#writing is such fucking elitist bullshit and I hate how it makes me feel stupid a lot and I hate even more that I have to now write texts i

[bowithoutadaemon]

I HAVE A FESTIVAL TICKET!!!

So hopefully now my brain is gonna let me work on my uni shit.

Also today I realized I work waaaaaay better in the student committee room than at home. So far I had tried working on papers in cafes, the uni library and the library near my home. But I think the fact that completely random people can walk by is adding some sort of pressure of "looking like a neurotypical, normal human". But with all the peeps in the student committee I have zero problems with being a little weird.

[hellspawndoodles]

I’m mad. I have been mad for...I wanna say like eleven, maybe 12 years? Doesn’t matter.

Anyway, the thing I’m mad about is the entire ‘Advice for Tween and Teen Girls’ genre because of the stupid bullshit ‘clique bad’ moral that they so often peddle. It is garbage and I hate it and it feels like the writers of this nonsense either never were teenagers or were like homeschooled or something. Rant proper under the cut because I doubt anyone wants to read my tired ass yelling about something immaterial.

OKAY still here? Good.

There’s a lot to unpack with ‘clique bad’ morals and frankly I kind of want to throw away the whole suitcase but I want to scream into the void rn soooooo

1. Words Mean Things and y’all don’t fucking know how people work apparently

So the definition of a clique, according to good ol’ Oxford Languages, is as follows:

“A small group of people, with shared interests or other features in common, who spend time together and do not readily allow others to join them.”

So, a friend group. Literally every fucking high school friend group ever is like this. The popular kids, obviously. But also like, any group that met through an extracurricular, or people that’ve been friends for ages, or the weird kids that sit in the library before and after class and talk about Pokemon and anime and shit, aka the kind of friend group I was in. Literally everyone who went to school and had friends was in a clique. I was in a clique and you were in a clique and I guaran-fucking-tee you that folks like Trevor Romain or whoever writes for American Girl were in a clique because I’m not going to accuse anyone of not having any friends.

And like, not jumping at the opportunity to add someone to the group isn’t inherently a bad thing. It’s kind of a dick move to exclude someone just because ‘fuck this guy in particular’ but if you don’t click with someone you don’t click with them, simple as. You’re not obligated to try and make it work bc inclusivity or whatever. There were loads of people I didn’t want joining the group I was in, mostly the sporty types because, let’s be honest, we had damn near nothing in common, so wtf was I supposed to talk to them about? Yes, High School Me was an elitist fuck who didn’t like anyone who wasn’t my idea of an intellectual, but even if I hadn’t been, it wouldn’t have mattered, because I’d still have nothing to bond with these girls over.

Of course, that’s not what’s usually meant by ‘clique’, because every goddamn time, the image we get is of the popular kids, but if that’s what they mean, there’s still an issue there, that being that

2. Popular ≠ Bad Person

There’s this image of the kids who are popular in middle/high school as like, catty jackasses who aren’t really your friends and will treat you like garbage, which is uuuuuuuuuuhhhh

usually kind of divorced from reality.

Throughout my middle/high school experience, I’ve only encountered one IRL Regina George. I know some people have, my mom was familiar with those types, but here’s the thing about these kinds of people-usually, no one actually likes them. Maybe some people envy them bc money or looks or whatever, maybe they have a few suck-ups, but half the time people just think they’re assholes. The actual popular kids I knew? Were popular because they had a lot of genuine friends and legitimately good qualities. One of the popular girls I knew was popular because she was really friendly and smart and a good artist. And I know she was popular because she was on the student council every goddamn year and we all know that’s just a popularity contest. Most of the others just made a bunch of friends through sports or were generally really outgoing and nice. And maybe my high school was an outlier. Maybe it’s actually like Mean Girls at some schools, but from what I’ve heard from the people I know, those instances are rare.

I feel like some people just look at someone who has something they want and just decide that not only are the people who have that thing intrinsically bad, but the thing in question isn’t even that great anyway. And sometimes that’s true, sometimes it’s not. 

I think the thing that makes me mad is that this all stems from people not using words right (because I am, in the immortal words of Dr. Hastie Lanyon when describing Henry Jekyll, a hide-bound pedant) and making blanket statements, both of which piss me off royally.

I’ll uh

I’ll shut up now.

[obxlife]

Comfort (JJ x Kie)

A/N: This is my first fic that isn’t x Reader so I’m nervous about this. Hopefully, I did good lol. Anyway, I wanted to let you guys know that I have two weeks of classes left and then I’ll be able to open my requests again, I think. It depends on what I’m going to be doing during my vacation and what I’ll be working on.

