#what really pisses me off though about gallery not paying for months on end though isn't even the not having money in the moment

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

.

[ssixa]

Feel Special //Narachan x OC (BW)

Description: Nala realizes that nice guys can make more than just great friends.

Genre: fluff, SMUT!!!

Pairing: Narachan (from M.O.N.T) x OC (BW)

Word count: 5.4k

Content warning: switch, mommy kink, daddy kink, profanity, language

A/N: shit I wish I did this art, but I found this black girl pic on the internet and I just had to use it! it’s absolutely beautiful. So full on S/O to the Pinterest profile Jess Create. Idk this person, but the artwork is just absolutely too beautiful not to share<3. This was technically my first time writing smut and I suck at it, so...sorry.

*All pic collages are made by me unless I state otherwise. Individual pictures in the collage are not mine and I give credit to where credit is due.

Nala found herself in one of those unique circumstances where she ended up living with 2 other men. The only difference was that she knew one of them by the name of Bitsaeon since childhood. While growing up she made another friend by the name of Roda and it didn’t take long for all of them to get close and be each others closest friend. At some time during high school, Roda ended up moving away and it wasn’t until later in their 20s that Roda decided to move back, but instead it would be better and financially easier if all three of them lived together. That’s how Nala came to live with these two men who conveniently were her already good friends. 

Nothing honestly became awkward between them. They survived each others hook up moments they had in the apartment (both the warned and not warned moments). Others around them knew that they were close and wondered if Nala ever had any feelings for either at any point in time and her answer was always no. She knew majority of the females, whereever they were, always tried flirting with the boys, but she always helped them out when they had no interest in doing anything with those girls by pretending to be in a relationship with them. That’s how close she was to these boys. 

A new friend by the name of Narachan popped up around the time they all moved in together. He knew Roda and Bit from their work at the record label where the staff at the company gathered them to work on a project for the debut group under the company. During the project, they became close so when it eventually came to an end they kept in contact with each other. Eventually, Roda and Bit invited Narachan over to the apartment to be able to finally meet Nala in person and to hangout altogether. Nala was only ever acquainted with him through pictures and few brief exchanges over the phone. She was curious as to what kind of person he was.

The day Narachan finally came over, the two hit it off instantly. He was honestly just like Bit and Roda so it wasn’t hard trying to figure him out. They spent a whole evening together playing games, drinking, and just vibing. Nara spent the night on the couch since he had a little too much to drink and wouldn’t be able to drive back to his place. She gathered blankets and a pillow for him and wished him a goodnight. The next morning she woke up early (since for some reason she wakes up earlier after a night of drinking) and decided to grab hangover food for everyone. The smell of food eventually woke everyone up and they all enjoyed a nice breakfast. Nara evetually left after she convinced him to not worry about paying her back for the food. 

“So~” Bit speaks up while they (they as in Roda, Bit, and Nala) were having a lazy Saturday evening.

“So what?” Nala replied as she was taking down her hair that was long overdue. She always had a love hate relationship with her hair since it tended to be the 4c type. Her hair looked beautifully filled out when the cornrows are taken out, but once water touched it the shrinkage is real. 

“Narachan, y’all seem to have hit it off a lot better than Roda and I predicted” he replied.

“Honestly he’s adorable. He seriously reminds me of you two idiots so it’s probably why we got along so well” She answers focused a section of a row that refused to come out.

“oooohhhh does our Nala have a crush on our new friend?” Roda speaks up mockingly

“Oh shut up and no, he’s just chill and there for the vibe so I appreciate it” She replies smacking him on the shoulder. The room filled with laughter and the evening continued on as everyone did absolutely nothing worthwhile. 

Months passed by and eveyone were just as close as ever. One particular day, Nala had a date with a guy she had been talking to online and was beyond excited. Roda and Bit knew about her date and in order for them not to die of boredom without her, they planned a boys night out with Narachan. While getting ready in her room, she could hear Narachan walk in the front door, he really just wasn’t a very quiet human being. She felt proud of her outfit for the night. It was a cute, body shaping, off the shoulder black dress and black heels with a little silver jewelry to match. Her makeup was simple as well since she wasn’t one to wear a lot in the first place. Her date and her were going to an art gallery event since they both shared a love for those types of artistic events.  

After giving herself a look over, Nala grabs her purse and leaves her room. She walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading out. 

“WOOOWWWW” Nala hears Roda exclaim followed by a whistle

“Oh shut up” she rolls her eyes in response

“But honestly, does it look like too much? I mean we are going to an art show at a gallery” she start giving herself a once over having second thoughts.

“You look amazing” she hears Nara speak up. She looks up and sees him quickly avoid eye contact with her. Odd.

“Thanks boo” she replies back like she always does. Nala was one of those nickname girls who calls everyone boo, dude, or bruh so this didn’t phase anyone...well that’s what she assumed at least. She gave herself a once over when she gets a message from her date saying that he was outside. She tells the boys to have a fun night and not be too reckless without her around. They wished her a good night and she left the house ready for an amazing night.

That date was absolutely terrible. The whole night was a mess and it was because of him messing up left to right. They got to the event and turns out he bought faulty tickets for the event on some sketchy website so he pretty much got scammed. Nala let that pass since the night was still young so she decided they should go in anyways. She ended up paying for her own ticket which she found quite irritating because she really was only planning to spend very little if nothing at all tonight. They get into the event which was absolutely amazing. The ambiance of the whole place was set nicely and matched very well with the different art pieces posted around the small building. They had little snacks and drinks to offer guests since they came with the ticket purchase so she ate only a little expecting them to go to dinner like he had planned. 

During the whole event though, he drank and ate to his hearts content and when she reminded me him about dinner after he said this was it. That had her fuming because the last thing he can do to piss her off is mess with the relationship between food and her. He walked around flirting with other women at the event and fully neglected the art that they came here for. Even when they walked around, he stayed on his phone and only looked up to say “that’s cool” or “I don’t get it”. At least she could understand now that he lied about being an arts lover. They left the event and at that point she was ready to go home. He tried making a move on her which is what she realized was his whole motive for the night. He wasn’t too pleased at her rejecting him and called her a bitch and a dumb slut. So she called herself an uber and blocked his number. 

Honestly, they had talked for a few weeks so Nala thought it would work out, but she guessed it wasn’t in the stars. This always happened though. She could never find herself a decent guy because they either become a friend or end up being an asshole. You may ask “why not date the friend that’s decent then?” well it’s because once they hit it off, she finds it hard to see them any other way. Nala can acknowledge that they’re attractive, but that’s it. Another failed date for the books, hopefully the boys bought some alcohol so she could drown her sorrows.

Nala unlocks the front door to the apartment and kicks off her shoes once inside. She throws her stuff on the kitchen table and heads for the fridge. She opens it grateful there’s a new case of ales stocked and ready to be consumed. She cracks open the bottle and chugs half of it down.

“Um, Nala, you good?” She heard Narachan speak up from the darkness of the living room. This nearly causes her to choke not having realized he was there. She spends a few minutes coughing her lungs out before trying to say anything.

“Oh my god I’m sorry, did I scare you?!” he exclaims standing up from the sofa

“I’m fine, and yes you literally just scared the shit out of me” she laughs after finally coming down. 

“Oh sorry” he says scratching the back of his neck

“You’re fine and to answer the first question before I just almost died, no I’m not good. Tonight was terrible” she sighs grabbing herself another drink from the fridge and heading to the sofa. 

“You wanna talk about it” he asks sitting down beside her. She agreed and began telling him all that happened. Thoughtlessly laying her head on his shoulder and linking her arms around his. This tended to be her comfort mechanism whenever she vented her feelings. Bit and Roda were used to it by now, but very comforting to her as she poured out her feelings to them. So it didn’t seem weird to her to do it with Nara since she now considered him one of her good friends. They sat there in the darkness staring at the blank tv at the front of the room.

“I swear is it that guys think I’m ugly or take me as a joke? I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me” 

“Nala you’re an absolutely amazing person. I do admit that your taste in men is pretty bad though” he replies with a laugh.

“Yeah I guess it is” she replies back with a sad laugh.

“If you don’t mind me asking, but Roda and Bit are actually amazing guys. Why is it you’ve never thought of a relationship with one of them” he comments

“Lol you wouldn’t be the first to ask that. I do admit that they’re amazing and not actually ugly. It just happens that guys that are amazing I end up becoming friends with them. There ends up being no feelings to them and I don’t know why that is, but it is” she states with an acknowledging sigh.

“So you can’t date decent guys because you end up becoming good friends with them?” he repeats back

“Pretty much” she sighs for the nth time tonight.

“So I guess there’s no hope for me huh?” he adds with a slight laugh. It took a moment for his words to register in her brain. 

“Wait...Nara, what d-did you just say” she stutters out

“Honestly, I’ve liked you ever since I first came to your place” he replies

“Nara that was months ago. Why didn’t you tell me?” she replies back still in shock

“I know and it would’ve been weird since we had just met. You are an absolutely amazing person and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship that had barely just started” 

“I- Nara” 

“It’s ok that you don’t feel the same way, I just thought you should know. I hope this doesn’t affect our friendship” he says finally looking down at her. She finally turns her head to look up from his shoulder. He just has a soft smile on his face. Nala doesn’t know what came over her, but she leaned in and kissed him. She could feel him freeze for a second, but finally lean into it. It was a soft and innocent kiss. They separated after what felt like forever.

“Nala, y-you don’t have to force yourself to like me back I promise I’ll be fine” he says still in shock

“You idiot, I’ve liked you for a little while now” she comments back laughing

“W-what did you...”

“I haven’t like you as long as you’ve liked me, but I think I realized my feelings not that long ago. I think you have been one of my first friends I’ve actually fell for” she replies back shyly looking away. They sat in silence over the confessions that have just been admitted. Next thing she realizes is a hand grabbing her chin up and lips back on hers. The kiss was intense and saw no end. Nara slowly laid her down on the sofa without the kiss having any sort of break. She wrapped her arms around his neck trying to bring him closer to her. The kiss, which really turned out to be a make out session finally reached it’s breaking point and they both needed to catch their breaths.

They starred into each others eyes catching their breath,

“Nala, please let me show you how amazing and worth it you really are” he says with almost pleading eyes

“O-okay” she reply back. He leaned back down connecting their lips once again in another heated kiss. Shs could feel his hands roaming her frame which only sent shivers down her spine and having her get butterflies in her stomach. His lips made his way to her chin then down to her neck and shoulder. The feeling of his lips were light and yet deadly like an addictive poison. Sbs felt him nip at her shoulder which caused slight pain to turn into immense pleasure. 

Nala felt his hands that were still left roaming go towards the back of her thighs. Before she knew it, he had picked her up to straddle him. He proceeded to stand up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. She paid no mind to what was happening because she could tell they were walking towards her room. He opened the door and once inside kicked it closed with his foot. He carried her to her bed where he laid her down and hovered not ceasing to leave leave alone for even a second. After what felt like another eternity, she felt him fully disappear. She let out a moan from the sudden lack of him and opened her eyes to see what was happening.

“Now sweetheart, can you take off that pretty little black dress for me” he said with a dark lusd filled voice. She starred at him completely amazed by the man who looks like Nara, but doesn’t sound like the one she know.

“Don’t make me ask you twice” he said slightly threateningly. She pulled her dress off over her head as fast as she could. She realized that apart from her lace underwear the only other thing she had on was the pasties covering her nipples so they wouldn’t poke out through the dress. At this realization, she covered herself up, but also realized that his dark gaze added an extra shiver up her spine.

“Nala, you’re beautiful. Don’t hide yourself from me” he says as he reaches out to put her arms by her side.

“C-can you at least take your shirt off...” she asks softly.

“Not yet. First I’m going to make you feel good” Nara utters with a smirk. He kneels and centers himself between her legs making himself at eye level to her. He goes in for another intense kiss to her lips. He pushes her down slowly onto the bed while he leads the trail of kisses down her neck then to the center of her chest. He reaches up and carefully removes the pasties from her right nipple. He then reaches towards her left nipple and removes the other pasty from there.

He start rolling the right nipple with his fingers and attacks the left one with his mouth. The sucking, tugging, and small licks he delivered out her in a state of near ecstasy. She felt the heat between her legs growing the more it was left neglected. She wanted him, needed him.

“P-please Nara, I need you” she begged. He released his right hand and glided it down her stomach to her inner thigh. She was going crazy, she craved the touch that was so close yet time made it seem so far away. Nara, slowly glided his fingers up to her heat and on to her sensitive nub. He didn’t do anything, but place his finger on her nub but that little gesture had her floating.

“F-fuck please, do something Nara” she begged

“Baby you’re so needy. Trust me this will all be worth it” he says softly. As she was about to respond he shoved one finger into her heat with no chance of warning

“F-FUCK FUCK OH MY G—OHHHH” she blurted out. He started moving his fingers in and out as he continued sucking on her now very sensitive nipple.

“A-another p-please” she begged. The one wasn’t giving her the feeling she wanted only the bare build up. He adds in a second finger and pumps faster. He curves his fingers which ended up hitting the spot that would send sparks flying.

“Found it” he whispers seducingly when he heard her let out a big moan. His pumps were constant, but fast and he could tell she was close to her release with her heat being like a vacuum to his fingers and removing them became increasingly difficult. To really push her over the edge, he placed his thumb on her clit and started circling motions causing more arousal than she even knew she could get.

“F-fuck N-Nara I’m so fucking close fuck” she squeaks out. He went faster and faster and her climax hit,

“F-FUCK DADDY” she exclaims as she pushes her orgasm with the help of his fingers. She started seeing sparks and felt like this could have only been a dream.

“So...daddy. I love the sound of that coming from your lips” he leans down to whisper in her ear once he finishes her

“I-I...” she had no words to say. She always knew this was one of her kinks, but never had she imagined calling this sweet “innocent” man daddy.

“So what do you want daddy to do for you princess?” He says in a deeper tone

“I need you Nara” she says softly with eyes looking in all directions but his

“That isn’t my name now is it” he glares

“Please d-daddy, I need you” she begged once again

“Now that’s my good girl” he replies. He stands up ripping off his shirt in a way that was a lot more sexy than needed. She never realized how fit Nara actually was and she could’ve honestly never guessed either. He continues on removing his pants leg by leg as their eye contact never broke from his. He tossed his pants to the side and grabbed the rim to his maroon boxer-briefs. All she could do was swallow at what would be occurring in just a few moments.

Nara agonizingly slow removed the clothing finally letting his hard member spring free. He wasn’t big, but he definitely wasn’t small either; he was just right. She could feel drool pool up and risk escaping her mouth. She just wanted to wrap her mouth around his member and suck him dry, but as soon as she sat up making her way towards himl, he stops her. 

“Baby girl, what do you think you’re doing” he asks with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“I-I just want to make daddy feel good” she replied without breaking eye contact with his hard member.

“As much as I appreciate the thought, I already told you I would make you realize how amazing you are” he says softly pushing her back on the bed.

“B-but I-” 

“No. Now answer me. Are you on birth control?” he asks in a demanding tone 

“Y-yes” she replies softly. She still wasn’t used to this side of Narachan.

“Good” is all he replies. He bends and spreads her legs and then pulls her bent legs forward to shift her whole body to the edge of the bed.

“You ready?” He asks almost as to make sure this is what she actually wants.

“Na- daddy, please” she looks at him with pleading eyes. At the very end of her statement he leans forward slowing filling up her hungry and deprived core. He pauses for a minute giving her time to adjust and once she said she was fine and he could move, he pulled out part way and pushed back in slowly.

His few slow strokes had her feeling like you were on cloud nine, but after a little while she hated to say it but she needed more.

“D-daddy please faster” she pleaded. On command, he started moving faster snapping his hips like he had been waiting for those words his whole life. He just as quickly got over this one position. He pulled out and she let out a sigh at the sudden emptiness.

“Hands and knees, now” he commands. Nala flips quick needing to be filled once more. She was expecting him to be gentle in the beginning until she told him it was ok to go faster, but she was wrong. Nara thrusted his hard member without warning cause her to let out a moan that she knew her poor neighbors would be able to hear. He was in pulling and pushing in and out at a constant yet fast speed.

Nala could feel her stomach tension build up and she knew she wouldn’t be able to last very much longer.

“I’m so close” she whaled out not caring who could hear her. Her moans became increasingly louder which encouraged Nara to go faster and deeper and one particular thrust hit her spot at just the right angle. She let out the biggest moan she had ever heard herself let out. He knew what he had done and made it a point to hit the exact spot back to back. He added the circling of her clit giving her an extra push to her splendid end.

She never realized sex could feel this amazing. Her past hookups were good for the moment but easily forgettable. With Nara, she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to forget this. She always said that “having a big dick doesn’t always mean men always know how to use it” (a/n: I’ve heard this so many times so I can’t really give credit to a specific person...so credit to social media lol). As her moans persisted, he never let up until the very end. The tension finally peaked and she was hit with her climax.

Nara kept thrusting and circling her clit helping her ride out her high for a little while longer. Nala’s limbs gave out and she couldn’t bare her own weight anymore. She fell on her side trying to catch her breath and stopping the convulsions running through her body almost like they were trying to milk out as much of her climax as possible. Nara makes his way to the side of the bed, picking her up and moving her up the the head of the bed and covering her with the bed sheets.

“W-wait Nara...you didn’t cum did you?” She asks as she sits up slowly.

“It’s ok, this was for you...all for you” he finishes with a soft shy voice. He for the nth time threw her off tonight. Maybe this guy is bipolar because this wasn’t the same boy that was just ramming his cock into her only a moment ago.

“No. It’s not ok.” Nala deadpans

“Sit.” She commands. Out of nowhere, Nara found himself obeying and sitting on the bed. She climbs out of the bed with whatever new found strength she got out of nowhere and made her way between his legs. Her lips became at level with his still painfully erected member that was slightly oozing with precum.

“So you’re saying that you were going to deal with this yourself? Nara, you made me feel special, more than a lot of people who have been in my life so let me do the same for you” she says without hesitation, but a lot of confidence.

“But, Nala” he tried to interject

“That wasn’t a statement open for an opinion” she cuts him off before he could finish his statement.

“Now, tell me what I can do for you baby” she cooed lightly kissing his tip. He let out a small moan to only try and repress the others that would follow. She slapped her hands on his thighs using them as a way to propel herself towards him. Her lips slightly grazing his ear,

“No holding back. I want to hear you” she says with an evil whisper while placing her hand on his member and stroking it dreadfully slow. She pulls back to make eye contact with the now frazzled man who tries his best to keep as much composure as possible. That failed. He let out a small string of grunts and moans that he gave up trying to suppress. So with a smile, Nala commands,

“So tell me what you want mommy to do”

“P-please suck me off...m-mommy” he says with a breathless tone.

“Anything for my baby” she replies with a smirk. She gets back on her knees and licks a strip from base to tip. She then wraps her lips around his member and begins to bob her head, hallowing her cheeks out. Nara continues on with his moans and grunts.

“Mommy please faster...deeper” he says barely able to get his words out. Nala did as requested making him moan out “yeses” and “fucks”. Just like Nala, Nara felt the tension of his climax building up.

“Fuck I’m so close...mommy....please...inside you” was all he was able to muster out. She releases his member with a pop that echoed through the room. She stands a little ways in front of him,

“So what position baby do you want me” she says with a lustful gaze. His boldness takes over as he grabs her arm and bends her over the edge of the bed. He pushes his member in and starts thrusting a a decently quick pace. The room is filled with slaps of skin to skin and strings of moans and profanity.

Nara brought Nala’s body up to a standing position with his member still deep in her, but the skin on her back molding with his chest. He continued with his last few thrusts before meeting his ultimate bliss. He thrusted a few more times to let out whatever seed he felt like he left in him. He pulled out causing Nala to feel emptiness once again while she laid back in the bed and he goes to the bathroom to grab a towel.

He comes back and cleans both of them up and tosses the used towel into the laundry basket. He gets back into bed and pulls her in so they’re chest to chest.

“Hey Nala” he speaks up

“Mhmm” was all she was able to get out.

“You know I like you right?” He asks

“Dumbass...I really like you too” she replies back with a light hit to his chest. He laughs as he pulls her in for a closer hug. Not too long later, they both were fast asleep in each other’s arms.

The next morning, the sun beamed through the window of Nala’s bedroom. Nara was the first to open his eyes and he couldn’t be more at peace looking at Nala’s sleeping form. He couldn’t believe that the girl he’s pretty much been in love with for the past months is finally in his arms. He must’ve not realized he zoned out because when he finally snapped back to reality, Nala was staring back at him with her beautiful brown eyes.

“G-good morning” he stutters out

“Good morning” Nala replies in a sleepy voice

“So...breakfast?” He quirks up

“Pancakes sound amazing right now ” Nala laughs

“Definitely, let me go make some” Nara snaps up as he begins to get out of bed. Nala suddenly reaches out for his arm,

“What’s wrong?” Nara looks back kind of concerned

“Nara, let’s make them together...for a commemoration...” she shyly speaks up.

“Commemoration for what?” He laughs

“Our first day” she says with a warm smile. This reply startles Nara because he realized that he never actually asked Nala out.

“I’m a dumbass, I don’t normally hook up with someone I like before hooking up with them” he hangs his head in embarrassment.

“It’s ok, honestly. Last night was really great” Nala replies lovingly

“It was, wasn’t it” Nara smiles to himself

“But you know what’s even better?”

“What?” Nara questions with a laugh of confusion

“PANCAKES!” Nala replies as she jumps out of the bed and runs to the door. Nara catches her as soon as they reach the kitchen and holds her in his embrace. Nala turns around and reaches up on her tippy toes to give him a quick peck.

“EEEHHHEEEMMMM” a voice comes out of nowhere. Nara and Nala both snap their heads to the mysterious voice and grow a look of embarrassment when they see Bit and Roda sitting in the living room watching tv

“How are you guys like this this early in the morning?” Roda speaks up with a grossed out face

“Ummmm” Nala speaks up

“Ah nevermind, I don’t wanna know. I’m just glad y’all are finally together, Roda you owe me 20 bucks” Bit laughs sticking out his hand. Roda reaches for his wallet and retrieves the 20 to give to Bit.

“What the hell kind of bet did you guys even place?” Nala aks getting increasingly angry.

“Oh just that lover boy over there would confess to you before the end of the month. I was getting nervous that I would lose, but thanks Nara” Bit laughs waving the 20 in the air. Nara’s face got red not realizing that his feelings for you were that obvious to eveyone but you.

