes to their perspective re: what constitutes a monster and they need to make those changes really quickly because as of right now, it is going to be really difficult to get out of this mess without completely rewiring their conscience.

“Um, Nate?”

With barely a glance spared toward Dennis, Nate focuses himself on reloading. “Yeah?”

“How many, uh—how many of them are back there?”

The question gives him pause but Nate squints to get a count anyway. “About a dozen in view. Why?”

“Because we need to, uh—we have to stop for a minute.”

Nate drops back into his seat so quickly that he nearly smacks his head off the door. “We what?”

Not even bothering to look at him, Dennis simply peels one shaking hand off of the steering wheel to point at something ahead. “We have to stop.”

Nate has to squint but he starts moving the moment that he sees exactly what Dennis is looking at. “I’ve got the door.”

It was rather obvious even from a single glance at a decent distance that the man up ahead, standing stock still in his torn slacks and a blood, rolled shirt-sleeves, was staring straight past the car speeding toward him and cursing the sight of the ever-growing number of zombies trailing behind. Dennis hits the gas and is slamming the breaks in what feels like no time.

Nate shoves the back door open and feels like there is really no room for argument when he shouts to the man to get in but he has been wrong before and apparently he is right now. Instead of heading straight for them, the guy curses in a language that they are now close enough for Nate to tell is definitely not English and turns away.

“Hey!” Dennis spins in his seat to look behind them, which Nate is sure that he immediately regrets. “What the hell? What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. He’s just—” And that is when the stranger pulls his gun, takes out three approaching zombies in relatively rapid succession, and finally turns to sprint back toward the car. “—getting a little girl.”

The child is practically flung into the back seat and their new passenger wastes no time slamming the door behind himself and snapping, “Go. Now.”

Dennis really does not need to be told and floors it the second he knows the door is closed.

“Take a left onto Carver,” the man continues, his tone speaking volumes regarding how unwilling he would be to hear any question or protest. “Follow signs for the mall plaza.” He leans out the window to pick off a few more of the monsters before Nate’s slightly incredulous look catches his attention and his scowl is honestly pretty terrifying. “You’ll be out of gas before the edge of town so, under the assumption that you wish to live—”

Nate’s eyes narrow in suspicion but Dennis has absolutely no qualms against following the orders of anyone with a plan right now and practically takes the aforementioned turn on two wheels when he nearly misses it.

---

“Are you sure you can hotwire this piece of shit?”

“It’s not a piece of shit, it’s a fucking classic.”

Val rolls her eyes at that as she continues trying to calm the utterly panicked Macy currently clinging to her so tightly that he might as well just climb into her goddamn skin. “Fine. Can you really hotwire this ‘fucking classic’?”

Two seconds later, the engine revs up as Alex sits back in the driver’s seat with a trin and a waggle of his stupid eyebrows. Sasha squeals in relief and flings her arms around him from her place in the back seat, as he laughs. “My mechanical genius is wasted on this red wire green wire bullshit.”

He pops the trunk just as something begins to stir inside of the nearby diner and Val shoves Sasha aside to squeeze Macy in so that she can help Nico load their bags at record speed. By the time she flings herself into the front passenger seat, there are already zombies starting to stumble out of the woodwork. Fuck seatbelts. “Gun it!”

Alex hits the gas and they peel out of the parking lot just as the diner’s doors give way.

He had tried to explain what had happened while they packed. It had felt impossible for Val to actually wrap her mind around it at first but once she had seen the mess outside? She had practically dragged Alex and Macy off in search of the nearest source of potential transportation. They needed to find something quickly and it needed to be something fast and she needed to not think about how painfully familiar the blood and gore looked, though she had only ever seen anything like it in her nightmares. When Alex had needed to stop and vomit into the nearest garbage can, she had a feeling that she understood why and a little pocket of rage flared to life in her chest – not because he had to stop but because he never should have been the one to wind up with someone else’s blood on his hands.

“Where are we going?” Macy is the one to finally ask, almost inaudible from where he has curled up against Sasha now, and Val catches his eye in the rearview mirror before she looks toward Alex.

Alex, however, is entirely too focused on driving to really think but so much and instead catches her eye before clearing his throat. “Nick?”

In the back, Nico turns away from the horrors outside of his window. “What?”

“How do you defend yourself against a zombie invasion?”

“Wha—Zombies aren’t exactly my specialty here.”

“No,” Alex agrees, “but zombies are supposed to be a helluva lot dumber than, say, Reavers, right? You know Reavers.”

“So?”

“So how would you defend yourself against an invasion of retarded Reavers?”

The drummer just stares at him for a moment with an expression that plainly says that he may consider that to be the dumbest question that he has ever heard. Eventually, thought, there is an answer. “I’d find the most well-stocked, easily-fortifiable location I could think of and hope I could wait out the attack or find some other way to get through them.”

There is silence in the car and then Alex shrugs. “All right. So, where’s the most well-stocked and easily-fortifiable location we can think of?

Five minutes later, they find themselves screeching into the parking lot of the local mall. The location almost seems somehow normal, given the situation at hand. In fact, were it not for the shrieking horde behind them or the knowledge that Alex is currently doing seventy into a public lot, it might almost feel a little reminiscent of home. Val almost finds it funny, really. What’s funnier to her than coming to a mall for safety, however, is the fact that they were obviously not the only ones with that idea, as they are definitely not the only ones pulling into the place with a bunch of undead goons straggling along behind them.

---

“Miguel.”

There is a burst of static in his ear as Viktor leans out to empty his 22 into the crowd of creatures still chasing behind the car that had picked him up on the highway. Once within range, he takes out a couple of the ones latching on to the other car that had pulled in to the lot at about the same time, too. When his magazine clicks empty, he makes a snap decision to save his 20 for later and drops back into the seat to reload. The driver glances at him in the rearview, looking a little bit frightened, while the original passenger only eyes him for a moment before leaning out of the other side with a freshly loaded shotgun. His fellow gunner might not be terribly trusting but at least Viktor can respect that. Besides, who needs trust? The guy’s a fairly good shot.

“Zatratím tě, Miguel!” The little girl still curled up beside him whimpers. He can hear it over the gunfire, the static, all of the goddamned zombies. It is grating on his very last nerve. “Odpovídáš mě!”

He could hope for no better response than to lean back out just in time to watch as a line of four hostiles drops one by one.

“En ingles, ’mano.” Another line of undead hit the ground as the line sputters out then clears up again, leaving room for easily the most welcome voice he has ever known. “Now where the Hell have you been?”

Viktor nearly laughs. “We can trade stories later, miláčku. Right now, I need cover fire while I try to get these people into the posraný mall.”

“Going shopping?”

“Sklapni. We try the mall or they come to your shop.”

“How many?”

Viktor glances toward the other vehicle still circling around the parking lot with them. “Eight plus me.”

“Well, if they dropped you—”

“Miguel.”

“Sí, sí, the mall sounds like a plan. There’s a garage off to your right. No good angle for me to shoot the lock off but I can keep the number of uglies down while you get in.”

“Děkuji.”

“That means thank you, sí?”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “Sí.”

The line bursts back into static with a laugh.

---

As it turns out, the garage door does not, in fact, require a shot to the lock. It rolls up just enough for the two cars to through before Dennis’s little hatchback even hits the ramp. On the other side, a young woman motions for them to hurry while two men in security uniforms stand to either side of the entrance to help keep the monsters at bay, though it appears that this Miguel guy really only needs the most basic of assistance. His precision is honestly kind of terrifying and Dennis is just as glad not to see any more examples of it as he swerves off to one side so that the other car has room. Nate and their scarier passenger are both out before he even has the damned thing in park, seeing to it that nothing gets in the way of girl at the door to slam the thing shut.

“We saw you on the security cameras,” of the security guards explains as he climbs up to try and jam the gears.

The other car’s driver takes a moment to collect himself, then grabs a wrench and makes his way over to the ladder. “Here. Let me have a look at that.”

“Figured we couldn’t just leave you out there.” The guard climbs down to let the driver up. “Then Shannon said she thought you were headed this way.”

“Thanks.” Dennis finally climbs out only to stretch over the top of his car.

The woman now known as Shannon simply smiles. “No problem. Mercy for your fellow man or something like that.” She laughs and shrugs, looking slightly flustered, though that is probably to be expected, all things considered. “Anyway, come on. Let’s get you all inside. We’ve got food, clothes, relatively comfortable furniture… We’ll get you poor things all cleaned up and sorted out in no time.”

There is a general rumble of agreement as the little group follows her to the door that leads into the connected store, allowing themselves to be ushered toward where another girl is waiting somewhat impatiently. That is, they all follow along aside from one man, anyway, who simply mutters something into his headset before switching it off and making his way back over to the hatchback. Shannon looks back, confused, as does Nate, though he looks more suspicious about it.

Dennis just sighs. “The little girl.” Then he ducks through the doorway and drags Nate away after the rest.

---

“Come on, holčička.” Viktor crouches down beside the open car door with a sigh as the child remains curled up in the center of the back seat. Children. How did anyone actually deal with children, let alone have them by choice?

The little girl simply whimpers and mumbles, “There are monsters out there.”

Well, at least the stuttering has stopped and he supposes he can concede that she has a fair point. “The monsters are outside, not with us.”

Before he can receive a response or think of anything more convincing to say, there is someone else coming up behind him, bending down to look the child in the eye with a painfully sympathetic and all too sugarcoated smile. He might be able to handle the sight of it at any other time but right now, with everything that he has just been through and the way that she has the gall to place one of her hands on his shoulder as if—God, he would really like to wipe that smile off of her face.

“Hi, there,” she says, voice floating in a way that speaks plainly of a familiarity with appeasing people under the age of seven. “I’m Shannon. What’s your name?”

Caught slightly off-guard, the child squeaks. “Um. I—I’m—” The little girl shoots a quick glance toward Viktor then, almost as if asking permission to speak with this new stranger before she finally answers. “I’m Amanda.”

Shannon’s smile becomes even brighter, even sweeter, if that is even possible, and Viktor has to dig his nails into his palms to keep himself from taking out her kneecaps when she leans even further over him, hand squeezing his shoulder. “Amanda? Well, that’s a pretty name! Are you hungry, Amanda?”

The little girl nods.

“Well, we’ve got all sorts of food inside. We’ve got toys, too, and games and books and all sorts of neat stuff.”

“And—and no monsters?”

Shannon laughs. “And no monsters.”

Still curled up in the seat, Amanda chews worriedly at her lip for a moment longer, eyes flashing back and forth between the two adults still there in the door. Shannon keeps smiling, encouraging. Viktor just stays crouched there with a clenched jaw and a headache starting to build behind his eyes. When the girl finally moves, though, it does not go entirely as expected. Rather than reaching for Shannon’s offered hand, she instead launches herself forward to wrap her little arms tight around Viktor’s neck and duck her head in under his chin, completely unaware of the rather undignified look of surprise that he is entirely unable to keep off of his face. Unhelpfully, all Shannon does in response is giggle.

[taexual]

HOLIC - 44 | jb x reader

pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader

genre: enemies to lovers au | roommate au

warnings: it’s just raw angst

words: 7.2k

disclaimer: i do not own the gif, please let me know if it belongs to you, so i can give proper credit

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It only took you a few days to finish editing all of the pictures you’d taken of Jaebum that night. You ran them by him first – and smacked him when he tried to make you swear he’d always be your only model – and then emailed them to his agency. You still needed their approval so, even though Jaebum had insisted you take these pictures, it was possible that his employers were going to end up hiring someone else, after all.

Except, as you learned on your way to work that Friday, they didn’t. As it turned out, the only problem Jaebum’s producer had with the pictures you’ve taken was that he couldn’t choose one. It felt like the biggest compliment you’ve ever been told.

The entire day would have been wonderful – Fridays already carried a certain aura of just being plain great – had it not been for a text Jiho sent you right when you were wrapping up, ready to head home. Apparently, his old friend was holding an exhibition at one of the out-of-town galleries he’d worked with before so you needed to keep your Saturday free.

Grateful that he’d warned you—sort of—in advance this time, you texted back in confirmation and were surprised to learn that Jiho actually expected you to bring your camera to the exhibition. For a moment, you thought he’d found out you’d taken Jaebum up to the balcony and had completely stolen Jiho’s photoshoot spot, so he was now going to get back at you by taking your camera and locking it away or something equally as unrealistic. But then you realized that made no sense – even if he had learned about your impromptu photoshoot, why would he try to get back at you? You’d done nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, actually.

Getting the approval of Jaebum’s agency provided you with a huge boost of confidence that you obviously needed. They liked your pictures so much, they didn’t know which ones to use – that had to mean you were, at least, somewhat better than average at what you did. What was more, that had to mean that, perhaps, you’d been too pessimistic about the number of opportunities you would get to make yourself known. Maybe you wouldn’t have to completely rely on Jiho to get your name out there, after all.

In the time leading up to the exhibition you had to attend with Jiho that Saturday night, you couldn’t get the memory of the photoshoot with Jaebum out of your head. Taking pictures of him had been nothing short of wonderful. You both had fun – although you did nearly freeze your hands off – and just seeing him through the lens of your camera inspired you so much, you had come up with three new ideas for a photoshoot if this one didn’t work out. But it did work out. Not only did you thoroughly enjoy the photoshoot itself, but the end result was also splendid. You couldn’t have been happier.

However, ruining the utter bliss of your routine with Jaebum as the two of you munched on pizza in his bed that Friday night, you got a call from Hyojin who was demanding to see you immediately. Normally, you’d have turned any offer to go out down – there was simply nothing you’d have rather done that what you’d already been doing – but because she was one of your best friends and, frankly, she sounded absolutely terrifying on the phone, you forced yourself out of bed.

“Are you seriously leaving right when Johnny Depp discovers the—”

“Oh, no,” you stopped Jaebum by extending your hand in front of his face. “Just because you’ve seen Sleepy Hollow before doesn’t mean you get to spoil the ending for me. Or watch it without me. Pause it, I won’t be long.”

“That’s not the ending, it’s barely even the middle,” he mumbled, pausing the movie nevertheless. “And are you saying I’m going to have to stare at the ceiling while I wait for you?”

“It’s just fifteen minutes,” you said. “Jacob’s dropping her off in front of our building. There’s no way Hyojin will make him wait for very long.”

“Why is she coming all this way over here, anyway?” he asked, already knowing all about your friends and their boyfriends. “And, at this hour, nonetheless?”

“It’s nine on a Friday night,” you said matter-of-factly. “She was probably out drinking like normal people do. It’s just you and I who get drunk on a Monday night instead.”

Jaebum grinned at the jab. “Fair point. I’ve paused the movie for you – consider that when you’re out and don’t keep me waiting for too long.”

“I will keep your sacrifices in mind,” you leaned over to kiss him and then stumbled out of his bedroom, your jeans still only halfway on.

Hyojin hadn’t been to your neighborhood before and it showed – she had her boyfriend drive around the block three times before she called and got you to come to the building they’d eventually parked outside of. But even despite getting lost, she looked like she thought that coming all the way over here was worth it.

“It’s great to see you,” you told her after the two of you hugged hello. “But, seriously, what’s up? You’ve never driven this far for me before, usually we just—”

“No, I know,” she cut you off, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “But you need to see this. I couldn’t text you the link because, well, yelling at you over text is not the same as yelling at you in real life. So, here. Look.”

She pressed something on her phone and then passed it on to you.

From the looks of it, Hyojin had opened up a tabloid site – with some very bad formatting that warped the text in every second paragraph – but you didn’t get to check what kind of site because your eyes immediately caught Jiho’s name in the headline. And then your name following right after.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered under your breath, reading on.

The article seemed to be a quick recap of the dinner you’d attended with Jiho earlier this week. It was accompanied by some high-quality pictures of the people who were there – and thus, you realized that this wasn’t actually a tabloid site at all, this must have been a blog-like website by one of the dinner guests – but its’ main focus, without a doubt, was the “budding relationship between the most promising young photographer” – Jiho – “and his muse” – you.

“I’m not—this wasn’t supposed to—oh, fuck,” you tossed around helplessly, handing Hyojin her phone back. “How did you even find this?”

“I didn’t. Jacob showed it to me,” she replied, her face executing every sign that she was about to scold you good. “One of his friends from publishing was at that dinner, so he was showing Jacob the pictures and Jake thought he’d recognized you. Turns out, his friend was actually looking forward to meeting you. He’d referred to you as “Jiho’s girlfriend.”

“God, no, it’s not—”

“Yeah, I sure hope it’s not,” Hyojin continued, too fired up to let you finish, “because this implies that you’re still in touch with that asshat and, not just that, but you’re also dating him.”

You momentarily recalled your last conversation with May at Mark’s bar. Evidently, she’d kept quiet about the revelation that your entire future depended on Jiho, so Hyojin was completely in the dark about it all.

“I’m not. I swear, I’m not. I would never! Jaebum—he’s right upstairs, waiting—God, this is messed up,” you brought your hands over your face in an attempt to collect your thoughts so you’d finally form a coherent sentence. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone because I’m not sure if I’m allowed to speak about this – at least not to the press – but—”

“Well, go right ahead,” she urged, “I’m not the press.”

“Yeah, but Jacob is,” you nodded your head towards the car Hyojin had just stepped out of – or, perhaps, sprinted out of would have put it more accurately since she hopped right out, slamming the door shut before you even got a glimpse of her boyfriend.

“He’s not that kind of press,” Hyojin rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t care about some photographer that’s fresh out of the womb. No one does. No offense.”

You didn’t take offense – she was right. As Mark had pointed out in his bar the other day, the only people who cared about photographers were other photographers.

“Right,” you swallowed. “Well, this was Jiho’s idea. He thought I should get some exposure before my exhibition.”

Hyojin frowned. “Why does he get to decide that?”

God, you thought you appreciated May for not telling the rest of your friends about this – she must have thought you should have been the one to do that – but now you wished she had, just like she revealed the truth about who your roommate was. You’d planned to keep Jaebum’s identity a secret but ended up spilling it all to her while wine-drunk and, in turn, May had told the rest of your friends. If she’d done the same thing now, perhaps you wouldn’t have had to face Hyojin’s judgemental eyes.

“Because,” you closed your eyes, “it’s his gallery.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you groaned, your fingers suddenly very drawn to your scalp and, particularly, ripping your hair out of it. “God, it’s a long story.”

“Honey,” your friend put her hand on your shoulders, a very determined expression on her face, “I’ve got all night.”

Jacob pulled his window down, having overheard her say this. “You really don’t, love. We have a movie to catch in half an hour. Hello, by the way.”

“Hey, Jake,” you gave him an awkward wave which he acknowledged with a nod and then slid his window back up, giving you and Hyojin some privacy – even though he could, clearly, hear everything from inside of the car anyway. “You should go, Jin. I swear nothing’s happening. His gallery reached out to me and offered me… something. It’s not just an exhibition, it’s a whole ton of other stuff, too. It’s a great contract, really. But before I get to lay claim to any of those perks, I have to become more well-known so that my first exhibition isn’t a complete bust. That dinner is a part of a-a PR stunt, you know? Like, we were supposed to appear together as two photographers, having dinner—”

“Is that not what you did?” she asked, interrupting you.

“It is, but—well, they’re calling me his muse,” you replied. “Not his colleague. So, that’s not exactly what was supposed to happen but, I guess, it’s still exposure.”

“Are you going to do something about this, then?” she continued.

“I don’t know what I can—”

“And what does Jaebum think about this wonderful stunt?”

Her questions already made it difficult to catch your breath but this last one seemed to punch you right in the lungs.

“He doesn’t know,” you wheezed out, not raising your eyes from the pavement.

For the second time that night, Hyojin’s jaw opened and froze in that position. “What?”

“N-no, I mean, he knows I’m doing these events for publicity,” you tried to explain, guilt flashing all over your face. “He just doesn’t know—”

“That they’re with Jiho?” she raised her eyebrows in an oddly accusing manner. “Babe, what are you doing?”

“I’m—”

She shook her head, choosing not to listen to another excuse. “You have to tell him.”

“I will!” you said, sounding far too exasperated. You’d already told everyone but Jaebum and the constant promises you made about telling him were starting to weigh down on your consciousness. “He’s just been so happy, getting that contract with an agency, and all. Everything’s going so well, it just doesn’t feel right to piss on his parade. He wanted this for so long.”