Pairing: JJ x Kie

Word Count: 6,436

Request: Hi! Could you write an imagine where Kie is in an abusive relationship with a kook? (more details in chat lol)

Summary: Kie is in a relationship with a Kook because of her parents. And JJ and the rest of the boys hate it. They especially hate it when she begins to show signs of abuse, which JJ is quick to recognize. After Kie’s pain goes on for months, JJ and the rest of the Pogues step in, wanting to comfort her and help her. But Kie seems to especially find comfort in a particular blond.

Warnings: ABUSE (I’ll put a warning before it), swearing, a bit of underage drinking and weed. Also, this is told from Kie’s point of view, so it is in first person. 

COMFORT

I was stuck between a rock and a sword, and its gleaming tip was scaring the hell out of me. Obviously this is a metaphor, but the sword was the pressure placed on me by my parents and the gleam was Ryan. 

I hated the fact that he was my boyfriend. Even though I hated him as a person, it was more so due to the fact that my parents were basically forcing me to date him. Well, not him in particular, but they wanted me to date a Kook. And Ryan was the only Kook around my age that was willing to date me.

He was a year older than me, and he had a promising future. His father, Mr. Matthews, was the owner of a line of supermarkets back on the mainland, which meant that they were filthy rich. His mother, Mrs. Matthews, was a lawyer that normally worked out divorce cases. She made s shit ton of money each year because the Kooks were always seemingly splitting up and sleeping around with each other. 

Ryan was supposedly going to grow up to be a lawyer and own the supermarket line, which meant he was for sure going to have money when he was older. This made my mother ecstatic. There was nothing more she wanted for me than to become the wife of some rich man, ensuring my entry to the Country Club and a ticket to Midsummers each year. 

She had been pestering me for years to get a boyfriend that was of our social status. Since everything nowadays was about your relations and connections, if I got it on with a child of a rich, elite couple, I would ensure my family future business deals and whatever the hell my mother wanted to indulge in with them. I had cracked under her pressure about a year ago, finally accepting to go out with Ryan after months of rejecting him.

No one could really understand why he was chasing after me. He just seemed to be obsessed with me. And I’m not saying this to sound conceited or full of myself, because it’s the truth. No Kook could understand why Ryan Matthews, the child of one of the most powerful families in Kildare, wanted to be with me, half-Kook, half-Pogue traitor.

What was even a bigger shock to everyone was the fact that I had accepted. I had never thought I would finally crumble under my mother’s pressure, but I did, and once the word got out, most people assumed I was finally becoming sane. 

See, the difference between me and the rest of the Kooks was that I had friends that didn’t live in Figure Eight. Instead, they lived on the Cut. John B, Pope, and JJ came from, what everyone would tell me, the wrong side of the island. The way I saw it was that they had been unfortunate enough to have economic problems but fortunate enough to not have to deal with the patriarchal and elitist bullshit I had to put up with every day. 

It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear remarks from my classmates at the Kook Academy stating that I was a traitor and that I was hanging out with a bunch of low lives. I tried to not let it bother me, but ultimately, it did. I had to spend every single day alone in school, and it really put a damper on my mood. I would try and pretend that I didn’t care about most of their opinions - which I truly didn’t - but I wasn’t able to pretend that I liked being alone all the time.

That was also a reason as to why I had accepted Ryan’s offers to go out on a date with him, even though I knew I wasn’t going to enjoy myself. In the end, it was going to be a win-win situation where my parents would be happy for me, I wouldn’t be alone in school, and the Kooks wouldn’t ask me about my friends. 

John B, Pope, and JJ couldn’t even begin to understand why I was with Ryan. They had been in one too many fights with him to ever picture him as something different than an egotistical and violent asshole. Which he was, but I tried to ignore that. 

All I would do was pretend like everything was fine. I would spend time with Ryan and the Pogues (separately, of course), balancing my two lives out. When I would come home I’d smile at my parents and gush about how happy I was with Ryan before frowning and heading to bed.

This was something I had become used to. Smiling and pretending everything was fine. Ryan and I were experts at doing this. Behind closed doors were screams and insults but in public everything was perfect.

It had all started after we had been dating for two months. He had come around to my house for dinner with my parents and then he had slipped into my room. He had begun to kiss me, and I wasn’t into it, so I had tried to pull away.