“Y’all are assholes” Nala tried to rush them, but stops herself to turn around.

“Wait...Nara...were you in on this?!” She says looking a little heart broken. Nara starts to realize what she means,

“Nala I promise I knew nothing about this. If I did...that wouldn’t make much sense now would it” he replied hastily with his hands up and back.

“Don’t worry Nala, Nara knows nothing of this” Roda replies back with a nonchalant smile.

“Fine, I would’ve ended all of you if it was true” she say with clenched teeth. Nara comes behind her giving her another back hug and she visibly melts into his touch.

“Wait...where were y’all last night. I got home from the freak show of a date and Nara was chilling on the couch by himself”

“Oh we had a last minute edit to make for one of the album tracks we’re making for that new debut group. We were trying to finish up quickly, but when we did...let’s just say we heard and saw more than we wanted to” Roda replies with a shiver.

“Oh my g- wait, don’t tell me y’all stayed in the house the whole night” Nala says in a panic.

“Why the fuck would we want to stay and listen to all of that. As soon as y’all went to the bedroom we dipped and went to the bar with Beomhan” Roda spoke up.

“Wait isn’t he the kid in the debut group you’re working with? Isn’t it risky for him to be out like that?” Nala speaks up and Nara nods in agreement behind her,

“He was bored so what the company doesn’t know won’t kill them” Bit laughs.

“Oh whatever, y’alls career funerals” Nara speaks up laughingly.

“Oh shut up lover boy. On a different note I hear we’re having pancakes” Roda smiles.

[softpeetabread]

University Life part 6

I’ve noticed I’ve kept Katniss’s and Peeta’s relationship very platonic and innocent, but I think that’s the beauty of how friendship can develop into something more. In addition, this au wasn’t supposed to be this long, but I’m not complaining since it’s turning out to be a lot more fun now. I hope that I’ve been keeping them in character, too. That’s always been tough for me to do, but I’m still holding out for the ability to be able to do them justice. Thank you once again for all the support this story has been getting! It’s a joy to continue writing it!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

The televisions that hung from the walls in the science building had been showing alternating versions of various news reports about Katniss and Peeta’s encounter with Caesar Flickerman. It was, apparently, a big deal for District 12 to have two of their own having an interaction like the one they had, but it only made Katniss cringe. She wondered if she was overreacting about it, but then she remembered there were people that had been asking her about the situation all morning. Her damn classmates were far more excited about it than she was and it was getting on her nerves. She rolled her eyes as she walked away from the television she had been watching, but was met by a couple of students, followed by a small group, followed by a larger group. It was happening again and they were all talking at the same time—talking to her—overwhelming Katniss once more. Their comments were about how amazing she looked, how great it must have been to meet someone like Caesar, and how she and Peeta looked great together.

She covered her ears and hoped her desperate expression tipped off a few people that she was getting nervous, but that didn’t work. She didn’t even notice the crowd part because she was just trying to keep herself together in hopes she could magically escape.

“Alright, move it!”

That voice sounded familiar and Katniss wanted to feel relief, but instead it added a new layer of anxiety. She’d hoped Peeta would meet her, but instead it was Johanna who was making her way towards a disgruntled Katniss.

“Don’t crowd Brainless. She’s valuable cargo—hey, don’t touch her!” Katniss heard a swatting sound and a punch just as she felt someone brush their hand against her arm, and she could vaguely picture Johanna’s angry face with that tinge of mania in her eyes. “If you break it, you pay for it!”

Katniss gulped and turned to find her friend as Johanna took a hold of her wrist to drag her away from the crowd.

“Out of the way,” Johanna yelled. “I swear if one of you follows us, I will break your face!”

The crowd parted for Johanna—really, she was ramming into people—and she led Katniss out of the building, slamming the door in people’s faces. Once they walked a decent distance away where there were less people, they stopped and Katniss was able to breathe again. She hated people, but she loathed being stuck in crowds. They suffocated the life out of her.

“Thanks, Jo,” she said with a sigh, although she didn’t want to owe her anything even if they were friends.

“Yeah, whatever,” Johanna said with a wave of her hand. “Peeta couldn’t come meet you because he was stuck in a crowd himself and sent me in his place. I just so happen to be close by.”

When her class ended, he wasn’t outside in the hallway to meet her and Katniss felt his absence thanks to an ache in her chest. She hadn’t even gotten a text from him explaining why he hadn’t shown up, but this made sense. She wished she’d known so she wouldn’t have waited and allowed a crowd to form.

“So you’re the ‘Girl on Fire’ now, huh?” Johanna asked after a while. Her tone was mocking when she referred to Katniss by her new nickname.

“Apparently,” she said with a shrug. “Caesar gave it to me.”

Johanna sneered as she said, “Great” and looked away, but Katniss wasn’t sure if she was annoyed with her or if she was searching for someone. Probably the former.

“Why are you so moody about it? You’re not the one getting chased,” Katniss pointed out, her patience thinning quickly.

“Just don’t want it to feed your ego. You’re already pretty hard to swallow at times,” Johanna answered.

“You’re not exactly the most pleasant person in the world, either,” Katniss shot back.

“Damn right I’m not.” Crossing her arms, Johanna continued to look around before she focused on Katniss. “That would probably be Peeta.”

‘He’s pretty great,’ Katniss thought. She nodded in agreement before saying, “Yeah, probably the friendliest person as well.”

“As much as you hate the attention, I bet it’s exciting for him,” Johanna said. She looked like she was trying to drill a hole through Katniss’s forehead with the glare she was giving her. What did Katniss do to piss her off?

This confused her, though. “He didn’t seem so happy about it, either.”

“Because you’re upset about it. You’re literally killing the mood. Not everything is about you, you know.”

There was so much venom in Johanna’s words. Katniss had felt like this when she first started to hang out with Peeta, Finnick, and Johanna, and she thought they were starting to be friends…until now.

“I wouldn’t be ‘upset’ if people weren’t following me around.” Katniss thought that was obvious enough. “And I never said this was about me.”

“Of course it’s not about you. It’s about Peeta.” Even though Katniss was angry with Johanna, she couldn’t deny she was right. “Have you even congratulated him?”

It hadn’t occurred to Katniss that that was something she had to do. She had been so absorbed in the fact that people were literally crowding her that she hadn’t even considered that this meant something positive for Peeta. She felt shame wash over her as she questioned what kind of a friend she was to Peeta. Her silence was enough of an answer to Johanna because she started laughing in disbelief. This only lasted a moment, though, because Johanna’s mocking grin shifted into a frown.

“I don’t think you realize how much this means to him, Katniss.”

“He wasn’t making a big deal about it,” Katniss tried to argue, but she was cut off by a scoff Johanna gave her.

“Again, he didn’t do that because you were upset. He was so concerned about your feelings that he didn’t even think about his.”

Katniss’s mind registered how selfish she had been. She normally thought about herself and her needs first before everyone else’s, but she hadn’t realized she had been neglecting the closest person to her. Peeta’s feelings mattered, too.

“Is this why you’re so angry with me?” Katniss asked, but it was a miracle she could even say that many words with her throat beginning to constrict.

“I’m more pissed at the fact that he’s your friend, but you aren’t excited for him. He’s my best friend. I know him. I know he wants nothing more than to celebrate, but he can’t do that because you’re whining about not wanting attention. Honestly, this is one of the best things that’s happened to him. He deserves the recognition.”

Johanna’s words reflected Katniss’s thoughts, but she hadn’t been aware of how she hadn’t showed how she felt. Of course Peeta deserved it. She had thought the same thing back at the gallery show when Caesar was gushing about Peeta’s work. Johanna didn’t know that, though. Still, she felt awful for the way she had been acting and the last thing she wanted was to ruin Peeta’s time to shine.

“Did he say all this to you?” Katniss asked.

“No, he said you were put off by people following you. He wasn’t excited about his own achievement. He didn’t have to say anything for me to figure out how much of a piss baby you were being.”

It dawned on her that her friends were talking about her behind her back, or at least Johanna was. Maybe Finnick, too, since his loyalty rested with Peeta. She knew Peeta would never say anything negative about her.

“Anything else?”

“When I talked to him, he started getting happy about it. I threw up a little in my mouth when he mentioned he was going to draw you again, though,” Johanna said with annoyance.

“Maybe he should draw you instead since you’re so irritated about it,” Katniss suggested, her words equally as biting as Johanna’s.

“I would, but he doesn’t want me. He wants you.”

“Caesar asked him to paint me again.”

It looked like Johanna was about to walk away from Katniss, or maybe she got tired of seeing her face and just needed a break before turning back. After a moment, she sighed in exasperation.

“You know…Peeta’s a great guy and a great friend,” Johanna nodded, as if she were reassuring herself instead of Katniss.

“I know,” Katniss answered. After spending months’ worth of time with him she had that idea clear in her head.

“Well, then you better start acting like you know. Don’t take him for granted. He’s too good a person to lose.”

Johanna’s last sentence left Katniss questioning the meaning behind it, though she knew what she was saying. What was the secondary significance? The pixie haired girl began to walk away from Katniss this time, but she wasn’t finished talking.

“He’s stuck in the architecture building. Might be late for lunch.”

Katniss raised an eyebrow at her even if she wouldn’t see it. “Will you be joining us?”

“With you sitting across from me? Not today. I’ve looked at your face long enough.” Johanna’s voice grew louder as she continued to get away.

Even though Katniss’s eyes stared at the back of Johanna’s head, she admitted she made a couple of good points. She was happy for him, but she didn’t find it fair that she was being painted as the ungrateful one. Maybe Peeta sent Johanna because he was now angry with her attitude, but she had to set things straight with him, even if he may be annoyed with her, too. Somehow, seeing this range of Peeta’s emotions stung Katniss. She hadn’t annoyed him with anything she’s done, not even when he pretends to be bothered when they joked around.

She texted Peeta to ask him for his location and once he told her he was in the cafeteria, she bolted towards it, ignoring how people stared at her. Once there, she searched for his blond head and found him across the room. With so many people, she was surprised none of them were paying much attention to them given the fact they were close to being celebrities. She figured the call of food was far more important than them, so Katniss was thankful for the distraction. They walked towards one another when he spotted her, but he was taken aback by her sudden embrace for a moment before he returned the gesture, securing his strong arms around her small frame while she held on tightly to him and buried her face in his chest.

“I need to talk to you,” she said when she had the courage to look at him.

She led him out of the rowdy room, holding onto his hand and dreading letting him go, into the quaint ambience of the outside dining area where birds could be heard singing. At least there, they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Katniss was able to find her voice after a minute and was finally able to face him. “I’m so sorry, Peeta.”

“For what?” Confusion laced his voice, which made it soften. She didn’t know how he found the strength to want to comfort her.

“For taking away the excitement from what happened,” Katniss explained. “I’ve been selfish, making it about me when it’s about you and your talent.”

She expected for him to be angry with her—she had gotten that idea from Johanna—but he didn’t look the slightest bit upset.

“No, you haven’t,” he stated. “You’re uncomfortable with people following you. That’s a pretty legitimate reaction to me.”

When he said it like that—justified her feelings—she didn’t feel like such a shitty friend. However, this wasn’t entirely the case.

“Still…I haven’t been very supportive about you being recognized by Caesar. You were on national television. That’s a pretty big deal, Peeta.”

He took a moment to process what she was saying. Maybe he was starting to see what she saw, or acknowledge what he already knew.

“Are you happy about it?”

Katniss slumped her shoulders in disbelief. “Of course I’m happy about it. I’m excited for you! You deserve the attention and exposure plus more!”

There was that shy smile on his lips again, the one that made Katniss’s stomach flutter with butterflies and made her heart swell.

“That means a lot, Katniss.” He was so sincere about it, but Katniss didn’t know how so much goodness existed in a single person. Was Peeta even capable of feeling bitterness towards someone else? She knew she would have felt antagonistic with someone if she was treated the way Katniss treated Peeta. Yet here he was forgiving her and even being modest about it. No wonder Johanna was so peeved with her. She really didn’t deserve him as a friend.

She hugged him again, her fingers holding on to the back of his shirt as she pressed the side of her face against his chest. It was always soothing to hear his heartbeat drum against her ear. The only thing that rivaled it was how his arms felt around her.

“It’s a great opportunity for you to be known, too,” she added, her voice a bit softer.

“True. It’s good to make connections…and money,” Peeta added.

“That’s right.” She had forgotten Caesar actually paid Peeta for his painting. “Especially if you have people from the Capitol commissioning you.”

“I mean, Caesar was generous with his payment. With two more of those, I could pay for a semester’s tuition.”

Katniss’s eyes widened at Peeta’s words. She felt rude asking him for the exact amount of money so she kept the question to herself, but she still felt curious.

“You say it’s generosity. I think it’s fairness,” she said.

Peeta shook his head. “I didn’t even think my art was worth so much. They’re just paintings.”

“You spent time and effort in your pieces in addition to paint. I think it’s more than well deserved for someone to pay you for your talent.” There was no way Peeta was going to undermine how valuable his skill was and Katniss would not allow him to do so.

Her words seemed to bring a smile to his face. “Who knew my little hobby would go such a long way?”

“I think it depends on how far you want to take it,” Katniss answered.

Peeta shrugged. “I guess for now it would be like a side job, or something along those lines. That is, if people want to commission me.”

“Maybe Caesar has friends who want beautiful art.”

“Maybe…but I don’t want to get my hopes up yet. People may not be interested.”

Katniss’s mouth gaped open at what he said. “Peeta, I’m certain there’s people that would buy your art.”

“How are you so sure about that?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve just come out in the news and there’s already people swarming you,” Katniss pointed out.

“Did Johanna tell you about it?”

“Yes, and you don’t know how much I want to kick all of their asses for getting in your face. Crowds are awful,” Katniss frowned as she crossed her arms.

“Hm, you have a point. But who wants to buy paintings besides older people? Would you buy a painting?” Peeta asked.

Katniss nodded. “I’d request you to draw someone…like a book character.”

“Of course you would,” Peeta said teasingly. “Like Parker from Game of Survival?”

“And Kohl…she’s an archer.” Even though she didn’t like it when people poked fun at her, Peeta’s knowing expression almost cracked her pout. Almost.

“I wouldn’t charge so much for something like fanart, though,” Peeta laughed.

“Then, don’t. College students would probably like their own Peeta piece…even if I’m not too keen on sharing,” Katniss smirked.

Peeta snorted at the face she made. “Katniss Everdeen, possessive?”

“Me? Never.”

Relief washed over Katniss when she felt the resolution to her issue. Peeta wasn’t mad at her and she had even encouraged him to open up commissions to the general public. The rest of the day went on as it usually did, with the addition of people coming up to him and even asking for autographs. Katniss swore they were exaggerating with how much they were viewing her and Peeta, but she didn’t want to be negative about it anymore. She didn’t want to ruin the experience for Peeta.

On the drive back to their apartments, Peeta brought up his phone call with Caesar and his request for another painting of Katniss.

“Does he want something in specific?” she asked.

“He let me have full reign on it,” Peeta answered. “So really anything I want would be alright with him. He just wants for you to be in it, with some kind of fire somewhere.”

“We’ll think of something,” Katniss said as she began to think.

“One more thing, though. He wants for me to bring up the painting to the Capitol.”

Somehow, Katniss felt suspicious of the arrangement. “That’s a really long trip to make to just drop off a painting.”

“Well…that’s not the only thing he asked me to do.” She felt an explanation coming on so she prompted him to continue. “He wants to interview me…and he wants you to come with me.”

It took all of Katniss’s concentration not to crash into the car in front of her. Did she hear him correctly?

“Why me, though?”

Peeta’s expression spelt out ‘Really?’ to Katniss as if it were obvious. And it should have been. And it was. But Katniss didn’t want to process what he said. Then, she remembered this was Peeta’s opportunity and she didn’t want to be the one to dampen it for him.

“Okay…I’ll go with you.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to feel obligated to go.”

Katniss managed to give him a half smile. “I want to go with you.” The truth was that she was being honest about it and she really did want to go just because she would be with him. If she had been invited to go alone, she would have declined, but in the company of Peeta, everything was always better. Far more relaxing, too.

“I’ll let him know then,” Peeta said with a smile.

Somehow, seeing him happy filled her with joy, and then, Katniss knew she had made the right decision.

I had forgotten I’d written this until I was pondering on how their trip to the Capitol would turn out. Hopefully, I was able to keep Johanna in character. I absolutely love her and she’s so blunt and brash and so ‘fuck-you’. 

Also, did you guys catch that thing I did? That Game of Survival thing? And that thing with the spoof names Parker and Kohl? I had to keep Parker because it made me laugh and I suggest putting his and Peeta’s names together since I tried to keep his and Katniss’s spoof names consistent with the same first letters and all. I don’t mean kohl as in the make-up, but rather kohlrabi, which is part of the cabbage family. I did, in fact, research vegetables that started with the letter K. 

I don’t want to make it sound like ‘Ohmg, Peeta is overrated with his art’, but no, you don’t get it, he is that good. I wish I could commission him. (I wish I could draw what I imagine he’d paint, but I am but an amateur artist, unfortunately, lacking the skill he possesses. But it’s okay to dream, right?) Let me know what you think!

[blessed-but-distressed]

This is a thing that I wrote a long time ago.

It isn’t fanfiction. It’s just fiction. 

I will be posting here until I think of what to do with it.

FERNWEH

 When Becca decides to shake off those shackles and get the hell outta Dodge, she doesn’t have many regrets. She won’t miss those late nights folding baby clothes at her local All Baby Needs SuperStore. She won’t miss her distant parents or her uninspiring classes for her useless degree. The only person she will miss is Jack.

Jack is stuck in the post-university, pre-real job wasteland of delayed adolescence. He doesn’t know if he is a socialist, or an anarchist, or just reads too many books. He stacks vegetables, he haunts libraries and he chases girls. But now his best friend is leaving town, and he doesn’t know if he can handle being left behind.

A story about growing up, leaving home, staying behind, sad bastard music and the people who make everything bearable.

Chapter One: 

Becca

Truthfully, I can handle all of it. The cloying stench of mouldy socks and clove cigarettes. The scratchy, standard-issue woollen blanket that wasn’t quite enough to wade off the night-time chill. The oddly masculine snoring that would make any trucker proud. The clanking of pipes in the wall beside my bed that had me sat bolt upright on my first night, half convinced the ghost of Jacob Marley was coming for me, dragging the chains he’d forged in life. All of this didn’t bother me. Not really. But the weeping. I couldn’t handle the fucking weeping.

I’d been sharing a room in Berlin’s cheapest youth hostel for a week with Ilonka, from Hungary. Ilonka the weeper. And we aren’t talking about girlish sobs here, with intermittent hiccups. Oh no. Not Ilonka. Beautiful, heartbroken, weeping Ilonka. She didn’t do anything by half measures.

She’d told me her life story on the first night, over a Midori and lemonade in the bar downstairs. I was quickly coming to the realisation that this was how it was done. Nothing in Backpacker World got done without a bit of Dutch courage.

Ilonka’s story was that she’d come to Berlin to intern at one of those ridiculously trendy, ridiculously contemporary art galleries in Kreuzberg. Which made sense. With her extensive collection of very cute multi-coloured berets, long, lean legs encased habitually in skinny jeans, and her Franka Potente in Run Lola Run hair, she certainly looked the part. She made me feel inadequate every time she entered a room, and I was convinced that was at least half of what contemporary art was all about.

Which is why it was so disconcerting when halfway through her third Midori and lemonade, big fat tears began to slip down her perfect, Eastern European face, and into her drink, which she continued to sip through her straw, unperturbed. Then, without much warning, she keeled forward, and a high-pitched noise of distress began to rise from the back of her throat, not unlike that of an ambulance leaving the scene of an accident. The barman, cute and Irish though he may have been, gave us that ‘You’d better clear the fuck out’ look perfected by cute Irish bartenders the world over, and I bundled her upstairs before he summoned over the bouncer, who was significantly more intimidating.

Once I’d gotten her settled on her twin bed, she pulled herself together enough to relate to me the rest of the story. On her third week into her internship, she’d rung up her boyfriend, Kolos, back home in Budapest, and her best friend had answered the phone. Turns out they’d been screwing around behind her back for the last six months, and they had used Ilonka’s absence to move in together. Which you have to give points for, if only for the sheer brazen cowardice of it all. Were they going to keep up the charade until it came time to ask her to be the Maid of Honour at their wedding?

Ilonka was a wreck. She’d keep it together all day, every day at work, but as soon as she got back into the room she would just lie on her bed, crying inconsolably for hours, until she eventually, mercifully, fell asleep. If she wasn’t weeping, she was sitting on the window sill, where she had pried the window open, and was smoking her favourite clove cigarettes in flagrant disregard of our dorm’s no smoking policy, and my (fabricated) assertions that I was an asthmatic. She’d hold her cigarette in one hand and her mobile phone in the other, and yell obscenities in Hungarian to whoever was on the other end, in between puffs. I don’t speak a lick of Hungarian, but you can always tell an obscenity, no matter the language. It’s about the force behind the delivery. The venom behind the words.

The hostel had been chosen for its location, just off the Ku'damm, not for its internal décor or sterling customer service record. Which is just as well, because I’d been in cancer wards with more cheer; the grey-speckled institutional style walls hinting at the building’s previous life as an insane asylum perhaps, or at the very least a reform school. My polite request to move to a different room had been met with a coolly raised eyebrow, and an unconvincing promise that they’d see what they could do.

It wasn’t exactly what I had in mind for my first foray into the world of international travel. But it certainly made for interesting anecdotes for my emails sent back home.

I’d say things were going much better for me outside of the hostel, but that was a matter of some debate.

A few months back, embittered by my slow slide from promising Journalism student to person-who-straightens-cans-of-baby-food-in-a-budget-department-store-for-a-living, I’d stayed up until four in the morning one night, researching methods of escaping the monotonous retail hell that my life had become.

My unlikely salvation was with a company that would pay for me to fly to Germany to work as an Au Pair for a year. They��d even put me up in Berlin for a month, so I could brush up on the language, before they dispatched me to the family they would pair me with. All of those weekend evenings spent wrangling my neighbour’s kids to bed when I was sixteen had suddenly come in handy, and I had signed on the dotted line.

Of course, when I say “brush up on the language”, I mean learn from scratch. Of course. German had never been an elective at high school. I’d learnt Italian, although that data had almost been completely rewritten in my mind, replaced with an intricate knowledge of song lyrics by a particular favourite band of mine, who specialised in what my friend Jack liked to call “Sad Bastard Music.”