That sounded like an excuse and both of you knew it.

“Don’t think you’re doing him a favor by not telling him,” Hyojin reprimanded immediately.

“I know I’m not,” you said. “And I will tell him. Just not right this moment.”

“Well, if he sees the article, it will be too late, won’t it?”

“He won’t see it,” you said and then, after a moment of panic, added a fearful, “will he?”

Hyojin sighed. “Honestly, no, he probably won’t. The only reason Jake even saw that was because of that co-worker who showed it to him. There are probably, like, six people who read that website and I don’t think Jaebum is one of them. I hope that isn’t the kind of publicity Jiho meant.”

“I hope not,” you echoed. “Although it makes sense that no one cares about this. We’re irrelevant.”

“No, he had one thing right – people don’t care about these dinners but they do care about who’s dating whom, even if the people in question aren’t too famous,” she said. “Sex sells—”

Your eyes widened. “Sex?”

“You know what I mean,” she waved your surprise off. “People care about that shit. They want to know who’s sleeping with—”

“It’s just—just a few events,” you cut her off, just the mere mention of anyone assuming you and Jiho were having sex enough to send your stomach into a panicked frenzy. “Any publicity is good publicity, right?”

“Well, Jake would disagree but he’s not trying to become a celebrity. He just writes about them.”

“Right,” you nodded, allowing the looming awkward silence to finally engulf you both.

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?” Hyojin asked another uncomfortably long moment later.

“No. I’m not sure about anything,” you replied honestly. “But I want that exhibition and if that’s the only way—”

“You know it’s not,” she disagreed right away. “And, frankly, faking a relationship with someone doesn’t seem worth it.”

You continued to count the tiles on the pavement, feeling – and looking – like a scolded kindergartner. Any other time, you’d have felt like she just didn’t understand your situation. Merely a few days ago, you were convinced you weren’t good enough to find a place to host your exhibition some other way, but now you’d achieved a huge breakthrough with the pictures you’d taken for Jaebum. Now you believed in yourself a little – oh, alright, a lot – more.

“This isn’t long-term,” you decided to say. “It’s just a few weeks tops. That’s two or three more events and I’ve got another one tomorrow night. It’ll all be over before long: I’ll have my exhibition and then I can forget all about Jiho.”

“Hmm,” Hyojin had crossed her arms and was now looking decidedly skeptical. “And, I suppose, you’ll tell Jaebum about this another decade later, yeah? I don’t really understand why you—”

“I’m afraid,” you cut her off. She didn’t seem to understand why you sounded so agitated so, after sighing so deep, your whole chest began to ache, you explained, “I don’t want to lose him. I’ve already fucked up before and it lead to some hefty arguments. But that was before we were together, so they weren’t as significant.”

“When are arguments ever not significant?”

“Fine, they were significant,” you said. “But they never posed a threat to our relationship because there wasn’t one. And now that there is, I’m afraid that if we fight, it will break us up.”

“So, what, you’ll spend the rest of your life walking on your tip-toes, avoiding arguments with him because you’re afraid?” Hyojin asked. The more she talked, the less your words made sense to you. Suddenly, you couldn’t understand why you kept talking at all.

“No,” you said awkwardly. “No, that’s just stupid, I can’t avoid arguments with him for the rest of my life, but it’s so soon. We’ve only been together for, what, a few weeks, a month—”

“When did you move in with him?”

“I-I don’t know, a few months ago,” you blinked, not sure how this question was relevant. “Maybe three, three and a half—”

“Alright, so you’ve been with him for three and a half months, then,” Hyojin concluded.

“No, but we weren’t together before—”

“No,” she declared louder so she could talk over you – just like she seemed to do the whole night tonight. “No, babe. Every argument you’ve had with him since the day you moved in was equally as significant, and yet, not a single one posed any threats to your relationship. Not-a-single-one, you hear me? Because, from what you’ve told me, you and him have gotten pretty intense with each other before and yet, neither of you moved out. Not even when you didn’t think you were going to end up together. You have some real stuff between you, you know what I mean? The kind of stuff that can’t be broken by arguments… but might get irrevocably stained by secrets.”

You didn’t have a response to give her and sighed instead but Hyojin understood everything you couldn’t say just from your breath.

“You don’t want to do this with Jiho, either,” she said gently. “So, don’t put yourself through something you don’t want to do. Do it your way. So what if it takes longer?”

It wasn’t the first time someone had said that to you and it certainly wasn’t the first time that you considered the weight of these words. They were heavy but that was the case with the truth – it weighed you down until you could barely move.

“We said we were going to do this together,” you whispered under your breath, the engine of Jacob’s car nearly drowning your words out. “So, if I don’t do this, I’ll just have to watch him walk away from me.”

“Walk away from—honey, no,” Hyojin sighed, wrapping her arms around you, her sweet perfume so familiar, you almost started to cry. “He wouldn’t.”

“He wouldn’t have a choice,” you insisted. “That’s how life works sometimes. I don’t want it to. I don’t want him to—I just want us to do this together.”

“And you will,” she promised, pulling away slightly so she could look at you. “But maybe at different speeds. But who the hell cares? You were together before fame and you’ll be together after. You’ll wipe your stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame together and then walk into the sunshine, hand-in-hand. Who cares if you’ll host your exhibition a month, or a year after he releases his album?”

You cared, sniffling as you refused to meet her eyes. “A lot can happen in a year.”

“And a lot will,” she nodded. “But you two had already gone through so much, you might as well go through a little bit more.”

“What if that’s where the breaking point is? What if we don’t have a year—”

“Sweetheart,” she stopped you, suddenly grave serious. “What if I reach down inside of you, grab that paranoia of yours, and strangle it so it no longer bothers you, hmm? That would save us all a lot of time.”

You couldn’t control the snicker that passed your lips and got Hyojin to smile as well.

“Go back,” she told you then. “And don’t forget where you’re going, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? Where am I going?”

Hyojin smile meaningfully. “You’re going home.”

Hyojin’s last words helped you more than you’d realized at first, and you woke up the next morning with a decision – tonight was going to be the last event you’d attend with Jiho. Once it was over, you would sit him down and tell him that you had to find another way because you simply couldn’t approve of this one. He’d have to agree to let you host your exhibition right now and not “when you were more popular.” You’d tell him about the pictures you’d taken of Jaebum and how much his agency liked them if he refused to listen to you.

And then, if he’d agree, you’d go home, talk to Jaebum, host your exhibition, and live happily ever after. And if he wouldn’t, you’d still go home, talk to Jaebum, and find a way to live out your happily ever after without getting your exhibition.

You hoped for the former but, as you applied your make-up for the night, you braced yourself for the latter. You knew that the chances of Jiho agreeing to just cut straight to your exhibition were slim – you and him were only seen together twice; surely, that wasn’t going to be enough in his eyes – but you trusted your ability to sound convincing. He’d insisted the gallery wanted you for your potential, so, maybe he’d fight harder to hold on to you and agree to your terms, after all.

In the end, whatever happened tonight, this was going to be the last time you were out with Jiho for publicity.

You nearly blacked out when, after leaving a note to let Jaebum know you were off to a photography event, you walked out of your building and saw Jiho step out of a limousine. A sleek black limousine – as if you two were headed to your wedding or something.

“W-what is—” you began but didn’t get to finish before Jiho’s bright laughter cut you off.

“I thought we’d arrive in style! What do you think?” he asked. You thought he was a lunatic. “Attract some more attention, hmm? Come on, get inside – got your camera? Good! – there’s champagne.”

You felt like you’d just skipped through, at least, three chapters of your life when you climbed into his limousine. Who were you, exactly, to have this expensive ride with undoubtedly equally as expensive glass of champagne thrust into your hand as soon as you sat down?

It was impossible to understand what was happening – although, from the laid-back way Jiho was acting, you’d have thought he took the limo to go to work and do his grocery shopping, so this wasn’t weird to him in the slightest – and, what’s more, it was impossible to figure out what would happen next.

As it turned out, what happened next was silence. Jiho was texting someone on his phone, so the only sound in the car was the rapid click-clacking of his fingers against his screen and the ever-so-often sip of champagne. You, on the other hand, refused to drink and remained completely quiet and overly alert the entire ride. When thrust into a situation you’ve never experienced before, it was probably best to stay sober and aware of your surroundings.

Once the limousine stopped – tossing your heart from your chest to your heels – about fifty minutes later, Jiho finally put his phone away and turned to look at you.

“Here’s the plan,” he declared in a way that made it seem as though you two were about to rob a bank Bonnie-and-Clyde style. “I didn’t tell you to bring your camera just so people would know you’re a photographer. That will come up anyway. I asked—”

“Will it?” you cut him off reflexively.

“What?”

“Will it come up?” you repeated, deliberately this time. You had decided to tell him you didn’t want to do this – even though he had to know that himself already – and you were going to stick with that decision. “Because, judging from the article written about us after the dinner, I’m not actually a photographer at all. I’m just a girl on your arm.”

Jiho, for some reason, hadn’t expected you to have read the article. Once the initial surprise wore off, however, he looked pleased that you’ve seen it and was almost inclined to ask who’d shown it to you. Clearly, you had your own sources and he was all the more curious to know who they were.

“Right, but that’s where it starts,” he insisted. “Slowly, more and more people will stop focusing on the fact that we’re together and, instead, will start to focus on us as individuals. I mean, come on, there are only so many speculations that can be made about the relationship of two people. Sooner or later, people are bound to get bored.”

“If they’re bored, they’ll ignore me and focus on you,” you said, “and I will still be the girl—”

“Quit thinking I’ll be quiet through it all,” he cut you off, showing you, for the first time since you’ve met him, that he also had the ability to get annoyed. “I’m doing this for you—for the gallery. Obviously, I will do everything in my power to make it clear that we are both photographers. Hence your camera here, tonight. I want you to capture this event from your own point of view. I will use one of your pictures in my review of tonight’s exhibition – with proper credit, of course – and that’s how everything will kick off.”

You bit your lip, looking down. If he’d told you of this plan earlier, perhaps you’d have felt less revolted riding this limousine with him. Still, though – was the expensive car so necessary?

“Fine,” you said, choosing to leave the conversation about how you wanted to finish doing these events until after the night was over. You were sort of an expert at postponing potentially complicated conversations. “Let’s just get this over and done with.”

Jiho smiled in response – the smile, that was most likely fake, looked so real that you started to wonder if he’d been faking this nice exterior the whole night tonight – and, opening the door of the limo with one hand, extended his other one to you.

“What do you want me to—”

Not waiting for you to start questioning his motives again, he took your hand against your wishes, and helped you get out of the car. There were three people taking pictures of the guests arriving at the exhibition and all three of them suddenly had their cameras on you and Jiho, eager to capture you two stepping out of the car, hand-in-hand. It was almost blinding and most surreal.

“Good to see you, Jiho!” one of the photographers hollered, his flash going off every two seconds. You were sure you had your eyes closed in every single picture he took. “Is that the missus?”

You cringed – but hoped it wasn’t too noticeable – and tried to pull your hand out of Jiho’s grip now that you were out of the car, but he didn’t let you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Jiho replied sneakily, shooting a wink in the direction of the camera. “I’m here to have a grand night, admiring the artwork of a dear friend with a dear friend.”

“Is she just a friend, then?” another one asked. You felt yourself clutch the camera in your hands tighter in hopes of drawing more attention to it. “A close friend, perhaps?”

“She’s all of that and a lot more,” Jiho replied and you felt a cold wave wash over your entire body at his words. “And she’s one of the most talented young acts I know. Careful, boys, her pictures tonight might just overshadow yours.”

“We’re looking forward to it, Jiho!” the photographer said as Jiho lead you inside. Your feet were nearly frozen solid. “Have a great night!”

“You, too!” Jiho wished with a gentle wave of his hand and the two of you finally escaped the cameras by entering the building.

As soon as the photographers were behind you, you pulled your hand out of Jiho’s a little more forcibly than you’d intended and gave him a horrified look.

“What the hell are you saying to them?!” you demanded, not even trying to keep your voice down. “You told me you’d leave our relationship up for speculation and then you went ahead and—”

“And what?” he snapped, your sudden outrage frustrating him much more than your persistent doubts in the limo did. “What was it that I said to them that wasn’t precisely that? I’m planting the seeds of doubt—”

“You’re planting rumors!” you disagreed vehemently. “Do you really think they’ll care about my photographs now that you’d made it seem as if we’re together? As if we’re in love?”

“Of course, they will—”

“They couldn’t care less about that shit!” you continued, noticing how each swear word out of your lips made Jiho cringe and look around to see if anyone heard. “All that their cameras focused on was you holding my hand. I’m nothing to them—”

Jiho cut you off by taking a threatening step towards you, his face dangerously close to yours as he whisper-yelled through clenched teeth, “how do you expected to be something when you haven’t done anything? Popularity is earned. I’m earning it for you so show more gratitude and stop making a fucking scene.”

He stepped away a second later and, if you hadn’t been there, listening to him curse and put you down, you probably wouldn’t have believed it. Jiho was a fantastic actor, truly – the way he kept his composure around you all of this time was admirable. But there had to be a reason why you were so adamant to get away from him at all times; clearly, it wasn’t just because you’d misunderstood his intentions the first time you met him. It was also because somewhere deep in your subconscious, you figured he was just playing a role of Jiho, the sweet and eager-to-help photographer, while his real personality was buried deep underneath.

Well, you’d caught glimpses of his real face just now and, when he told you to straighten up and proceeded to wrap one hand around your waist to enter the exhibition hall, smiling as if you hadn’t just argued, you knew that the decision to drop everything, cancel the contract, and find another way to get your name out there was the right one.

“Jiho, I—”

“Shh,” he hushed sharply. “I need you to stay quiet right now. I’m looking for the host, I’m going to introduce you and then off you go, taking your pictures. Got it? I’m not in the mood to talk to you right now.”

“Me neither. I was just—”

His grip on your waist tightened. “What did I just tell you?”

His voice sounded like it came straight from hell and yet, instead of feeling intimidated, you felt incredibly relieved. You weren’t wrong, Jiho may have just been the devil incarnate with some very well-trained – albeit pretend – manners.

You stayed quiet, allowing him to search for the host of the night because you figured that if you had to end the night without a contract – you didn’t think it was possible that Jiho would agree to cut short to your exhibition instead of just dropping you right away – then it’d be great if you would get to meet a few more influential people beforehand. They probably weren’t going to help you out, knowing their relationship with Jiho, but it wouldn’t hurt to have them learn your name.

As soon as you shook the hand of the photographer whose pictures hung on the walls of the hall around you – your face hurt from all the fake smiles already, even though you’d only been here for less than twenty minutes – something happened that made you regret leaving your house tonight even more. You should have bolted in the opposite direction as soon as you saw the limousine approach, really.

“Hello,” an awfully familiar voice sounded next to you. You thought you experienced what falling from the twentieth story of a skyscraper must have felt like when you turned around to meet Jackson’s eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Oh. H-hey,” you choked out, painfully aware of Jiho’s hand still on your waist. “I’m here with—”

“Hello,” Jiho turned around as soon as the host of the exhibition walked away. You may have feared Jaebum meeting Jiho but you couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going to happen when one of Jaebum’s best friends met him instead. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m—”

“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Jackson asked, his hand coming to rest on your waist instead.

Taking advantage of Jiho’s confused features, Jackson pulled you away from him and – before you could protest – walked you to the closest bathroom he could find, closing the door behind you.

“I’m sorry for cutting it straight to the chase,” he spoke as calmly as he could given the situation, “but, shit, who the hell is that?”

“T-that’s Jiho. He’s—”

“A scumbag that’s about to get his ass kicked, I hope?” Jackson finished for you. “What are you doing here with him?”

“I’m—God, it’s a long story,” you said, the exhaustion you’ve felt since you signed the contract showing in your voice. “I’ve signed a deal with his gallery, so I have to—”

“Does Jaebum know you’re here?”

“Jackson—”

“Because, I swear to God, I have no idea what you’re doing but I—”

“Jackson!” you said louder, suddenly afraid of the fire behind his eyes. He looked frantic. He looked like he was going to knock Jiho out right after he left the bathroom and his hand was already reaching for the door handle. “Please listen, I’m just—I came to the exhibition. I’ve signed a contract with a gallery Jiho represents and I need some exposure—”

“Some exposure?” he frowned, the look on his face depicting every frustration you were feeling inside. You were afraid to look him in the eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I can’t host my exhibition while no one knows who I am,” you answered. “I need to—”

“That’s bullshit!” Jackson snapped. “How are you supposed to get exposure without hosting any exhibitions? Did he convince you this was a good idea?”

“No, I don’t think this is a good idea, I—”

Jackson threw his hands in the air, startling you. “Well, then what the fuck are you doing here?!”

“I’m trying to get my name out there!” you replied in agitation. Jackon’s accusing tone and the questions he was firing at you confirmed that your raised voices in this bathroom were going to be nothing in comparison to the storm this would cause with Jaebum. “Fuck! I’m just—I’m trying to get some publicity. That was part of the contract.”

Jackson scoffed. “That guy has you pressed against his side like you’re his trophy wife. I don’t know what kind of publicity you’re seeking but I can assure you, this isn’t it. Jaebum—fuck, is he on board with this?”

You almost flinched when he mentioned Jaebum again.

“Of course he’s not—actually, uh, he doesn’t know the—”

“He doesn’t know?!”

To say that Jackson was appalled would have been an understatement.

“He doesn’t know the details!” you tried to explain, feeling yourself tear up but desperately trying to remain calm – or, well, as calm as you could with Jackson looking at you like you’d just killed your way through the West Coast. “He knows I have to attend these events for a little while, he just—I didn’t tell him about Jiho. The three of us go way back, he hates the guy.”

“Oh,” Jackson said in an uncharacteristically high-pitched voice. It was scary to hear his deep, somber tone take such a sarcastic chirp turn. “So, that makes all of this better!”

“It doesn’t,” you tried. “And I’ll tell him—”

“Like hell, you will.”

“W-what?”

“If you hadn’t told him yet, clearly, you’re not that eager to tell him at all,” he stated.

“No, I want him to know,” you insisted but you weren’t sure if you meant it. Hearing Jackson voice your real intentions was the ultimate turning point and every single ounce of guilt came pouring out of your eyes in tears. You really didn’t want Jaebum to know. “I-I just don’t want to fight with him about this—”

“Then maybe don’t do this!” Jackson continued, still as loud as before but gentler now that you started to cry, “if you’re doing something that’s going to start a fight with your boyfriend when he finds out, then you’re probably stepping out of line in a major way, don’t you think?” he paused as soon as he realized how riled up he was. He brought his hands through his hair to calm himself down. “God, I’m sorry, I can’t—I seriously have a hard time understanding this. W-why did you think this was a good idea? How the hell did you think faking a relationship with someone was going to go under your own boyfriend’s radar?”

You sniffled, trying to focus on your breathing so you wouldn’t sob out loud, “I’m not faking a relationship—”

“Oh, okay, well, don’t worry about that – that guy out there is doing it for you,” Jackson countered.

“No, I—this,” you felt yourself hiccup, “it w-wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Fuck, what was it supposed to be like?” Jackson asked. “Because last time I was on the phone with Jaebum, he was in my studio, writing a fucking song about you. I definitely didn’t think I’d hang up the phone, turn around, and see his girl walk right past me with another guy.”

You barely had enough time to process what he had just said when a knock came on the bathroom door.

“Is everything alright?” Jiho’s voice called out. “I hate to bother you but we should probably get back out here. We’re here for your benefit, after all.”

“In a moment!” you replied through a stuffed nose. Jackson sighed, his hands on his hips and his eyes focused on the floor. The fact that he couldn’t even look at you felt like a whole new stab of pain. “Look, this is the last event I’m doing. I’m ending it tonight. If they won’t let me host an exhibition, I’ll find another solution. I won’t do this anymore.”

You wiped the tears from your cheeks and tried to steady your breathing.

“How many events like this have you done already?” Jackson asked another moment later. He may have been angry with you but he hated to have been the reason why you started to cry.

“Just a few, it hasn’t been that long—”

“And how long were you planning on doing this for?”

“N-not long,” you said, your breath hitching again. You exhaled slowly before finishing,  “ideally, I want to end this tonight.”