“Are you kidding me?” he asked me, offended. I raised an eyebrow, giving him a questioning look. “Why did I do?”

“Nothing,” I stressed out. It was true, he hadn’t done anything except be himself. That was the reason I didn’t want to kiss him, but it wasn’t something in his control. So I lied. “I’m just tired.”

“Really, Kie?” he asked. His voice held judgment between every letter, almost as if he was doubting the reason as to why I was saying no to him. “I just think it’s funny how we’ve been together for two months and every time I try to kiss you, you pull away. Are you not into me or something?”

I began to panic. If he broke up with me my parents would freak out and begin bothering me again about getting a boyfriend.

“No, Ryan,” I said. I tried to be delicate with my voice as I lied to him. “I’ve just never done this before. You know, kissing and stuff.”

That was a total lie. I had hooked up with more Tourons than I could count on my hands, but Ryan had no way of knowing that. His eyes softened at my words and he approached me, wrapping his arms around me. I tried to hold back the grimace I was about to let out, not wanting to make him angry or anything.

“That’s fine. I can teach you,” he whispered. I almost scoffed but I forced myself to accept the kiss he was giving me. I was grossed out beyond I had ever thought possible, but I didn’t move back. 

Once we parted, I forced myself to give out a smile. Ryan kissed my head once more before stating “Next time, I’ll teach you a lot more than kissing.”

I wanted to gag. I really couldn’t believe he had said that. Once he left my house, I stood up and brushed my teeth at least twice. I thought the worst had already passed, but I was so wrong. 

The following week we went to a party together. I knew the Pogues were also in the crowd, but I wasn’t with them that night. I was with Ryan, pretending to be happy and convincing every single Kook that I was madly in love with him. 

I remember Ryan trying to pull me into a room. I followed him, and closed the door behind me, assuming he wanted to talk. However, he pressed himself into me, kissing me roughly and forcefully. 

I pushed him back, my hands at his chest, and wiped my mouth clean. “Stop,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to do this.”

The alcohol in Ryan’s blood made him come closer to me, pushing my body into the door. “Listen here, you little bitch,” he grounded out. “I’m tired of your shit. You always pull away from me.”

Tears were spilling out of my eyes by now. I didn’t want to be in that room with him, much less kiss him. But I forced myself to stay. 

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” I spoke out. My voice was shaky with fear and it scared me. “I just - I’ve never done-”

“Shut up!” he yelled. “I don’t want to sleep with you anyways. You ugly, fat fucking bitch.”

And with that Ryan opened the door and exited the room. I didn’t have time to analyze the hypocrisies that escaped from his lips as I feel down onto the floor and began to cry. I really thought he was going to force me to do something with him, and that just terrified me to the bones. My body was quivering all over, and I could barely register what was going on outside of the room.

Was what he said true? Was I fat and was that the reason why no Kook ever seemed to approach me? Why had he tried to kiss me if he thought I was ugly and fat?

That night, JJ found me and took me home. His blond locks would shine under the moonlight as we walked back to my place. He tried to make jokes to lift my mood up, and he tried to ask me what had happened, but my mouth remained shut. I belted out a lie about period cramps. I could never tell him what really made me cry. JJ would beat Ryan up and then my parents would be so mad at me for having caused that. 

And so JJ dropped me off, thinking the reason I was crying was something silly and stupid that didn’t merit any attention. 

The next time I saw Ryan, he apologized profusely. He said what he had said was a mistake and a lie and that he was only taking out his anger about something else that had happened out on me. Foolishly, I forgave him, trying to keep him by my side to make my parents happy. 

However, he kept making comments about my body and many of my insecurities.

“You should lose some weight.”

“Your skin is too dark.”

“Your hair looks gross when it’s that long.”

“You should at least try to dress nice.”

“I don’t like you wearing such short shirts.”

It went on for months and months and months. Slowly but surely I tried to hide my bloating stomach and tried to avoid sunlight and chopped half of my hair off. I thought that maybe then Ryan might stop making such comments about me.

He didn’t. Instead, he kept going on and on about every small detail about my physique.

“Your wearing clothes that are too baggy.”

“You look almost sick when you’re this pale.”

“Nobody wants to be around you when you look like this.”

I didn’t even know why I cared. I didn’t even like Ryan, but his words would cut me deep, making me bleed and cry and break down. The Pogues had no idea what was going on. Every time they would question my actions and my decisions, I would shut them out. I’d tell them that the changes in my appearance and in my wardrobe were unrelated to Ryan, contrary to their beliefs. I felt bad for lying, but I didn’t want them to worry. Especially not about something as trivial as myself. 