The total sum of my German language proficiency before my departure had been restricted to numbers one through ten, hello, good bye, thank you, and handful of random phrases one picks up after a lifetime of watching World War Two dramas, none of which were suitable for polite company. My knowledge of German culture was mostly restricted to a general appreciation for Daniel Brühl’s face, and a vague recollection of having read Faust when I was fourteen.

It was not until I took a seat on the first day of classes, that I realised what a grave mistake I had made. There was no way I would be able to wrangle children, even relatively small, uncomplicated ones, in four weeks time, with absolutely zero grasp on the language. It was impossible. Unfathomable.

Our teacher was a jovial fellow called Hans-Peter. He had the kind of white bushy moustache and knitted jumpers which made him look rather like a benevolent tug-boat captain, and kind eyes that encouraged students to take risks where they might otherwise have kept silent. He was a good teacher. I could tell. But there was no way in hell he was going to make me semi-fluent within a month.

Every classroom in the language school was named after a particular river in Germany. Our classroom, Donau, which I later discovered was the German word for the Danube, was right at the top of three dizzyingly uneven flights of stairs, in a converted attic where every inch of wall space was dedicated to laminated charts depicting a different German verb, and its various forms. It also had a broken radiator, which Hans-Peter would kick good-naturedly every morning when it failed to break the chill, before instructing us to keep our gloves on.

That’s the first useful German phrase I learn.

“Handschuhe auf!“ Gloves on.

The second:

“Jacken auf!“ Jackets on.

I’d always had a natural talent for scholastic endeavours. Which is to say, I’d really crashed and burned at university when I’d gotten through twelve years of schooling without really trying too hard, to find I actually had no idea how to study. But I’d always managed to scrape by on natural ability. I had no natural ability when it came to German. I was a babe in the woods. And I definitely needed to study.

Being in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language is a little like being a newborn lamb. You stumble a lot, and you’re vulnerable as hell, but everyone finds you pretty damn adorable anyway, for the most part. But for someone who has always been really good at things, it is the ultimate exercise in humility. Suddenly, you’re unable to do even the most simplest of things. Order a coffee. Ask for directions. Make an effusive apology to the angry looking guy you bump into on the train.

It had taken me five whole days to work up the necessary courage to approach even a McDonalds counter. I practiced the order in my head, as I waited in line.

“Ein Happy Meal, bitte.” One Happy Meal, please.

I didn’t think even I could fuck that up. I tried to anticipate what questions they would ask me, in which order. Would I like a toy? Would I like ketchup?

When they asked me if I wanted mayo or ketchup on my fries, the unexpected option made me answer in the affirmative, without specifying which I preferred, pissing off the harried-looking girl behind the counter in the process. I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I backed away from the counter, waving my hands and butchering an apology in my pidgin German.

I never went back to that McDonalds.

Like a diamond in the rough, I found a T-Mobile payphone on my way back to the hostel and I fed about ten euro in change into the machine until it finally connected me to Jack’s mobile. It rang out, and went to voicemail, and instead of leaving a message, I hung up the receiver, and burst into angry, embarrassed tears. I didn’t get any change back, either.

Wiping my face clean with the sleeve of my coat, I hurried back to the hostel, before I could make an idiot of myself in some new way. Still hungry, I raided the vending machine in the lobby, and sat on my bed eating out-of-date chips until Ilonka had returned. She took one look at my tear-stained face and unsatisfying dinner and bundled me into my coat and took me out to an Irish Pub around the corner for a pint of Guinness and something called a Blarney Burger.

“It will not always be so,” she reminds me sagely, as she steals a chip from my plate. And for a little while there, Ilonka is my hero. When I grow up I want to be just like her. We sing Cranberries songs together, and make the acquaintance of some chipper blokes from County Clare who are, of course, enamoured with Ilonka’s ethereal Eastern European beauty, and keep us plied with enough black stuff that I quite forget about the dizzying regret that has been eating me away inside for days.

But later that night, the weeping starts again, and it chips away, slowly but steadily, at my newfound regard for her. I get up for class early the next morning, head still throbbing from the previous night’s excesses, and leave her a note on her bedside table.

“It will not always be so.”

[btobscenarios]

Art

[A/N: I SAW THAT POST OF A FAN SEEING TAETAE AT AN ART GALLERY BUT DIDN’T BOTHER HIM AND I ACCIDENTALLY WROTE THIS EVEN THOUGH I HAVE TWO PAPERS AND TWO QUIZZES TOMORROW AND I HAVEN’T DONE SHIT OOPS]

Having no friends or classmates to do my homework with kind of sucks. It’s my third year in university and I got separated from my friends for our classes. The only difficulty that I’m experiencing is the loneliness that I feel when I needed to do classwork. It gets boring and I didn’t have anyone to talk to during class hours.

I can say that the perks of not having friends in my classes is that I had time for myself. I could reflect on my life and spend time that I have with myself. After classes, I eat lunch alone and I go home. It’s not exciting and fun, but at least the time isn’t wasted on people that don’t care about me.

Back to the negatives, it’s been a few months since I’ve been alone and I think I’ve gotten used to it? I’m not exactly sure. But it’s times like these where I would have wanted to talk to someone I knew. I had a project and paper to do for a minor subject that I was taking up. It was a creativity class, arts to be more specific. I didn’t know much about it but the feeling that I get when I see people’s artwork makes me inspired and wanting to create content. I could create stories, lyrics or even doodles that didn’t have any meaning. I could create content by observing content, if that made any sense.

It’s the second time I had to attend this art gallery for the arts class that I had because of the demand of the final paper that I had to pass at the end of the semester. It could either make or break my grade. I didn’t mind though, the art that was exhibited in the gallery was beautiful and made me feel different emotions that I was too confused to understand.

Some of the art were abstract and you had to give it a meaning based on your point of view. I was trying to understand one of the paintings that hung up at the back of the gallery, not much people were paying attention to it because it looked like any other abstract painting. But there was something about it that made me want to stare at it and understand what feelings it made me feel. It was composed of strokes that were connected and met in the middle but faded when the stroke went towards the edges of the canvas. The colors that were used were soft and pastel-like. It made you feel warm and comforted. It made my stomach twist a bit because of how the shades of pink, orange and blue understood each other in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. They were soft and cool tones that made your heart flutter because of how warm it made you feel and that was the feeling that the painting gave off in my perspective.

I got out my jotter pad and wrote down a few notes about how I felt, why I felt it, and what I can do with the feeling. It would be a great introduction to my paper and it would be real, the feeling, I mean. The feeling would be raw but the paper needed to be real. It had to contain the feeling of joy that it created in my mind.

The more I stared into the beautiful strokes of the painting, the more it gave off meaning. The colors were vibrant in the middle, where they meet, but when they had to separate from each other, they would lose their color and fade into nothingness. That was my initial understanding with the painting.

I had to find out who the painter was and what the name of the painting was. It was an extraordinary piece and I wanted it to be the subject of my end of the semester paper. My poor eyesight couldn’t read the name properly and I had to take a closeup photo with my phone. I wanted to take a photo with the portrait so that I’d have an inspiration to write the paper even though I didn’t visit the gallery. It would be nice if I had someone with me at this art gallery.

Only a few people had passed in this section of the gallery, which was weird. Maybe they weren’t interested in the pieces of this side? I’m not sure but I needed someone to take a photo of me. At the end of the secluded section of the gallery, the area where I was located, I spotted a person. He was wearing a grey jacket, black pants, and was very low-key in my opinion. I stared at him for a few moments, it was like art looking at art. I became cautious of my surroundings and I didn’t want anyone else to see me taking photos. He was the only one near me and it was perfect since no one would see my ugly ass taking photos.

“Um, hi.” I approached him cautiously. I didn’t want to seem like a weirdo. He was taken aback and looked kind of pissed that I talked to him? “Would you mind taking a photo of me with that painting? I really need a good shot and didn’t want it to be a selfie.”

After explaining myself, his expression softened and turned into a small smile. The pair of specs that was placed on his nose looked really good and I wanted to get myself a pair.

“Sure.” He replied, pulling out his hand from his denim jacket and reached for my phone. I smiled as I gave it to him.

I stood there awkwardly, didn’t know what I should do. I’m not fond of taking photos because usually my friends would be the ones to ask photos and I would be the one to take it. I’m not used to being on the other side of the phone this time around.

“I’m really awkward, I’m sorry.” I said, placing the sleeves of my oversized jacket onto my face, trying to hide my awkward posing. “I’m not used to taking photos.”

I felt like I was about to cry because I hated it when my picture is being taken. It makes my eyes swell up with tears and it makes me look stupid too.

“Hey, hey, are you crying?” He asked putting the phone down and went closer to me. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry.”

Even though there were tears in my eyes, I started chuckling because of how he responded to my pathetic tears. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who’s a mess here.”

“I don’t know,” he says, unsure of what to do in this situation. “I’m just really confused right now.”

“Yeah, me too.” I remove my glasses and placed them on my head so that I could wipe away the tears that were forming. “It’s so stupid to cry because your picture is getting taken. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not stupid,” He reassures me. He’s reassured me more than anyone else before. And he’s only done it once. “You’re really cute, actually.” He chuckles, looking at the photos he’s taken of me and the painting. “Your crying is cute.”

I pout at his answer, making him laugh even more. “Here, take pictures of me now. So that we’re even.” He hands me back my phone and poses in front of the painting. I took several shots and even though I stopped, he continued making poses.

“You should copy my poses, uh..” He paused, didn’t know how to address me. “Um, what was your name again?”

“You never asked my name before.” I teased, letting out a small chuckle.

He scratched the back of his neck and was phased by my sudden teasing. I smiled at his shyness. A few minutes ago, he was confident and doing weird poses in front of someone he’s only met for a few minutes then suddenly lost the ability to speak when I tried to say something remotely funny.

“(Y/N),” I reply, “my name is (Y/N).”

“Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” He places his hand in front of our bodies. “I’m Taehyung.”

You’re at an art gallery alone and need someone to take a photo of you, but your negative ass gets in the way.

Warning: Negative thinking, may or may not be triggering, I wrote this when I was sad(ish)

[bangchanshehe]

The Orphanage (pt. 3/?)

A/N: The plot will be reflected more through out the series from here on out. Here you go, hope you enjoy! As always leave me feedback and love! 

Genre: Angst/smut/mafia

Pairings: EXO (ot12) X Reader

Word count: 2.4k

Dinner was soon brought up to you by a tall man with curly hair and a giant grin.  You felt awkward not knowing who all lived in the house and every time that you had to do introductions you felt a little more desensitized to your whereabouts. He walked over to you at the desk and sat the tray down. As soon as his hands were free he was waving them at you and introducing himself.

“Hello, my name is Chanyeol.”

You nodded your head at him and eyed your dinner plate. There was a small bowl of rice, grilled veggies and chicken.

“I hope you like chicken, we seem to eat almost nothing but chicken, but if you don’t like it Kyungsoo can make you something else.”

“No, it’s okay I’m not a picky eater. Thank you for the food.”

Now it was Chanyeol’s turn to nod his head. He was about to leave when he noticed the drawings that you’d done on some stray pieces of paper. He squinted to get a better look at them but wasn’t able to see clearly what you’d made. He gestured down to your drawings, physically asking if he could see them. You looked down at your drawings wondering why he was interested in your scribbles and handed the papers over to him.

He looked at your drawings with skeptical eyes and his lips were pressed into a firm line. He spent a few minutes going over every detail before he returned it back to you.

“You’re pretty good at drawing. You do draw often?”

“Thank you, and yeah I’m an artist” you admitted, happy that he had commended your skills

“Oh man! What’s the name of that place” he snapped his fingers and looked at the ceiling as if waiting for it to give him the answer. “Ah! Eugene’s! There’s an artist there named y/f/n. A couple of her pieces are there and your drawings reminded me of them.

You chuckled to yourself. You were baffled that this goofy boy had taken an interest in art, specifically yours. What were the chances that you’d run into him, and here of all places. And what were the chances that he’d know enough about your art that he recognized it.

“Well allow me to introduce myself, I’m y/f/n. It’s nice to meet you!”

Chanyeol stood there with his eyes wide open. He gulped and then reached for your hand, you took his and he immediately started to shake yours wildly.

“Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan of your paintings.”

You laughed at his over enthusiasm and waited for him to let go of your hand. He was still holding on to It tightly when he continued his praise.

“Really, I go to Eugene’s every month to see if any of your new art has been added to the exhibit.”

“Well, thank you for appreciating my art. It means a lot.”

“No, no, no. you’re an amazing artist. Who would have known that you’d be …kidnapped and living in my house…” his voice dropped off at the end of his sentence as he realized how fucked up your situation was.

The room had grown awkwardly quiet and Chanyeol began to play with his hands not meeting your eye contact.

“When you’re done with your food you can bring it down to the kitchen, or if you’d feel more comfortable staying in your room then you can leave it out by the door and I can come back later and pick it up for you.”

“Thank you Chanyeol.”

He bowed to you once before making his way out of the room, and back down to the kitchen where the rest of the members were. He shook his head, still in disbelief that you were the artist that he’d grown to become obsessed with. He’d always wanted to meet your or get a glimpse at a photo of you, but you were always absent at the gallery, or at special events. Chanyeol had always taken the time to appear on nights when artists would be at such events in hopes of someday being able to introduce himself to you. He laughed to himself at just how bizarre these circumstances were that he was finally able to meet you. Although the circumstances were not the best and you were probably at the house for less than desirable reasons, Chanyeol was going to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He walked back into the dining room and saw that all of the members were present and asked.

“Do you have any idea of who we kidnapped?” he said generically for anyone to answer.

“Who y/n?” LuHan questioned

“Yeah, but do you know who she is?” Chanyeol asked again with a smile on his face.

“Not really, why?” LuHan asked

“You know the local artist who I really like?”

Almost all of the members nodded their heads and waited for Chanyeol to continue.

“Y/n, she’s that artist!”

“no way!” Baekhyun gasped with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah! I recognized one of her free hand drawings that she was working on and she confirmed that it’s her!” Chanyeol’s voice was getting louder and louder the more excited that he was becoming.

Baekhyun shook his head in disbelief, laughing and the rest of the members looked around at each other with a knowing look on their faces. Minseok in particular was no exactly too thrilled to see Chanyeol so excited about you. If there was one member who he would feel threatened by it would be him. Chanyeol had a reputation for being a womanizer, and he lived up to it well.

Chanyeol took a seat next to Baekhyun and continued to rant about how cool it was to finally meet you, and Minseok looked over to Suho when he called for his attention.

“So hyung, what do you plan on doing with her?” Suho asked and Minseok looked at his leader with a blank look on his face, unsure of how to answer.

“I don’t know quite yet, but I do know that I intend on keeping her for a while.”

“Just remember the rules. If she acts up, or pisses anyone off then she’s a goner. Also don’t forget to take care of the old lady.”

Minseok could never forget about Mrs. Kim. He got up and excused himself from the dining room, dropping his plate off in the sink and making his way up to your room. He sat in front of the door for a while pondering if he should go in or not. He didn’t want to disturb you in the middle of your meal, but he was anxious to see you again. Finally he knocked on the door waiting for you to allow him to enter.

“Come in” you yelled.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I’m done with dinner and I did promise that once we were done that I would take you to see Mrs. Kim.”

You pushed your plate back and shot up from your seat, ready to go. Dinner could wait a little longer.

“I’m done too” you wiped your hand across your mouth to get rid of any stray crumbs and walked towards Minseok.

He waved his hand and turned walking back out of the door. You followed quickly with a skip in your step, trying to keep up with his fast walking pace. You followed him through the hallway and down stairs into a dark basement that was lit up from the light peering in from the window in the door of another room.  You walked up slowly to the window expecting to see Mrs. Kim beaten and bruised. You had imagined in your head countless times of all the horrible things that these men probably did to her. But, when you finally looked though you saw her sitting on the bed reading a book with an IV in her arm. You were shocked by how natural she looked sitting there doing such a normal thing. It must have shown on your face how shocked and yet relieved you were because Minseok was quick to pick up on it.

“She’s fine.” He said watching Mrs. Kim turning the page of the book, completely caught up in her own little world, “Other than some limited rehabilitation, she’s perfectly fine.”

You sighed in relief, thankful that she was all in one piece still. You felt like you could breathe now that you knew that she was still okay for the time being.

“What about her debts?” you asked and Minseok looked over at you momentarily before focusing on the small old woman again.

“You being here is paying them off.” He said flatly.

“So is she free to go?”

“We have to sign and agree upon a contract and if she agrees then yes, but if she refuses…” he didn’t finish his sentence knowing that you knew what he meant by it.

You nodded your head and hoped and prayed that Mrs. Kim would be smart enough to not try to fight with these men.

“Can I speak to her?”

“I can’t let you speak to her, and I shouldn’t have brought you down here either, but I knew that It would make you feel better to see that she is okay.” He said and you lightly scoffed.

How could he dare speak about making you feel better, when you knew that you were never gonna get out of this place alive.

“Now that you’ve seen her let’s go.” He said turning around and heading back upstairs, not waiting to see if you would follow him.

“How long will it be until she can go back to the home? She has to take care of all of those kids and there’s no one else there to help her.” You asked trailing just behind him.

“There’s a few older kids in there that can take care of the rest of them, so don’t be worried. They’re fully capable of handling things.”

“How could they do that? They’re just kids!” you yelled back at him for his dull response. He spun on his heel and pushed you in the shoulder backing you up against a wall.

“I was an orphan too, I know how these things work. So I’m telling you, they’re more than capable of taking care of themselves.”  

Minseok was getting annoyed at your constant pushing for answers. But not mad at you, more so at himself because he knew that he’d answer anything that you asked him. It seemed to be one of his weaknesses and he hated it. He lost his will of control when he was around you.

The rest of the way back up to your room was quiet and you didn’t dare say anything else to him since you’d already managed to anger him.

He pushed your door open and walked over to the desk that you were eating at to collect your plate, when he noticed your sketch on a piece of paper. His eyes went wide when he noticed the familiar image of a boy sitting under a tree with an umbrella. He’d seen this image before but he couldn’t place where. He put the plate back down on the table and traced the ink on the page with his fingers, trying to remember why this image haunted him.

“What is this?” he asked just barely above a whisper

“What? That drawing?”

“Yes, what is it from?”

“It’s a sketch of one of my paintings. Do you recognize it?” you asked wondering if you had another fan in the house.

“No, I mean what is this image from?”  He didn’t know why but his heart was beating sporadically and his breathing was becoming more and more labored. There was something about this image that was just too familiar.

“Oh, well…” you noticed his strange behavior and were cautious with your next words, “it was inspired by a book cover.”

Just then it had clicked in Minseok’s head. The shapes, the trees and the umbrella were all the same from the cover but you had created a much bigger picture than just what was the cover photo. This was the cover of his favorite book that he read in high school. He would read it often around the house and used it as a shield so he could watch you. He turned to look at you while you continued speaking.

“There was a boy in the orphanage that was constantly reading this book. He had to have read it millions of times, because every time that I saw him he was reading it.” You paused for a moment to think about the boy in the orphanage who stuck to himself. “He didn’t really have any friends in the orphanage, but he was constantly reading books like it was his own little secret escape.” Now you were smiling. “My art is that way for me too, an escape. So in a way he inspired me to create this piece.”

Minseok’s heart was beating so hard he was sure that you could hear it from where you were standing. Every inch of his being was screaming at him to get out of that room before he lost his cool.

He was starting to feel like he needed to touch you and feel your skin beneath his. It wasn’t out of lust but pure amazement. He had no idea that you had any clue who he was or that he even existed. You seemed so preoccupied in the house that he figured you had no interest in him, but you had admitted that he inspired your artwork. You didn’t know that it was in fact himself who had inspired your artwork but he did. He needed to touch you to know that this moment was real and he wasn’t dreaming.

He walked over to you and pulled you firmly into his chest and hugged you. he wrapped his arms firmly around you caging you in his embrace.

You stood there shocked by his hug, but not scared of it. You didn’t hug him back, but patted his back hoping that he’d release you from his intimate hold on you.

Minseok cursed himself for what he was about to do, but he didn’t want to hide it any longer. He held the back of your head gently with one hand and whispered ever so lightly.

“And what if I told you that was me? That I was the boy with the books.”

NEXT PART

[gingerly-writing]

TumblrFrostbite: How would you want schools for villains' kids (for Marvel villains' kids, for DC villains' kids, etc) to be ran? And who would you want to run those schools?

This is one of those things that I’ve put way too much thought into after you sent this, because I love stuff like this. The question is, are the villains running this school for their kids, or is this something the heroes are putting on to try and rehabilitate the kids while their parents are in prison? I’ll assume the former, but the latter is also super interesting to me.

Disclaimer: this will have a strong DC bent because I have little to no interest in most Marvel villains, whereas I could yack on about DC villains for month. In fact, I might just stick to DC in its entirety because other than Loki (who would be the worst teacher ever, he would encourage so much shenanigans) most of the Marvel villains I know are Nazis or space monsters.Second disclaimer: I’ve watched a lot more animated DC movies and read a lot more fic than I ever have comics, soooooo these depictions might not be comic book accurate. Fanboys, please don’t come for me…but I also don’t really care that much tbh. I like the incarnations that I like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

Actual answer under the cut because this got hella long. Hope you like it!

Sponsor: Lex Luthor. Funds the school, shows up to speech day to give speeches and hand out prizes, gives the brightest and most stable kids scholarships to work at Lex Corp in the holidays. Absolutely 100% has his own ends, no one knows what they are. Chucks buckets of money at every problem. Likes to bring the school up at fancy soirees in front of Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen just to piss them off.

Headmaster: Deathstroke (or rather, Slade from Teen Titans). Has no idea how he wound up with this job, complains about the pay 24/7 even though it’s in the range of millions of dollars a term paid in untraceable cash from 50 different countries. Basically ends up like Gordon Ramsey: threatens to assassinate the teachers and parents all the time, has actually taken out some abusive parents, but is weirdly, gruffly nice to the younger kids. Teachers self-defence to all the non-powered kids and weapons to anyone who’s interested and has the discipline for it. Grudgingly tolerates old man jokes.

Deputy Headmistress: Talia al Ghul. Absolutely terrifies all the older kids, mothers the younger ones. In charge of who graduates and who doesn’t; will only let kids graduate if their villainy won’t critically endanger their own life. Sometimes shows up in the backs of random classes and lurks there for ‘assessments’; shows up in more than 50% of Deathstroke’s classes to harass him about his technique. Keeps a photo of Damien on her desk, refuses to acknowledge it’s there if someone asks about it.