“But you’ll still work with him – with a guy who’s obviously very interested in making the public think he’s dating you – and Jaebum will still not know about it, is that what you’re planning?” Jackson continued, watching your eyes fill with tears again but not being able to stop himself. He’d have put his life on the line for his best friend and it was starting to feel like that was exactly what he was doing right now because he knew he was going to wish he was dead as soon as this blew over. The sight of you crying because of the things he’d said was too awful to bear. “Jaebum will come to your exhibition, not having the slightest clue that there’s a guy who’s—”

“I’ll tell him!” you shouted desperately, pain spilling from your eyes without the slightest intention of stopping. “God, I will! I’ll tell him everything.”

“Will you? Will you, really? Because he’s my best friend. I can’t just stand here after I learned about the shit that he doesn’t know but should know. Fuck. I think you’re great, I really do. And, God knows, I’m so sorry I’ve made you cry tonight,” he added and then, even despite all that he’d just said, stepped closer to provide you with some comfort by carefully wrapping his arms around you, “I think the two of you are perfect for each other but, fuck…” he sighed after hearing you sob against his shoulder, “you know his heart better than I do, but even I can tell that you’re walking dangerously close to breaking it.”

“I wouldn’t,” you whispered, pulling away from him to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t. I would never, I-I—”

“I know you probably don’t mean it,” he said softly, releasing you. “But he’s going to hate the fact that you’re keeping this a secret.”

“I know he is,” you nodded, stepping away from him and sniffling before slowly bringing your index fingers under your eyelids. Your make-up was most definitely destroyed but that was the least of your worries right now. “That’s w-why, the longer I stay quiet, the harder it gets to find a way to tell him.”

He sighed again. “You know someone has to.”

“J-Jackson, I—”

“Just go, okay?” he asked, turning away from you and resting his hands on the sink, his head hanging low. It was you who felt beyond ashamed and yet he looked like he was the one making the biggest mistake of his life. “That guy’s waiting for you out there.”

“Please, I’ll tell Jaebum about this, I just—”

“Go,” Jackson repeated. “Please.”

You reached the door but turned around as soon as the last tears slid down your cheeks. You waited for him to turn around to look at you but he wouldn’t.

“I don’t want to hurt him,” you said slowly, the ball in your throat from the tears and the pain and the guilt suffocating you. “I love him.”

Jackson whipped his head to face you. “Does he know?”

Looking down again, you didn’t even dare to shake your head – and you didn’t have to, Jackson knew the answer already. This was another thing you’d never gathered the courage to tell to Jaebum.

Jackson looked away again and, after another torturous moment, you dared to exit the bathroom, closing the door behind you and feeling yourself tear up yet again as soon as you saw Jiho’s polished shoes.

“What was that about?” he asked you right away.

“Jiho,” you said sternly, your vision clouded with tears. You thought you saw him take a small step back in shock once he saw your puffy red eyes. “I won’t do this anymore. I need an answer right now – can I host my exhibition at your gallery or not? Because if not, I’m ending the contract right this moment.”

“Well, of course, you can,” Jiho replied, surprised. His fake face was back on and you wished nothing more than to claw it off. “You just need a little bit more exposure and—”

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t like this. I didn’t like the article written about us, I didn’t like what you told those photographers out there, and I don’t like the fact that we’re, essentially, pretending to be in a relationship. I’m not—I don’t want to do that. Either, I host the exhibition now or I’m leaving.”

“Well—that’s—where is all this coming from? I thought we’d reached an agreement. You’re so close to—”

“The only thing I’m close to is ruining the only thing that makes sense in my life,” you were the one who kept cutting him off this time. It was nice to have the upper hand for a change even if you had a feeling it would backfire. “So, tell me right now: will I have the exhibition at your gallery or not?”

“I-I can’t give you an answer immediately,” he replied. “I need to check in with the gallery and we need some time to consider this.”

“Okay. Consider it, then,” you said, exhaling shakily as you turned around towards the front door of the hall. “And give me an answer as soon as possible.”

“Wh—right, but where are you going?”

You didn’t stop as you answered curtly, “I’m going home.”

    chapter directory

[litwitlady]

whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still (5/6)

Read on AO3 - where it’s now complete.

Warnings: light addiction discussion

v. Michael (and Rosa, too!)

‘I know it feels impossible right now, Michael. But it’s progress. Without the lies between you, you’ll be able to heal when you’re both ready.’ Dr. Sampson leans forward and stretches out her arm. ‘May I see your list again.’

He unfolds the worn sheet of notebook paper and hands it over. ‘I’m done. Well, kind of done.’

Her eyes scan the names. ‘So, that’s it? Only four?’ 

Michael sighs. ‘There’s five. But I’m not ready for the fifth yet. Obviously. I couldn’t even write his name down.’

She narrows her eyes at him and then smiles. ‘I think there’s another name missing.’

He frowns at her. ‘There isn’t.’ 

‘When you look at yourself in the mirror, Michael, what do you see and what do you want to see?’ She sits back in her chair, knowing she’s hit a nerve. 

Michael slumps on the sofa, suddenly regretting the moment he’d stepped into her office.

***

A couple of weeks later, Michael stands in front of the mirror in his tiny bathroom staring at himself. Replaying Dr. Sampson’s questions over and over in his mind. Still unable to answer either one. But even so, he thinks he understands what she’s getting at - that he needs to make amends with himself. How to go about that is anyone’s guess. 

Despite how lost he feels, he’s still trying. These days he no longer sleeps until noon or goes to bed as the sun begins to rise. He works out regularly and eats fewer cheeseburgers, but still stops by to chat with Arturo regularly. Sanders is getting his money’s worth - a lot more than his money’s worth actually. And he’s still not drinking. Has even looked up the local Alcoholics Anonymous schedule in case he ever needs the additional help. 

And all of that has been nice. Once upon a time, he’d never have admitted that - not even to himself. But he can feel himself changing. Letting go of so much of the bullshit he’s held onto for so stupid long. Isobel has even remarked more than once at how much more he smiles now. At how much more he genuinely means every smile now.

But in spite of all his positive changes, he knows he hasn’t found the right way to forgive himself. Nothing he’s done feels big enough - significant enough. He’s struggling and needs help. So, before he starts his day, he places a phone call to Dr. Sampson’s office and asks for an extra appointment. He finds it hard to recognize his own voice. Which is a good thing because the old one sucked.

*** 

A few days later he makes the drive to Albuquerque. Dr. Sampson seems happy to see him, which he’s relieved about because penciling him in on such short notice couldn’t have been easy.

‘Okay, Michael, let’s see if we can work through your mental block. What have you worked on so far?’ 

‘Normal stuff - like eating better, working out, and not drinking. That’s all been good, but it’s just…I don’t know…health kick bullshit. None of it really matters. Problem is - I don’t know what really matters. I’m a pretty simple guy.’ He bites at his thumbnail. 

She nods. ‘I think those changes are great, Michael. And are absolutely part of making amends with yourself. But you’re saying you don’t feel satisfied yet?’ 

‘Yeah. There’s still this nagging feeling in my gut that I’m not trying hard enough.’

‘All right, let’s work on that for a minute.’ She crosses her legs and jots down something on her notepad. ‘Is there a moment in your life when you remember your trajectory changing? Maybe you had big life plans but something got in the way. Or maybe someone interfered and pulled you off track. Anything like that?’

There’s a lot like that. But one very specific day floods his memories. He swallows and begins to bounce his leg. Sees Dr. Sampson read him like an open book, but he’s too afraid to talk about that day out loud. He drops his chin in defeat.

‘That’s the one, Michael. That’s where the work is. And it’s not meant to be easy.’ Her voice is so soft and understanding. He wonders how understanding she’d be if he opened his mouth and told her the truth about what he’d done that summer night so long ago.

***

The next day Michael loads several boxes into the bed of his truck and takes off for the local church. He street parks and waits for the Addicts Anonymous group to let out. She finds him leaning against his Chevy, hat in place, and right leg bent onto the fender behind him. All he’s missing is a long piece of wheat straw hanging from his lips.

Rosa crosses her arms, confrontational but also amused. ‘You missed a good meeting. Maybe next time you’ll actually make it inside.’

‘Not here for the meeting, here for you.’ He lowers his tailgate and slides one of the boxes forward, cutting the flaps open with his pocket knife. ‘Thought we could drive out to the desert and get a little practice in.’ Holding up a lightbulb, Michael smirks at her. ‘Some chirpy little birdies told me you’re absolute shit at control.’ He tosses her the bulb like it’s burning. She drops it, glass shattering on the street at her feet.

‘Fuck off, payaso. I’ve got better things to do than be lectured by another overpowered alien. Never ends well for me.’ She turns her back and starts to walk away, shoulders wide with purpose and intent.

Michael lets her walk away. Shuts his tailgate and climbs back inside his truck, adjusting his side mirror to focus on her retreating form. He watches her pause, clench her fists, and turn back. Squinting her eyes at him and flicking him off. He laughs and eventually she slides in next to him. ‘I hate you.’

‘Hmm.’ He quirks an eyebrow and smiles, turning the key in the ignition. ‘Hate’s good. It’ll help you focus.’

The drive takes thirty minutes and they ride in silence. Rosa fiddles with the radio dial until she gets frustrated enough to give up and leave it on the one working station - country hits from yesterday and today. Michael knows she may as well be in hell, and she doesn’t bother hiding it. They have that in common. 

He parks in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. But to him, it’s like home. The Chevy’s tire tracks branded into the desert sand. Rosa can’t help but comment. ‘Come here often?’

‘Several times a week since I got the truck. Alone…mostly. To clear my head.’ Mostly is doing a lot of work considering how many hours he’s spent here with Alex over the past eleven years. But Rosa doesn’t need to know that. ‘You can borrow it if you ever need to.’ He lowers the tailgate again and grabs a lightbulb. ‘Ready?’

She narrows her eyes. ‘What? No helpful advice about grounding myself and finding my center?’  

Michael rolls his eyes. ‘I’m not Isobel. And I’m not Max. Just fucking concentrate.’  He holds out the bulb towards her and when he sees her eyes focus, he throws the bulb high into the air. It crashes on a nearby boulder. ‘You really are terrible.’

‘What the fuck? Why did you throw it?’ Her arms are crossed again, sweatshirt sleeves pulled down past her fingertips.

‘Too much time and you’ll overthink everything. If you’re anything like me, you need the added pressure. Now it’s my turn.’ He grabs his own bulb.

She shakes her head. ‘What do you mean, your turn? Can’t you do this already? I mean, you’re supposed to be teaching me - not yourself.’

He floats the lightbulb in the air between them. ‘I can use and control my power better than Max or Isobel will ever be able to. But there’s others powers I’ve never bothered to try before. Never cared enough, I guess. Or maybe some other fucked up reason. Who can say? Now shush.’

Using the same tactic he’d tried with Rosa, Michael tosses the bulb into the air and before it hits the ground, the tiniest spark blinks at them. Rosa pushes him playfully. ‘No fucking fair! How did you do that?’

Michael stares at where the bulb shattered and honestly can’t believe he managed to make anything happen. Even with Isobel’s newfound telekinesis, he’d been convinced he wasn’t worthy of anything more than what he already had. The proof at how wrong he was incredibly hard to swallow. ‘Let me try a few more times and then I’ll try to explain.’

Several splattered bulbs later, he’s able to light them and float them at the same time. Easy as breathing. Rosa has even started smiling and clapping each time he’s successful. 

‘When Max and Isobel were kids, they sucked at control. Max used to turn entire neighborhood blocks dark just from someone mentioning your sister’s name. School was always so dangerous because his accidental boners blew the classroom lights more than once. It got so bad that some days he’d have to go home early, feigning migraines.’ He laughs at the grin on Rosa’s face. ‘You can tell him I told you that story.’

‘Liz needs to know too.’ Her grin is wicked and Michael feels a very immature twinge of satisfaction.

‘Isobel was better, but not near as good as me. She’d get tired sometimes or upset and her control would crack. But that never stopped her from creeping into our minds. So, we started fighting back. In her weakest moments, it wasn’t her doing the influencing - it was us, me and Max. She’d leave our mindscapes with an intense desire to cluck like a chicken or bark like a dog. Really stupid kid shit.’ He lines up several more bulbs along his tailgate, squinting at the midday glare. ‘She’s too good now, though, and you definitely can’t tell her I told you that.’ 

‘You never struggled, though? Not like them?’ She hops up onto the tailgate and tilts her head, really intending to listen to him. It shifts something loose in his heart.

‘I didn’t grow up with love or comfort. I grew up with neglect and violence. Any time I fucked up, I risked brutal consequences. So, out of necessity my control has always been impeccable. I used to think my high I.Q. had something to do with it, but I know better now.’ He picks up two bulbs and stares at them. ‘It didn’t matter if I was having a bad day or hadn’t slept the night before. It didn’t matter if I was sad or angry or drowned in lust or love. I never lost control.’ 

He floats the two bulbs out in front of her. ‘You know that feeling when you need a fix so bad it hurts? That heaviness in the pit of your stomach? And the way your lungs expand against your ribs like they’re a second away from exploding?’ 

He glances at her and she nods, solemnly. Because she does know. It’s another thing they have in common. ‘That’s where you’ll find it. That’s where your power lives. And that’s how you control it. Max and Isobel will never fully be able to understand. But you and me? We were built for this.’ Max’s words echo back through his head. ‘It’s fucked up, but it’s the truth.’ 

They share one last meaningful look and then Rosa turns her attention to the two bulbs in front of her. Michael lights one and she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and lights the second. When her eyes reopen, the glowing bulb shines full and bright across her face. Her eyes glisten with tears and Michael turns back to his truck to give her some space. He watches as slowly one by one, the remaining ten bulbs on his tailgate light up. 

‘Float them and I’ll buy you dinner.’

It takes her another hour, but eventually she can light and float at the same time. ‘I didn’t know I’d have your power, too. I thought I’d only get Max’s.’

Michael frowns and shakes his head. ‘We all have every power. Some just come easier. It’s something we only recently learned.’ Opening the other two boxes, Michael floats every single bulb, spinning them around her. ‘Light them all.’ She plants her feet and keeps her eyes open this time. Brightening them in a pattern only she can see. Head thrown back, eyes shining, and face blushed by the pleasure of her power. It’s in that simple moment that Michael figures out what comes next.

Two days later, he walks into the admissions office of Eastern New Mexico University’s Roswell campus with the clearest head he’s had in a long time. Maybe ever. The advisor talks him through all his options, and he leaves with an application and program guide. For social work. It’s not the future he had planned for and lost. It’s not the future he’d subjected himself to and hated. It’s the future that was waiting for him once he’d finally forgiven himself.

[shieldsecretbase]

All The Right Moves - peter parker x stark!reader

[part nine] - day one

words: 862

summary: After deciding you needed to get away from your home town and everything you know, you move in with your uncle. Who also happened to be Tony Stark. Through him, you meet Peter Parker and a blooming friendship forms. Will your life be better with the Avengers? Or will the danger be too much for you?

warning: swearing, mentioning of death

A/N: whats up dudes and dudettes i am currently wanting to d*e because i found a roach in my on campus apartment. please help a girl if you know any tips if not i will sob and not know what to do. i also aren’t that satisfied with this chapter but oh well please give feedback ily all <3

Your phone rung that night as you laid in bed trying to study for even a little bit. Pausing your 2000’s playlist, you picked up your phone and smiled to yourself.  “Well hello there,” you answered, leaning back in your chair.

“If it isn’t Stark herself. Thought I wouldn’t hear from you all day,” Peter teased, laying in bed all ready even though it was only nine at night.

You laughed slightly, a blush forming on your cheeks at being called out. “Yeah, sorry about that. Tony needed someone to help test some gear.” The lie wasn’t that far off, you did end up testing most of your prototypes that you had been working on for the last week or so but that was not remotely close as to why you had rushed home.

“Ah, how did that go? Any problems?”

“Just a couple,” your voice started to fade off at the end of the sentence as you read the notification that popped up. Another one from yours truly, Jamie. Pissed the fuck off for not responding whatsoever. And it would remain that way. Shaking your head slightly, you forced a smile. “Nothing that I can’t fix though.”

“Everything okay?” Peter asked, catching your slight distraction and how off you seemed for a moment.

Nodding, you rested your head on your knee. “Yeah just Pepper texting me.” Another lie. For the better. “Hey do you want to study tomorrow after school? We have that econ test coming up.”

“Sure! My place or yours?”

“Actually I was thinking that coffee shop down the block from the school? My treat.”

“Oh, oh yeah! That sounds good.” A hint of red began to form on his cheeks and this time your smile was genuine. Before you could say anything more there was a knock on your door. Your smile fading only slightly as you shouted, “Come in!”

“Hey YN, you busy?” Natasha asked, walking in, accompanied with Bucky and Steve.

You hummed for a moment, “On FaceTime with Pete, what’s up?”

“We’re doing a recon mission and wanted you to tag along,” Bucky replied, sitting on your bed and eyeing your room.

Your entire face lit up at the idea of helping with any sort of mission. Turning to Peter, you bit your lip. “Would you hate me if I left to go with them?”

Peter chuckled, making you blush slightly as a grin lit his face. “No, go ahead and be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Grinning you blew him a kiss before standing up. “What’s the details?”

“First off,” Natasha spoke, arms crossed over her chest. “Are you two ever going to date?”

At that point, your face was as red as a tomato and you looked away from Nat. “He doesn’t see me that way,” you muttered, hating to admit even the slightest that you might be feeling something for the neighborhood’s friendly Spider-man. Okay, might be a lie. You had a major crush on him.

“Can confirm, that is not the case. He’s just nervous,” Bucky spoke up, holding on of your throw pillows on his lap.

“Wait wait wait, does he talk about me to you guys?” you asked, swallowing the lump rising in your throat.

“Only to Bucky and Sam’s group chat. The rest of us are thankfully saved,” Steve replied, leaning against your doorframe.

Your blush deepened and you stood from your chair. “What do I need to wear tonight?”

“Something comfortable. Probably black,” Natasha replied, walking over to your dresser and pulling out a pair of black jeans. “This would be best.”

Rolling your eyes, you smiled faintly. You weren’t surprised that that was what she had picked but you were going with it. Grabbing the jeans, you looking over at Steve and Bucky with a pointed look. Waiting until they got the message that they needed to leave so you could change. Steve was the first to get the message, Bucky being completely oblivious. Grabbing Bucky but the arm, Steve dragged him out and shut the door.

Natasha sat on your bed as you changed into the jeans and rummaged for a shirt and maybe a sweatshirt. “So,” Nat started, folding her legs. “What is exactly going on between you and Peter?”

Another blush formed and you kept your face away from Nat as you continued to rummage through a drawer. “Nothing, we’re just friends.”

“Just friends don’t act like that,” Nat noted.

“We don’t act like anything?”

“Oh really? Working out together and then going back to his place to take a nap together.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, “Hey! I told you that in confidence.”

Nat chuckled and shook her head. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Just a bit,” you murmured, shrugging slightly. “But I’m too much of a mess and my past will forever haunt me, he doesn’t need that. He doesn’t need the pain Jamie brings.”

“Jamie isn’t just your issue, YN,” Nat said softly, a frown on her face as she stood up and kneeled next to you. Placing a gentle and comforting hand on your shoulder as she continued, “She’s all of our issue now. We’ll solve this together.”

tag list: @holland-underoos @fangirlingisajob @viarogers@cubedtriangle@captainstartights @maraudingmaraudeers @hawkxyes @witchyandkin @cautiouscalum @izabellah816 @vinerlover @polishpotterhead@can-i-fangirl-yet @adorluvr @queenmxndes @freddies-fried-chicken@isabella-bby @poorguys-head @sweetboitom @melymarvelgeek @princessizzy36 @marvelouslymedicated @imsuperawkward @marigoldstudy @leo-is-ma-man@multifandomwriter121 @nowheredreamer @gayguysayswhat @stuckonpeterparker @lala-florez @fandoms-all-around-catiel @jesus-jagiya @peter-spider-parker-man @theresultofcaffiene @nerdypartytrashpsychic@luvelyjjk @queenofthearchitect @savedbystark @psycho-on-thephone @samthesnoop @littlelunaticfringe @highfantasymath @marvelousmarauderstrash @rock-androllmadonna@deanismypie0876@rororo06 @quicksilverandspiderlokipokidoki @editsbyjenny @paintingbellarke @musicobsessed1505 @lunatic--charm  @dianadov

[dippedanddripped]

Watching Aminé’s “Caroline” music video can evoke vivid high school memories of the days when a freshly minted driver’s license conferred upon its holder the freedom to meet up with friends and do anything — or nothing. The video, like the song, is bubbly and carefree; it documents Aminé and his friends riding around town in a Honda Sedan stocked to the gills with bananas, lounging around in the grass, and watching each other play video games. In that 2016 summer of #BlackBoyJoy in hip-hop (when Chance the Rapper, Lil Yachty, D.R.A.M., Anderson .Paak, Rae Sremmurd, MadeinTYO, and Desiigner also flourished), “Caroline” went quadruple-platinum and helped make Aminé the first rapper ever from Portland, Oregon to become a national star.