JJ was the worst out of all of them. It was almost like he could see through me. But no matter how much he would interrogate me, I would always lie. 

Soon Ryan began to become controlling. He wanted to know where I was at all times. His messages would blow up my phone, and sometimes I wouldn’t be able to use it because he was constantly calling me. 

When I would arrive back home I would always find him in my room, where he would begin to question my every move of the day. When he began to realize how much time I had been spending with the Pogues, he began to get mad.

“Why are you spending so much time with them?” he would start. His tone of voice was nowhere near calm, but it was calmer than what it would become.

At first, I would just shrug. “They’re my friends.”

Ryan would scoff and cross his arms, his brows pulling into themselves. “Well, maybe you should get better friends.”

“Hey!” I shouted, mad at what he was saying. “Don’t talk about them like you know them.”

“Well, I do,” Ryan would start. He would then come closer to me and take a hold of my arm. “I know that they are trying to break us apart. They take you away from me. You spend so much time with them that you’re never with me.”

His fingers would latch on so tightly onto my arm that I would let out a yelp. His grip was cutting the blood circulation from my arm and I could feel my fingers going numb.

“Ryan, you’re hurting me!”

Only then would he let go. Right before he would stalk out of my room he would say, “Good. Maybe then you’ll listen to me.”

I didn’t. I would never listen to him. He had no right to get between me and my friends, especially when they were the last good thing I had around. So I would find myself like I am right now, with the Pogues and my phone silenced at the bottom of my bag. 

“Pass me a beer,” JJ said to me as I reached over the bottle I had just opened. I noticed how his arms rippled underneath his shirt, his muscles bulging through the cloth. I sighed, shaking my head and pulling myself out of whatever trance I was about to fall into. JJ would never be into me, especially if what Ryan said about me was true. And that was fine because I was with Ryan anyway. 

The music coming from Pope’s stereo was soft and drowsy, and it almost made me want to fall asleep. However, I knew if I stayed out too late Ryan would get pissed. 

“I think I need to head home, boys,” I told them. John B groaned and rolled his eyes, but he listened to me. He headed over to the chair behind the wheel and turned the engine on/ The turned to boat towards Figure Eight.

“You don’t have to go back just yet, you know?” Pope said. I rolled my eyes at this.

“You know how Ryan is.”

“I don’t get why you don’t just dump him,” JJ stated while standing and turning back to the cooler again. 

“Because,” I replied as if there was an obvious reason as to why I wanted to be with Ryan. JJ and the rest of the boys could see right through my lies. They, however, just remained silent. 

When we finally pulled up to my dock, I hugged Pope and John B before JJ helped me out of the boat. He began to walk me to my door, not commenting on how bony he thought my hands felt.

“Hey,” he called out once we had reached my porch. I turned around to look at him, not yet opening the door to my house. I knew my parents would be inside and they would not want to see JJ. “If you ever need anything, you can always talk to me, okay?”

I nodded, confused as to why JJ was telling me this.

“I know,” I whispered as I hugged him. His hands went around my waist and I suddenly felt small. Tingles broke out from where his skin was in contact with my body, and I felt as he pressed his lips to my temple. 

When we broke apart and I finally entered my home, I pressed my back against the door and sighed. How was JJ making me feel everything I should feel with Ryan? Why was JJ suddenly all I wanted? Why did I always want to -

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Ryan growled out from where he stood, twelve feet away from me. He seemed to be frozen in his spot, and my eyes swiveled around the room to see if my parents were anywhere around. 

“Hi, baby,” I said, trying to ease the tension I knew he was feeling.

“Don’t you fucking dare ‘baby’ me. You are such a lying bitch,” he replied.

My eyes widened in shock. What did I do now?

“I can’t believe you have been cheating on me with that dirty, son of a bitch Pogue.”

“I - I haven’t -”

(A/N: Abuse starts now.)

“DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!” Ryan yelled out while stalking towards me. His hand was suddenly around my neck, squeezing my trachea and not letting me inhale any air. My fingers clawed at his own, trying to pry them away. Weird, guttural sounds escaped past my lips as he pressed his face next to mine.

“I should have done this ages ago. Ever since I noticed you sneaking around with that Pogue.”