Biology: Poison Ivy. Excellent teacher, surprises both herself and her students at how brilliant she is. Everyone wants to take biology with her even if they have no villainous interest in the subject. Litters her lectures with feminist rants, eco-warrior tirades and talks about LGBT+ rights, will gently but forcefully correct anyone who disagrees with her. Runs a vegetable outside the school and encourages the kids to get closer to nature. Just enough passing knowledge of memes to make her older students roll about with laughter: ‘Batman’s homophobic because he inconveniences me and I’m gay’. PDAs with her girlfriend in the corridors.

Women and gender studies: Harley Quinn Ivy’s girlfriend, part time teacher. Wanted to take up the psychology post, but after she seriously suggested sharing it with Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) no one wanted to let her anywhere near it. Knows every meme. Gives great relationship advice, will kill anyone’s abusive boyfriend with no questions asked. Brings her hyenas to school in a ridiculously massive handbag. Has her own locker.

Thievery, sneaking around, Gotham safety: Catwoman. Definitely brings in her cats to act as therapy/comfort animals for the kids. Unofficial therapist; absolutely mothers anyone from Gotham, no exceptions. Brings the kids super expensive (stolen) jewellery to wear on prom night and for big dances, charges in secrets about their parents.

Business and Economics, with a side in mind control: Maxwell Lord (in the more business-orientated editions). Keeps to himself, is one of those teachers who doesn’t actually seem to like kids. Always wears a freshly pressed suit. Bit of an asshole. Selina tripped him down the stairs once.

Magic: supposedly taught by Felix Faust, but Klarion enrolled as a student just to show up in his lectures and argue. Every. Single. Point. Magic classes have turned into a magical war several times. They can only get along when someone else turns up claiming magic isn’t real. Faust has a lecture prepared for the non-believers, Klarion has a fireball. Circe often shows up in these classes, ‘borrows’ all the female students for private lessons and turns all the boys into pigs. Pig-Klarion does not appreciate this.

Physics and advanced thermodynamics: Killer Frost. Gets on really well with the Gotham City Sirens; they have cocktail parties in the staff lounge every second Thursday. Is paid by other villains kidnapping Firestorm so she can feed. Absolutely has favourite students and students she hates with a passion; has been known to freeze some students to their chairs in lieu of detention.

Other random villains that show up from time to time:- Flash’s Rogues Gallery. Created the infamous ‘Rogues week’ at the end of the year where every single one of them shows up and helps the students wreak absolute chaos across the school. Can never be stopped from showing up and starting this. Captain Cold comes grudgingly, sits in Slade’s office and has a drink with him; the rest of the Rogues join in with the chaos a bit too enthusiastically. Best week for the seniors. The younger rogues would totally be students and help to smuggle the older ones in for Rogues week.

- Black Manta: shows up sometimes, teaches a few lectures, leaves. Always on super random topics, often tangentially related to his latest evil scheme. The students have a betting pool that reawakens after each visit on how his talk will relate to his next scheme. Literally no one understands why he shows up. Doesn’t get paid, doesn’t seem to enjoy it. ?????? Has great on-land fashion sense though. A lot of the older students have lowkey crushes on him

- Cheetah takes advanced genetics and many other complex of aspects of science. Only shows up to teach special classes for the seniors. High fives Ivy in the corridors.

- Deadshot. Sometimes shows up and interrupts Deathstroke’s guns lessons (poor guy can never teach a lesson in peace), always gets chased out of the school. Gets teary eyed over the young female students kicking ass. Doesn’t seem to do anything useful but somehow gets paid a salary. Sleeps in the gym when he’s on the run from Amanda Wakker/Batman.

- Hugo Strange keeps showing up in disguises and trying to get the psychology job. Last time it was just a fake moustache. What is he even hoping to achieve.

- Merlyn shows up when he’s bored to host archery competitions on the front lawn. Mostly does this when Oliver Queen is in town. Keeps saying he’s going to pick a protégé out of the best archers and never does because the Arrow Clan kids annoy him so much he’s wound up thinking he hates kids. Actually loves kids, pretends to be snooty and above them though. 100% has to prove he’s still the best archer at every competition, even the one for 12 year olds.

[swanandapirate]

Seatimes (1/2)

Happy (belated) birthday to @villains-happy-ending! You were my first fandom friend, Aimee, the first one to welcome me to this crazy nook of the internet and you were the one that introduced me to a lot of people people that are nowadays extremely big parts of my life too. So for all of that, and because you’re such an amazing person in general, I’ve written you a little (cough cough) birthday gift. (Prepare for a lot of nautical puns)

A Podcast AU (inspired by an actual podcast I came across a couple of days ago) where Emma gets obsessed with Killian’s maritime podcast Seatimes and of course life finds a way to make their paths cross

~4,600 words

ff.net

(The italic bits are little fragments of Killian’s podcast. Non-italics are Emma’s pov)

She stumbled upon Seatimes as she was researching a case. The skip was a selfish, misogynistic prick that wore Lacoste polos tied around his neck, a $200-dollar salmon-colored shirt, and a pair of shoes that was probably worth twice, if not thrice, the amount of money his shirt cost. He got thrown into holding for embezzlement of his own company’s funds, owned an actual boat and still ran away from every attempt made to make him settle up; he kept and kept on refusing to pay his bail. And so, Emma was brought into the picture.

Following his movements, both real life and online, like a hawk, Emma came to the conclusion that the rich, embezzling jackass was in search of someone to cheat on his wife with. He wasn’t even trying to be coy about his search for a mistress. Every picture on the account he had set up on some sleazy dating site were either of his precious boat or of him bare-chested and holding in his stomach on his precious boat.

Not a lot more backstory was needed to figure out the way to crack this case. Emma had to become the woman of all women to him. The one that, unlike all the rest of womankind according to him, had knowledge of boats and how currents worked, and all of that and not to forget a pretty face and nice figure. Luck would have it that Mother Nature and a lot of exercise had granted Emma the latter but the former… not so much.

She sadly– not very sadly if it meant staying clear of Mr. Douchebag– belonged to the general, uninteresting part of her gender, so she was forced to gain a life worth of knowledge in a short period of time. Three days to be more exact, because her skip had agreed to a date in four. Three days to become an expert.

“Welcome to Seatimes. I am Jones. Consider me your Captain to cross the wild and murky waters of naval and maritime knowledge. Each week will feature a guest as well as some must know things about the soaring seas and the ship sailing them. I hope that by the end of these podcasts, you will consider yourselves more of an expert on the subject.”

She tried it on her own in the beginning; her eyes skimmed the internet for reliable sources and when those turned out to be pure gibberish to her, she attempted to read every possible Wikipedia page. Emma read about ships and currents and flags and boats and every other thing that had to do with the sea. It was an overload; a tidal wave of content Emma’s brain hadn’t been able to thoroughly prepare for. The matter entered and seeped back out, only leaving behind small traces of its presence. The typed letters on her bright screen started to blur and all of the remaining information began to collide with each other, the internal battle creating, even more, chaos than resided before.

Emma needed to switch tactics, to come up with a different game plan for this case or her cover would come into deep waters. Her mouse clicked on tons of links and her cursor browsed various videos and articles, but none were to Emma’s liking. Either they treated her as a child, explaining everything in a sugary, condescending voice, or they click baited her into picking a video and then persisted to talk about something completely different. Frustration arose and she was this close to giving up until a link on page twelve of Google’s results caught her eye. The site was simply called Seatimes and the description talked about a maritime podcast. Perhaps this would manage to remind her which side was port and which one was starboard.

“The confusion between port board and starboard is amusing, to say the least. I can’t tell you how many a tourist I’ve seen completely freeze and just stare at me with wide eyes when I mention one of them. I completely understand, however, that if the difference isn’t embedded into your head from a young age like left and right are, you get confused. I always remember the little mnemonic that my brother taught me when I was a little lad and that was that drinking a lot of port never made you feel right, but being a star did. So, port board is left and starboard is right.”

Mr. Douchebag had completely fallen for her act, had stared at her with an amazed and slightly turned on gaze as Emma excitedly talked about coastal navigation and how using charts was better than using a GPS. The job had been smooth sailing; the perp overpowered and imprisoned in no time. It was one of the easiest ones she had ever had, her cover fitting her perfectly (like her dress), and a lot of that, if not all, could be attributed to Seatimes. It had taken Emma one day to listen to seventeen episodes and each one had her yearning for more. She was eager to learn, something that she hadn’t experienced for years. So, even though the case had been closed and sealed, Seatimes became a part of Emma’s weekly routine.

It even became the highlight of her week. Forty minutes a week were completely dedicated to Seatimes. No distractions; just Emma, a muted phone, her computer and a glass of wine.

The doorbell rang, and rang again since Emma decided to ignore the sound, preferring Jones’ British cadence over it. No interruptions. After a third ring, a familiar voice drifted through her door and into her apartment.

“Emma!” Emma sighed and forcefully pressed pause. “I know that you’re home; your Bug is out front.”

A groan escaped; there was no going back now. Mary Margaret was, as the relentless ringing had already betrayed, an adamant woman. Emma threw her head back, her locks flying around with the jolt. She loved her best friend dearly, but how did she not understand that if Emma wasn’t opening the door, there probably was an underlying reason. Like her sacred Seatimes times.

With hasty steps, she approached the door and swung it open. It revealed Mary Margaret, a small smile on her lips and hands folded over her protruding belly.

“What?” Emma greeted, her tone not welcoming at all and her word choice quite curt.

“You could be a bit more kind to a pregnant woman.” Her raven-haired friend raised an unamused eyebrow.

Emma supposed that Mary Margaret was right and that she could be more kind, or at least less pissed off.

“I’m sorry, Mary Margaret, please come on in.” Her hand gestured to her apartment as the guilt crept up on her.

“I was just joking,” Mary Margaret assured as she entered. “It’s totally alright. Sorry to barge in.”

Emma shrugged in response, showing that it was quite alright.

“What were you doing?” The curiosity filled the room as Mary Margaret peered around. She found it void of any other people or proof something suspicious was taking place and turned back to Emma.

“I was just listening to a podcast,” she answered. “Relaxing.”

Emma didn’t know if her friend had noticed the small jab in her answer.

“So nothing much,” was Mary Margaret’s conclusion. “Good. I’m here to ask you if you’d like to visit an art gallery a friend of mine is opening. She’s really talented and it’s supposed to be one of the most hyped events of the month,” she explained with excitement, bouncing on the ball of her feet.

Emma’s response came instantaneously; she didn’t need any time to think about it or consider going.

“No, thanks. I think I’ll pass.”

Her friend clearly wasn’t expecting that answer as she looked confused.

“Emma.” Her brow creased and her mouth was set in a discontent scowl.

“I don’t feel like going out today,” she tried to reason. She usually didn’t feel like it, the coziness of her home beating any overtly loud and awkward socializing, but especially today (and every other Wednesday), it was out of the question.

“But there’s going to be free food and free drinks. If I can’t take advantage of free alcohol, you definitely should.”

Emma shook her head, already bracing herself for what would follow. She knew what this meant, declining one of her offers yet again. She would receive one of Mary Margaret’s ‘way too invested in your social life best friend’ speechesTM

“Emma,” she began speaking, her tone motherly and at the same time disciplining. “You should go out more. Meet new people. Start dating again.”

There was no use. Not since Walsh had completely destroyed her last remnant of hope towards love by cheating on her while they were engaged. Why keep putting herself out there, keep taking part in pleasantries that lead to nowhere? Why should she continue risking her heart if it never worked out?

“I’m not like you, Mary Margaret. I’m not social and bubbly and whatever else belongs to your characteristics,” Emma specified. “There’s no use in trying to get me to go places. I need a break of at least a year from life, because it’s frankly quite exhausting and I want to catch my breath. Everything’s fine how it is. I don’t need love.”

“My only love is the Sea, Eric.”

“Jones, don’t hold it against me that I’m married.”

“I’m not. I’m not. As some of you might know Eric’s wife is professional swimmer Ariel Andersen. I would imagine that she understands your dedication to the sea and your research.”

“She does. She is my biggest fan. I recently even named an algae I discovered after her.”

“Did she feel honored that there’s now, of everything in the very deep sea, an algae with her name floating around?”

“I wouldn’t call it particularly honored. Disgruntled is another word for it.”

“As I suspected.”

Weeks passed and she kept listening. At this point, Emma wasn’t fooling herself anymore. This wasn’t about the content of the show, hadn’t been about that for quite some time. Her attentive listening was because of Jones. His voice, the soothing melody, and his passion. Every word dripped of love for the subject, of pure enjoyment. That was what he transferred onto Emma. That was what made her tune in week after week.

Her curiosity got the best of her one day and the desire to know more about him as well. The man was an enigma, a mystery. The only thing she could derive from the podcasts was that, if his accent told her anything, he had to be UK based.

There were a lot of people that bore the name Jones across the pond and trying to find him among them would be an impossible endeavor. Emma had one last trick up her sleeve, one last asset she hadn’t utilized yet; her bail bonds knowledge. Though “bail bonds knowledge” wasn’t anything specific or a program she could run, it was more being persistent and scrutinizing every nook and cranny of her resources.

She checked everything but there was nothing. Every possible connection to Jones was always carefully through Seatimes. The contact email address was just called Seatimes, the site was registered on that name, the Facebook didn’t have any personal mentions about the person managing the account. It was a dead end. At least she discovered that the page often posted little previews of episodes to come, so she liked it to be kept up to date.

“I know I’ve been quite secretive about who I am, where I live, what I do but that’s simply because I don’t think that would add anything to this podcast. A lot of listeners have sent me an email recently– which you can if you have any questions, the link is on the site– about the dangers of sailing. So, for the first time, I’m feeling inclined to share a very personal story.

“A couple of years ago, a younger, more carefree version of myself went out for a sail. I was boisterous back then, overconfident about my own capabilities as a sailor. A storm was predicted that day but I didn’t heed the forecast’s warning, I simply ignored it and continued with my plans. The storm was terrible; as terrible as the forecast had predicted it to be and I got into trouble. The boat I was on was completely wrecked and my left hand was completely crushed which lead to the stump I know have.

“This story isn’t to scare you away from touching or setting foot on a boat ever again, because I didn’t. It cost me blood, sweat, and tears but I am able to live without my hand now, am able to do what I love most which are sailing and making this podcast. There are dangers to sailing like to the rest of life, but a lot of them can be prevented. Be smart, listen to weather forecasts, check everything, double check everything before you leave, make sure that you are one hundred percent capable of sailing, and most importantly: be safe.”

“Happy birthday!” Mary Margaret beamed with joy, throwing her hands up in the air and welcoming Emma for a hug.

The loft that Mary Margaret shared with her husband David (and Emma’s other best friend) was adorned with little lights and balloons and filled with many familiar faces.

She smiled in return, letting the happy atmosphere of her friends and family in the room catch on. Emma normally wasn’t a fan of birthday parties; a small and quiet dinner usually sound far more alluring but she knew that, with turning thirty, a party would be inevitable. Surprise parties were even less enjoyable to Emma and Mary Margaret knew that, giving the birthday girl a much-appreciated heads up weeks in advance. Emma had embraced it, forced herself to not be a negative Nellie when the notorious day arrived and to actually enjoy herself.

Crossing the entire loft, she greeted everyone, thanked them for coming and flashed them brief smiles as a thank you for their birthday wishes.

Everyone was chatting, a drink in hand and some quiet music floating through the room. It was in that moment, the start of a new decade of her life that Emma decided to change, that she made a vow. To be more open again, to go out again, to stop locking herself in her apartment while she had so many people that loved her and wanted the best for her. She’d let the past control the present too much and this was the end of it.

“Alright,” David interrupted Emma’s thinking and the others’ small conversation. “It’s time for Emma to open her presents.”

The room erupted into cheering and Emma felt the blush creep onto her cheeks.

“David and I’ll go first,” Mary Margaret announced, approaching Emma with a small blue envelope in her hands.

The couple looked at her expectantly as Emma accepted the gift and slowly opened it. Her fingers revealed a card written in Mary Margaret’s swirly handwriting with only three words on it.

“The Sailing Brothers?” Her brow furrowed as she questioned the message. “What’s this?”

“Well,” Mary Margaret started timidly, turning the card in Emma’s hands to reveal the backside. There was more written there. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been quite interested in sailing and boats lately so I thought you might enjoy a small sailing trip.”

Staring at her friends, back at the blue card and back at her friends, Emma narrowed her eyes.

“How did you notice that?”

Before, Emma had been certain that her Seatimes obsession was something concealed, something locked between the four walls of her apartment.

“Facebook?” Her answer resembled more to a question. “You’ve been liking a lot of nautically themed posts. Was I wrong to assume you would like this? Because I can still change it if you want.”

“No, no!” she protested. “It’s amazing. You’re both amazing.”

“Oh good,” Mary Margaret sighed in relief. “Just let us know when you’d like to go and we’ll take care of everything. You should probably go as soon as possible, before winter truly sets and everything becomes cold. I doubt that a sail will be enjoyable when you’re freezing.”

“Honestly, I am not a winter person. There’s just something far more alluring about sailing in the summer when it’s warm, the sun is shining. Even though summer gets my preference, I don’t stop sailing during the winter. Only when the weather forces me, when it’s too cold or stormy. There’s just something about the cold wind racing and sweeping through your hair, coloring your cheeks that makes it worthwhile.

"As you might’ve guessed; today is all about how to prepare yourself and your boat for winter.”

The more she thought about it, the more Emma had been dreading this getaway sail. It meant being alone for several hours with a random person who was supposed to teach her how everything worked. And as one might’ve noticed, Emma and socializing didn’t usually go hand in hand.

There was her resolution, however, to be more open to new people and new things lingering in the back of her mind. Plus, she couldn’t let down Mary Margaret and David by letting their probably quite expensive gift go to waste. So, after a lot of pep talking herself, Emma had chosen a date, had sent it to M’s and had let her book it. This way, she’d be forced to go.

The day arrived and Emma rushed to her window, hoping the sky would be dark and gray, predicting a looming storm. The sky her eyes witnessed was anything but. It was sunny and only a few puffs of white decorated the blue background. Of course, today the weather gods decided to forget that November meant fall, not summer.

Slowly, she got dressed, ate a small breakfast and made her way to the docks. M’s had texted her the address and the Bug reached the destination fifteen minutes before her sail was scheduled. Emma stayed in the car for five additional minutes, fiddling with her fingers before deciding that she had waited long enough.

A large sign told Emma that this was indeed The Sailing Brothers and she pushed the door open, triggering a bell. A man a bit older than her thirty years walked towards her with a kind smile that made crinkles appear around his blue eyes.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Emma spoke. “My name is Emma Swan.”

The man nodded before Emma could continue explaining that it was Mary Margaret that had booked the sail for her.

“Very nice to meet you, Ms. Swan.” He offered his hand and Emma grabbed it, shortly shaking it. “My name is Liam. Welcome to The Sailing Brothers.”

Emma muttered a small thanks in return, but sensed that her dread towards the trip had lessened considerably by meeting Liam and getting a glimpse of his personality. He seemed like the kind of person that wouldn’t let the sail get awkward, something Emma would really appreciate.

“Mary Margaret told me this was a birthday gift.” His eyebrows rose slightly, checking the piece of information with Emma and dropped again as she let out a confirming hum.

“Happy birthday to you,” he congratulated before getting back to business. “The sail will take about three hours and includes an introduction to sailing, but seeing that Mary Margaret told me you’re quite interested in the sea, a lot of it will probably be repetition. There are complementary drinks and snacks on board, so no need to rein yourself in.” He threw her a fast wink.

Sounded like Mary Margaret to tell her entire life, her interests, and aspirations to a virtual stranger.

They had started moving, left the building and walked towards the ship Emma assumed was going to be the one they were going to use.

Suddenly, a figure appeared on the deck of the ship, carrying a rope and throwing it from one side to the other. The man was clearly preparing it to leave the docks.

Liam must’ve noticed Emma’s curious glance as he replied to a question that was only asked in Emma’s mind.

“That’s my brother Killian, the actual sailing brother.” He chuckled. “I take care of the business side and he gets all the fun.”

It was a bit disappointing to hear that Liam wasn’t going to be accompanying her on her sail. She’d just gotten used to him and was beginning to look forward to all of it.

A phone rang in the distance and it made Liam look up. His eyes moved between the small distance between the ship and Emma.

“I should probably go and get that. It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Swan. I hope you enjoy your sail.”

And with that Liam left her standing alone on the docks, running back to his office to answer the ringing phone. Emma closed the previous distance and halted right before the ship. She didn’t want to assume she had permission to come aboard, so she waited until she was noticed.

The wait gave her time to observe the man hastily working. His hair had the same shade as his brother’s but lacked the small curls. He was muscular, the movements in his shoulders and arms betrayed that, and younger than Liam. His very defined jaw was dusted with light scruff that changed color when the sun hit it.

Killian suddenly stopped moving, his eyes settling on her, and flashed her a grin while motioning her on board. Emma let out a small, preparing breath and stepped on the wooden plank.

His eyes were blue as well and absolutely took her breath away.

Crap. The guy she was stuck on a ship with for three hours was absolutely gorgeous.

“Emma Swan, I presume?”

“That’s me,” she replied.

It proved far too distracting to focus on his eyes so Emma chose to lower her gaze to the floorboards instead.

“Welcome aboard.”

He extended his hand and Emma tried to ignore the little jolt of electricity tha ran up her arm as their palms touched.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Killian Jones.”

Emma stilled.

That voice. How he pronounced Jones. It seemed awfully familiar. She softly shook her head, trying to get rid of her feeling. It was not because his last name was Jones and that he was British, that he was that British Jones.

But she had noticed something else. Killian’s left hand was missing. A metal attachment in the form of a hook replaced it. Missing a hand was a bit rarer than being called Jones and being British and the concurrence of those three was probably not very common.

“Don’t worry about it, lass,” Killian said, noticing her lingering eyes and holding the hook up. “I’m perfectly capable of steering the ship without it.”

“No it wasn’t-” Emma remonstrated. “I wasn’t doubting that.” She shook her head.

She should just ignore it, pretend it’s a very coincidental coincidence. That he was called Jones. And was British. And he loved sailing. And he didn’t have a left hand.

“Even though the weather is quite good today-” Killian continued, undeterred. “-there’s quite a lot of wind today, but don’t worry, wind isn’t always bad. Especially when it comes to sailing.” He bared his teeth in a grin. “To start your sail, I will need you to go to starboard and fetch a rope for me.”