The video for “Shimmy,” the lead single from Aminé’s forthcoming album Limbo, is a collage of Portland-specific flexes, a tribute to how far he’s come. He cheeses for the cameras while flanked by a phalanx of lawyers and dances midfield at Providence Park. He stands, perhaps symbolically, on the roof of Mike’s Drive-In (the burger joint where “Caroline” was shot) and trades the Honda for a speedboat zooming up the Willamette River.

Just as importantly, “Shimmy” is a subtle homage to the heavily gentrified areas of northeast Portland, where Aminé — born Adam Daniel to Ethiopian and Eritrean immigrants — grew up. In the video, he meets up with other members of the Portland rap scene plus Yosief Berhe and Jonathan Ressom, his two friends who co-star in all of his videos, to bike en masse down NE Alberta Street. He stops by Kee’s, a popular soul food truck, and heads to Woodlawn Park, his old stomping grounds located a few blocks from his childhood home.

“Woodlawn is the neighborhood that I grew up in,” he tells Highsnobiety over Zoom. “It used to be very much a part of the Black community. It’s kind of turned into a hipster park now, but it’s definitely the first place I got jumped. The first place I had my first fight in. Woodlawn represents a lot of good memories for me and my friends. Like our innocent adolescence.”

Rapid gentrification continues to gut Portland’s Black community, which accounts for less than six percent of the city’s total population. Aminé alluded to the transformation of Woodlawn on his 2017 song “Turf”: “Flipping through my past like I used to flip the phone / They kicking out the Blacks and all the houses getting clones.”

“The gentrification is insane,” he says. “I used to have only Black neighbors. And now my parents only live next to white people. The only reason my parents are still on that block is because, you know, I pay for everything. But it’s not the same for a lot of Black people in Portland.”

His friends Yosief and Jonathan echo this sentiment during a phone interview: “You’re getting chains of dispensaries on the same corners where police would try to nail people for weed,” Jonathan says. “I can go in there, and it’s gonna be a girl in a skirt giving me a dub. Meanwhile, no lie, like six, seven years ago, homies getting locked up doing the same shit on that same corner.”

“People in Portland sometimes have the right intentions,” Yosief adds. “But it really irks my nerves when I go down Mississippi or Albina or through historically Black neighborhoods, and it’s 85 percent white. All the houses have Black Lives Matter signs on the lawn but displaced a bunch of Black families to be there. It’s unfortunate.”

Limbo arrives four years into Aminé’s tenure as a major-label rapper, at a point where he’s established himself, but is still unsure of where to go or how to proceed with his career. “The title came from where I’m at in my life,” he explains. “There are two meanings behind it. I feel like I grew up thinking that once I achieved one level, the next level would be easier to achieve. But as I’ve grown, I’ve come to realize that with every level that I achieve, every level gets harder, just like the game of limbo. It just doesn’t seem to change for me, and it’s honestly made me feel like I’m completely in limbo. I thought the older I get, the wiser I’d get. But I’m figuring it out.”

Bittersweet nostalgia for high school and college years has been a recurring theme in Aminé’s music. In this sense, Limbo picks up where his 2017 debut album Good For You left off. Co-executive produced by Aminé and “Caroline” producer Pasque, it features one song that is entirely dedicated to Woodlawn Park, another to Aminé’s mother. Other songs, including his recent release “RiRi,” wistfully revisit past romances that sputtered. That era, which saw the first, fitful yawns of Aminé’s music career, is fertile terrain for storytelling. “I miss being naïve. I miss hoping, not knowing what your future was looking like,” he told Pigeons & Planes earlier this year. “Just being in your room in college, broke as hell.”

Aminé’s rap career began in the booth of Benson High’s radio broadcasting program, where he and his friends once rapped over Flockaveli beats. “Then we actually realized that Adam was pretty good,” Yosief tells us. He spent summers in New York, working youth camps in the Bronx and holding down internships at Complex and Def Jam — staying with his aunt in Harlem, eating plain leftover rice out of her fridge when food money inevitably got low. After high school, he started putting out mixtapes into a localized scene that Pasque describes as “stuck in the golden age.” Casual co-signs from Damian Lillard (who came to a show) and Kaytranada (who sent free beats) were good omens that also helped him stand out. All the while, he matriculated at Portland State University and lived at home with his parents. PSU is where he met Pasque, and where they made “Caroline.”

“We found out about this classroom inside of the music building that was always left unlocked,” Pasque says. “We had a schedule. I would go to work, and then after I clocked out, I would go immediately to school and work on music all night, basically. And it was like that for about five or six months. And then, eventually, it got to the point where we had a good amount of music, and our manager, Justin, was like, ‘You guys gotta put something out.’ We decided to put out ‘Caroline.’ And after that, it was no looking back.”

“I remember him putting out these little mixtapes, trying to get stuff retweeted, putting freaking fliers on corners, and [getting help from] all our friends in Portland,” Yosief says. “The slow grind. I remember Adam was trending [on Twitter] just in Portland, and it was like a big-ass deal. I remember him having like 1,000, 2,000 views on SoundCloud, to him going like, ‘Hey, this song got two million plays on Spotify, we’re about to make a music video for it.’ All of us still broke.”

Weeks after “Caroline” came out and started racking up gaudy streaming numbers, Vevo offered to fly Aminé out to New York to record a video performance of the single. He was in his senior year, and the video shoot conflicted with a finance final, but he decided to go anyways.

“I literally was told that if I failed this final, I would fail the class. So, I was like, ‘I don’t give a fuck.’ I just didn’t care,” he says. “I hated college. I knew it wasn’t for me, but I still kept doing it because I have strict African parents that I lived with. There was no other alternative for me to live under [their roof] without going to school.”

Aminé’s affable, low-key charm and new deal with Republic Records facilitated his smooth entry into the mainstream. The summer after “Caroline” blew up, Malia Obama requested to meet him after his set at Lollapalooza, and Young Thug called him a “young legend” backstage at a European music festival. “I didn’t even know if [Thug] knew who I was,” he says. He relocated to Los Angeles, where he has lived a charmed life, ensconced in a network of the city’s coolest, smartest, and most famous young artists. Late last year, Issa Rae — who co-starred in his 2017 “Spice Girl” video — asked him to guest star in Insecure as a dumb guy named Darnell. “I moved to LA just because, like, half of the features I get are just because me and the homies are in the studio,” Aminé explains. “Like, I can text Vince [Staples] and he’ll pull up to the studio. Money can’t buy timing. That’s pretty much the only reason I’m here.”

Still, to a great extent, Aminé strives for anonymity rather than celebrity. “When people want to go to, like, 1 OAK, or the club, I’d rather just go to a small bar with a couple of my good friends and chill,” he says. He adds that “normal things” have helped him stay sane during quarantine — like meeting friends in the park with food, or his morning ritual of smoking a joint and walking his 11-month-old goldendoodle Oliver.

This aversion to the limelight extends to his relationship with Portland, where he is something of a modern cultural icon. He doesn’t go out to restaurants with his parents anymore, for the sake of their privacy. He expresses his hope that he could signal boost Portland’s Black businesses and the city’s overall profile in the music industry, rather than don the cape of Captain Portland: “I’m just such an indoor person, and I don’t love that kind of pressure on me. Like, I was never really prepared for this type of career.”

Aminé intends to eventually build a massive compound in Portland, with a studio and acres of land. It’s likely to happen one day — just don’t hold him to it. Public expectations can be dangerous. “The main thing to take away from [this album] is, I’m still just a guy figuring it out,” he says. “I don’t have the answers. And I don’t want fans to look at me for every answer. I’m just a guy, literally. I’m just in limbo.”

Limbo is out August 7 via Republic. Pre-order the record here.

[internaljiujitsu]

F*%! FEAR: 6 Steps To Becoming Fearless

I lived in fear for forty years. It felt like weakness — as if there was something wrong with me that made me more scared than everyone else. My mother would always tell me about how sickly I was when I was born. How I stayed at the hospital for a month afterwards and how my aunt just barely saved me from dying once (so I guess I was kind of on borrowed time). I hated eating as a kid and was really skinny, adding to my weak mystique. In school, what I now know was anxiety would create psychosomatic illnesses. I’d feel sick, but it was all in my head. Stomach aches, dizziness, shortness of breath  —  It frustrated my dad — especially when he’d have to come pick me up from school again because I was freaking out on the inside.

We grew up watching the crack epidemic take over our neighborhood. The drug dealers did their business out of the fourth floor of our building. My brother and I would sweep up crack vials on the weekends to get our allowance from the superintendent — our dad. The tiny plastic cylinders with colorful caps filled the dustpan as we swept the roach infested vestibule leading down to the spooky, filthy basement.

Several young immigrants that had just arrived from Mexico were found dead over the years in the building next door, where Dad was also the super. Death from unnatural causes was a very real thing where we lived. Around age eight or nine, my alcoholic uncle, who lived in a storage room in the aforementioned basement (and would sometimes walk me to school), was killed when he fell while trying to climb a building to get to his ex girlfriend. I was about ten when our close family friend’s son, a squeaky clean kid visiting from the marine corp, was murdered defending a girl in the playground. At eleven or twelve, I watched my best friend’s dad kill a guy in an argument over a prostitute.

When I was fourteen, I was mugged at gunpoint around the corner from my family’s apartment. My big brother, wielding a large, rusty machete, took me around the entire neighborhood that night looking for the robber. The dude had worn a mask, so my brother put the blade to every thug’s neck that we passed on the street and asked me to look him deep in the eyes. They all knew my brother and respected him. They pleaded for mercy. Thankfully, we never found the guy.

That kind of shit was common in my old neighborhood. Baseball bats were swung in search of skulls and group rumbles were still a thing. I had family members snorting coke in front of me by the time I was in the fourth grade (and immediately making me promise I’d never do the same). Forty ounce bottles of beer were smashed over people’s heads in street fights. My crackhead cousin once robbed a dude using my favorite toy gun. He confessed to me when I found the gun broken and complained to him about it. Bullets fired from roof tops for fun whizzed through the ganja heavy air. It feels like we fought every day at school. That big yellow bus was like the fucking octogan.

We finally moved out of that neighborhood when I was sixteen after a gunfight forced our entire family to jump behind a parked car for cover. That shit was stressful. I was jumpy as hell. It didn’t help that Mom and Dad were very old school disciplinarians, if you know what I mean. There were fights outside and fights inside — all the time. I was always scared.

And that’s how I continued to grow up — I just didn’t show it, or let it stop me from fighting. When it was time to throw down in the street or at school, I always did. Partially because I knew my badass big brother would disown me if he heard I punked out. Backing down meant you were a victim. I once accidentally stepped on his buddy’s shoe and apologized. I’ll never forget what the guy said, “You never say sorry. It makes you look weak.” But a man’s sneakers were sacred in the hood, and I sure as hell never looked for a fight — unless I was channeling big brother.

He loved throwing the first punch and bragged about knocking guys out cold at night clubs — until a near death experience and one hundred and fifty stitches thanks to razor blade slashes made him reconsider his life choices. I’ll never forget when the call came in the middle of the night. I don’t remember why I answered the phone instead of my parents, but the voice on the other end is clear as day, “Your brother has been stabbed.” At that moment I thought the worst, and was relieved to see him gingerly walking through the door later that morning, battered, bruised and slashed to bits — but alive.

When I pretended to be my brother, I wasn’t above throwing a preemptive strike. We all had it in us. Hell, my dad was known to go into some destructive ass kicking rages when people pissed him off. I certainly tried my best not to get on his sizable bad side. Mom and sis aren’t exactly shrinking violets either.

My recurring nightmare as a child was of me walking down a beautiful tree lined street, the very one I always wanted to live on. It was only a few blocks from our shithole, but felt like a world away. In the dream, as I reluctantly step, there is the overwhelming feeling that someone is hiding in the shadows, waiting to attack. I’m petrified to move forward, but I keep going — slowly heading toward the inevitable. It was terrifying torture.

I don’t remember ever actually seeing the attacker. I’ve attached a bunch of meaning to that dream ever since, but at the root was my fear. For most of my life I moved forward, steadily but fearfully. I did things that made me want to shit my pants and forced my way through, hating every minute. In retrospect, these all helped build toughness and character, as did my old neighborhood, but the fear persisted. I became a bouncer, champion bodybuilder and an expert martial artist, but felt like a fraud for the unease that was my base level.

It wasn’t until I took these seven steps that terror’s grip on me loosened. Fear doesn’t have to be your enemy. If you learn how to use it, it will energize your actions and help you break past limitations. But first, you have to acknowledge that it’s there.

Accept that you and everyone you know will die. There’s no way around it. Yeah, it’s bleak, but if you wanna live in denial of death, you’re liable to swallow a bunch of bullshit to ease your mind. At its core, all fear is fear of death. When I was a kid, I hated when anyone brought up dying, especially my parents. The uncertainty was too overwhelming. There’s nothing more worthless than fear of the inevitable. It took me a couple of years of suicidal depression, meditation and time in sensory deprivation tanks to get comfortable with the idea of not existing. The tank feels like you’re floating in the womb. It’s pitch black, soundproof and the water is the same temperature as your body, so it feels lke there’s no separation. You and the enviornment become one. It’s blissfully peacful. Sure, I don’t want to die right now because I’m loving life, but I know it will happen one day — and I hope to enjoy that ride as much as I’m enjoying this one.

You’re not your personality. It’s easy to feel like a single, solitary soul drifting in a vast sea of faces. Valuing our individuality as we do, many of us strive to be unique while others do their best to blend into the collective. The way I see it, we’re all the current that powers these appliances we call our bodies. I feel like I’ve lived several separate lives filled with rich, distinct experiences and at the end of each, I mourned the death of an identity. While it feels like I was different people, the throughline was the same. The real me didn’t change. Our personalities are just things made up by our circumstances. They’re the features of the toaster. We’re the electricity that makes it work. I had to lose everything I had built to figure that one out. Once my marriage, home, business, students, money and identity were gone, it was just me — I had to be OK with that.

Your ego is not your life. Learning how to lose isn’t about being resound to failure. Losing is vital because it’s the only way to discover that life will go on when you do. The first time I lost something when I was sure I’d win was devastating. Everything I believed about myself was shattered. My invincibility was gone. Once I realized that defeat wasn’t death and the people that mattered would love me either way, I began to enjoy every aspect of competition instead of only focusing on the result. It wasn’t until I stopped giving a shit that things clicked. Being afraid of the embarrassment of failure is guaranteed to keep you from enjoying success.

Forgive your fear. Far worse than being afraid was my sense of shame. I hated that I wasn’t brave, like the thugs in my neighborhood. To me, being tough meant never being scared. As I became dedicated to martial arts and more interested in understanding fear, I realized that all those guys were probably just as scared as me. It would have been abnormal for me not to be afraid. The environment was so consistently charged with the potential for violence that I frequently lived in a survival state. Getting out unscaved would have taken a level of psychopathy I didn’t possess. When I forgave the little kid I was for being afraid, the shame melted away and the residual fear soon followed.

Whatever happens, everything always works out. You always know you’re in the right place because that’s where you are. No matter what, the world will keep moving on. It will do the same thing it’s doing now when you’re gone. You don’t need to worry quite so much about making the wrong choice when you accept that it doesn’t really matter what choice you make. Yes, of course you matter, your family will miss you and you’re a beautiful soul — all that jazz. But in the end, the world will continue to unfold, and the Earth will be incinirated by the sun — so fuck it. Embrace the experience but don’t cling to any result.

Step up. A sure fire way to kick fear’s ass is to look it in the eye and blow it a kiss. Fear is a bully. It’s all talk. It will try to shout you down until you grovel your way back to mediocrity. Pick something you’re afraid of and do it! Don’t try to not be afraid. Be afraid and do it anyway. But here’s the important part: Smile while you’re doing it. For me, it was roller coasters. I hated them as a kid. They terrified me, and each time I got on one, I regretted every click up to the top. The thought was always the same, “Why did I get talked into this? Let me off!” I never enjoyed the ride, closing my eyes tight and clenching my body until the hellish few seconds was over. One day, I decided that roller coasters represented the fear I wanted to conquer, so I got on the legendary Cyclone. It’s the old, rickety wooden monster at Coney Island in Brooklyn. The thing screeched a death knell and I loved it! I forced myself to smile from the moment I sat in the seat. I told myself that if that car came off the track, I was gonna soak in my final moments. I was sick and tired of being afraid of fear. My mindset shifted, and the click clack became excitement and anticipation instead of anxiety and fear. Funny how those can feel the same.

If you wanna take it a step further, start embracing pain. It may sound a little masochistic, but I like to stare at the needle when it goes in at the doctor. I like going to the dentist. They both used to scare the shit out of me. Even though I had always sought out the painful burn of a brutal workout, it was the pain I deemed unwanted that I sought to relabel. Smiling at the dentist or laughing after my knee was popped back into place in training were not ways to prove to myself that my body was tough, but that my mind was strong. The anticipation of pain is normally much worse than the physical sensation. Change the way you see pain and the way you interpret the sensation will transform

Of course, no one is fearless — unless they’re a psychopath. Fear will always be with you. It’s what you do with it that determines how far you go. The fluttering in your belly is a sign to take action that scares you because it will force you to grow. The quicker your pulse, the bigger the potential change. Don’t deny your fear. Jump on, throw your hands up and enjoy the beautifully terrifying thrill ride.

[kara-dolan]

Coachella -Day 1 ~Part 1~

A/N ~ hola it be a while since i have posted but whats up hahaha i am so so sorry ive had writers block and ms. vivi aka @notanotherdolantwinsblog was moving during the time she agreed to help with this so once both of our lives calm tf down things will return to normal scheduling.

Word Count~ 4,309

Warnings ~ Soft feels, Fluff, Fun, Flirting?, Possible use of cannabis aka weed 

Summary~ Fun and music festivals with your best friend? What could possibly happen? Oh right running into anyone and everyone you adore looking absolutely devin with sweaty bodies touching and bass booming under your feet. But what adventures are to come when Y/N and Viviana come face to face with Coachella ?

“Viviana I can’t believe you actually got tickets for Coachella. I can’t believe the house you got for Coachella weekend. I can’t believe that we are here!” I say excitedly gripping her arm.

“Bitch, I can’t believe that we might run into the Dolan Twins!” she says to me smiling.

“Okay yes that is a huge plus but, Day 1 will be the most exciting especially since it’s the first time we’ll be going!” I say releasing her walking up to the house.

She shook her head at me and opened the door revealing the Greek interior architecture. I walk in setting my hand bag on the ground taking everything in.

“Holy shi- is this real life right now?” I questioned looking up and spinning around to view everything.

“If you think this is amazing just wait till you see the backyard and bedrooms, not to mention the bathrooms.” Viviana says.

I looked at her and smiled then found my way to the stairs that spiraled up to the bedroom I was staying in. It was completely white with a sliding door that led out to the balcony that overlooked the backyard. Below me I saw the pool that had a huge baby blue clam bed next to the pool with a pearl shaped pillow that was silver and sparkled in the sun.

“V, I am never leaving.” I say looking away from the pool and up at the view of trees and mountains that were decorated by the sun’s beautiful rays and wind causing them to sway.

“Okay, sure, you say that every time you visit a new place. Watch once we get to Coachella you’ll never want to leave there either. Speaking of which, we have to get unpacked and set up for tomorrow after that we can get pizza and just chill.” Viviana says walking out onto the balcony.

“Ha. Yeah, I fall in love with places too easily. But, have you seen the view and the trees? It’s so beautiful. We should camp outside tonight and just watch the stars.” I say leaning against the railing watching the beautiful scenery.

“You’re fucking crazy. There’s bugs and animals. No way in hell am I sleeping out here, especially the day before Coachella starts. I am not getting dirt in my pores and you shouldn’t either,” she says stepping away to go back inside.

I sigh and look down pushing myself off the railing and going inside to unpack.

It took about an hour to get everything unpacked an organized, I had brought makeup and wigs, so I didn’t have to dye my Y/H/C hair and damage it. I also brought any and all facial cleansers because we were going to be in the desert for 3 days. I had hung all 3 outfits up in the closet and folded extra clothes I brought because no way in hell was I not going to shower and be forced to wear glitter covered outfits for the week that we were going to be staying at the house. Y/F/N and I had gotten walkie talkies set up on a private channel to find each other if we got lost and 3 cases of water so we could take 5 bottles of water with us for each day. After everything was unpacked and organized I made my way down the spiraling stairs and through the living room and into the kitchen where V was sitting at the island scrolling through her phone.

“Hey, you order the pizza yet?” I asked going to the fridge to get a water.

“No, I was waiting on you. I did see some updates on Twitter though, involving the twins and well, the drama is crazy.” she yawned out.

“When is it not though? Like honestly people need to leave them alone. But let’s not get into it. I’ll order a pepperoni and Hawaiian pizza and set up a movie.” I say after taking a drink of water.

“Sounds good. I’m getting blankets and pillows to fort up the living area.” She yelled to me running upstairs.

I smile and pull my phone out of my pocket and order the pizzas.

After the pizza arrived, we watched a random movie as we ate in the fort. Halfway through the movie and one pizza gone we fell asleep surrounded by pillows and blankets. The next thing I knew my phone was going off at 6 am which resulted in Viviana hitting me in the face with a pillow followed by groaning which signaled me to turn it off. I grabbed my phone and stopped the alarm. I made my way to my room and changed into some shorts and a loose tank and pulled on running shoes. I quietly made my way out of the house and into the woods near the park for a morning run.

I found myself at an overlook. The view was impeccable with the sun rising and colors blending together, putting me in a trance. The trance was broken when I notice movement below, a tall broad figure jogging through the hiking trail. The figure belonged to a man, as the sun rose more his golden shoulders glistened with sweat, his hair flopping with each step. It was like the trance from the sunrise was transferred to him. I couldn’t stop watching him until he disappeared deeper into the trail.

“What the hell was that?” I asked myself. I shook it off and ran back towards the house. By time I got back it was 7 am and I was drenched in sweat. I took a shower once I got back. After my shower, I put on my first Coachella outfit. I was wearing a white tank top with strings that tied in front of my chest with high waisted black shorts and a hunter green jacket. I put on black ankle boots and accessorized with a necklace that reached my waist.

Once I was dressed I applied my makeup, natural smokey eye and maroon lips. I put on my pink Ombre white high pony wig and grecian leaf new forehead crown. I went to the kitchen and saw Viviana wearing a black crop top with maroon jean shorts and black knee-high boots that had fishnets underneath. Her hair was loosely curled draping around her shoulders, she had dark smokey eye and a light pink lip.

“Okay, V. I see you.” I squeal out and she looks at me and laughs.

“Stop… we have to get going soon if we want to make it on time.”

“Okay. Okay. I am so ready to see Kyle perform today. Oh my gosh and The Neighborhood, St. Vincent, SZA, and The Weeknd. Just today is going to be crazy.” I say while packing up our bags for Day 1.

“For sure, not to mention how many social media stars and celebrities we will be seeing there.” V says taking her bag. I nod.

“We should get breakfast on the way there. I mean it is only 9 am. Coachella gates don’t open till 11.”

“You just want to go to an acai bowl place to see if you can run into Grayson” She teased.

I rolled my eyes and smiled.

“Maybe it’s a little true but if we run into Grayson we also run into Ethan…” I wink and nudge her.  She laughs and grabs her car keys.

“Fine, you win. Using my love for Ethan against me. That isn’t fair.”

I scrunch my nose at her and smile. After our playful teasing ended we headed out and went to the closest acai place. Once we arrived we saw girls squealing and crying. I looked over at Viviana and raised my eyebrow while smiling.

“No. We are getting the acai bowls and going.” She scolded me.

“Ugh, fine. I won’t go and ask them if they are acting like that ‘cause of the twins. Mainly ‘cause I already know they were here… thank you, Instagram… but fine let’s get the bowls and go.” I replied rolling my eyes.

“You’re entirely something else. In a good way.” She reassured me.

“Thanks, I guess.” I say while laughing.

We were waiting in line to get the acai bowls when I realized everyone was staring at us.

“Well this isn’t awkward or anything.” I mumbled out.

“What?” she questioned.

“We are the only ones dressed like this here. Seriously, everyone is wearing normal clothes. We need to hurry up and get the hell out of here.” I say looking around getting uncomfortable.

“Why? We look hot. Stop trying to cover up. Let them stare it shows them what they can’t have.” She says making me loosen my grip on my jacket and letting it slip down my arms. “Okay. I got this. We got this.” I say smiling and nodding.

We got our acai bowls and left. We were about 5 mins away from Coachella grounds and we had finished our acai bowls. Now we were just blasting music and getting hype as we got closer to the festival. We pulled into the most available parking spot. Once V put the car in park I got out throwing my bag over my shoulder and adjusting my VIP wristbands.

“I can’t believe were actually here...” I say shutting the car door.

“Neither can I. Now let’s go before we miss any performances!” She shouts while pulling my arms and entire body towards the entrance.

“Okay! Okay! I can walk on my own!” I laugh out.

“I know just hurry the hell up!” she shrieked out and took off running. I shook my head and ran after her, I finally caught up at the entrance because we had to scan our wristbands.

We were finally inside, I grabbed at V tapping her like crazy.

“Look, Look, We’re here. Oh my gosh we’re here” I screamed out.

We ran to the Sahara stage until it was time to head to the main stage. When we reached the main stage Los Angeles Azules were performing and we saw Bryant recording some of the performance on his phone. I look over at V who was already looking at me. We walked closer to Bryant but not close enough for him to notice, we stood there enjoying the performance.

“We literally just saw the Yodeling Walmart Boy perform with Whethan and now we see Bryant right here. What is happening?” I whisper to Viviana. She laughed.

“Life. Life is happening and giving us this amazing opportunity.” She whispered back. “Opportunities?” I question at the last minute when she bumped into me causing me to stumble back only to be caught by someone.

“Oh my gosh I am so sorry. My fri-” I stopped once I saw who caught me.

“It’s fine.” He said chuckling. I stood up.

“Sorry, again. Thank you for catching me though.”

I turn my neck to glare at V who was smirking.

“No problem. Not everyday I get to catch a beautiful girl from falling.” He flirted which made me look back to him.

“I think I did fall though… Umm… sorry. Bad attempt and now I am making a bigger fool of myself. Bye.” I say nervously while laughing a bit while turning to walk away.

He grabbed my right hand with his left spinning me around.

“You aren’t making a fool of yourself. I’m Grayson.” He smiled down at me.

“I know, but I’m Y/N and the person behind me is my best friend Viviana.” I say looking up at him through my lashes.

He smiled down at me and I looked away and as soon as I did Bryant came over

“Hey Gray we should go find E and get more photos.”

“For sure. Y/N want to come?” he asked me. I looked at him bewildered.

“You mean like go with you and Bryant to find Ethan?” I questioned. He smiled and nodded “That’s the general idea. You can even bring um... V- Vivi-”

“Viviana.” She interrupted him. “We would love to go with you. Right Y/N?” she nudged me “Oh yeah. Totally, for sure.” I mumbled out.

“Great. Yo, Bry, Y/N and Viviana are going to come with.” He shouted towards Bryant.

Bryant smiled and nodded, we all began walking away from the main stage to find Ethan. We found him by the food trucks drooling over the acai bowls.

“Ethan!” Grayson called out to him pulling his attention from the trucks. He ran over to join us “Yo Gray. Who’s this?” he asked.

“I’m Y/N. Just met Grayson when my friend Viviana “accidently” bumped into me and Grayson caught me” I said smiling a bit while air quoting.

“Oh cool. I’m Ethan.”

“This is Viviana or V. By the way.” I say pulling Viviana’s’ arm.

“Oh. Hi” she waved shyly. I heard everyone near the main stage start chanting Really, Really, Really, Yeah,

“V, we got to go. Kyle is performing now!” I grab at her arm. “Sorry guys. Just been waiting all day to see him.” I yell over my shoulder as we run to the main stage.

We reached the main stage finally.

“Y/N are you stupid you just left Ethan and Grayson. We aren’t going to ever see them again.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Grayson loves SuperDuperKyle.” Ethan whispered between us which made me jump.

“E you can’t just scare them like that.” Grayson said coming from behind me smiling.  I laughed and rolled my eyes.

“Glad you guys could join us” I smiled at him and started jumping and chanting with the rest of the crowd.

“Don’t Wanna Fall in Love” played and I looked at Gray and smiled.

“Yo, you gonna show us some moves, possibly the same ones from the warehouse?” I asked him.

“I remember that I gave him so much shit about it.” Ethan said laughing. I rolled my eyes.

“You did great. Just ignore him.” I looked at him placing my hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed my hand and spun me around in front of him, he gripped my waist and rested his chin on top of my head. We swayed to the rest of the set until iSpy came on and we had to move to avoid a mosh pit. We gave up on finding a new spot, so Grayson offered to go get ice cream for us, I decided to wait with Ethan and Viviana. I was listening to V and E talk about which bands they were excited to see, I left them alone to talk and headed over to the food trucks to see if Grayson needed help. When I saw him, he was talking to a girl.

“Hey, I know you from YouTube. I love your videos and they’re super inspiring.” She said to him awkwardly laughing a little.

“Really? Thank you so much that means a lot.” He replied to her smiling, “Want anything?” He asked her pointing to the menu.

“Oh my god no. Of course not. Thank you” She said sweetly.

“Oh okay.” He said, and she gave him a hug which he returned.

“See you around” he said.  

“Yeah see ya” she called out as she walked off.

I walked over to him and smiled at him.

“Hey, why are you looking at me like that?” He asked.

“Okay, it’s kind of weird…but, I like seeing how you interact with fans.” I explained.

“It’s an amazing experience I appreciate you guys. If I can make you guys happy even just taking a picture or talking to you it is completely worth it.” He says while paying for the ice cream. “Grayson, you literally just looking at us is enough to make us happy” I giggled out. He laughed and handed me the ice cream he got for me

“It’s kind of shocking to hear that. Not entirely used to this still.” I smiled at him.

“I mean majority of your fan base is female which you should know from tour. You’re attractive and athletic and you have a great personality at least from what I can tell from your videos and well now that I’ve met you and hung out with you. I honestly can’t believe that I am here… That I even got to meet you…” I say staring up at him losing my words.

“Yeah… I don’t meet a lot of people who are quite like you though.” He finished looking down at me. I laughed breaking the gaze.

“I bet. Not a lot of girls would walk away from you to go and enjoy a music performance like 4 minutes after meeting you” he grabbed my hand as we walked back over to Ethan and Viviana. “You’re not going to do that, again right?” He asked.

“Hmmmm… I don’t know. If I do what are you going to do about it?” I ask cocking my eyebrow while smiling.

“Guess I have to stay close then.” He let go of my hand and draped his arm carefully around my neck pulling me closer towards him and I wrapped my arm around his waist.

“Yo, Gray. Where we headed now?” Ethan asked him taking note on how close me and Grayson were.

“I don’t know. Where to now, Y/N?” he inquired.

“I kind of want and need to see The Neighborhood.” I say looking up to Grayson licking the ice cream from the cone.

“Alright, The Neighborhood it is. Let’s go.”

We walked back over to the mainstage where Kyle was performing, and The Neighborhood was now setting up.  Bryant met back up with us from taking photos of other YouTubers that were here.

One of the first songs they played was Scary Love which I adored and sang along with every word. Grayson just watched me the entire time and spun me around a couple times. Ethan and Viviana were exchanging numbers which made me think about giving Grayson mine. He noticed my dancing falter and pulled me into him. I stumbled into his chest in which he took the opportunity to hug my waist as I collected myself.

“You okay?” He asked me. I nodded.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” I retorted reaching my arms around his neck. He chuckled.

“No reason…”

I pulled away from him when I heard Daddy Issues come on.

“Hey, Grayson can I borrow y/n for a minute?” V asked pulling my hand. He nodded, and I stumbled trying to keep up with her as she dragged me away

“What is going on?” I questioned her.

“Okay so Ethan and I were talking, and I somehow talked him into coming back to the house later tonight, but he wants to bring Grayson too. I was wondering if you could keep Grayson busy while I try to get closer to Ethan?” she pleaded.

“For sure. Like it’s honestly so weird how close we have gotten in just the past couple hours that we’ve been here, and we haven’t even had a ‘get to know you’ talk it is just a comfortable thing as if we’ve known each other for years. I wouldn’t necessarily call it keeping him busy though as much as just hanging out with him and getting to know him more.” I respond.

“Ahh yay! You’re the best.” She squealed while hugging me then running back to Ethan.

I smiled and rolled my eyes I looked around for a little before making my way back to Grayson, when I got closer to the main stage where The Neighborhood was performing Sweater Weather I noticed Grayson wasn’t there anymore and neither was V or E.

“Okay. Don’t really know what to do. I literally just saw V though.” I thought out loud.

“Yo make sure you get some of those cotton sticks!” I heard Ethan shout from behind me. I turned around so quick.

“Ethan what the hell are cotton sticks?” I yelled to him while laughing noticing the same girl who was talking to Gray earlier laugh.

“Cotton candy.” He said smiling like a 3-year-old getting called adorable.

“Okay then… Where’s Gray and V?” I asked him.

“Ryan met back up with us so Gray is with them by the disco ball trash can. I am on my way back to them. Come on.” He said nodding his head over towards where they all were.

“Ethan wait up!” the girl called after him in which he made a confused face.

“I’ll see you when you get over there.” I say walking away slowly just listening in on the conversation.

“What’s up...?” he asked.

“The sky, pfft… you’re the best youtubers who’ve lived on planet earth.” She said after a small awkward moment. “Oh, oops... That was cringe.”

At this point I was half way out of earshot.

“Are you enjoying ‘Chella’?” he questioned.

“Heck yeah. It’s awesome.”

I stopped listening when I saw Grayson adjusting the part of his ripped jean armband.

“Hey, there you guys are. Kind of wondered off for a while. Sorry.” I say which made Grayson look up from his armband.

“Hey. I was going to look for you, but V said you would find us.” He said pulling me into a hug. “Well okay then someone missed you.” Ethan chuckled wrapping his arm around Viviana’s waist.

“I mean can you blame me?” Gray asked.

“Oh my gosh. No. Stop. Both of you.”  I say pulling away from Gray laughing.

“Oh, by the way this is Ryan. Ryan this is Y/N.” Ethan introduced us.

“Hey. I actually know who Ryan is. You guys have collabed before and it was fucking hilarious I loved it.” I blurt out.

“The amount that Y/N watches your old videos is crazy.” V interjected.

“Hey! They’re funny, leave me alone. You freaking binge watch them with me you have no room to talk.” I defended.

Grayson and Ethan laughed at us

“Oh yeah., you guys want to laugh? Cause I have things I can say that will make you cringe instantly.” A teasing smile played on my lips after I spoke those words. The twins exchanged a worried look.

“Here are your ‘Cotton sticks’ Ethan.” Bryant returned with at least 8 of them and his camera. “Bryant do you want some help with all of that?” I asked, and he nodded.

I took a couple of them and handed one to V.

“Cotton candy yum.” Grayson said taking a bite out of one that was in my hand from over my shoulder.

“Hey! If you wanted one you could have just asked.” I smiled at him holding one out for him to take.

“Nah, I like it when you hold it.” He licked his lips and grinned.

I was going to respond but Ethan came over and took 3 of them from me leaving the one Gray bit from.

“Well okay then…”  I say as Grayson takes another bite. “Damn I might as well just hand feed the cotton candy to you” I joked.

“That’s a fantastic idea.” He said while smiling at me, I shook my head

“Are you serious?” I asked raising my eyebrow.

He nodded while grabbing a piece of cotton candy and holding it against my lips I shook my head no.

“I’m not eating that.” I laughed out

“Yes you are” He grinned now

“No… I’m really not. Grayson, I mean it. Oh my gosh stop.” I backed away from him while laughing.

I ran around our group as he chased me playfully, he ended up grabbing my waist from behind and spinning me around.

“Grayson!” I managed to yell out in the middle of my fits of giggles.

“What?” He asked putting me down, so I could face him. Once I turned around, my eyes immediately made contact with his and I was entranced. He wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me closer not breaking eye contact until he looked at my lips. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips gently against his while standing on my tippy toes. He placed his hands on my waist ho

lding me steady and kissed me back.

We were in our own little world, unbothered and carefree smiling into the kiss.

“Grayson!” Ethan screamed which made us break the kiss.

“What E?” He asked annoyed.

“You know we can’t do that. Not here. Fans might see.”  

“He’s right Gray… Look me and Vivi will go and check out some more bands. We can meet back up during the Weeknd’s performance.” I say placing my hand on his shoulder.

“Come on bro.” Ethan said dragging Grayson away letting my hand slide down his arm.

Vi pulled me back to the main stage where Vince Staples was setting up to perform. We were having fun dancing around like no one was watching which they weren’t, after the set we went to use the bathrooms.

“What are we doing after we leave?” Vivi asked.

“Well I know for sure we are going to go home but maybe on the way stop for some In-N-Out.” I answered.

“In-N-Out sounds amazing.” I hear Grayson suddenly say from behind me as he wrapped his arms around my waist and resting his chin upon my shoulder.

“Grayson, we talked about this.” Ethan warned pulling him off of me.

“Right sorry E.”

“Okay so I guess you guys are coming with us after to get In-N-Out too?” I questioned. We all agreed to it after me and Vivi went to the bathroom and were walking back to the main stage to see SZA perform.

On the way back to the stage I tripped over my own feet and stumbled into a bleach blonde girl wearing a two piece purple bikini.

“Oh my gosh I am so so sorry-” I say going to help her up.