The thought that this might be Jones was still haunting Emma’s mind, slowing down her reaction and making her seem confused about star- and port board. She knew which one was which, thanks to Seatimes.

“It’s confusing, isn’t it?” Killian said. “My brother taught me a mnemonic when I was small to remember and it was that drinking a lot of port never made you feel right-”

“But being a star did,” Emma intervened, familiar with the mnemonic and everything he was probably going to say on this sail.

It was him.

“Aye,” he said taken aback. “How did you know that?”

Emma wasn’t buying his act; he had to be perfectly aware of how she knew that.

“You’re him.” The corners of her lips curled but it was more in a grimace than in a smile.

All of this reeked of Mary Margaret meddling.

“Him?” A crease appeared in Killian's–Jones'– forehead. “Sorry, I’m afraid I’m not following.”

The confusion clouding her mind completely disappeared, Emma becoming bolder, straightening her back.

“Jones.” Her hand gestured towards him. “Seatimes. How did Mary Margaret put up you to this?”

Emma was getting angry now. How could they trick her like this? She already knew it was weird for her to be so obsessed with a stupid maritime podcast, but this only made her more aware of it, only made it more embarrassing. She would think Jones would have enough integrity not to do this to an unsuspecting woman.

“You listen to Seatimes?”

“Yeah,” Emma almost yelled in exasperation. “That’s why I’m here right? For some fangirl sail.”

“No, I’m pretty certain it’s just an ordinary sail or maybe the fangirl upgrade package didn’t get through to me.” Killian smirked. “But I am excited to meet my first official fan.”

“Oh.”

Emma’s face fell and her eyes widened. Shit. While she thought she was being embarrassed, she was actually embarrassing herself. The heat rose to her cheeks and Emma had an intense urge to run as fast as she could and sever all ties with Seatimes. No way in hell she could enjoy listening to it anymore. “I’m not doing this.” Turning around, she walked away from him and any further shameful situations.

“Swan,” he yelled and repeated as he caught her hand. “Swan. Don’t leave. Everything has been paid for and I’ve just completely prepared the Roger. You got her all excited to go out.”

He couldn’t make her feel bad about a ship. Things didn’t work like that, did they? She did feel a tinge of guilt but if it was because of the ship or him or her best friends, was up for debate.

“The Roger?” she questioned. “As in The Jolly Roger?”

“The one and only.” He smiled proudly. “So what do you say?” His head tilted as his blue eyes perused her face.

“Alright.”

Emma returned and went to starboard to grab the rope he needed. He sent her a thankful look as he continued to prepare the Roger.

There was not a lot of use for him to teach her things about sailing because she already knew them, so they just sat in silence next to each other when the Roger was well underway, neither of them knowing what to say.

“I thought you lived in England.” Emma looked at him.

“Moved here seven years ago with my brother.” He shrugged after explaining his accent.

The silence returned and the wind wisped around, sending Emma’s locks flying.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been listening to the podcast?” His expression was curious.

“About three months, more or less.” Emma’s hand tried to tame her locks, pushing them behind her ear. “I needed to do some research.”

Killian stood up and went to stand behind the helm.

“Are you writing a book?”

“Oh no,” Emma was quick to correct him. “I’m a bail bonds person and I had a target that loved sailing and women who were into it.”

“Ah.” He turned the helm, but only barely and its creaking was the only sound again. “Did you get him?”

“Huh?” Emma asked, attention focused on the openness of the sea and not on his words.

“Your target?” Killian clarified. “Did you catch him?”

“Oh, yeah.” Emma nodded, walking around and tracing her finger along the railing. “I did.”

“Good.”

Major thanks to Ruhi ( @ofshipsandswans ) and Selina ( I didn’t tag you, are you proud of me?) for their enthusiasm, encouraging me to write this and for editing this *smirk* Other people who occasionally like to be tagged in things I write: @shady-swan-jones @the-reason-to-sail-home @artandteaandstuff

[lolainblue]

Thunderbirds, Chapter 3

cw: referenced alcohol and drug usage

By the time Saturday rolled around I was so looking forward to seeing Jared and Shannon again I practically hummed all the way to the address Shannon had provided.  It turned out to be a large house party reminiscent of those I had attended in college, complete with a good sized crowd and kegs on tap. There was live music but it really didn't seem to be a band, just some friends jamming together.  The lineup kept changing.  There was no sign of either Jared or Shannon.

I milled around for a bit, nursing my way through a couple of beers, feeling very out of place in this close pressed group of strangers. After about an hour of waiting, I was thinking about heading out when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

“So, are you here by yourself or did you lose track of your date?”

I turned around to see a blonde guy in a polo shirt smiling broadly at me. He was leaned in way too close, using the noise of the party as pretext to invade my personal space. This was yet another reason I hated parties.

“I'm supposed to be meeting someone here.” I shouted over the din. “I'm sure they're around, it's just crowded and I'm having a hard time spotting them.”

I went to step away but he moved in front of me.  “Well hey, let's look for them together? Guy or girl?” He gave me another broad smile. He was probably trying to look helpful and harmless but there was something  unsettling about him.  

“Guy. Two of them actually.” I watched his reaction to see if he would deflate a bit when he realized I wasn't alone but if he was bothered by the thought of two male protectors possibly lurking around the corner he masked it well.  Instead he threw his arm around my shoulder.

“Well then let's see if we can't find them for you.  What's your name or should I just call you Beautiful?”

Ugh. I leaned away but he just pulled me in tighter.  Desperately I scanned the room, hoping to see some sign of either Shannon or Jared.

“I'm Jane.  And really, it's okay, I'm just fine on my own.” I noticed the guy had not asked anything about my missing friends that might help identify them. He wasn't even trying very hard to pretend to want to help.

He grabbed the edge of my plastic beer cup and peered into it.  “Looks like you're running low there.  Why don't we get you a refill while we wait for your friends, okay?”

I was about to say how very not okay that would be when someone bumped into me from behind, knocking my cup out of my hand.  Unfortunately, it did not spill on the leering jackal who was pawing me.

“Oh God, I am so sorry!” A small redheaded girl wearing enough eye makeup to spackle a bathroom started patting me down apologetically before throwing her arms around my neck.  “There you are!  I've been looking for you for like an hour now!” She cast her gaze on the guy who had been talking to me.  “You can fuck off now Cliff.” She took me by the hand leading me away.  As soon as we were out of earshot she stopped.

“That drink I spilled, he didn't give it to you did he?”

“Um, no?” I replied, confused.  

“Good.” She leaned in and looked at my face closely.  “He didn't touch anything you were eating or drinking right?'

“No.” I could see where this was going.  “I was only talking to him for about two minutes.  He didn't have time to slip me anything I don't think.”

“Well sorry about knocking your drink out of your hands like that but better safe than sorry.  He roofied a friend of mine a few months ago but we got to her before he could do anything.  Guy's a real piece of shit but no one has enough on him to get him arrested so we just kind of keep an eye on him.”  She looked me up and down.  “I don't think I've seen you before, you here with a friend?”

“I was supposed to be.  A couple of them but they didn't show.”

“Ugh, that sucks, I hate it when my friends flake on me like that.”  She grabbed me by the upper arm and headed towards where the keg was set up.  “I'm Hailey, by the way.  Let's get you a new drink and introduce you to some folks.”

It turned out Hailey was sociology grad student who shared my love of cooking and horror films and had a bevvy of quirky friends who were all too happy to meet the new girl.  Before I knew it it was 1 a.m. and I had a handful of new phone numbers and promises to to 'hang sometime soon'. I was about to head out when I noticed the band was shuffling out members again.  To my delight, I spotted Jared, guitar in hand.  There was, however, no sign of Shannon.

The band started on a cover of “L.A. Woman”.  They were really pretty good, and in addition to playing guitar Jared was doing an impressive job with the lead vocals.  I noticed a lot more people had stopped to pay attention to the music, especially the ladies in the crowd.  I had to admit, Jared was definitely pleasant to look at.  I wondered if this happened often.

After just the one song Jared handed the guitar off to someone else and made his way out into the crowd.  He was immediately surrounded, girls circling and flirting and just generally vying for his attention.  He seemed to be eating it up, flirting back just as hard. Just the thought of trying to make my way through that group to say hello made my stomach clench. At that moment I was acutely aware of my unruly hair, my over abundance of freckles, my lack of a California tan or any sense of style. I wondered if maybe I should wait until the crowd parted and let him know I had shown up or just go home now.  After all it was Shannon who had invited me, not Jared, and he was nowhere to be seen.  I stood there indecisively for a minute, trying not to let my anxiety and self doubt get more than their fair vote.  Then somehow Jared noticed me, waving me over from inside his circle of admirers.  

“Hey Jane, where's Shannon? I tried to wait for him before I started playing but they guys were getting impatient.”

I was confused.  “What do you mean where's Shannon? I haven't seen him.”

Jared looked back at me with the same confusion I was displaying.  “Wait I thought he was with you.  He saw you come in a couple hours ago and said he was going to talk to you.  I haven't seen him since.”

This was strange.  “No, I haven't seen him at all.”

Jared got a very worried look on his face.  “Shit.  Help me look for him?”

“Yeah, okay.  What was he wearing?”

“Jeans and a black concert tee.” Jared was no longer looking at me, already searching the room with his eyes. “You okay with splitting up or you want to stick with me?”  

“I'm sure I'll be fine.  Meet back here in 15 minutes?” Jared nodded and walked off so I started in the other direction. The place was packed by now, and poorly lit, and finding anybody here was going to be no small feat, let alone someone in a black t-shirt and jeans.  I ended up tapping several short dark haired guys on the back, only to find they were someone else.  Eventually I found a door that lead to a basement staircase and took that.  

The basement was even more dimly lit than the rest of the house and was littered with people who were stretched over old sofas and pillows. There was an acrid smell in the air that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  Squinting, I searched the room, nearly stumbling over a girl who was all but passed out on an old bean bag chair on the floor.  I was about to go back upstairs when I spotted Shannon, for real this time, stretched out on a sofa on the back wall.  Reaching him I jiggled his foot.  

“Jane!” he exclaimed when he realized who I was.  He sat up and pulled me into a sloppy hug.  “I was looking for you but I ran into Matty.” He gestured to the guy who reclining on the other end of the couch. “Do you know Matty?” he slurred.  

Shannon was sitting upright now but he was swaying softly back and forth and his eyelids were at half-mast.  I surveyed the scene around me again, realization setting in like a bucket of cold water. I shoved Shannon back off me.  “Jesus Shannon!  This is a fucking shooting gallery!” I punched him in the arm.  “What kind of fucking party did you invite me to? How fucking high are you?”

“Hey!” He rubbed his arm where I had punched it.  “I'm just drunk.  I swear. It's fine.”

“No, it's not fine. I've been wandering around by myself like an idiot and your brother is looking for you and I think he's pissed.  You've been gone for hours.”

“Shit.” Shannon ran his fingers through his hair but made no move to get up. “Did he leave?”

Shaking my head, I leaned in close and looked at his pupils.  He swatted me away.  “I fucking told you I'm just drunk.”  He did smell like whiskey and beer.  “I suppose I'd better go upstairs.”

I lead the way, stopping in the center of the main room to wait for Jared.  Sure enough, when he showed up, he was livid.

“Where the fuck have you been? I thought we were playing tonight.”

Shannon looked at his feet.  “I'm sorry.  I ran into Matty...”

Jared immediately grabbed Shannon and gave his eyes the same examination I had given them a few minutes prior.  Shannon shoved him away.  “Yeah, I feel the trust man.”

“You get trust when you earn it.  You don't get trust by disappearing for hours with your dealer and turning back up eight kinds of fucked up.”

Jared turned to me.  “Sorry, Jane.  Thanks for helping find him.  I think our evening is done though.”

“Screw that.” Shannon gave Jared a little shove.  “I just had a few Jack and Cokes.  You're the one that's being a douche-bag. I want to hang with Jane.”

“It looks to me like more than a few Jack and Cokes guy,” I interjected.  

“Do you really want to go home?” Shannon pouted at me.  “I can put my dancing shoes on. It's still early.”

I wondered if we weren't all over reacting.  It was a party after all, and he didn't seem to be anything but drunk, regardless of where he had been hanging out.  I was feeling a little buzzed myself from the beers I had been drinking with Hailey earlier. I really didn't want to spend the rest of the night babysitting though.  “Look, Shannon, maybe another time....”

“Coffee?” He looked at Jared, who still seemed pissed.  “We could go back to the diner again and have coffee and sober up.”

“We don't need to sober up.” Jared glared at him.  

“I could use some fries.  I'm starving.” I said, trying to make a little peace.  I really didn't want to go back home yet but I was completely done with this roller coaster ride of a party.  Shannon threw his arm around me.  

“See, Janey wants fries.” Jared glowered at him.  Shannon threw his arm around his little brother too, pulling us both in close.  “Come on, just the three of us again, it'll be fun.”

Jared sighed and pulled Shannon's arm off of him.  “Fine.  But you're buying.”

[goddamnedamericanjedi]

Classic Rock Magazine Interview With Sebastian Bach

SEBASTIAN BACH          © Dave Ling - December 2002       

  It wasn’t the greeting that worried me. During the 13 years that I’ve been interviewing Sebastian Bach, there have been a variety of headlocks and bear hugs. Fortunately, today it’s just a super-firm handshake. Although in the past he’s spat huge globules of phlegm across the room to express disgust at certain subjects, and once even called to talk on a mobile phone whilst taking a piss, neither was I overly concerned about the former Skid Row frontman’s behavior during our encounter.

My biggest reservation was how this particular conversation might conclude. Last time we spoke face-to-face, during a press tour for Skid Row’s 1995 album ‘Subhuman Race’, matters concluded prematurely after I stated the journalistic consensus that the album was considerably below par. “We’ll see who’s still doing this in ten years time,” raged Seb with a face like thunder, before booting the back of my chair, storming from the room and cancelling the rest of his interviews for the day.

That decade he referred to isn’t yet up, but thankfully we’re both still here. “What you said back then hurt so much because I considered a writer like you, who’d written a lot of our early press, to represent the British media,” confides Bach while preparing for Classic Rock’s photo session. “It was hard to take, dude.”

The Canadian had joined Skid Row after being spotted jamming at the wedding of photographer Mark Weiss, and a support spot on Bon Jovi’s ‘New Jersey’ tour gave the fledgling quintet their breakthrough.

Unfortunately, Bach’s dark side was soon revealed and he claimed to have “punched the shit out of Jon, decked him on his fat little ass” when a dispute about a contract Skid Row had signed with Bon Jovi’s Underground publishing company was leaked to the press.

Seb’s wild man credentials were further emphasized by a string of antics, some amusing and some irresponsible. He wiped his derriere on a copy of the Daily Star at Docklands Arena (his tackle flying free in the process) and incurred a lifetime ban at Wembley through playing the song ‘Get The Fuck Out’ when warned not to. Even more regrettably, however, he also wore a T-shirt emblazoned with the slogan ‘Aids Kills Faggots’, and in front of MTV’s cameras threw a glass bottle back into a Massachusetts crowd after it had hit him on the head. A female 14-year-old required 125 stitches.

Finally, Skid Row’s patience snapped, and the relative failure of ‘Subhuman Race’ enabled them to dismiss Bach at the end of 1996. The last time he spoke to Classic Rock, in Issue 13, Sebastian claimed to have no idea why he’d been ‘let go’, adding ruefully: “I’ll never understand why we dropped the ball.” Now a solo artist, his 1999 album ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’ has just been reissued, and Bach has a variety of projects on the go.

DL. You’re here for an appearance on the Never Mind The Buzzcocks, the BBC1 game show. Do you know much about British pop music?            SB. Ha ha… no. Well, Iron Maiden had a No 1 record, so that’s pop music, right?

DL. So how will you act when they inevitably take the piss, as they did to Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine and Bruce Dickinson from Iron Maiden?            SB. I’ve been on that show twice in America, but the American version flopped - hopefully that wasn’t my fault. I don’t know how a host on British game show could go after me… they’re the retarded ones for paying me $1,800 to come over for 45 minutes work. Dude, everyone says he’s gonna be horrible, but I’ll show him fuckin’ horrible! I can rewrite the fuckin’ level of horrible. I’ll give him a taste of horror.

DL. You recently posted an extremely touching tribute to your father, David Bierk, at your website. Which characteristics good or bad did you inherit from your parents?            SB. My dad was a painter who had shows all over the biggest galleries in New York. Elton John, Bon Jovi, Axl Rose and Gene Simmons all bought his paintings. He just let me know that nothing was impossible. My intensity, the way I talk, he made me realize that singing wasn’t a vocational choice, it was a life choice.            My only regret is that I’ve been on the road from the age of 13 to now, aged 34, and I missed out on so much family life. I never just got a bowl of popcorn, sat down with my dad and watched the TV. He told me on his deathbed, ‘Everybody in this world is too busy’. I’d say to readers of this magazine, if you’ve got somebody - whether it’s your brother, your mom or sister - just enjoy life with them for just a fuckin’ second, because I look back and God… [trails off].

DL. Since being kicked out of Skid Row in 1996 you’ve spread your wings into TV presenting and appearing in the Broadway versions of Jekyll & Hyde and The Rocky Horror Show.            SB. One of my idols, Geoff Tate [of Queensrÿche], keeps calling and asking how I got onto Broadway. The honest truth is that Broadway came to me. I never in a million years thought I’d have the braincells left to memorise the Jekyll & Hyde script. I shit you not, it’s like War And Peace. How it happened was that Jason Flom at Atlantic signed Skid Row in 1987, and Atlantic also has a theatre division. Jason called and said I had the meanest voice and the personality to do it, and believe me when I was Edward Hyde I became Edward Hyde. It was cool music, I swear, some of it’s like ‘Sad Wings Of Destiny’ [the 1976 Judas Priest album].

DL. When a woman in the first row handed you a rose, you bit the head off. Why did you do that?            SB. It was my way of saying, ‘I’m on Broadway, but I’m still Sebastian Bach’.

DL. By the time this article is printed, you will be on a year-long US tour playing the lead character in Jesus Christ Superstar.            SB. Andrew Lloyd Webber requested a stack of Skid Row CDs, and all my pictures, I swear to God. And he came back and said, ‘Hello, is Jesus Christ there?’, so he made the decision.

DL. Some might say that this is a role you’ve spent your life rehearsing for.            SB. [Sounding slightly hurt]: I must be a fucking moron. I never thought you would’ve said that, dude. Sometimes I’m so confused by other people’s perception of me.

DL. Well, they say that you’re an egomaniac.            SB. Dude, you have to be on of those to go on stage. What do you want to see, some fucking guy singing [in nerdy, apologetic voice]: ‘We are the youth gone wild’? If I didn’t have my ego I wouldn’t be doing it. I don’t think it’s misplaced though, I hope not. I wake up every day and hope I’m gonna have a great day, be the nicest guy ever. But if someone’s a dick to me, I’m gonna be a fuckin’ dick back to them.

DL. You’re an ass-kicking rock dude from the 80s that’s now playing Jesus. Could you imagine Axl or Vince Neil doing the same thing?            SB. Absolutely not, and that’s not a slight against them, Axl has already proved he can’t be on time. I love Axl Rose, but let me get this through everybody’s head: we’re talking eight shows a week for 42 weeks. That’s tough work.

DL. Would you someday like to follow your old rival Jon Bon Jovi into the movies?            SB. I don’t differentiate ‘movies’ or ‘Broadway’, what I care about is presenting my fans with something that entertains. And if I’m entertained by it my fans will be, too. So if I got a great film role, yeah, cool.

DL. What do you think of Jon’s acting abilities? And would he work you him in an acting role if the part demanded it?            SB. I’ve never seen him really act. There was one movie where he was a pot dealer, and I saw a little bit of that, but he’s a very good actor because he doesn’t smoke pot! I did have acrimony towards Jon for years, but on my Forever Wild TV show I interviewed Tico Torres [Bon Jovi drummer], we played ‘Lay Your Hands On Me’, had a brew at the bar and talked about the old days. All I was ever mad at Jon for was to let me have my own life. That was it. Please, I don’t need someone to hold my fucking hand.

DL. We didn’t get to see your VH1 rock show Forever Wild before it was cancelled back in April. Care to tell us about it?            SB. It was kinda obscure, I got to go through the VH1 vaults and pick the videos. We had ‘You Really Got Me’ by Van Halen on the first show, and W.A.S.P.’s ‘I Wanna Be Somebody’… but it was my show!

DL. That explains why it ran for just five months.            SB. Yeah, but it was fun. I got to go to Ted Nugent’s 200-acre farm and shoot wild boar, and eat it, of course. I went car racing with Vince Neil and golfing with Tommy Lee. I was in the studio with Rob Halford while he was recording the song ‘Crucible’… waaaaaah! It was 16 episodes, which was twice as long as the [first series of] The Osbournes. Maybe a fifth of the people watched it, but it was a midnight rock show.            They offered me another show, at four in the afternoon, but they would be picking the videos and it was cheesy things like Quiet Riot, stuff to laugh at. I will not make fun of heavy metal, or patronize people.

DL. You then resurfaced on - of all things - the Learning Channel’s The New Sideshow, which was described as “a not-for-the-weak-of-heart documentary on today’s more outrageous carnival acts” that included human pincushion The Impaler. Do you do these unusual things to keep you in the public eye, or because you enjoy them?            Of course because I enjoy them… doh! Let me offer this piece of advice, I’ve not changed my home phone number since 1989. Never make yourself too inaccessible, it’s good for business when people know where you are. I wake up, press play and it’s, ‘Hey Sebastian, do you want to do this?”… next message, ‘Hey Sebastian, how about this?’            You just have to play the cards that are dealt you, it’s a very different world than it was. I’m in this to sing, so if I can get my voice heard in whatever fashion then that’s what I’ll do. Ozzy is the most famous he’s ever been, not because of his music but because of a fucking TV show. I’m not being flown over to England to sing, I’m being flown over to go on a gameshow. That is fucked. What you also have to consider is that the venues I’ll be playing Jesus Christ in are the same ones that Skid Row headlined for ‘Slave To The Grind’ tour… the Paramount in Seattle, the Fox in Atlanta. But instead of doing one show, I’m now doing eight shows in the same venue. So I’ve finally topped what I did in the past.