“Wait… you're Tana Mongeau-”

[eye-raq]

Pandora’s Box Chapter Eight

Hey Yall! so This Fic is only gonna have 10 chapters because, idk i feel like the story is kind of over to me. But, this chapter and chapter 9 are more of an explanation which i feel like there needs to be because practically every other chapter i have is nothing but SMUT SMUT SMUT! so, i hope you guys like it, I did have some writers block but once again this is my FIRST ATTEMPT AT BP FANFICTION so, my cute ass can take criticism. ENJOY

@bartierbakarimobisson @killmongersgurl @killmongurl @killmongerthirst @thehonorablekingerik @drsunshine97 @yourstrulyylauren @managingmischiefdaily @irenelove83 @youreadthatright @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

. Raven sat sipping her herbal tea in the local cafe outside of her apartment complex. She liked coming here, because they had poetry readings, played soft jazz music, and they had the MOST comfy chairs you have ever sat on. She wore her hair down today fluffed and big with a pair of jeans, and a loose fitted cropped T. Her converse clad feet were propped up on the booth seat with her back pressed against the window. She peered over her mug watching the few people walk by waiting for her guest to arrive. It had been a couple of days since Erik spilled the surprising tea about him owning Pandora’s Box and having an old fling with Ferrah. She admitted to herself that she could try to deal with the club owning but the fact that Ferrah was involved had her mind wondering. What was this bitches deal? She clearly had some tricks up her sleeve and all her questions were about to be answered as she watched Ferrah walk towards her table wearing a pair of jeans with some black pumps, a fitted white t shirt and a Gucci hand bag resting on her arm delicately. She smiled at Raven, but Raven just stared licking her tea covered lips gently placing the cup on the table. Ferrah sat across from her placing her bag neatly on the table intertwining her fingers before flipping her braids from her face; they were longer this time. “To what do I owe the pleasure miss Raven?” Raven leaned forward on her elbows, voice lowering an octave, “I know EVERYTHING.” Raven played no cut cards wanting to get straight to the point eye brows raised to emphasize. Ferrah searched her eyes before smirking to herself sitting back slowly eyes never leaving Raven’s. “Let me guess, you pried it out of him? I’m surprised he even told you anything.” Ferrah looked very chill and at ease which pissed Raven off more. “Look, forreal what the fuck is up Ferrah? You befriend me after barely knowing a THING about me, making yourself comfortable in my fucking house...” Raven sat back shaking her head staring Ferrah up and down. She tapped her foot quickly under the table to calm herself. “What’chu really about huh? What makes Ferrah Ferrah.” Raven rolled her eyes staring down towards her fingers before looking back into her eyes, “Tell me everything you owe me that fucking much.” Ferrah tapped her finger on the table tonguing her teeth before she threw a hand up in defeat leaning forward. “OK. I’ll tell you everything you wanna know since your so pressed,” She seemed annoyed now, “But it ain’t gonna be pretty so you might wanna finish your tea so we can continue this conversation elsewhere.” Raven gave Ferrah a scrutinizing look before giving in motioning for them to leave the cafe before she threw down some money and a tip for the waitress. The ladies decided to head back to Raven’s apartment which was right around the corner. They entered in silence, Raven taking off her shoes at the door offering Ferrah a bottle of water out of courtesy but she kindly declined. Raven took a seat across from Ferrah on her recliner chair ready to hear what Ferrah had to say. Ferrah eyed her apartment noticing a couple of Erik’s things; small things like his hoodie, some of his beaded wrist wear and a pair of his running shoes in the corner over top of a vent probably to air them out because of the sweat. Raven cleared her throat bringing Ferrah back to attention. “Erik really got comfortable here..you must REALLY have what it takes.” Ferrah closed her eyes momentarily finally meeting Raven’s steady gaze. “Maybe so, we won’t know for sure until you start talking girl.” Raven leaned forward on the recliner tapping her foot impatiently. Ferrah heaved a sight before whispering here goes nothing to herself. “Me and Erik grew up in the same neighborhood in Oakland. We went to school together, although I was a couple years younger than him.” Ferrah paused then began talking again, “How much has Erik told you?” Raven chuckled despite her agitation, “Not much honestly just the bit about you being the co owner of that nasty ass club-” “That you’ve attended more than once I assume.” snipped Ferrah with a perfectly arched eyebrow. “YES. I did attend that club more than once,” replied Raven with a roll of her neck ready to clap back, “He also told me about you and him being a thing.” Raven paused, “Thats it.” Ferrah nodded her head, “Well I’m gonna leave some details blank. Clearly you and Erik have enough going on to the point where he can tell you the most deepest of secrets.” Raven adjusted herself uneasily as she waited for Ferrah to finish. “So as I was saying, I met Erik through my brother Jamal. Erik and him used to play basketball on the court outside of our apartment complex. I always had a school girl crush on him but he never took notice; you know how boys were back then.” Ferrah smirked, “I would sabotage any girl who tried to get close to him, challenge any nigga who thought to fuck with him. Let’s just say I was a bit much to deal with back then.” “They were like, best friends practically two peas in a fucking pod and I admired that because I could never make friends of my own.” Ferrah made herself more comfortable rubbing her hands together searching for words. “Well, anyway something happened to Erik… something BIG and...it was the turning point in his life. I remember seeing him broken up and motionless with no emotion. I was afraid because the once cheerful kid I knew was like a shell. He disappeared from that apartment building and I didn’t see him for years up until I was just graduating from high school and I decided to go to UCLA. I instantly knew it was him the moment I laid eyes on him.” Ferrah looked vulnerable and it made Raven feel uncomfortable. “We hit it off, like old times and he met back up with my brother as well talked to us about being in the military and going to MIT. He had a wear and tare on him but none the less he fell back into his old ways. He only stayed a couple days but that meant the world to me. He left his things with my brother so he could have a place to go to whenever he came back home, which he would be gone for days maybe even months at a time.” Ferrah sighed in between, “He grew darker and darker as time went by and I wanted to know what was going on. One night he came to my dorm room pounding on the door damn near waking up my room mate. I walked over and I saw him covered in rain with sadness in his eyes….” Ferrah looked up at Raven seeing the emotion and eagerness in her eyes, “It was an important day for him and… He needed comfort. I brought him to my room and he just opened UP. He layed everything down and I was terrified. Not because of what he told me he’d been doing, but because of the way it changed him. That night was also the first night we had sex.” Raven looked away not really wanting to hear these parts but it was only necessary. “We had the best sex ever. And I was all for his dangerous dominating ways it turned me on and brought out something in me that I couldn’t control. We had a thing, and I was down to ride for him no matter what. Anyway, that didn’t last long because he disappeared again with no warning and I sat around waiting for him hoping he would attend my graduation but he didn’t.” Ferrah looked hurt but straightened her back as to not seem vulnerable. “Anyway I came to the conclusion that it was over and I moved on because, a bitch had other things in mind and I wasn’t gonna wait around for that nigga. After about a year I met this women who… lets just say was WAY more mature and experienced than any guy I’ve ever dealt with. She showed me things I couldn’t imagine myself doing. You can only imagine what things..” Raven gave Ferrah a knowing look as she heard her speaking again, “This women was beyond mysterious and at the same time alluring and I couldn’t bring myself to understand why I fell for her so quickly. Anyway, she changed me, made me stronger, made me feel like I had power.” Ferrah smirked, “But that ended after about 6 months because she had a whole husband and kids and clearly I was one of her many erotic projects. So I moved on not letting that stop me because I had a new found confidence. As you already know Erik slowly came back into my life again this time harder and more tainted...anyway my gulible ass fell in line with him again and I introduced him to the things I knew.. in the bedroom.” Ferrah sucked in a breath running her manicured hand along her neck grabbing Raven’s attention more. “I was addicted, I guess you can call it sex addiction but to me, I thought it was something else entirely for Erik...I could tell he enjoyed the kinky shit and the mindblowing sex and it brought him to a place outside of what he was currently experiencing. I came up with an idea, far fetched but as you can see it worked.” Ferrah put her hands up in disbelief, “Coming up with the idea of Pandora’s box was one of the best decisions I ever made. Erik bought the abandoned lot, and I fore saw the ins and outs with the knowledge I possessed. We were the stars of that place but at the same time, it drew us apart.” Ferrah got up from the couch walking over to the fridge finally grabbing a bottle of water. She took two quick sips before returning to the living room. “So, what made you and Erik stop dealing with eachother romantically?’ asked Raven “I guess you can say it was my possessive nature.” Ferrah didn’t sound ashamed by that at all. “I was eager in the beginning for him to explore with other women but it started eating away at me because his interests in me left completely. I was angry, and me and Erik had a falling out. Let’s just say the Erik back then wasn’t one to be tied down in one place. But still, I had a hold on him.” Ferrah looked directly into Raven’s face, “Still did recently.” Raven looked at Ferrah confused shaking her head not quite understanding where she was coming from, “What the hell are you on about?” “Erik had been gone for at least 3 months and he finally came back to LA. We met up and I could tell he changed but I also noticed that he felt hurt. So, I came up with a plan that I figured he couldn’t resist and that plan involved YOU.” Raven shot up from the couch arms crossed as she advanced slowly on Ferrah. “And what did that plan entail precisely?” Ferrah smirked rising from the couch as well, “Well lets just say it was no coincidence that Erik ran into you that one night in the hallway.” Raven’s eyes grew wide and her mouth hung open in surprise. She walked away towards the kitchen pacing angrily back and forth before stopping herself on the edge of the counter. “So you mean to tell me...” Raven’s eyes were trying hard not to cry as she gripped the counter hands shaking. She wanted to hit Ferrah so FUCKING hard, hell she wanted to hit both Erik and her sneaky ass. “Why?” “It was meant to be fun at first, a little game for him that I knew he wouldn’t be able to let go. Erik’s mind is still in this and even though the pass demons he had are settled where he was, he still has demons here. With that club. With me I guess...” Ferrah let out a huge sigh running her hands across her braids, “But He started to like you, you were the first girl from that club to actually grab his attention, and HERE you are, in a relationship with him that honestly I never suspected.” Raven finally regained composure and walked back towards the living room hands on her hips eyeing Ferrah with everything she had. “I think it’s time for you to let him go Ferrah, cuz he’s not going anywhere. He’s good here so why don’t you grab your shit and GO. Ain’t no need for you to be in my presence any longer I heard enough as it is.” Raven walked over to her apartment door and held it open for her unwanted guest to leave. Ferrah had an amused look on her face as she grabbed her bag walking towards the door. She stopped in the door frame, eyeing Raven one last time, “If you can’t handle this truth lets see you handle what he has to say.” Raven damn near pushed Ferrah out of the apartment slamming the door at her back. She replayed everything Ferrah said in her mind turning it over, trying to understand it. Raven was angry at Erik for sure, but she wasn’t letting him go so easily. Raven walked over to the living room and picked up her phone off the glass cocktail table. She called Erik and it rang about three times before he finally picked up. “Hey girl, I hardly heard from you in a couple of days wassup?” “Erik I’m coming over what’s your address?” Erik paused then chuckled into the phone his tired voice coming out low, “Okay babygirl is something up? You sound mad as hell...is it something I did?” His voice had slight worry in it but Raven just simply wanted his address so she could explain everything in person, “Erik please I will explain when I get there just give me your address.” There was a pause, then he spoke, “ It’s in downtown LA The new luxury Penthouse called Bayview Luxury. I’m on the 10th floor.” Raven nodded saying her goodbyes before hanging up, grabbing her keys and phone leaving the apartment in a flash.

[lark-in-ink]

Part two/god knows what :)  Part one here  (Due south, F/K, AU)

Eventually this real serious-looking girl- young woman, whatever, probably fresh out of law school- came around, and we talked and then she talked to Detective Vecchio and I talked to Detective Vecchio.  Whole lot of talking all around. Then a sketch artist, then back to Vecchio, trying to figure out some way to track the skinheads down.  He whined a bit about me hiding behind a lawyer, but seemed to be taking it seriously at least.  

When Constable Fraser showed up again, it was to announce that the hospital had called, the kid had woken up, and did Vecchio want to go to the hospital to get his statement.

Vecchio sighed. “Yeah, yeah, let's go get his statement.  Who knows, maybe he actually knows who the hell those guys are.”

“Hey-” I started, but he put up his hand at me.  

“Yeah, you did great, saved the kid a lot of hurt and maybe his life, but that doesn't help us actually find the shitheads that did it, which maybe if he knows them we can, OK?”

“It was very commendable what you did,” Fraser interjected before I could say anything.

I ducked my head. “Yeah, well, anyone woulda done it if they'd been there.”

“Okay, good, right,” Vecchio said. “Come on, Benny, let's go.”

“Of course, Ray,” Fraser said, and then, “Mr. Kowalski, do you need a ride anywhere?”  Immediately, Vecchio shot him a glare, and after that was a whole lot of faces between them like they were having some sort of silent conversation they’d had a million times.  

I cleared my throat.  “Actually, uh, I wanted to head over to the hospital myself, uh, just make sure he’s alright- no, that’s stupid, of course he’s not alright, but you know. I’d feel better if I could see him.  I can take the El from there, it’s no problem”  

“That’s a very commendable sentiment,” Fraser said, “and,” and he turned to give what I guess was his version of glaring back to Vecchio “wouldn’t be out of our way at all.”  

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Vecchio said.

Apparently I got shotgun, which was good, because it wasn’t just Constable Fraser and Detective Vecchio, it was also Fraser’s dog.  “Wolf, actually- well, half-wolf, or so he claims,” he’d said when he introduced Diefenbaker, so I was awfully glad that I wasn’t in the back seat with him.  Not so much because he seemed dangerous- I don’t know wolves but a lot of tail-wagging and slobber doesn’t spell out imminent threat to me- but because damn, that was a lot of slobber.  

Vecchio seemed a little less standoffish once we got going. It helped, I guess, that somehow Fraser had gotten started talking about this one time he'd tracked an “unknown assailant” halfway across Canada or whatever from noticing what kind of freaking cigarette he'd been smoking.  It sounded pretty screwy to me, like he was either seriously exaggerating or outright making shit up, but Vecchio started smiling even as he was rolling his eyes.

The way to the hospital went pretty near where shit had gone down in the first place. I glanced out the windows, wondering what the odds were of the badguys sticking around.

“By then, of course, I had nearly run out of provisions, and had to turn to living off the land,” Fraser was saying.  “Diefenbaker was good enough to alert me to the presence of rabbits, and not wishing to alert the man I was tracking to my presence, I eschewed the use of my rifle, and instead fashioned a slingshot from the nearby foliage.”

It was a neighborhood I was only vaguely familiar with- I'd been a little out of my usual way today. But I still recognized a few buildings here and there- we were only a couple blocks over from the alley where they'd jumped the kid.

“Oh, sure. The foliage. I'm sure I'd do the same thing in your position,” Vecchio smiled.

The streets weren't real crowded or anything, but there were a few pedestrians out, some people shopping, a couple bums but nobody bothering to panhandle. Normal life on a Chicago street.

“Don't be silly, Ray, I very much doubt you have the experience- though I'd be very happy to teach you, if you were interested. Now, as it happened, while stalking a rabbit through the forest, I came close to a clearing and was very surprise to see a man standing there.  And before I could alert him to my presence, I saw him raise a cigarette to his lips and light it, and wouldn't you know it, I detected the scent of-”

“Fuck!” I yelled when what I saw penetrated my brain. “That’s them! that’s the bastards right there! four-oclock- the leather jackets” and Vecchio said something in response, but I didn’t hear him because next thing I knew I heard the back door opening, I looked over my shoulder and the mountie had fucking dove out of the moving car.  Two seconds later, he was on his feet running hell for leather at the malfeseants, as he’d called them, and a split second after that we were pulling one hell of a u-turn, and I lost sight of him.

“Dammit, not again,” Vecchio said. “Fucking super-mountie.”

But then we were speeding down after them. By the time Vecchio got out of the car Constable Fraser had somehow gotten one of them into handcuffs, and the dog was menacing the other pretty credibly.  

“These the guys?” Vecchio asked me as I ambled over.

“Sure are,” I agreed. They glared at me. I noticed a few noticable bruises on them. Heh. Sweet.  

He started giving them their rights. Something prickled in the back of my head. I turned around and saw the guy across the street maybe half a second before instinct took over.  “Gun” someone yelled, maybe it was me.  I threw myself at Fraser. Something stung on my right arm.  We were on the ground. My arm hurt- REALLY hurt.  So did bits of my left side, where it had hit the concrete instead of nice warm mountie. The spot on my arm throbbed.  

“Ray! Ray!”

I blinked. I was on the ground on my back now. Everything felt a little far away, which was nice because otherwise I probably would be screaming in pain. A face  hovered over me. Fraser. Pretty. “You called me Ray!” I said.

“The ambulance is on it’s way,” he said. “The bullet seems to have hit your arm- I suspect it hurts rather badly, but I doubt your life is in danger.”

“Ouchie,” I agreed affably. There was something under my head- his hand? “Didja get the badguys?”

He nodded at me, still staring straight into my eyes. “The men you identified are handcuffed and should be in police custody in about- forty five seconds, if I’m interpreting the acoustical properties of sirens correctly. Unfortunately, the gunman fled, but I believe I’ll be able to produce an excellent likeness.”

He was right about the time- pretty soon there were all kinds of cops around, and a couple of paramedics shoed him away from me and got to work. It was kind of a blur after that, ambulance to ER, them sticking me on a bed, poking at my arm, cleaning it and making sure I wasn’t bleeding out or anything, before all hell broke loose out in the rest of the ER and they left me alone for what must have been a couple hours at least  

I didn’t mind too much though. They’d stuck some good drugs in my IV before running off to go deal with the poor fuckers who’d been in a car crash.  

So good I must have dozed off, because at some point I found myself waking up, and there he was, sitting next to the bed.

“Hey,” I said groggily, blinking. He looked different, less of the polite mask, looking- kind of actually worried.

He smiled weakly at me.  "Hello.  I'd tell the nurses you're awake, but frankly they still seem quite busy, and one did assure me that you're in no serious danger."  

"Good, that's good," I said.  "Guess I got lucky, huh? I mean as far as getting shot goes."

"Indeed," he agreed. "I have to thank you, by the way. If not for your quick thinking and entirely unselfish impulses, that bullet could easily have hit me, and somewhere much worse than a graze on the arm."  

"Eh, I was heading towards the ground anyway, no biggie to drag you with me," I said, but some back part of my brain was getting way too happy about having the pretty mountie grateful to me.

“I saw Kyle. He's on the mend, but I don't think the hospital staff wishes him to have any more visitors today, aside from his family.”

I blinked. “Kyle?”

“The young man who you protected.”

Oh, right. “Oh. Good. That's good.”

When they finally got un-busy enough to discharge me- arm bandaged and in a sling with a prescription for vicodin and strict orders to get my doctor to look at it in a couple days- he was still there.  Detective Vecchio had gone home, but I guess the guilt was getting to him good. He hovered next to me as I filled out paperwork and read over the discharge instructions.  

As I was lingering near the exit of the ER, trying to figure out whether to take the El home or get a cab, he said, “Ray?”

I looked up at him, still a little hazy. He was biting his lip, looking uncertain, first staring somewhere over my shoulder and then straight at me.  

“Yeah?”

"Would you- would you like to get something to eat?"

I blinked. Come to think of it, I was pretty hungry.  "Yeah," I said. "Ok."

[tomupside]

The Review You Deserve: The Avengers: Infinity War

Infinity War? More like Infinity Bore!

 [searches for high-fives]

 [finds none]

 Okay, that’s harder than Infinity War deserves. It wasn’t boring. That’s a positive that I can give it. But let’s face it, I saw it once, and that’s all I needed. In short: Infinity War was . . . better at doing particular aspects, but, overall, was on the same level as the lowest-common-denominator Marvel film out there.

 Spoilers ahead . . .

 Infinity War isn’t a single film, but three or four separate films stitched together by a single theme: how all these heroes tried to stop Thanos, and failed. Or, really. it’s a film antholgy trimmed down to a single Abridged movie.

The plot for Infinity War is simple: Thanos wants the infinity gems (or “stones,” as they’re called in the movie-verse) because there are too many people in the universe, and there needs to be a culling. This is the motivations of an insane person driven as such by past tragedies, but because this is Disney, we get all of this in exposition and are informed that he is a “tragic villain” through monologues over sad violins.

(Tangent: Loki was a great villain because the writers and director of Thor understood Shakespeare! You, Disney, do not! Fucking stop it!)

The heroes need to stop Thanos because they’re told that he wants the Infinity Stones for “Bad Things.” Well, that’s the surface-level reason. For the most part though, the heroes all find a reason to want to stop Thanos for personal reasons: Tony, because Thanos caused his PSD; Gamora, because he adopted her after slaughtering half her planet.

We start the story with Generic Uber-Bad’s Generals and Thanos, having just killed all of the surviving Asgardians, trying to get Infinity Stones from Thor and Loki . . . and in the most clumsy of sequences, they do. But they didn’t get them all, and with his final breath, Heimdall sends Hulk back to Earth (leaving Thor, Loki, and the Tesseract – the one thing Thanos was killing your people for – behind, because that totally makes sense as a dying gesture.)

Thanos then kills Loki after getting the Tesseract, and blows up the Asgardian ship and, supposedly, Thor with them. (Though don’t worry, he manages to survive the vacuum of space for just long enough – that being at least a few hours, if not days – to be saved by the Guardians of the Galaxy.)

 Hulk lands, conveniently, in the Sanctum Sanctorum, where he warns Doctor Strange of what’s going on. That’s when Thanos’ minions show up to get the Time Gem –

– which happens to be when Tony Stark is giving his heart-felt Two Weeks to Retirement speech. Spidey happened to be friendly in the neighborhood too, and the three of them wind up on the Minion Ship when Strange is kidnapped.

Later, the remaining minions try to get to Vision when and his mind gem while he’s with Scarlet Witch (because Bulma Briefs invented frikin’ Infinity Stone Scouters for them, apparently?) but get thwarted by Captain America, Falcon, and Black Widow (the *most powerful* Avengers out there.) They convene at Avenger Compound, where Bruce Banner is waiting with Rhodes (because that makes sense?)

Meanwhile, Thor tells the Guardians “Thanks, but fuck off” and, with Groot and Rocket Raccoon to forge a new hammer, while the rest go off elsewhere.

Then we start following the segments: Section 1: Peter Quill and the remaining Guardians try to stop Thanos themselves before he can get the stone from The Collector.

Section 2: Thor, Rocket, and Groot try to forge Mjolnir 2.0.

Section 3: Earth tries to protect the Infinity Stones that they have.

Section 4: Iron Man, Spider-Man, and Doctor Strange try to take the fight to Thanos.

Spoilers: They all fail. In some cases, for the most spectacularly dumb reasons imaginable.

Double-Spoilers: This is the first part in a two-parter, so guess who doesn’t beat the bad-guy in his goal to destroy half the life in the universe.

The film had potential. That Disney still refuses to get any real red blood on its hands is a small reason why it failed. The real reason it failed is because so many decisions were made not because they were logical to the characters or to the moment, but because they had to happen so the story could reach the next plot point. SO much of the story could’ve been solved if someone had just pulled the trigger when they had the chance! And you can’t use the whole “Well, they’re super heroes, so they have rules against killing . . . “ NO! Every one of these cretins has killed, whether blatantly or indirectly. But they had to be frikin’ idiots, because otherwise Thanos would’ve been stopped not even forty-five minutes into the movie!

And I don’t get it! I don’t get why, in a two-and-a-half hour film, you can’t dedicate at least ten minutes to show what could have been so bad in Thanos’ past that he would think wiping out half the life in the universe is a good thing, rather than have him tell us in almost five separate fucking monologues? Fucking five?! It creates a greater emotional connection for the audience when we get to feel that moment once and at the same time as the character. They obviously knew this, because they fucking showed that tender  moment when Thanos  kidnapped Gamora as a kid so she wouldn’t be slaughtered by his own kill-squad! Otherwise, we might not have cared as much when he threw her off a  cliff so he could get the Soul Stone! See! THAT made us feel for Thanos! That worked! We got why Thanos was crying, and why he kept being choked up through the film about her death, because we were there when he found her as a kid! Wouldn’t it have been nice to have that same goddamn moment instead of him  saying why he thought killing half the universe would be something good for everyone?

And of course – of course – Disney can’t let a somber moment be somber! “Oh, hi Thor! You just saw your brother be strangled in front of your eyes and your entire people slaughtered? Well, let’s have a goof-off with Peter Quill and you constantly call Rocket Raccoon a rabbit! Isn’t that great!” Or how about half the Earth population being dusted like in Buffy in the worst tragedy ever, but have Samuel L. Jackson almost get off a trademark Muthafukka? Wakka wakka fart joke!

It’s called “timing!” you repugnant rodent! Learn it!

We, the fan boys, got a bit of what we wanted. We got to see Thor with the Guardians of the Galaxy. We got to see man-child Peter Quill geek a bit with child-man Peter Parker. We had a snark-off between Stark and Strange. We got to see Robert Downey Junior phone-in impotence jokes at the expense of Bruce Banner-nee’-Hulk in a moment that shouldn’t have had jokes because Jesus Christ movie just let us have a serious moment here! But so much of the film’s progression necessitated everyone either taking a free-action to explain everything to us or to act completely out of character! Spoiler Alert: Nice job fucking things up, Andy Dwyer! Your plan to save the Universe was perfect except the part that involved you!

The directing was passable, but barely. The action scenes were cluttered at times, but for the most part, not as messy as they could’ve been. But overall, that’s all the directing was: passable. No scene passed along any sort of emotional weight, nor hinted at anything deeper than they were expressing. Even the harder moments, up until the end, didn’t hit. For example: When Gamora died . . . I felt nothing. There was no emotional impact. Thanos threw her off, we saw how sad it made Thanos . . . and then the corpse. Mufasa had a better fall-death! Hell, Inspector Javert had a better fall-death!

Also, the ending . . . which was just that: an ending. Which, I get it, it's how the comic book The Infinity Gauntlet ended. Good job, writers, you read a trade paperback! It gave no indication that there was going to be anything coming, like with Empire Strikes Back. It was just . . . and end. A "Fuck You." (And no, post-credits don't count! They never count! Stingers are post-sex cuddling!)

Now, there were a LOT of clever misdirects that kept things interesting: the reveal of Gamora’s Swiss Army Knife, which everyone in the audience was made to believe was going to be used to kill Thanos, but wound up ultimately being used as a set-up to failure, being one of the better ones. There were nice touches! And some of the parts that set up Person A being on the Infinity Kill List, but only to show that it was Person B or Person C instead, were nicely done.

But I don’t care. Because I know that these deaths are all going to be undone in the second part. In a universe where everyone can and has come back to life (coughcoughGrootcoughcoughColsoncoughcough) all of these dustings have as much impact as any comic book death or pro wrestler retirement. Plus, they didn’t kill any of the A-listers. All of the original Avengers made it to the end. Only the Second Wavers bit it.

People will say that Disney took a risk with this one. This won’t be true. Every person who died will be brought back. All the consequences will be reverted. Timey-wimey will save the day. And thanks to the Magic Space Beeper which Nick Fury apparently had the whole fucking time, we will now have our new Captain Mary Sue to come and save our day soon. (Which honestly pissed me off most: if you had a magic space beeper that could summon a space Captain Marvel to come save anyone at any time, why didn’t you use that in the first Avengers film, Fury?! And even if she did show up, what the Hell could she do now? Spin the Earth in reverse faster than the speed of light, and turn back time twenty-four hours?! Thanos won! You’re dusted! Game over, man!) I’d say the only parts of this film worth watching are the fights, but even then, that’s only on occasion. Again, so much of the action depended on contrivance (“Oh no, his space weapon somehow prevents me from phasing, especially in this scene where I’m not being attacked! Thank god Black Widow is strong enough to block it with her not-super strength, which I have, and with her weapons made of regular material, and not from Vibranium, which is the unbreakable material that I’m made from!”) that I kept expecting Thanos to reveal that he had fabricated the events from Reality Stone out of bored curiosity the whole time.

And what the Hell, Disney? You own Industrial Lights and Magic, one of only two special effects studios in Hollywood! So why do you keep phoning in the CG? Seriously, the fight between Thanos and Hulk looked like something out of a first-generation World of Warcraft cinematic! And I can’t be the only one who noticed how obviously rotoscoped Bruce Banner was in the Hulkbuster armor at the end! Vaporwave videos had less shifting! And don’t tell me “Look at how awesome they made Thanos in all the close-ups!” because that’s just proof of what they can do when they decide to do it, the lazy assholes!

Infinity War is typical Disney, which is now synonymous with glitter-rolled bullshit! There are parts which are worth paying attention to, but is, on whole, worth ignoring. The motivations were superficial; the drama was lip-service; the characters had almost no consistency; and nobody in the audience seemed to care, because that’s what we’ve come to expect from the studio that brought us Dog with a Blog.

Final Score

Rating: 5.5/10

Xowie: 2

Half-Life: 15 months

Nelson Ranking: Laundry Film

Tom Upside

- Up until the end, Thanos, himself, only kills two people. And one of those people he kills is technically a villain. Now somebody go back and confirm this, because this film is too bullshit for me to care.

[purplesurveys]

1108

[created by: vyvyan86]

What did you think you were good at, until you saw someone else do it? Probably at being detail-oriented. I’ve always held secretarial positions so I knew I was somewhat good at it, but my manager is far more capable than me to a ridiculous extent; she’s great at catching mistakes or knowing the right questions to ask.

What's a fun fact you tell in social situations? About me? The go-to fact that has never failed me before is that I don’t like fruits. Alllllllways riles up an entire crowd, and it’s such an easy way to break the ice hahaha.

What's something you're positive that only you do? I don’t enjoy chicken meat too much, so when I eat fried chicken I usually tear off the chicken skin (the only part I like) and give the rest of the meat to whoever wants it - usually my parents, or my dogs if they’re around.

What is something nice going on in your life right now? I’ve been feeling more free than lonely, which is a crucial mindset shift I needed in order to start healing.

What was the pinnacle of wealth to you as a child? Probably Lisa Frank merchandise, or a Speed Stack set.

What's something that you hate, but can't live without? Delayed flights are extremely inconvenient especially when I’m already itching to be back home, and they’re bound to happen every now and then, so.

What skill do you not talk about, because you feel it sounds like bragging? I’m not sure if I can say anything in the field of skills, but there are topics outside of talents that I do shy away from talking about because I don’t want to sound like I’m showing off. One of them is certain relatives I have.

What is an absolute 100% fact? I have work tomorrow and I’m dreading it as always because Monday. I already have 11 items lined up on my to-do list and it’s making my stomach turn.

What's the most useless thing you've memorized? Multiple episodes of Friends in their entirety.

What is your personal curse? My...what?

Who's the worst person you've encountered on the Internet? The trolls/bots employed to praise the government.

Do you ever stop and think, “what the hell am I doing with my life?” Just every once in a while. I don’t run into this crisis too often, and most of the time I always have a reason to be satisfied with where I happen to be in life.

What are some of the small things in life you enjoy? Feeling fresh after a shower; the scent that wafts from the kitchen when my parents have started cooking or baking something; lightning-speed internet; and driving at night.

What happened recently that made you really happy? I took myself out on a self-date for the first time last night. I’ve taken myself out before, but it was always at some coffee shop where I can stay for a few hours and take a survey or two – and people are usually alone there, anyway. I’ve never eaten out on my own, or went beyond getting coffee, before. I feel like last night was such an important mark for my newfound independence, and I let myself be emotional while I was downing my ramen. I can’t believe I’m getting better; I never thought I’d see the day. :)

If death wasn't a consequence, what would you try? Probably touching stuff that aren’t meant to be touched to know how they’d feel like, like lava.

What's the dumbest thing you've heard someone say? Superlatives are always hard to determine...but I’ll be happy to refer you to most of the quotes Duterte has said over the last five years of his presidency.

What is the worst smell you can remember? The sour stench of rotten food always gets me. Other than that, my stomach is a bit of a trooper when it comes to smells so I haven’t smelled a lot of stuff I’ve found to be terrible.

What's something you want that doesn't exist yet? Some kind of invention that lets you Control+F in real life. I can’t even begin to imagine how infinitely convenient this would make things.

Where is your happy place? In my car, driving at night with the right mix of songs to accompany me.

What song gets better the louder it gets? Born For This by Paramore or New Day by The Bouncing Souls.

What's the most deceptive advertising you've seen? Menu items, mostly. Like the one time a local pancake joint promoted their limited edition red velvet pancakes; I was big on red velvet at the time so I hurriedly ordered it, excited to see how they applied it to pancakes; but was disappointed to see that they were only about the size of my palm. 

I honestly don’t mind deceptive advertising for fast food since people should really expect to get what they pay for - so for the most part I don’t find myself feeling betrayed by sloppy-looking Big Macs hahaha - but the pancake place I was referring to was a sit-down restaurant so I did feel a bit upset seeing how sad and tiny my pancakes looked.

What's a joke you always tell people you meet for the first time? Back when I still went to school and we were required to introduce ourselves on the first day of classes, my go-to line was a joke in itself. I liked saying, “Hi, my name is Robyn. You can call me Robyn,” because for some reason it was the quickest way to get chuckles out of my classmates. I guess it’s in the way I deliver the line, but yeah that’s my way of breaking the ice.

What's the biggest inconvenience that does NOT ruin your day? When my dogs do their business somewhere they’re not supposed to. My dogs are my babies haha, so it’s easy to forgive them.

What's your best wrong number story? I don’t know if I have one. I usually ignore/block wrong numbers lol.

What's something everybody should know how to do? Approach intersections slowly, whether they’re walking or driving.

What is a great movie no one knows about? I suppose it’s quite known given the cast is has and the awards it got to have or be nominated for, but no one in my circle knows about it - Revolutionary Road.

What type of person could the world use less of? People who spit in public.

What makes you think, 'Oh dear, I'm old...'? Erm, maybe the fact that you can ask some kids if they know who Hannah Montana or Drake and Josh are, and it’s very likely that they would say no. Also, the fact that current college students were born in the 2000s.

What is one food that you hated as a kid, but love now? Vegetables and my grandma’s chicken curry.

What makes you tingle? Whispering in my ear.

What was your travel nightmare? Any time our flight would get delayed 2-3 times and we have to wait an extra hour per announcement. Even worse if the plane itself takes foreverrrrrrrrr to get clearance to take off.

What’s the best Wi-Fi name you’ve seen? Nacho’s wifi was “Yell ‘Bayani si Marcos’ for password,” which is “Yell “Marcos is a hero” for password.” It’s in reference to Ferdinand Marcos, a former president who doubled as a murderous dictator and thief and is of course not a hero, but for some weird reason is still revered like a god by people from his hometown, including my mom and grandmother. I’ve kept his wifi name on file on my laptop and have no plans to delete it.

What weird thing turns you on? Haha I don’t think anything I’m into can fall under ‘weird.’ I’m not into anything much in the first place.

What's easy to learn, but hard to master? Any sport.

What's something you've changed your opinion on? Certain politicians I used to look up to, but have since learned that they have unfavorable tendencies or traits as well.

Describe your favorite movie as obscurely as possible: A couple drives for the entire movie.

What's the most satisfying thing you've ever felt? So at work I have to use this extension called YAMM and it’s basically a way to be able to mass-send emails to hundreds and even thousands of recipients. I use it regularly to send press releases to media, and it makes me anxious every single time because one mistake can fuck up the spelling of names or the order of email addresses. Every time I accomplish a YAMM send-out without any mistakes I exhale a giant ass sigh of relief.

If you had a refilling bowl, what would you want it to contain? Money or macarons.

Where do you mostly live? In the past, the present or the future? Up until recently, I used to think a lot about the future; in the latest ~chapter of my life I had been finishing up college, figuring out what job.I wanted, and was in a long-term relationship, so it was inevitable for me to think about next steps. Now that I’ve gone/am going through all these massive changes, I’ve found that this time around it’s a lot healthier for me to stay in the present and be happy with what and who I have.

What is more important to you, the way you look or the ideas you present? The ideas and thoughts I have to offer, of course. The current generation doesn’t care as much for physical looks anymore, which I’d say is a great improvement from before.

What don't people get about what it's like to be you? I’m not that rare a snowflake lol, but I guess when it comes to certain things, like my breakup, I’ve since preferred to be insanely private about them (except on here, of course) so that I don’t have to take the whole neighborhood along in my healing process.

If your bedroom had three portals to anywhere, where would they lead? Another country, a coffee shop, and a beach.

How is parallel universe you doing? I hope she’s happier when it comes to love.

Which historical event should be the next huge television series? I’ve always wanted a fictionalized take on the British royal family, so The Crown already works out pretty well for me, actually.

What country should fictional villains be from? Any answer to this would be offensive lmao, so pass.

What is your imaginary Eden? Living conveniently in the condo of my dreams, making enough money to live comfortably and having easy access to whatever food I’m craving at any given moment.

Which Disney princess would make the best villain? I haven’t seen all the princess movies, so I’m not so sure if I can judge well on this.

You can ask any author one question about their story. What do you ask? I’d probably just ask Angie Sage if movie adaptations for Septimus Heap will still push through because I’ve been waiting on them since I was a lot younger.

Would you want a rewind or a pause button for your life? Why that one? Pause. So that if I’m feeling happy, I have the option to stay there longer if I want.

Are you worth your weight in gold? Idk.

[imurlilkitten]

My brain felt broken and I was tired, I was nearly two bottles of wine deep in only forty minutes. I felt drowsy, my eyes were red and swollen and I just wanted to sleep.

Tonight has been one of the most emotionally draining nights I’ve had in a very long time. I had kept my feelings towards the Harry situation locked inside of myself until this night, I figured it was better to feel numb than sad. I was probably right, since tonight’s actions had completely drained me of every emotion besides sadness.

I hated knowing how he felt, I know that Lily had said I needed to know but I hated it. Mainly because it made me hate myself. I had been so sure that this split would benefit him, that he would move on quickly but I didn’t take into effect how much it would hurt him.

How much I had hurt him.

As the final song started, I could barely even register what was happening. My mind spinning as the wine took its full effect on me, my brain not being able to comprehend what was going on.

I guess that was a good thing, seeing how no memories came from the title. I was exhausted mentally from every recollection I had experienced for the last half hour or so.

I figured I could listen to this song in its entirety and not flashback to a day we shared, I was fried.

“Woke up alone in this hotel room, played with myself. Where were you?” he sang, and a familiar sting panged in my chest. Where was I? He was alone. I had left him alone.

I had walked out on him without another word, he didn’t even know if I was okay. He didn’t know what I was feeling. He didn’t know if I had left because I no longer loved him, which wasn’t true. I hadn’t stopped loving him. To this day, I still loved him but he didn’t know that. I can’t imagine how that made him feel.

“Fell back asleep, I got drunk by noon. I’ve never felt less cool.” Harry was never really one to drink, only in celebration.

I could see him in my head, broken and scared. Not knowing what had happened between us, just knowing that I was gone. I could see him, a bottle in his hand, trying to erase our past with every sip of alcohol he could get his hands on.

I saw him alone, in a hotel room, drinking until he couldn’t remember what my face looked like. Trying his best to replace our memories with the burn of whatever he had in his bottle. I could see him doing it, because there were many nights I had done the same thing. Shit, I was doing it now.

“We haven’t spoke since you went away, comfortable silence is so overrated. Why won’t you ever be the first one to break? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.”

For the final time tonight, I knew he was speaking to me. His voice had sounded so small, so desperate for an answer that had never come.

He had attempted to reach out to me countless times, being the first one to try to rekindle our relationship even though I had been the one to end it. He wanted so desperately for me to try to make contact with him, but I hadn’t. I couldn’t.

I wanted him to be better after I left, and I knew if I had caved and tried to talk to him it would only prolong him from being better. I was doing it for his benefit, at least in my head I was. I could understand how now it didn’t seem that way in his.

In his mind, I abandoned him. Well, I had abandoned him but it was logical in my mind. It was for him.

“I saw your friend that you know from work, he said you feel just fine.” He said, and I immediately thought of Miles. This song couldn’t be referencing Miles, Harry left New York months ago. This song wasn’t about me. It couldn’t be, Miles was in New York. Harry was not.

I breathed a sigh of relief, at this point, I didn’t care if a song was about someone else. I just needed it to be over, I was so so tired.

I looked at the clock, it was about two in the morning. Miles could possibly still be awake, but maybe he wasn’t. He did have a shift in the morning, still, I needed to know for sure this wasn’t about me. I needed the confirmation that Miles wasn’t the “friend from work”.

I threw up my comforter, attempting to find my cell phone that had been discarded throughout my bed the entire night.

Once I finally found it, I pulled up Miles’s name. I didn’t want to risk calling him. I didn’t want to wake him if it wasn’t necessary. The song wasn’t about me or him, so there was no rush on finding out whether or not he had seen Harry recently.

I opened our messages and quickly typed to him;

“have you, by any chance, talked to Harry”

I knew he’d be thrown off by the question, considering Harry’s name had been banned among my friend group. I knew he’d be concerned, but I’d explain that all later.

“I see you gave him my old t-shirt, more of what was once mine.” Okay, that was a little eerie.

“Are you sure about this?” Miles asked, struggling to carry the cardboard box in his hands. He kept his eyes on me in my frantic state, running around my room and throwing random articles of clothing into said box.

“I’m sure, I can’t see him.” I replied, huffing as I stood in my closet. “He needs this stuff back, I didn’t mean to take it. It’s not fair to him to keep his clothes.” I answered, a hand wiping sweat from my brow.

“I don’t think I’m the person to do this. Have you asked Lily?” he questioned, his tone hesitant. I glared back to him, “Of course I have.”

“She said no.”

“She said no.” I confirmed, nodding my head with my eyes shut. “Said that if I wanted to give him his stuff back, I should do it myself. Explain why I left in the first place.” I sighed, moving to sit at the edge of my bed.

Miles placed the box down, walking in front of me and crouching down to my eye level. “Maybe you should. Maybe it’ll be good for you.” he whispered, his fingers catching my cheek. His voice soothing.

I shook my head, “I can��t. I can’t see him.” I responded, tears glossing my eyes. I turned my face from him, looking out my window. “Give it back to him, or don’t. I don’t care. I just can’t have anything reminding me of him in my house.” I begged, my cheeks wet from sliding tears I hadn’t realized escaped.