DL. C’mon, you must admit you’d rather be coming here to play rock music?            SB. I’ve just saw in your magazine that Alex Lifeson says no British promoter wants Rush. Hey, I’ve been asking British promoters since 1996 to come over and they just laugh! I’ve done two full American tours, 104 shows on the first tour, 90 shows on the second, a sold-out tour of Japan. I’m dying to play here, man, but the offers they give me are like… restaurants! Don’t you have to suck first? I’ve never played England and flopped - not fucking once! Thank God for the USA.

DL. You just mentioned The Osbournes. Can you imagine the footage MTV would have got if they’d followed you around in 1992?            SB. Ha ha ha, there wouldn’t have been a TV show made out of it. You couldn’t air it. But there seems to be a perception that as soon as we woke up and did drugs and drank, and that’s not true. I never did a show drunk - ever.

DL. Am I right in thinking you’ve cut out most of those antics?            SB. I hate that shit, I’ve not done a line [of coke] since 1993. I have no desire to. A part of me still has that personality when I get too sad, when my dad died I was drinking way too much, but just beer. Back in those days everybody was fucking doing it, you were the weirdo if you weren’t.

DL. You were recently involved in what was dramatically reported as “making terroristic threats” to a New Jersey bartender who refused to let you take your drink outside his club, then for having marijuana and rolling papers on you when you were arrested.            SB. I’d been shooting an episode of Forever Wild with Vince Neil, who’s always a bad influence on me; they talk about the bad boys of rock, I’m like Queen Elizabeth compared to Vince. But there’s a side of me that can get down and dirty. I was with Vince for a week down on south beach in Miami, waking up each morning and just getting ripped. When I got back to New Jersey, my chick was giving me shit on the phone because she wanted to party with Mötley Crüe. And I was like, ‘Babe, it’s my job, I get paid to party with the Crüe. This is how I feed our kids, so let me party with the Crüe, you stay home and everything’ll be fine’. And she was like, ‘Grrrrrrrrr’. So I go, ‘Fuck you, I’m not coming home’ and tell the limo driver to turn around because we’re going to Broadway.            I get a hotel suite and get VH1 to pay for it, order up fucking booze and some other things, and all my friends come over to party. I stayed there for like two days, until she called and was nice to me. It’s a two hour limo drive home and by then I’m so fuckin’ drunk, my chick gives me a little bit of shit. So I take a bunch of Molsons [beers] and walk to this bar, I never drive while drunk. I’ve been going to this bar for 12 years and all these chicks, dudes and businessmen are excited to see me, so then I’m holding court. This guy suggests we go outside and bust a joint, but the bartender says he’s gonna call the police if I take my beer - I told him to go ahead. He fucking rails me, punches me right in the fucking head and I freaked out, so I tackled him around the waist brought him into the one wall, stood on his neck and said, ‘I’ll fucking kill you, mutherfucker’. The whole bar was freaked out, but he threw the first punch. I had a couple of joints in my pocket, so I got busted for marijuana. And the next day’s headline was, ‘Sebastian Bach Busted For Drugs And Terroristic Threats’. Dionne Warwick was arrested for having seven marijuana cigarettes, and I had a joint… someday maybe I can be as wild as Dionne fuckin’ Warwick. What fuckin’ bullshit.

DL. If Skid Row came back to you - and I stress those four words - would you someday agree to rejoin them?            SB. It’d all depend on the music, that’s the only reason I joined them in the first place. But Rachel [Bolan, bass] and Snake [guitar] were the best fucking songwriters I ever fuckin’ met, and they just don’t do it anymore. Anyone can go on the internet and find out what happened between me and the guys, just download the Ozone Monday record [make with singer Sawn McCabe]. That was supposed to be the fourth Skid Row record. The reason I’m not singing on it is that it fucking sucks! I mean, Andrew Lloyd Webber or Ozone Monday? Well [chuckles maliciously]…

“Kids think that music is free. My 14-year-old son downloads Arch Enemy and Cradle of Filth songs and I’m the asshole dad who says, ‘Bands worked really hard on those’”

DL. Do you even have any interest in hearing ‘Thick Is The Skin’, the album they’ve made with your replacement, Johnny Sollinger?            SB. No. But what fucking year will it come out. Those guys have been saying, ‘We got a whole album done’. Well, let’s fuckin’ hear it. I’m giving you two fucking albums, I’m giving you three fucking musicals, five tours. I’ve got nothing to hide, dude. You may not even like ‘…Bach Alive’, but at least I’m delivering product.

DL. Why do you feel that the band made such a phenomenal early impact, from the Marquee to Hammersmith Odeon in a matter of months?  SB. Just the songs and the way we attacked our music. Revolver magazine recently said Skid Row was one of the best metal albums of all time because they played a song like ‘Youth Gone Wild’ like they were playing ‘Angel Of Death’ by Slayer.            Would they be so successful now? In the year 2002 kids think that music is free. My 14-year-old son spends all day downloading Arch Enemy and Cradle of Filth and I’m the asshole dad who has to say, ‘You shouldn’t be making those CDs, those bands worked really hard on those’. He looks at me like, ‘What the fuck is your problem?’            I get like emails that say, ‘Sebastian, I went to five shops looking for ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’ and couldn’t find it, but I downloaded it and it fucking rocks, dude’. One the one hand I wanna go, ‘Thanks man’, and on the other hand I wanna hold my head in my hands, but everybody’s in that same situation.

DL. So you were in agreement with Lars Ulrich on the Napster issue?            SB. Oh, definitely. I even did this CD called ‘Bach To Basics’ because somebody told me to go onto Napster and when I saw what Sebastian Bach stuff was available I almost fuckin’ committed suicide. The whole The Last Hard Men CD was there, before I even fuckin’ played it for my friends. So I ripped my own CD off Napster and now I sell it on the web.

DL. The last time we were in a room together you lost your temper in a row over ‘Subhuman Race’. Can you now stand back a bit and understand why fans felt it wasn’t as good as the first two?            SB. Yeah, but how can a writer say what a record should sound like when they’re not even in the band? What I find humorous is that nobody liked that record, but 12 years later we’re still talking about that fucking record. When I hear ‘Subhuman Race’ now I hear more Bob Rock [producer], because he did the same thing as he did on Metallica’s ‘Load’. He changed things. I remember him saying, ‘Everybody knows you can scream, Sebastian’, and suggesting I sing like Scott Weiland [of Stone Temple Pilots]. Why don’t you just take a thoroughbred racehorse and hit him on the fuckin’ kneecap with a baseball bat? I do like that album, but it’s not a fun record. ‘Youth Gone Wild’ was fun.

DL. Let’s imagine you can go back in time and change three events in your life. If you don’t mind, I’d like to guess that they would be: a) signing away such a large percentage of your royalties to Jon Bon Jovi, b) the bottle-throwing incident and c), not having hit Jon harder. Am I right?            SB. Awww, I have more good memories of Bon Jovi than bad ones now. I’ve bashed Jon relentlessly in the past, but I don’t feel that way any more. When I think of those times when I was touring with Bon Jovi and living at his house for two weeks… okay, maybe the deal we signed wasn’t the most equitable of all time, but it’s possible that if we hadn’t, you might never have heard of me. And I respect his tenacity in an industry that devours its young and old alike.            So to answer your question… I did wear a really ridiculous T-shirt, and I can’t believe I’m bringing it up again, but it was really rotten, really stupid. And the bottle throwing thing, yeah, I’d change that. Then again, if somebody cracks you in the head with a bottle, what do you do? You ain’t thinking rationally. If somebody hit me with a bottle in the head again I’d probably knock the fuck right out of them.

DL. You even turned down Playgirl?            SB. Twice. I already get known for things other than my voice, like my hair or going to jail or whatever, and I want to be known as a singer. That means more to me than anything.

Apart from your Broadway activities, what’s the delay in following up ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’?            Atlantic Records signed me in 1987 and they still have first right of refusal [on my work]. ‘Bring ‘Em Bach Alive’ has the Atlantic logo and the Spitfire logo because Atlantic technically owns Sebastian Bach, and they license to certain territories where Atlantic didn’t put it out - including Britain, because Mary Hooton, my great friend, fucking rejected the fucking record.The next record will be done when it’s done. I want to deliver a product that’ll get the proper exposure; I don’t want it coming out three years later in one country than another. I’m doing it, but the fans have to realise how the internet has taken the wind out of the sails of the music industry. There’s always trepidation and anticipation about delivering a CD in this climate.

DL. How do you think you’ll feel aged 65 with 'Youth Gone Wild' tattooed on your arm? SB. I’ll just get “I was the” tattooed on my bicep. Right up here, dude. I got that space reserved.

 P.S. Dave says...          

Larger than life and twice as unpredictable, Sebastian Bach has now been out of Skid Row since 23rd December, 1996, the day that co-founding guitarist Dave ‘Snake’ Sabo sacked him after receiving a torrent of hate in answerphone form. The parting of ways between singer and the New Jersey band had been a long time coming. Notorious for short-fuse temper as for chiseled cheekbones and multi-octave voice, Bach drove the group’s instrumentalists mental but was accommodated by the rest of Skid Row for as long as their patience would stand. Post-Skids, Bach hasn’t exactly stuck to the traditional route. He acted in the musical versions of Jekyll & Hyde and Jesus Christ Superstar and went on to appear in various TV shows, though age and luvviedom have failed to mellow him. Sebastian recently completed a whirlwind tour of the UK and a new album – his first set of all-new solo material – is due next year. (17th December, 2004)

[notstilinski]

See You Around

Title: See You Around

Word Count: 1, 888

Ship: Pricefield

Description: It was so stupid. She was in the Vortex Club and friends with the coolest people in the school. Nathan wasn’t all too bad, either. He actually seemed pretty cool and nice. Did it matter that Max knew that it was really a front that he put up? But none of them mattered more than Chloe. She didn’t deserve what happened to her and she did not deserve to be abandoned by all her friends.

Fandom: Life Is Strange

Ship: Pricefield

Links: My ko-fi & the fic on ao3

A/N: I just rolled up to a fandom three years late with Starbucks and no fucks. The idea came to me when I watched the let’s play of the episode where Max is in that alternate universe and rolled with it. Of course, I didn’t do any research really so I don’t know if Chloe would be able to survive for that long? But I did it for the angst. 

    Ever since she had come back to Arcadia Bay, Max was intent on improving the relationship she had with Chloe. Joyce and William were so happy that their daughter had someone to spend her time with. A friend, her mind supplied each time. Chloe was the only friend that she wanted to keep if she would be completely honest with herself. It was so stupid. She was in the Vortex Club and friends with the coolest people in the school. Nathan wasn’t all too bad, either. He actually seemed pretty cool and nice. Did it matter that Max knew that it was really a front that he put up?

    But none of them mattered more than Chloe. She didn’t deserve what happened to her and she did not deserve to be abandoned by all her friends. Maybe that was part of the reason that Max was so stubborn about spending time together and being friends again. Guilt. There was no way that chloe would have accepted that if she had known.

   It would be what actually broke up their friendship.

    Max felt guilty when she won the Everyday Heroes contest because it almost felt like she was leaving her best friend again. She wished that she could bring Chloe along with her so she could see the world. And to have some sort of experience outside of her house and bedroom.

   “Stop feeling guilty,” Chloe said the day before Max was supposed to leave.

    The other girl could barely meet her friend’s eye.

    “I can’t help it,” she murmured while staring at her hands, “It still feels like I’m leaving you. Again.”

    Blue met blue as they stared at each other for a long and silent moment. Almost like they were having one of those silent conversations that they used to have with each other. The two of them were food at those.

    “Stop making excuses,” Chloe said after a moment with a small eye roll, “you deserve this way more than you think. And you’re going to go to San Francisco and kick some serious ass, Mad Max.”

    It was unclear if the jolt that went through Max was due to the nickname or the swear. She relaxed again with a small smile, “I guess you’re right. I’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

    As it turned out, every time that Max went somewhere out of Arcadia Bay, she would bring home a souvenir. There was a shelf in Chloe’s room that became covered in souvenirs over the years. It was amazing that Max got to travel so much and visit all over the country. As big of a creep as Mark Jefferson was, he had been right when he said that Max Caulfield had a gift for photography.

    She was so young and already had a steady climb to success! Nothing too major, either. But half of the money that she got for some of her work went to the Price family to help them cover Chloe’s medical bills. It wasn’t that much but it definitely helped the family. Even if Chloe was pissed about it when she first found out. That had been a rough week for all of them but everything turned out okay for the most part.

    After about a year or so of mostly success, Max and Chloe had been able to convince Joyce and William to go to one of the galleries that was showing some of Max’s pictures. It would be a trip for the entire family! Plus it would be nice for them to be there to support her. It helped that one of the pictures that would be up in the gallery was of Chloe. A picture that Max had managed to snap on one of their walks along the beach. There hadn’t even been an actual fight about if she could use the photo in the gallery or not.

   She looks beautiful , Max thought as she looked at the picture. Max had managed to time it well enough that the picture was snapped during ‘the golden hour.’ The mere  thought about that moment made her bring a hand to the ring that hung around her neck.

God.

    Had there always been something there? Their childhood seemed like four lifetimes ago and she could never tell through the pictures that they had. Of course, every picture of them from before Max moved to Seattle had them looking more than happy. The sort of happiness that they had managed to coax each other into after they were reunited. It was nice to be close to each other, if Max would be honest with herself. It was nice to have that sort of closeness and security with someone.

    William had been staring at the picture of his daughter for what seemed like an hour before Max approached him. Quietly with her hands clasped in front of her, she stood beside him as they both took a moment to admire the picture. Chloe seemed to be so genuinely happy in it which was a beautiful thing all on its own. In all honesty? William had never seen his daughter look like that within the last five and a half years. He had missed seeing his little girl so happy.

    “I’m happy for you two,” he said after a couple minutes of silence.

    “Thanks you,” Max said with a small duck of her head.

    They both took their time while they looked at the picture. After another few moments, Max ventured off to look at the other photographs that the gallery had. People only stopped her to talk a handful of times. Conversations that Max politely kept short as she continued through the gallery. She hadn’t seen Joyce or Chloe in awhile, something that she felt more than terrible about.

    “Max!” The look on Chloe’s face when she saw the other girl was more than heartwarming. Max almost wished that she was able to take a picture of that moment.

    “Hey,” Max said softly once she was close enough while she let her hand rest on Chloe’s shoulder.

    Joyce seemed rather focused on the conversation that she was having with one of the hipsters that seemed to frequent the art galleries. Part of her wondered what they could be talking about. The conversations that she had with other art goers almost seemed like she was simply going through the motions because it all seemed like each other. It wasn’t like that for Joyce or any member of the Price family. It was there first time in that sort of settine.

    “You’re the girl from the picture, right?”

    Two pairs of eyes moved to the stranger that had just been talking to Joyce. He had seemed to move on as he took a step or two closer to them. Of course, had recognized Max since everyone knew who she was at that gallery. But it was amazing to see a photographer’s subject in real life! Especially when it was a picture like that one that Max took. Despite the fact that she had taken the picture, Max barely thought about the fact that people might be able to recognize Chloe.

    “Uh, yeah-” The discomfort was clear on the older girl’s face as she stared at the man.

    “It’s really cool,” the stranger’s attention moved to Max, “for you to use a disabled model. It’s, like, really inclusive and people really like it. What inspired you for the shot?”

    “Well, uh, Chloe and I have been friends since we were little and it was just one of those ‘in the moment’ sort of things.”

    Something on the stranger’s face seemed to morph into a new look that neither of them could describe. “Oh, so she isn’t a model?”

    A new look seemed to settle onto Chloe’s face as her entire demeanor seemed to change. “Excuse me,” she murmured as moved away from them.

   They all seemed to know the unspoken truth that the doctors would always whisper about at almost every doctor’s appointment that Chloe had.  It was a miracle that she had survived so long especially on those terrible days that she had. Everything was so expensive and it was a struggle every month to pay for it was exhausting. There were days where Chloe would get into fights with her parents or even Max. There were days where she wished that they would just let her die so it was all over. She didn’t want to leave everyone in so much debt and for them to hold onto the hope that she would somehow live a long life. It had been clear since the first time that she woke up after the accident that she didn’t have that long to live.

    Part of her wondered if that was why Max asked her to marry her. The wedding, of course, would not happen for financial and personal reasons. But they believed that they were married and that was how they lived ever since that day that she had taken the picture. It seemed so fast after their reunion even if it had been close to two years of them being best friends again. Chloe loved every day of their ‘marriage’ but she knew that it would end in heartbreak. She wanted to prepare her family for when she would pass, though. They could say that they were prepared for it for years but she wanted to know. She wanted to know that they genuinely would be okay when she passed and able to move on.

    Her parents would take a long time to move on and she knew that. They had tried to prepare themselves for the day where she just didn’t wake up or something terrible like that. If someone had seen how they were when Chloe was thirteen then it would be hard to think of how they were now. The love was still there, of course. But there was an unspoken strain over all of them because of what happened and the struggles that they faced because of that. The fact that Max was suddenly apart of it almost made Chloe feel shitty about it but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She didn’t want to die without her best friend.

    “All you have to do is crank the IV up to eleven,” she mumbled weakly as she tried to maintain eye contact with her wife. It was hard to do that as she blinked back tears and tried to focus on what she was about to do.

    “Chloe, I-” Max’s voice broke as she shook her head. Almost like that would change everything that had happened.

    “I want this time with you to be my last memory… Do you understand?” It was the truth.

    “Yes,” her wife said before there was a small pause, “I do.”

    “I’ll just drift asleep… Dreaming of us here together… Forever.”

    The action was slow as Max stood to do as told. Maybe the fact that it barely took any convincing for her own wife to go along with the idea but she knew that it wasn’t like that. Max just understood her and what it meant. There was a soft sigh as she felt the increase in her IV while her head lulled to the side.

     “I love you Max… See you around.”

[somedaypast-thesunset]

i need to do some writing today.

here is what i know as a fact: i am undoubtedly more mature emotionally and in overall life than him. no matter what, i will always handle life easier than him because “my journey” “taught me” “how to be strong”.but its not strength. its like.. an armour coating. and i just kept painting a protective sealant around my soul everytime something happened so now when something happens thats pretty fucing bad, my reaction is much less than the average person. kind of like an ER trauma doctor - theyve seen so much. i have seen more than almost any other person my age. i know more. even though i didnt have the same experiences as them, i still know of life much more. i know the true reality of life as it is and not what is sold to you or influenced by a higher source. 

and life is absolute total complete shit. it’s totally completely terrible and if you are lucky - and ONLY if you are lucky, will you find your own success which will satisfy you just enough to make it through. 

i am not depressed solely because my father is dead. thats simple. that doent stop me from living my life. if he just died randomly - that sucks ass but you move on. its not his death. its his life. he worked 47 years to have his pensions stolen legally. like government approved pension theft. he worked so hard to die in poverty. he wasnt a homeless person. he never borrowed money from anyone. he had no debts. why in the FUCK did he get that? what kind of god, if there was a god, would reward your earthly services with fucking poverty. the government told him if you pay your taxes and be a good citizen you will get X amount for the rest of your days but no where did they say if you get married though and become seperated your wife will take your pensions. what the fuck is seperation if nothing changes? 

47 years to be crippled in a lazy boy watching wrestling. FORTY. SEVEN. YEARS. where in the FUCK was his reward? he didnt even get a loving family! he died ALONE. he gave everything he had in his life toe veryone else and he died ALONE starving in a hospital bed. 

so tell me now how you paying 1.50 for air at the pump is the sign of the world ending. tell me how them raising the gas prices before a holiday is the worst of capitalism. tell me how you working sooo hard for the past year has been just absolutely terrible and “gotten you nowhere” as you live in your mothers house for free. 

bitch you dont even know the worst of life. you dont even know what it is to do everything right and stil get nothing for it. he said to me, “you dont know, ive had to actually work -” .. “ive watched a dozen men in the exact same position as you get royally fucked much harder than you and have to keep going. how does this give me any incentive to go out and work as i watched men break their back for _nothing_? their lives are no better.”

i told him that my doctor believes i completely understand whats going on. that im not like delusional or creating scenarios in my head - i have encountered the true realities of life and human beings have extreme difficulties dealing with some of the worst parts of life; such as moving & public speaking & death. 

so i go back and forth. because im told im shit i believe im shit and infantalize myself; i must be so ignorant and so blinded not to see the “truth” and that my depression is a fog keeping me from seeing positive things. 

but then there are times like this where i realize i might actually be one of the few people around me who actually see things for how they are. his mother returned from her vacation and immediately she brought a cloud of darkness with her because she is the epitome of mass consumption and spoiledness. and its become disgusting the level in which she is consuming and spending money and i cant even pretend to be amused anymore. it really pisses me off. because i have such little money i am dictated as to how i should be using it and what i should be buying and yet she has enough money to stock her house with food that has been expired for two years and continue to buy more and be particular about bagged milk or eggs with omega 3 and its like you lived on an island which shouldve been closer to farm life and you somehow came out entitled and spoiled as fuck. my friend and i slept in her bed for four hours one night after drinking and she left her rings but we didnt know. his mother found them and fraked out that we slept in her bed because “you cant sleep in a bed someone else has slept in”.

and its like within this “concern” she had no bearng at all on the fact she was insulting me and my friend. he said, “theyre probably cleaner than i am” in response because it did sound like she was saying my friend and i were sooo dirty we somehow sullied her bed. like we’re below her and we fucked up her things. this is of course after she had moved my bag of laundry from inside the house to the garage. so its like one after another thing making me feel sooo second class and shitty and hes crying about 1.50 at the pump. his own mother is apart of the larger problem and continually makes me feel like shit. theres no reason for my laundry to be moved; at all. it was just ‘ugh get out of my house’ without saying it because people like her make passive aggressive moves while smiling sunshine out of their ass. 

the weekend was continually up ad down with him. when he returned he was so excited to see me. he was super affectionate and loving and outwardly praising me in front of his friends and it was really fucing nice and it lulled me into a false sense of security. but like in no way do i believe hes acting malicious. like he did this purposely to manipulate me. his actions were not done maliciously, but this is the result of them. i was lulled into false security because the next four days were very up and down and not great but still okay?

on thursday & friday he was very focused on the time i spent with a new friend. but he portrayed this like a “joke”. like he was “mocking” it or “making fun”. but it became like.. so often that it was not a joke. it became a VERY clear sign of insecurity that amounted on saturday to me saying i was “bored” and him becoming VERY insecure. he apologized that i was bored, he “joked” that i would disappear for a day and suck some other guys dick and lie about it for six months. and lke these are not jokes. theyre said as jokes, his tone is joking but this is not a joke. this is a projection of insecurity.

but the thing is it doesnt make sense. our “relationship” is “open”. for all intents & purposes, hes allowed to “be with other people”. will i also be with him? .... remains to be seen. maybe i will. i dont know. i cannot say if he is sooooo important and i am soooo progressed in my perspectives that i would say i cant be associated with him. i dont know yet. but this is an “allowable occurence” as deemed by him and “agreed” to by me. so this is open. but its becoming increasingly apparant that this is not open for me. none of my actions in any way can or should be considered “cheating”. not that any of my actions ould be described as cheating - ive gone for drives & walks with friends and drew pictures. i have not even physically touched another man in a year beyond a hug which has lasted probably maximum ten seconds long. but even if i had 2 minue long hugs which tured to make out sessions and sucked dick at the end - it shouldnt be cheating. there is no rule that says this is cheating. everything says this is okay. if HE can do it, then CERTAINLY i can also. 

he directly referrred to the fact that my new friend had gone to an art gallery in kitchener and wondered outloud if thats what he shouldve done but didnt think it wold be worth it. he was just focused on the fact this person existed in my life at all and that he would be seen as boring and uninteresting in comparison. i had never seen him so outwardly insecure and bothered by something like this in our relationship.

the next morning he woke up and reminded me that we had an open relationship and that he thought about these other girls and wanted this and this etc. it seemed obvious that he was saying this because he was upset by the insinuation i thought he was boring (which i never said, btw, i said i was “bored”. i specifically remember saying i was bored. period. not that he caused the boredom or was a boring person) and maybe was looking somewhere else. like he had built the delusion up so far he had to hurt me with “yeah well i can do this too” even though i wasnt. i told him this later on and he meekly said that wasnt why he had brought it up but it clearly was. later that night he said, “if you leave me you have to tell me so i can leave you first” which i felt succinctly described what happened - he felt like i was going to leave him so he pre-empted by reminding me he could also fill my space. 

i continually repeated that i wasnt going to leave him but it became so exaggerated that .. it wasnt that i didnt believe that i wasnt going to leave him but i didnt believe there was a relationship to leave. what would i leave? was it not him who wanted to leave? was it not him who wanted more? was it not him whos unsatisfied? why would you assume i would leave when its him whos unhappy? see, i want to have a life with him. i try to make an effort to have a life with him but im completely stuck. 

last night i helped him with this very dumb and futile task of taping large pieces of vinyl wrapping on a deck in the wind before a storm. i didnt have to but i did because i love him and knew it was a shitty task to have to do and next to impossible on your own. we werent able to do it and he was upset about it and his job and his life and within an hour was taking it out on me. he said that our relationship was the “easy way out” and that he could get instant gratification in his day by fucking and smoking weed. if he was alone more then he could have time to “think” and “be himself” and that i should respect when he says no or wants to be alone (he didnt say he wanted to be alone). he said hes run by anxiety and that in another time he wouldve just up and moved by now instead of talking about it.  

i felt really offended that our relationship had been degraded to instant gratification. it was the first time i really felt like a whore in the relationship and that my purpose was to fuck. i asked him what i could do when i was with him to encourage better choices beyond fucking and smoking weed. he told me there was nothing. so i also felt like i had no choice either but to be someone he fucks and smokes weed with and thats it. like i cant build a life with him because im just a fucktoy who smokes his weed. like sure, he wanted to express the dissatisfaction in our routine but he was no better than his mother in expressing it because he didnt care that he was insinuating i had no other use to him. 

he tried to be easy going after this conversation - i didnt respond to his crap but i did not feel good anymore. i made a legitimate effort to help him resolve his personal issues and he essentially shit on me. i wasnt condoning continuing the routine, i was encouraging a change and it was like no, we still have to do this but also give me time alone to have a seperate life.

and i live that already. i live this shitty duality of lives where i spend my days alone trying to put together a life i lead completely independent from him like he doesnt even exist and then have to pick it back up and act like its this most important thing of my life. there is no middle ground, its one extreme or the other while pretending tht this is a “relationship” and that we’re “in love”. but i think we just love each other. i dont think this is in love. maybe im in love, maybe because i understand “in love” more than him but i think he just loves me and cares about me. which is fine - its not even like i think he doesnt want to be with me. he does. but he is not really capable of being with me in the capacity that i need and im not needy. im not broken because this is not good enough for me and that im like wrong for wanting more. its natural and okay. 

he jokes that we are already married. that i will do womens work because he goes to work and i stay home. but there is no “home” in which to do this work in. he has not provided me anything beyond packs of smokes and weed and iced capps. like he supports me in the way the government supports me. just enough to still need more support but not fail completely. i thik he feels comfortable playing house and i’m sort of looking at him like are you for real? like the test drive is about to be over. 

he said he “felt like a prisoner” because he didnt want to go downstairs and make food and face his shitty mother. i told him i felt the same at my place with my roommate. but theres like.. no response. no empathy - like hey, we share the same shitty thing. or maybe even like a deeper understanding of who i am and the life i live without him. 

this morning i woke up and fel the same. he wanted to fuck and i didnt, i said no but he continued to pull down my pants. and this is not going into like some assault story because thats not it at all. yes,  i said no. and if i had pulled away and been like fuck no - it wouldve ended.  i wasnt trapped. i made a concious decision to let him do this but not even want it. and i dont think he really even cared; in many ways he can be pretty depraved and its likely the idea that i was doing it just to get it over with turned him on anyways. and i dont even judge these behaviors because the horrors and depravity and realities of life keep me interested and he is just honest about his depravity because people are ashamed of theirs. maybe i am too. not that i was turnd on by this; im not into guys fucking me when im not into it, but i coud probably participate in rape fantasies so maybe i can disconnect easier and take it for what it is. its never malicious. no one is uisng sex to make me feel this way except maybe myself. i took advantage of an oportunity to amke myself feel like shit for this brief moment. he came suprisingly fast. 

i think he knew i was upset though and i didnt want to have a conversation about his offenses at 630am. he started complaining about gas prices and air prices and i just took that as an opportunity to vent my projections and frustrations. like - fuck off. life is shit and you won the god damn lottery. your anxieties are insignificant and bullshit, you are ungrateful and self centered and lack empathy for others. like you feel “guilty” but you dont actually understand how THEY feel. like watching kids in africa and youre like omgz so sad *sends coffee money*. like, please. 

i tried to approach it from an empathetic point. we hae similar problems. we are both crippled by anxiety and finding a purpose / worth in life. we believe there are solutions “if we could just do this .. this would be better” and maybe we’re right. maybe. but the anxiety stops us. so i tried to help him with my own coping methods - he says he has too much anxiety to look at apartments. i told him to build it up, make it exciting, make it positive and follow through and then feel good about it even though it seems really stupid to have to put this much care and effort into a simple task. it still gets done, right?

he told me that doesnt work for him. i was like “oh”. i didnt know it was an option. when ive said this in the past he told me i wasnt trying hard enough, that i should do better. 

this morning i focused back on me. i hope im accepted for disability. i feel stuck. i want a break. i dont need to put in physical hours at someones business to deserve a fucking break in life. that does not determine my worth. and it shouldnt be this hard. it shouldnt. but society wants poor people dead. they do not care about mental health - and you’re right, no one cares about you. very few people will ever feel the momentous weight of no nest at all. 

so whatever, you know? you dont want to live with me? you dont want to spend time with me? then i just wish i had disability - not for the “quick fix” because nothing about it is quick. but for the opportunities it gives me because no one in the world can do anything without someone else. period. end of sentence. that is the true reality, that is what i absolutely know to be true in an experience which very few people have lived with and those who have would more than likely agree because most success stories are ones who have been elevated by someone or a system created by someones. i dont know a single one off hand that didnt have, “and then i met so and so and everything changed” or “and then i got this x opportunity through this person”. 

i dont want to be paid for in life. i dont want to be supported. i dont even want someone to ust completely pay for me out of their own pocket right now. thats terrible. i couldnt feel goood about it, no matter how “easy” it would be. i want to pay my share, support myself, my habits, my life by my own means. which is what i do now while putting in copious amount of  man hours into “womens work” to offset snacks and meals in what should be a “relationship”. 

i feel like this weekend was a good sign of why i need to work on accepting my independence as highest priority in life. i deserve a family but i wont have one right now because life is not fair as much as it is not fair for people who suffer in war and poverty in third world countries. life is no different - we all live in the same timeline & world & existence so this is not completely unheard of and people do survive terrible tragedies. life is just not fair and for as long as human beings existed as sentient beings, we have been creating unfair scenarios for the benefit of ourselves. thats life. thats what i can know and breathe as life. you can never be surprised or shocked by the actions of a human being - theyre just unpredictable and yet predictable at the same time because no matter what they will create unfairness in some capacity. and it took me soooooooo long to accept this knowledge at all. i wanted to believe that unfair things just happened. like some random force in the world makes unfair things happen and if you do enough right things then itll be smooth sailing glory days. but thats not it. life is not a series of check points. random organic beings evolved seperately like a colony of a million ants and althrough a million ants can make a whole workng system, within those millions are a million different minds. and they need the fucking colony because individually they are nothing but ants. theyre just things flying around on a big ball in a vast nothingness and everthing all a the ame time. and theyre terrified you know? theyre fucking terrified because you dont know why the fuc you came to be. youre just brething and shitting and eating and sleeping. what in the fuck is the purpose to all of this? and maybe theres no answer and youre just here on this fucking big blue ball flying in vast nothingness. but within the colony, its easier to eat and shit and sleep and not die or be threatened by imminent death. and you have a job, you have some task that keeps the gears rolling in this system that suddenly is more important than whats happening outside because this is easy and anything outside is hard and terrifying. 

but every being feels this. its not unique to one hero. its everyone. everyone evolved from nothing and inherited a really complex system that was supposed to make it easier to live and they hoped whoever birthed you prepared you appropriately for the system; if not, or if you’ve lost them, good luck. 

but at some point almost everyone, perhaps everyone, comes to a point, even in the comfort of their parents, where they question their purpose on this ball. why the fuck are we here, why am i in this system, how do i use it to benefit me if outside is unimaginable? how do i not hate myself for it?

and thats where we begin to create individualized coping strategies. maybe its leaning on your parents harder while you question existence, taking 9 yrs to graduate school, hitchhiking across the country, doing recreational drugs, finding “instant gratification” in other humans and eventually, hopefully, you find what works for you. and once you do, it will be hard to convince you otherwise because thats what makes you “happy”. you are at full “easy’ in life where all the basic needs have been covered and you havent degraded yourself for it - whether it be sucking dick or working long hours at a shitty job. 

so i find it hard to demonize anyone at all. even all the people who did me wrong. even all the shity actions described above - thats how they coped to find their personal “easy” because thats the very best you can get within this system because our agreed upon basic purpose in life is to make basic survival “easy”. perhaps our brains and mental capacities never considered what basic surivial truly entailed and maybe were not there yet. is it just breathing eating sleeping and shitting? of course, fucking is involved but thats a future survival of genetics and if you cant surviv until puberty, thats not even an issue. is it also tending to the care of emotional and mental development? 

i feel like society as a whole, human beings as a group, despite the individuals who might go against the majority, but as a group, in popular culture, emotions & mental status are not an issue until theyve created one. so we are purposefully ignoring what weve evolved to know to be a necessity in basic survival. yes, grandpa was ‘tough as nails’ but grandpa was not a fucking robot and perhaps learned good coping methods such as active hobbies, a friend to talk to or maybe grandpa drank a lot. humans are not weaker now, they were dumber before. they had no idea that mental illness existed, that some could be preventable or treated. they did not understand the brain as they did not understand space, the oceans - this is one of life’s greatest mysteries and since we dont understand it we imagine it to have a grand capacity but everything has its limitations. i dont understand the brain at all, i cant fathom the idea of why a person can continue to learn and adopt new things throughout life but never consider what is insde of themselves and capacity they have or why. they’re just full of pride that they managed to ‘achieve’ a perceived limitation. anyone can do anything. whether you have the tools or opportunities to do so is completely different. 

outside of genetic defects, everyone is made up of the same shit. no one is uniquely special or better. everyone, even ones with defects, needs to breathe eat shit and sleep. and thats where the unfairness comes in. for some people, in this system, their inheritance of privledges makes it way more opportunities to create “easy” things in their lives. why do they deserve this inheritance if we are all born as equals? no one as a baby did anything to deserve the opportunities or priviledges that set them up to inherit a better system. why did some babies get better opportunities thn others? 

the system is unfair but you cannot change the system when it still “works” for everone else. you cant change it. it’s so unfair, it’s so completely unfair. but no matter how fucking unfair it is you still need to eat. you still need to shit. you still need to sleep and breath clean air. and thats why you work. thats why you keep working. i try to imagine why others have chosen what they have. perhaps their parents brainwashed them into the system and they had other priviledges and they just blindly accept what they “know”. i question why people buy alot of things they do. i wonder why they put value of themselves, like it was worth doing literal work to earn the money to buy a tube of lipstick? how does that factor easy? but i guess life had become so easy that the anixieties about the color of their lips are higher priority than the comfort of their next shit. 

but THATS not the way it used to be. that would be the difference from grandpa to our modern world. and that frustrates me alot. i would thrive in a tiny home but at 27, and where im at now, thats like a dream i have for 20 mnues before entering real life again. its not going to happen. so how do i compromise right now? im walking wide eyed terrified alone on this big ball in vast nothingness, where do i find my “easy”? my inheritance was the same “strength” and stubbornness my parents had - no opportunity, no priviledge. i’ll survive, but it wont be pretty. 

if i get disability, i want to move. although i want to go to college, that’s a really big step in life that i think i can just hold as a goal. i would like to go to college before im 30. considering i am still interested in my original course and its something that is recession proof and doesnt really require “upgrading” any skills in the future - it’s a totally feasible and good goal. so i want to move. and i could probably move anywhere in ontario or the gta. i mean not even probably - i literally can. i can go anywhere. i have friends here. but i made them all in the past 2 years, without working. i guess i “worked” but it wasnt “work. i found a way to make that “easy”. 

i want to live a creative life. thats my pretty top priority in “easy independence”. i also want to accept that this is plan a b and c. theres no like, “well if this person comes along”. this is so desirable to me that it should take months of considderation to break down the intricacies of my own wants and desires and things i provided myself to decide to merge with someone. 

so im trying to do that. and it takes alot of thinking because this is life or death for me. this is happiness or failure. this is being stable and content or homeless poverty. im “afforded the luxury” of living somewhere “safe” that i can afford as i think about these things. where do i want to move? i want to have my own place. even if its like my friends with no kitchen, i want my own place that i dont have to worry about someone else in. my curret place feels like a hotel or dorm room.  i wan to feel comfortable spending time “alone” and actually be “alone”. id like to move closer to downtown because it was easier to walk around and had more ammenities. i consider also my doctor who woudve gotten me this opportunity and how important it might be to keep within travelling distance. but maybe its better to move? 

if i went to college, it would be in the same city he wants to move to, pretty much down the street 20 minutes away. thats the real insult to all of this. i could have a much easier time but hes decided to make both of our lives very difficult. do i want to move there if he does? or regardless? continue this expensive routine of having seperate places? or commute to college everyday, five days a week? its close to toronto, on the subway line - a total change from my life now. my life perhaps ever. 

i got the letter saying they got my application. it could take 90 business days to decide, which means i might not hear anything until november, maybe even december. which sucks pretty bad. but having even the glimmer of hope makes things “easier” for the time being. i still have this time to fill. and even if idid go to college next year, i have atleast a year before it starts. what do i do with the rest of 2017? he wants me to take a class. he told me also to start getting my liscence. i need a new phone to really kick off my new business idea and my desire to do anythng art related right ow is super low. i hate my environment. its cold and dark and damp and loud. i dont want to make anything, not even jewelry. 

i was paid five days ago but ive done nothing but buy weed and smokes. i havent bought any groceries yet. truthfully i havent showered since sunday (maybe saturday) and i wasnt even home until this morning. i mostly want to sleep. ive smoked so much weed, im not even really getting high anymore. spend some time with my cats who i had really started missing. im expected to open the arts colletive back up and announce upcoming plans but im still trying to care. just, at all. i fell off the radar and dedicated too much time to him and im sad that i cant even be anxious to seehim because even thats pointless now. 

[datingadviceonreddit]

Hi all,I'm going to try and be as detailed as possible so please try and bare with me as I'm hurting right now and I'm just looking to vent and receive some advice..So I met this female in 2012, she was at the same night club I was at was at with her now ex boyfriend. Over the course of the next 5 years I saw her at numerous concerts and events and we would always talk even though she had a boyfriend at the time. Over time we stopped talking and I just moved on with my life but always had thoughts of us being together due to how natural the communication was and how we had so much in common. I really felt like she was the one as I've never met a female that was so easy to talk to and never had a boring coversation with.Fast forward to 2014 we went out on her first date to a local art gallery, I picked her up, we talked, had a great time but after she told me she wasn't ready to date so soon, but would like to have sex with me instead. Weird right? Now I'm not the type of guy to do hookups, I'm looking for love and to be loved. I've only had one long term relationship in my life for 3 years in which I got cheated on and never spoke to my ex again.I stopped talking to her because she wasn't mature and told me she didn't want a boyfriend at that time and being her friend was just too hard. So I moved on with my life.Lets now get into the the present, its now May 9th and she randomly pops up in the people I should follow feature on Instagram. I figured what the heck I'll give it one more shot and see if anything comes to it (Yes, I really wanted this) So I sent her a iceberg DM and she responds and we talk and talk. She sends me her new number and we talk up until last Friday.Since May 9th, I've done the following: we've gone out on 5 days. I took her to two new museums that opened up, took her to her favorite place (the beach) while we were drinking beer on a balcony so you can see the ocean and such, went to a very romantic dinner on the water, dinner at a fancy steakhouse, took her to my favorite seafood spot, visited a local bar/venue where we met on numerous occasion, went bowling, went back to my house where we cuddled and she had sex with me (in which after I asked if she wanted to be my girlfriend and she said yes), I bought her sunflowers (favorite flower) because it was that time of the month, bought her a new vape pen because hers broke, teavana tea and surprised her on our last date with Disney tickets (she said she wanted to visit Pandora) and I wanted to make it happen to show how much I cared about her. These were all things that were centered around her and what her interests are or things that reminded me of why I fell for her in 2012.I should mention she came over my house after spending a whole day together and we made out in my bed, had sex, and I asked her to be my girlfriend in which she replied yes. The only reason i had sex with her is because she was basically my girlfriend and we were talking non stop practically a couple saying I love you and missing each other non stopShe is the one that said I love you first, said I was her best friend, and that she was never going to leave me. That I was the greatest thing to ever happen to her. Everything has been amazing and it's all left me real puzzled. I was supposed to meet her parents last Friday, I asked my ex what her parents were interested in and I bought them gifts to give off a great impression and even told her that I would pay for everyones meal as I wanted to be a gentleman.She texts me an hour before I was supposed to leave and goes " Hey, do you remember when you ended it with your ex and you had all the time to move on and vent and clear your mind and thoughts and get to know all your ins and outs? Before I came in? Like prior to dating around?I need that. I thought I could do all this but I can't give my 100% and it hurts me SO much because I keep forcing myself to be all in. At first I thought It was just me afraid of something new, of someone new. But I realize it's deeper grounded issues. You're such an incredible man and I appreciate you so much and I'm sure you'll give me the world. But I need to love myself. I need to learn how to be alone. I'm so sorry I can't do this. My gut is killing me. It's too much to soon for someone as broken as me."I was a bit angry after she told me all that and I don't remember what I said to be honest. but she told me I was disrespectful with my response. I wanted to see her to speak face to face as texting was getting nowhere and she was getting ready to go on vacation with her parents like she does every year. She asks me do I love her? I said yes, she goes if you love give me the time to think about this. So I said ok I'll back off and let her take her vacation and miss me.Now for today! She's been on vacation since Saturday. A few weeks ago after our first date she went to a country concert with a few friends one of them was a guy she's claimed to know for a long time that is good friends with the family and the other was a couple she knows. The guy lives about 4 hours from us and he went to the show which I thought was kinda strange but I said whatever, she posted a few pics of them together and I figured that they were just close friends. Since the concert we went out on 4 dates all were amazing. She told me he is nothing more than a friend. The past few days we have done no contact but I still see her viewing my snaps but no texting or anything. Today I am looking at stories people have been posting and she has a picture of guess who? the guy from the concert.. The guy drove over 5 hours to go on vacation as a friend? I'm sorry I'm not believing this as just a friendship? I called her out on it and it turned into an argument and her more pissed off.I've since texted her the following:"I just want to apologize for the way I've behaved, I shouldn't of spoken to you that way. I was upset, I really do care for you and I wanted you to be my girl. Forever and always, I know you need to take this journey but I'll always be here. I appreciate everything that you have done for me and I'll cherish the memories that we've made. I miss you, If you ever want to talk. You know where to find me"Coincidentally the guy put he was in a relationship on Facebook 40 mins after I did. Am I just assuming or could she of actually left me and got with this asshole and completely lied and betrayed me. Like was everything she said a complete lie? Was the I love you's not genuine? I'm hurting and I don't know whether or not I'm over thinking it all but I think its all to coincidental.Thank you for anyone that reads this as It's been hard to write all this but I need to vent and see if anyone else has been through all this. via /r/dating_advice

[christinaengela]

Hello friends and fans!

Welcome to my 5th newsletter: May 2017!

Coming up in this edition of Another Round @ The Crow Bar, some regular updates, “Trumpocalypse“, a look at my latest release “Panic! Horror In Space #1” and a monthly spotlight on one of my books, this time “Demonspawn“, the much maligned second title in the Galaxii Series! I say ‘maligned’ because in the past few months I have had some drama with trolls on social media who (while clearly never having read the book) have been attacking me and labeling me using some pretty spurious labels, among others that I am ‘recruiting’ people into the ‘gay lifestyle’ and even that my books turn people transgender – and (according to some ‘experts’ in Texas and South Africa – self-styled of course) that this book in particular encourages devil worship! As I said, it is pretty clear from their comments that they have never read this book, since the title “Demonspawn” refers to the nemesis of the characters in the story – which is a sci-fi horror tale, and which has ZERO to do with anything occult! That rather strange episode aside, let’s look at the news for April-May 2017!

New Releases

There were no more new releases during April 2017, but my latest two titles “Panic! Horror In Space #1” and “Prodigal Sun” are still on my “Just Released” list on the Shop page of my website.