I turned back to Miles, who nodded understandingly.

I never asked again what he had done with Harry’s clothing. I didn’t want to bring it up and I know he wouldn’t either.

I didn’t even consider that he would keep his clothing, or even wear it. They were similar builds so I guess they would fit him, but I never thought he would do that. He knew I knew Harry’s clothing.

I had never seen him in anything of his so I always assumed he had given it back.

My phone buzzed in my lap, Miles’s name blinking with a new message. I guess he was up.

“Saw him about two months ago, why?”

My heart raced, he was supposed to be in California. What was he doing in New York two months ago? Miles lived near me and our place of work wasn’t too far from our apartments, what was he doing in my neighborhood?

“did he talk to you?”

I held my phone tightly in my hands, waiting for his response with a heavy heart.

“Yeah. He asked about you. I didn’t want to make you upset, so I didn’t tell you.”

“How did you find out?”

It made sense now, the song was about me. I knew if Harry had contact with any of my friends they would lie and say that I was okay. They would never go behind my back and tell him the truth, that I was an absolute wreck.

“did you keep his clothes?”

I already knew the answer before he could even respond. There was no doubt in my mind that this was one last song to me.

“He refused to see me when I was supposed to give them back. I didn’t know what else to do. I couldn’t throw them out.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I laughed bitterly, “Am I okay?” he asked. Am I okay? I don’t know anymore. I’m probably not, I’m probably not okay.

I wanted to type back, tell him everything that was going on. That I had spent my night getting drunk alone and listening to my ex boyfriend’s album. The same ex boyfriend my friends were banned from speaking about. Oh, and that I did this all willingly. That it was my choice to sit down and listen to this fucking album.

I sounded so self destructive. He’d be concerned, he would probably break down my door if I had told him what I had spent the last forty minutes doing.

I decided it was best not to answer. To explain it to him tomorrow when my head was clear and I knew exactly what I was doing. My phone continued to buzz, signifying that he had been trying to call me but I just ignored it.

“I see it written, it’s all over his face. Comfortable silence is so overrated.” He thought I had moved on, he thought I had broken another promise and ended up with Miles.

That’s why he blocked me after I had posted that picture, he thought I had done the one thing that he asked me not to do. The one thing I promised would never happen.

I mean, I also promised him I wouldn’t break up with him and I did that as well. So it makes sense why he would think that, but I would never do that to him. I would never be that absolutely vindictive.

He didn’t know that. From what I could tell, based on this album alone he seemed as if he didn’t know me at all anymore.

That hurt. That hurt more than anything. I was still the same, I was still the same person that was in love with him from the beginning.

“Why won’t you ever say what you wanna’ say? Even my phone misses your call, by the way.” It’s like he was insisting I call him, like he knew I was debating it. It felt like a sign, like I should call him.

“You need to think it through.” I said to myself, “Talk to Lily, don’t call him. You’re emotional.” I fought, my hands pushed into my closed eyes.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too.” Fuck Harry, it’s like you know what you’re doing.

Of course he does, he knew me better than anyone in my entire life. He knew how I felt, he knew my reactions to things, he knew exactly my next move before I ever pulled it.

He may not know it now, but he still knew every inch of me.

His phrase repeated, my eyes glued to my phone as he continued to tease me with the idea of calling him. I couldn’t just let him persuade me, I needed to think this through.

“But you, you never do.” he pleaded, sounding defeated. As if he had given up hope on me. Why wouldn’t he? I would. I hadn’t spoke to him in months. This was his final goodbye, his last confession of feelings to me. I was too late.

I could feel it in my heart, he had given up on me.

“Woke up the girl who looks just like you, I almost said your name.”

I felt my breathing halt, catching in my throat. I was going to be sick. How did I do this to him? What kind of person was I? Whatever kind it was, I didn’t want to be it.

Tears fell from my face, he was searching for me in other people. He had wanted me, even when he had moved on. He had slept with someone that reminded him of me, as much as it hurt to know. I knew he hadn’t moved on. At least not when he had written this song.

He still wanted me, even after everything I had put him through. I owed him, I owed him something. I had put him through so much without a single word. I needed to talk to him. I needed to tell him how I felt. How I hadn’t moved on, even if he had, he needed to know I never stopped loving him.

My vision was blurring, I didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from my tears. As the song’s last chords played out I knew what I needed to do, and I had to do it before I had a chance to talk myself out of it.

I grabbed my phone, ignoring Miles’s messages as I brought up Harry’s name.

I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this.

Or should I?

I let my feelings take control, I couldn’t listen to my brain any longer. That’s what had gotten me in this situation in the first place. My heart needed to win, for once.

I didn’t even realize my phone had been ringing, “H” on my screen as my finger had pressed the “call” button before I could even stop myself.

It was too late, I was already calling him.

It was a little past two in the morning at this point, I hoped he wouldn’t answer. I didn’t know what I would say if he had. I contemplated hitting “end” and just forgetting the entire night had happened. To just continue my “comfortable silence” as he put it, but I couldn’t. My heart wouldn’t let me.

“Hey, you’ve reached Harry. I’m not here, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” just hearing that sparked something in me. Hearing his familiar voice after ignoring him for months.

My eyes were shutting, being swollen from tears and consumed in alcohol. Once the beep had dinged in my ear, I couldn’t stop myself.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry Harry. I can’t even begin to explain how sorry I am for leaving you. I wish I never had. I let my stupid fucking insecurities ruin us. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, babe.” I cried, my breath quickening as I tried to blurt out everything I had kept in.

I sniffled, “I know this doesn’t change anything. You’re better off without me. I caused you so much fucking pain, and I’ll never forgive myself for it. I’m so sorry.”

I stopped to catch my breath, my eyes feeling as if they were going to slide out of my head. They hurt so bad. My shirt was soaked with my tears.

“And don’t think for a single second that I never thought about you. Fuck, I still do. I still think about you to this day, and I know there will never come a day where I don’t. Everything reminds me of you.” I confessed.

“As much as I tried to forget you, I can’t. You were my world, Harry. You always have been and you always will be.” I sighed, trying as hard as I could to calm myself with no success.

“And I know that one little call isn’t going to fix this. I don’t even know if you want to fix this. Fuck, what am I doing?” I outburst, what the fuck am I doing? My hand gripped my forehead, resting my elbow on my knee.

“This is going to probably cut me off soon. I’m sorry for calling you. I just needed to tell you this. I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.” I hung up before I began to mentally curse at myself.

Why hadn’t I just listened to Lily? Why did I call him? I sound so fucking pathetic. I just needed to sleep, I needed this night to be over. I needed to give my eyes a damn break.

I rested against my pillow, curling into my side. I pulled my phone to my face, clicking on Lily’s name before trying my best to text her.

“I called him.”

I locked my phone, immediately receiving a call from Lily after my text had been delivered. Sighing, I silenced my phone, waiting for her call to play out.

Once it had stopped I sighed in relief, only to be cut off by my phone going off once more. Looking over, I saw Lily’s name, I couldn’t talk to her. I just needed to sleep.

I moved to hold down the lock button on my phone, sliding my finger across it and shutting it off completely. She was going to be pissed at me, but I just couldn’t handle anything more right now. I just wanted to go to bed. I wanted this night to be over.

My eyes were overtaken by drowsiness, feeling too sore to stay open any longer. I pulled my comforter to my chest, not caring that my laptop had flung itself off of my bed along with the empty bottles of wine.

I just wanted to sleep.

////////////////////////

“Fucking hell.” I groaned, a consistent pounding in my head as I tossed my body to glance at my alarm clock. “How long did I even sleep for?” I asked, my eyes barely able to open after the night I had prior. The pounding continued, “Remind me to never drink again.” I tried to laugh, but my throat was too sore.

Once I could open my eyes a slither, I noticed the analog numbers showing 4:36 AM. I had only slept for two hours? What was I doing up? I sighed, turning back to cuddle into my pillow, begging for more sleep to come but the pounding persisted. “Jesus Christ, it’s like I can actually hear it.” I whined, closing my eyes tighter as I attempted to block the noise from my head.

“This is a weird fucking hangover.” I joked. I tried to relax, tried to get more sleep, but the pounding was too much.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled, sighing as I kicked my legs to the side of my bed. Wobbling as I attempted to regain my balance, the alcohol still very present in my system. “A fucking bottle of Advil will get rid of you.” I threaten to my own skull.

I grabbed a hold on my bedroom handle, opening it to head towards the bathroom, noticing that the pounding had gotten louder.

“What is…” I started before I realized my head hadn’t been pounding at all. It had been my front door. Who would be here this late? Then it hit me, Lily.

“Shit, she’s probably so fucking mad at me.” I thought, remembering I had texted her and then shut off my phone. She was probably so worried about me, I hadn’t been the most mentally stable leading up to that point of the night and I left her high and dry.

I scrambled into my room, the knocking continuing as I grabbed a sweatshirt out of my closet. “I know, I know.” I said, throwing it on before rushing to the door.

She was going to kill me.

I grabbed the doorknob, my free hand rubbing at my swollen eyes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..” I said before looking at the sight in front of me.

I had to be dreaming still.

“What..” was all I could get out. There was no way this was happening.

He looked different, his hair was hung down on his head. Wet from what I assumed was the rain pouring outside. His black t-shirt was drenched, along with his painted on jeans. A puddle formed underneath him, and I assumed he had been standing there awhile.

His eyes matched mine, red and swollen. His face wet, I wasn’t sure if it had been from the rain or from tears. This wasn’t real.

He was panting, his chest heaving but no sound came from his lips.

“Harry?” I whispered. I must have been dreaming. How was he here? He wasn’t here. This wasn’t actually happening, I was still drunk and asleep. I had to have been.

He looked me up and down, his lips turned downwards as he looked to the floor. His shoes were leaking water from them. “What are you..” I tried to ask but my mouth couldn’t handle words.

I was speechless.

“You called.” he said, his voice cracked. He had been crying.

I couldn’t look at him, and he couldn’t look at me. I wasn’t expecting this, I wasn’t expecting him to be at my door after months of not speaking. I didn’t know what to do.

He body shivered, sniffles falling from his nose, his eyes threatening to spill again. I couldn’t handle it.

“You can come in..” I asked, moving to the side behind the door. He nodded, not saying anything else as he walked into my apartment.

He looked around, taking in my house. This was the first time in a very long time that he had seen anything of mine, saw how I was living. He hadn’t even seen much of that when we were dating, we moved in together almost immediately. Everything I had was his and vice versa, but this apartment was me. All me.

My brain kicked in, snapping me out of my stunned state, “Let me get you a towel.” I spoke, my tone weak. I dashed off before he could even reply, walking into my bathroom and gripping onto the countertop.

My breathing unsteady and fast, I held onto the sink as if it was going to calm me down. As if it would make me feel normal again. It was getting harder to breathe, how was he here? Why was he here?

“Hey, hey, look at me.” his voice chimed in, rushing from the open bathroom door to my side. He turned me, hesitantly grabbing my hands and placing them on his chest. Something he use to do when I would have panic attacks, much like this one.

“H-Har..” I tried to get out but he shushed me. “Just breathe.” he soothed, taking in deep breaths as I attempted to match them. “Breathe for me, please.” he pleaded, he always hated when this happened. He told me it scared him more than anything in this world. It made him worry that he was going to lose me one day.

The irony of this happening after we had broken up was not lost on me. It took a couple seconds for my inhaling to match him, a weak smile ghosting on his face as we breathed in unison. “I’m sorry.” I whispered, to which he shook his head. “I know it happens.” he coughed, quickly removing his hands from mine.

I shook my head, “That’s not what I’m talking about.” I explained.

“I know.” he responded, standing awkwardly in the doorway of the bathroom.

I nodded, grabbing a towel and passing it to him. He wrapped it around his shoulders, engulfing his arms in it as he made his way back to the couch.

I followed him silently, not really knowing what else to do. “You called.” he repeated, his voice more confident than before.

I nodded again, “Why?” he asked and I felt my heart sink. He hadn’t wanted to hear from me. His voice sounded in pain, more pain I had caused.

I shrugged, my eyes clouding again. “No, I didn’t..” he started, taking in my state. He stood from the couch, attempting to move closer to me. I put my hand up, and he stopped immediately. “I listened to your album.”

He nodded, and it was followed by silence. His eyes falling back to his feet. “I would’ve warned you.” he started, eyes scanning the floor. “You wouldn’t talk to me. I didn’t even think you’d ever listen to it.” he shook his head, hand moving from under the towel to push at his damp hair.

“I wasn’t going to.” I confessed.

“What made you change your mind?” he asked, his eyes locking with mine. He let out a soft laugh.

“Lily.” we both said at the same time.

It was only silent for a moment before he broke it again, “Why?” he asked, and I knew what he meant without hearing him say it. He looked broken. I hated it.

“You deserved better.” I sobbed, not being able to help it.

“That’s not your choice to make.” he hissed, I knew this was coming but I still wasn’t prepared for it. “I know.” I agreed.

“You were the best thing that had ever happened to me. You have no fucking idea. You had no right to decide what I deserve and what I don’t.” he argued, his tone sharp and dark. If I hadn’t felt so numb, I would’ve been terrified.

More tears fell, I couldn’t speak. There weren’t enough apologies in the world for me to say to him. “I waited, I waited for months hoping it was all a joke. That you weren’t really gone, but you were.” he cried.

I shifted from one foot to the other, not knowing what else to do. I deserved all of this, after everything I had put him through. I deserved to hear all the things he felt, even if they weren’t good.

“You have no fucking idea what that’s like. How it destroys you. You just fucking left, Brooklyn!” he shouted, and all I could do was nod. “No note. No word from you. You were just gone.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” I tried, but he cut me off with a laugh. “Anything! Anything would have sufficed! Imagine finally feeling as if you felt love and then it’s ripped from you without any explanation!”

His head fell into his hands, “I really thought I finally had what I always craved for. That I had someone who I loved so fucking much love me back with the same intensity.” he looked over to me, “I thought I found someone who loved me.”

I felt like he had kicked me in the stomach, “I did love you! I can’t believe you think I didn’t.” he stood up, the towel falling onto the couch behind him, “How could I have not?! You just fucking left, Brooklyn.”

“I did it for you!” I yelled back, finally finding my voice after being accused that my feelings for him were false. I had never loved anyone as much as I loved him.

“I wasn’t good enough for you! You deserved someone so much better! I would never be the woman you deserved, and it killed me everyday. How dare you say that I never loved you because I still fucking do.” I screamed, tears heating my cheeks as I pushed through my voice cracks and dry throat.

He moved closer to me, “If anything I didn’t deserve you, I thought it every fucking day and the day you left I knew you realized it too.” his voice was lower, scared almost.

“You need someone who’s perfect for you, who can make you forget every bad thing that has happened just by looking into their eyes. Someone who isn’t me.” I spoke, my head shaking as he stepped closer. His finger moving my chin to look into his eyes.

“If you’re not perfect for me, why is it that after everything that has happened. After ninety-seven fucking days of silence and not knowing how you felt or why you even left. That I still get weak when I look into your eyes?” he whispered.

“Ninety-seven days?” I questioned, to which he nodded. “It’s easy to remember how long your heartbeat has been gone.” he replied, shaking his head before dropping his touch from me.

“I shouldn’t have come here.” he said, mainly to himself.

I couldn’t move, all I could focus on was the feeling of his fingers being on me. He looked at me one more time, sighing as he turned away and headed for the door.

I couldn’t let this happen, I couldn’t lose him for a second time. The first time was my own doing and I wouldn’t let him walk away from me now. “Don’t!” I screamed once he had reached the doorknob.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he questioned, his back still facing me as his hand frozen with the knob half turned. “Why shouldn’t I just leave and end this once and for all?” he pushed.

“Because I still love you.” I gasped, my answer spilling before I could even think of the words.

He took a sharp intake of breath, his head falling back as he continued to face the door. He hadn’t responded, but he also hadn’t left so that had to be a good sign.

“I love you so much, Harry. I know it may not seem like it after everything I put you through, but I do. I never stopped.” I blurted, my body still.

He turned back to me, face cold and stoic as he took in my appearance. His hand still on the handle.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much, I changed everything in my life because it hurt to remember you. Because it hurt to still love you. I thought you would be better after I left, that you would find true happiness. I know it wasn’t my decision to make but I was being selfish in the most selfless way. I just wanted you to be happy.” I cried, bringing up my sleeve to wipe my face of tears.

“But now I don’t give a shit if I’m not the one for you, I want you back. I need you back. I need you in my life. I love you so fucking much, Harry. I can’t apologize to you enough.”

He had turned to face me at this point, his eyes clouding as he looked towards the ceiling.

“If you want to leave, you can. I’m not going to hurt you any longer but if you still feel like I do. If you want to fix this, even though I know I don’t deserve it, then…” I sighed, taking a breath to dry my face.

“Then meet me in the hallway.” I said, to which his eyes snapped to mine. His brows lowered and his mouth fell open. Tears began to fall as I walked out of the living room and into the area just before my bedroom.

I rested my back against the wall, breathing harshly as I waiting for him to make his decision.

When I heard the front door open I had lost it. I had lost him. He didn’t want me anymore. I fell back even harder into the wall, realizing that it was really over. That he was really gone. I should’ve expected it, but it still hurt to know it was real.

My hands clasped around my face, hard sobs falling from my lips. “I’m so fucking stupid.” I thought. “Why did I even give him the option?” I debated chasing him down the hall, but my feet wouldn’t carry me.

I gave him a choice and he had left.

My eyes were covered by the material of my sweatshirt, making it grow damper as I sobbed. He was gone. He was really gone.

My hands pulled down from my face, but I hadn’t removed them. Fingers lightly grasped my wrists, pulling them down to reveal Harry standing in front of me.

My eyes widened, taking in him before me. “I wanted to, but I couldn’t.” he admitted, “I should’ve just left, but I can’t.”

I sniffled, his thumb coming up to rub at the tears on my shocked face. “I can’t lose you again.” he whispered, his hand moving to lay across my jaw.

“I love you, Brooklyn. I never stopped.” he said, before pulling me into him. His lips crashing against mine as I moaned, I missed kissing him so much.

He moved to grip at my thighs, pulling me up to wrap them around his waist. I cried into his kiss, I couldn’t help it. I had missed him so much, this still felt like a dream. He was mine.

“Bedroom?” he asked, and I laughed, knowing he didn’t know the layout of my apartment at all but was trying to be in charge. I moved back to point at the door down the hall.

He carried me into the room, kicking open the door before throwing me onto the bed. His body crawling onto mine, my hands clutching his shoulders. I felt if I had let go of him for a second, he’d vanish. That I would wake up in my bed alone, and that this would never had happened.

His arms moved to the sides of my head, holding him up so that he could look into my eyes. “I missed you so much, kitten.” he sighed, and I involuntarily smiled at his nickname. I hadn’t heard it in so long, but the familiarity of its sound was perfect.

He peppered kisses on my face, letting out a laugh. I looked at him, my face amused as I silently pushed him to tell me what was so funny, he shook his head. “I haven’t felt this happy in so fucking long.” he confessed, his forehead resting in my neck.

I dragged my hand along his back, cause him to let out a groan. “Ninety-seven days, if my calculations are correct.” I joked, my voice muffled from my stuffed nose.

He looked at me, “Those are my calculations.”

I shrugged, “Still correct.” I laughed.

“God, you just sound so sexy. That stuffy mucus voice, I could just take you right now.” he teased, moving his hand to tickle my side. I thrashed under him, laughter spilling from my lips as I begged him to stop.

“I missed your laugh, even if you sound completely disgusting.” He smiled, moving his hand to brush back hair that had fallen on my face.

“Don’t make fun of me, I’ve had a hard night.” I whined, my bottom lip jutting out. He took it between his teeth, kissing me softly after. “I’ve had a hard few months.” he admitted, his eyes finding mine as he took in my face.

I smirked, “Tell me something I don’t already know.” I joked as he flopped his full body weight on top me of. Laughter erupting from the both of us. “Woman.” he groaned, as I kissed at his face thankful to have him back in my life.

THE END

THATS THE END GUYS. I REALLY HOPED YOU LIKE IT. IM SO HAPPY AND THANKFUL TO EVERYONE WHO READ AND SUPPORTED MY FIRST STORY! I CANT EXPLAIN HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME XX