The first episode in my new sci-fi horror series called “Panic! Horror In Space” was released on Thursday 6 April! This ongoing series will tell the tale of the starship Mercury, which is perhaps the unluckiest Terran starship in history!

“Panic! Horror In Space #1” is already distributed via various channels in paperback and ebook formats. The funny thing is, I only started working on this story at the beginning of 2017, and I’m already well into the draft of the sequel “Panic! Horror In Space #2”, so stay tuned for news on that title. “Panic! Horror In Space” is a series of science-fiction-horror stories in the same setting featuring some of the same characters. The concept was to create a horror-scifi story in a series of short fiction installments.

While on an otherwise routine deep-space mission to chart new territory on the frontier of unknown space, the Pioneer Fleet starship Mercury is probably the unluckiest ship in history. Not once, not twice, but many times over, the same hapless crew – give or take a few dozen casualties – on a supposed voyage of deep space exploration, stumble into the weird, wake the creepy and trip over the downright terrifying and possibly even supernatural…

“Mercury Rising” and “Mercury Resurgent” appear in the first installment (#1), where the reader is introduced to main characters Stuart Flane and Vic Chapman, and some of the crew of the ill-fated starship Mercury. More stories are to follow in subsequent installments (#2 is due to be released by end 2017 or during 2018). But knowing me, it could be sooner. Or later. I’ll let you know.

Still under new releases, “Prodigal Sun” book 5 in The Quantum Series was released in early March and is available on  Lulu, Amazon, Goodreads, Kobo (prices in ZAR  ), Lybrary, iTunes, Nook, eBookMall and Indigo – and in fact everywhere you can find all my books!

Prices are very reasonable,  especially for ebook versions, and even if you live in good old “Souf Efrika” and pay in good old “Ronts”! Even while it has been relegated to ‘junk status’, the prices are still affordable, especially the ebooks!

“High Steaks“, the next book (number 6) in the series, is due to be released in June 2017. In the meantime, if you want to know more about the story being told in “Prodigal Sun“, you can find more info here: NEW RELEASE: “Prodigal Sun” and What Readers Can Expect In “Prodigal Sun”, “High Steaks” & “The Last Hurrah”.

For those of you who are following this series and who enjoy the characters and this particular story line, there may be a surprise coming! This may involve the addition of an extra title between “High Steaks” and “The Last Hurrah“… but don’t quote me on that just yet 😉 This extra title might be called something like “Fortitude”, but don’t pass that around yet either. Sssh it’s a secret! 😉

The Galaxii Series

#gallery-0-19 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-19 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 33%; } #gallery-0-19 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-19 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Print copies of all three Galaxii titles already published are now available alongside the ebook versions on various distribution platforms. Previously print copies were only available through Lulu.

The Quantum Series

#gallery-0-20 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-20 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 20%; } #gallery-0-20 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-20 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Print copies of all five Quantum titles already published are now available alongside the Kindle versions on various distribution platforms. Previously print copies were only available through Lulu.

Panic! Horror In Space

#gallery-0-21 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-21 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 20%; } #gallery-0-21 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-21 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

Print copies of the first title already published are now available alongside the ebook version on various distribution platforms. Previously print copies were only available through Lulu.

As of the 1st of May I completed the first story for the second volume of Panic!, “Dead Center“, and have already started on the next story for the same volume, “Through A Dark Glassy“. I’m really enjoying this new series, and I must say as a fan of paranormal investigator TV shows, I especially enjoyed writing “Dead Center”!

Short Fiction

Progress on other short fiction, especially the shorts due for “Space Really Sucks!” is still ongoing. I can’t say I’m not disappointed that “Code Red” received a rejection letter for an anthology I subbed it to last week – that kind of thing still happens even if you are a published writer. I guess it just wasn’t funny enough for the editor! It’s simply not possible to cater to everybody’s tastes, and after all, editors are still only human… well, most of them are anyway!

Poetry

The poem I submitted to “Trumpocalypse” (Horrified Press), “State Capture“, has already received some very welcome free publicity from several notable sources, including President Tweety his self!

Another more notable media personality, Sean Hannity, appears to have picked up on this too! 😉

You can also find the ebook version here.

Non-Fiction

Nothing to report in this section this time!

Collaborations

Nothing to report in this section this time!

Translations

Nothing new to report in this section for now. Several translations into Afrikaans are currently available for free on the shop site’s Afrikaans page.

Editing

Both “Vampyre Bytes – voices from the South African Vampyre Community”, which I have edited for LightBearer Publishing, and “Embracing Justice” (Riot Pink) appear to have stalled on account of slow submissions and are still open. Please mail me your entries/submissions at christinaengela@gmail.com .

Competitions

There are no competitions currently running.

On A Personal Note

My fiancee’ and PA Wendy K. Gloss, who also handles the majority of my marketing through DarkLady Marketing, has been a tremendous inspiration and help to me!

On the side however, sometimes I manage to do something right on my own (haha). This last month saw the opening of my Facebook shop function on my Page, where I am now able to advertise each individual title as ebook or paperback with a purchase link to Lulu.

Fan Mail & Honorable Mentions

Noticed in the past month by my long-suffering PA Wendy K. Gloss, were the following honorable mentions:

Wikia seems to have a page listing my bibliography, which is missing one or two of the latest items and has a few minor inaccuracies. Nice work though!

My good friend Alex S. Johnson named a starship in his story “Planet of the Volcano Spiders” after me – the U.S.S. Engela!

Hate Mail

April was an active month! It seems a certain hysterical hate church in the USA’s “bible belt” thinks I am turning people into “demon possessed homosexualist transgender freaks“, at least according to the photos I was sent by a facebook friend, which seem to show pages from a church newsletter from February. I think I’ll print them out and frame them!

Also, due to a post I made on Facebook about a South African homophobic hate preacher, I’ve endured about two weeks of trolling from literally a few hundred of his fans and supporters – some of whom were thoughtful enough to send me threatening emails.  The ironic thing is, I never once mentioned the religion of the ‘preacher’ in my post, but simply pointed out the gullibility of so many swarming to one of his gatherings to be encouraged to treat women and LGBT people like lesser beings – and paying for the privilege. This resulted in flocks of ‘Buchanites’ descending on my post in droves! Aside from the swearing and threatening (and positively creepy) “I’ll pray for you“‘s, several calls were made to encourage people to not buy or read my books, with one even calling for a book burning! By all means, if you feel the need to burn my books to prove to yourself what a solid supporter of that preacher you are, go right ahead! 😉

Having been a human rights activist for quite a while, I’m used to pissing people off occasionally, but as long as it’s the right (or right wing) people that get pissed off, that’s fine by me. After all, as a friend of mine once advised me, “it is far better to be pissed off than to be pissed on” and these are words I live by! Many disproportionately angry Angus Buchan groupies made concerted personal attacks thinking – well, who knows what actually goes on in some people’s heads? But I think the intent was to hurt my widdle fee fee’s or something! 😛 A barrage of “fuck you“‘s and “stupid bitch“‘s from a horde of trolls attacking me for daring to criticize a local South African hate-preacher on facebook while simultaneously claiming to be “Christians” and therefore “better” than I, only proved me right in the first place, while being highly amusing to me in the second! The one true Levitican who said he wishes for my fiancee’ and I to be attacked and brutally raped to “teach us a lesson” reminded me exactly of why I became an activist in the first place. One even alleged – much to my amusement, that “Christina Engela probably doesn’t even exist ! This is how Satan works !” Well there you have it, folks – mystery solved! 😛

Others left me a whole plethora of comments and private messages containing the usual unimaginative transphobic comments about my gender and being in a relationship with another woman intended to hurt – but which were no more than impotent hot air to put it best.

Coinciding almost exactly with the above tea-cup-sized storm, it seems my old Capetonian ‘fan’ Becca made and distributed another meme-type poster warning people that my children’s book about bullying is ‘child abuse’ because it ‘teaches kids it is okay to be deviant and gay and to stop trying to help other kids to not become gay & compares helping kids to not adopt the sinful lifestyle to ‘bullyiing’!!!” At least it looks a lot like her previous attempt. This time round there were fewer grammatical errors, although just as many exclamation marks!

Thanks for the free publicity, folks! Please keep it up! 🙂

Reviews & Interviews

Nothing new during this past month! If you would like to do an interview with me about my works, please do get in touch!

New Videos

No new videos for this month.

New Listings

All my books now seem to be listed just about everywhere – except for the ones I haven’t published yet! As of this month, new listings include Foyles Bookshop chain (UK), Book Depository and 24 Symbols, who now also stock my books.

Monthly Book Spotlight [Spoiler Alert]: Galaxii Series 02 – “DEMONSPAWN”

The second title in the Galaxii Series, “Demonspawn” centers on a star ship crew in a seemingly hopeless situation. Adrift and stranded in deep space with no hope of rescue, the I.S.S. Mordrake has six month’s worth of food on board, but less than two weeks of air, and things look pretty grim. Morale, although low before the incident that resulted in their present predicament, is at an all-time low.

The I.S.S. Mordrake

The ship is not the only thing breaking down however, and pretty soon Commander Joe Lofflin – who has perpetually faced a degree of scorn from his crew because of his sexual orientation and faces a daily struggle to control his romantic attraction to a junior crewman almost half his age – takes on the roll of acting-Captain after the untimely death of Captain Blaine, and must deal with solving a murder on top of everything else! As if there is not enough on his plate already, just as things are looking hopeless beyond the pale, something dark and mysterious drifts into their path! An ancient derelict ship of alien origins presents an all-too convenient and timely solution to their problem, offering the desperate castaways the spare parts they need to repair their ship.

The alien derelict ship that ‘just coincidentally’ drifts into the path of the stranded and desperate Terran starship Mordrake.

In the midst of conducting an investigation into the murder of Captain Blaine, in an atmosphere where nobody is above suspicion and each senior officer has reason to suspect every other senior officer, the survivors of the Mordrake actually do find usable parts on board the derelict. In a difficult to reach part of the long dead alien ship – with the only way in or out littered with the dry and dusty remains of the long-dead alien crew – lies the answer to their problem. And much more than they expected. Just when things start to look hopeful again, one by one, the salvage team members begin to experience mysterious accidents… Gradually, it becomes apparent that ‘accident’ is not even remotely accurate.

In order for them all to survive, the crew of the Mordrake must work together – even though any one of them could be the cold-blooded killer who murdered the Mordrake’s Captain. The parts required to repair their own vessel must be retrieved by any means necessary – no matter what it was on board the derelict ship that seemed to want to keep them there!

This is a story of survival and the fight to survive. It’s also a tale that encourages people to look at life in perspective. The challenge of coming out or admitting to a love-interest that there is an attraction is compared to the challenge of surviving combat and facing the unknown, alone in the dark.

Replete with dark, deserted and spooky corridors, a few ghosts, aliens and robotics, a horror stalking its victims in the dark, lasers, explosions, dead bodies and a murder mystery thrown in, “Demonspawn” pretty much has it all!

In Closing

I’m curious to see how things have progressed sales-wise in the past month! During April I took out two paid FB ad campaigns which got a lot of hits, so hold thumbs for luck!  In the meantime, keep your chins up and keep on keeping on! Thanks again for all your support, friendship and interaction! Until next time,

Cheers! 🙂

If you would like to know more about Christina Engela and her writing, please feel free to browse her website. If you want to know what Christina Engela’s focus group or target market is, please read here. If you would like to read more about Christina’s life and experiences, please go to her Biography and the article “Timeline of Milestones, Awards & Achievements“. To leave her a message, please use the Contact form. Visit her Shop. ‘Add’ Christina Engela on Facebook (Profile). ‘Like’ Christina Engela on Facebook (Page). All material copyright © Christina Engela, 2017.

Another Round @ The Crow Bar #5 – May 2017 Hello friends and fans! Welcome to my 5th newsletter: May 2017! Coming up in this edition of Another Round @ The Crow Bar, some regular updates, "

[louisewahlander]

Journal 1998

OCTOBER 5 1998 – Farnham England Everyone has moved in to the house now. Ground floor: Charlotte, Rob, and Henry. First floor: Me, Abi, Pauliina, Ella and Emma…and Second floor is the kitchen. My room is awful, white painted brick walls, and it has the shape of…well, i dunno, it has no shape and yet it has a million and one shapes, i think i have 7 corners and none is in a 90 degree angle. Atleast i got the biggest room in the house, but then again, i have to pay most rent. I love the address though, Castle Field. We are right behind Farnham Castle and we can see it from our kitchen tower-window. Pauliina is nice, she’s finish so i guess we have more in common than i have with the rest in the house. They are actually a bunch of snobs! So obnoxious and loud and GIRLY…they are! I cannot believe how they can behave like this just because of a jumper or a pair of shoes: "They’re sooooo gooorgeous!!" And they giggle and jump up and down. OCTOBER 17 1998 – Farnham England Welcome to the house of fun… Aaah, how i love my house mates, they’re so…so, loud, and they never pick up their junk after themselves, and they never go to bed, they throw parties til 5am and don’t care about the ones who want to sleep, they yell and shout, and scream and uuuuuuugh! How can anyone be like them? All they care about is their hair and make up, clothes and shoes… And have any of them been into college yet? I doubt it cuz they are always shopping or just hanging in the kitchen with Henrys one and a million friends! Everytime you go out of your room there’s a new face in the hallway or kitchen, and they say Hi! I’m a friend of Henry’s…Oh yeah, kinda guessed you were! Oh and Char is sooo skinny i’ve never seen anything skinnier and yet she complains she’s so fat and all she eats is Kellogs Branflakes, and at the most a slice of toast with nothing on it… OCTOBER 18 1998 – Farnham England I hate Sundays in Farnham! They’re so ghost like. Everything is so quiet… And today Pauliina is in London. It’s only me and Gabrielle left. We went for the longest walk, it wasn’t meant to be that long… First we walked around town for an hour taking pictures for this stupid module i don’t understand, and neither does Gabi. She even asked Robin what the hell it’s about and he looked at her with those evil eyes saying You don’t know? Read the module book… She said I have, and then he looked totally annoyed and started to explain it. The thing is, the module book says one thing, Robin another, and John says another thing, and i refuse to ask Martin for he’ll probably say something totally different from everyone else… From what i understand we’re supposed to represent Farnham, while challangeing the rural myth and…yuck! Anyway, we were out taking pictures of Farnham, but both me and Gabrielle ended up taking pictures of trash near the shut down theatre. Then we went on to the cemetery, and there Gabrielle suggested that we should go up to the fields behind the art colege. Sure! We started walking and she said Let’s go up here, i know this is the way, this must be the right way… Ha ha ha, right… Eventually she found the right way and we walked out into the open fields… Beautiful, until Gabi started talking about her phobias with open fields. Saying: What if an axe murderer comes along or a wierdo who starts to follow you, where do one hide??? And she says i’m having wierd thoughts sometimes! I think we were out walking for 3 hours. OCTOBER 23 1998 – Farnham England Just came back from the union. It’s Emma’s birthday and she invited everyone in the house to come down to the SU for drinks. Sure she asked me to come along, and she asked Pauliina too…but when we came to the union they totally ignored us and said nothing to us except for: You allright? Like fifty times in a row. They took pictures and excluded me and Pauliina from everyone of them. Me and Pauliina had the advantage to slag them right infront of them…in swedish! Ha ha! Emma had on this skirt that was so short you didn’t need to look up it to see her knickers and Abi had on this top which showed most of her boobs, they were nearly falling out. There’s nothing wrong to show off your boobs if you have a nice pair but, you don’t have to think they’re the biggest and best looking pair in the world, and you don’t have to look down on them every five minutes to admire them, and you don’t shake them and then giggle because they move… They’re a bunch of tarts! Ella and Char are snobby too, but they are a lot better than Abi and Emma… Anyway, i left the union after a while, and by then Rob had left too, cuz they ignored him aswell, but they always do. They say he's’wierd and what not. But he's’a sweet guy, he's’only 17 and so what if he likes to keep to himself? OCTOBER 24 1998 – Farnham England Ha ha ha… Last night Charlotte lost her keys at the union, so she couldn’t get in. Henry did let her in to the house, but then she couldn’t get into her room, so she had to sleep on the kitchen floor. How hilarious! The thing is, she lost her keys, never asked anyone if they’d seen them, called the porters lodge and had them come and change the lock (the front door one, so we all got new keys, and the door to her room) and she had to pay £86 for it! Then ofcourse as soon as the locksmith was gone some guy showed up and said he had Char’s keys… She had given them to him at the union! So she payed £86 for nothing really!! Ha ha ha! I’m not an evil person, but i think she got what she deserved, for if you drink yourself stupid each night like she (and the other girls in this house) does… They all need to realise that they can’t go on like this, they dress like tarts and they are pissed stupid every night, they can hardly walk. Maybe i feel like this cuz i’m older than all of them, i dunno. But it’s not like i don’t drink, for i do, but i don’t drink so much that i pass out from it. And they should be careful, there’s been 3 rapes in Farnham the past month, and they’ve all been done with the help of the "rape drug"… OCTOBER 25 1998 – Farnham England There was a big fire in the house next to ours, joint with ours tonight! Me and Pauliina were down in the laundry when the alarm went off. First we didn’t care, thought it’s just another one of them false alarms. I mean, there’s been atleast 2-3 alarms each week since we got here, and they’ve all been false, the fire trucks has been here and all, but there’s been no fires! But in the end we did walk out of the laundry room and some girl came yelling at us to go to the fire assembly point, so we started walking up Castle Field when we saw smoke coming out of our house! Both of us panicked, and both said at the same time: My cameras!! Then we saw that it wasn’t our house but the one next door, so that felt abit better! But still, that house is joint with ours… The fire trucks came and they had smoke divers and everything! Scary! Apparantly a chip pan got over heated and exploded. And now they have no kitchen…it’s all burnt up…and our back yard is full of junk…the cooker, a melted kettle, a toaster, pots and pans… I can’t wait for tomorrow to take pictures of it all. One thing is for sure, i am never gonna ignore a fire alarm from now on. NOVEMBER 6 1998 – Farnham England I got the tickets to fly to Belfast today! £79 it cost for a return ticket, plus i need to get to Heathrow and back too…taxi? It’s £35 to go to Heathrow by taxi…expensive! I leave on the 12 th and stays until the 15 th. I’m really looking forward to this trip, i need a break! I did go to London 2 days ago, and it was fun. Me and Patricia went to photo galleries and the V&A. Had a delicious lunch at Govindas in SoHo. Then we did some shopping, but i didn’t buy much as i am going to Belfast!!! We had revies three days ago, and they went well, i got a good mark, and they loved my workbook! OH! And i finally got my tuition award. I was down at the registry asking if they’d heard anything from the Surrey County Council and they said no, and then this guy phoned them up and fixed it all and now i got a £1000 tuition grant which will cover my whole tuition for this year!! Yay! I called Emma and asked if i could stay there for the weekend i’m in Belfast and she said yes. They’re all looking forward to seeing me. When i called one of Emma’s daughters picked up the phone and i almost didn’t finish the Hi when she screamed Ooooh! Is it Louise? How you doing? Bla bla bla… It was great, then she asked, When are you coming over to see us, we haven’t seen you in a while, we missed you the last time you were over… And i told her i was coming over in a few days… And she said she’d have to tell Emma-Jane and Vicky… It was great, i’m so glad that they concider me a part of their family. Emma said she might not be home when i arrive but she said You got the key, let yourself in and make yourself at home, your room is there and you know where to find everything! NOVEMBER 13 1998 – Anditown Belfast I’m so happy i am here again! I love this place. The flight over went well and i sat next to some guys and one called me, what was it, not lady…madame or something and i nearly died, hey i’m only 22, and the guy couldn’t be younger than 20… i took the bus from the airport into the city centre and then i walked to Belfast Exposed and Sean gave me coffee in Gerrys mug that said "Horny little devil" ha ha, which i needed for it rained and rained! And they have made Belfast Exposed so beautiful now, they now have the place where the chippie used to be on King Street, and that’s where you enter the place, and it’s so nice, and there’s stairs up to the old premises. And everything was cleaned out and organised for once, and they have a brand new darkroom which i’m in love with! It’s great. And they let me print some pictures for free, those negatives from 96, when Sean took pictures of us at Kellys the night before me and Liz moved back to Sweden. They turned out great. Mark had sent me some of them, but there were so many other pictures i had not seen. It’s sad though cuz Kathy is no longer with the Belfast Exposed, there’s some new girl there instead. After that i went to Anditown and met Emma and one of her daughters, i can never remember her name, she’s got too many kids and grandkids… I do know Moira for she’s in Dublin and she’s the one who gave us a lift down there once…but the others i have no idea who they are, i just know them by faces… Then some lady i swear i have never seen came up to me hugged me and kissed me and said How wonderful to see you again, how are you dear? I don’t know who she was! (i still don’t, and it’s now March 11 99) And Emma’s friend the evil lady was there too, but she has altzheimers now so all she did was sit on a chair and sleep. She always used to stare at me and Liz and mumble words we couldn’t make out what they were… I have been to two exhibitions, Yoko Ono "have you seen the horizon lately" which was crap, she takes credit for alot of things that John Lennon made when he was alive, and that’s not right! Then i saw David Byrne’s "Strange ritual and Sleepless nights" which was amazing! I loved that one! I could’ve stayed looking at that forever. There was a Byrne book in the gallery shop but it was £40 so i couldn’t buy it for i had spent so much money shopping allready! Oh, i wanna see more of Byrne’s photography!! Ofcourse i missed the Clive Barker book signing! I was going to go there, but i was in my room and looked at the time, and realized that it had started 10 minutes ago, so i didn’t bother to try to get there… Oh i don’t wanna leave… NOVEMBER 20 1998 – Farnham England Me Charlotte and Emma cleaned our kitchen today…scrubbed it with bleach! It was so yucky! Emma cleaned out the fridge and gave out a loud scream of horror as she tossed a bag of chips on the floor… Me and Char had a look in it, and i swear, another day and those green furry chips would’ve walked away on their own. Why keep chips in the fridge, for weeks! It’s Henry’s chips and when he gets back he’s gonna hear about it! Atleast now the whole kitchen is clean. But for how long? Char came up with the idea of writing huge notes: Do your fucking dishes, NOW! Stuff like that, and we did put some up. The people in this house needs to take responsibility. It’s always me or Emma or Char who cleans up after everyone else! And when you have to use bleach all over it’s really bad! The kitchen is clean, but it has a yucky smell of Sainsburys white bleach instead!