My body was raised from the ground and away from the wall before crashing into it again. I crumbled down onto the floor as Ryan’s leg was raised. It came straight towards my rib cage and I could almost feel it bruising instantly. Ryan crouched down on top of me and grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around so that we were face to face. His fist flew back before socking me right in the eye. 

My arms were raised, trying to protect myself from the beating I was receiving. Punch after punch after kick after punch I stayed there, on the ground, in pain. When it finally stopped, Ryan spit on me before wiping his mouth. 

For a second time, he crouched down and latched onto my shirt. “If your parents ask you what happened, you say you got jumped. And I don’t want you to be around those dirty Pogues anymore.”

(A/N: end of abuse.)

I closed my eyes in pain. I could hear as Ryan walked out of my house and closed the door behind him. I felt myself slipping away from the room I was in, and then everything went black. 

When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My parents were crying around me, and I could hear other voices coming from outside my room.

“Oh, thank God!” my mother cried while she reached out for my hand. I groaned in pain, not really understanding what was going on. 

“Kie, sweety, you have to tell us what happened,” my father spoke. “When we came home we found you on the ground, beat up. What happened?”

I thought about telling the truth. I really did. And I weighed out my options and I thought if it would be best to do. Would I free myself from Ryan? Probably. But I had no way of making sure of that. After all, Ryan’s family was a lot richer than mine and I knew what a fancy lawyer could be capable of. Even if I came clean Ryan would probably never step a foot inside a jail cell. However, I still was going to try to get him there.

Just as I opened my mouth, Ryan came stumbling through the door. My stomach fell.

“Oh, Kie, I was so worried,” he lied. Well, maybe he wasn’t lying and he was worried about himself, but I was trying not to think about that. My parents were looking at Ryan and they didn’t notice how I recoiled away from him. 

“Oh, Ryan, honey, we’re so glad you made it!” my mom exclaimed. Ryan smirked, but y parents probably thought he was smiling politely. “We’ll give you two some time together.”

“No!” I tried to shout. My throat almost burned. It was probably because of how Ryan had chocked me earlier. 

“Sorry, Kie, but we couldn’t really understand you,” my father said, staring at me in a questioning matter. 

“Oh, she just exclaimed in joy,” Ryan convinced them while giving me a hard look. 

I helplessly watched as my parents exited the room, panic beginning to flood inside of me. Ryan approached my bed, his gaze not wavering from my body one bit.

“I did a good job, don’t you think?” he said tauntingly. A whimper escaped my mouth as he took my hand in his. Tears began to pool in my eyes but I refused to let them escape. I didn’t want him to see how weak I felt. 

His fingers wrapped around my own as he took a seat next to me. “You do know I did this because I love you. Right?”

My eyes widened in shock. For starters, Ryan had never said he loved me before, so that was shocking in itself. However, what shocked me even more was that he said he hit me because he loved me. How could someone that loved me cause me so much pain?

I began to shake my head, denying what Ryan had said, but his fingers latched onto my chin, squeezing my jaw almost painfully. 

“Yes, baby, I do. If I didn’t love you I wouldn’t have put the effort in teaching you a lesson.”

What the fuck? Was Ryan for real? I tried to shake his fingers away but I felt too weak. I just let him hold me in place hoping that if I didn’t move he would let go of his strong grip on my face.

Ryan stared deep into my eyes, trying to resonate with me. I quickly realized that if I didn’t comply with what he said, he wasn’t going to let me go. I began to nod as if I understood. Once he realized what I was doing he smiled and leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. I forced myself to respond to the kiss, ignoring the twist in my stomach.

After he left I felt my body relax again. I only had to stay a couple more hours at the hospital before they let me go back home, where I locked myself in my room and ignored whatever sound was coming from my phone.

I knew the Pogues were probably texting me as we had made some plans for that day, but I wasn’t feeling up to it. I knew for a fact that they would realize what had happened to me if I went to see them, and that was the last thing I needed.

And so I ignored them for weeks. They would sometimes walk into The Wreck and I would smile at them and wave, but I felt panicky every time I was around them. I didn’t want Ryan to be lurking around the corner and catch me being friendly to them. I knew what he would do if he caught me.

During these long weeks that I spent ignoring the rest of the Pogues, Ryan made sure to be around me as much as he could. It was almost as if he was making sure that I wasn’t going to be opening up about what he did. But suddenly, I caught a break from him.

“Hey,” he had called out to me one afternoon when we were in my bedroom. I remember my body tensing, afraid that he was calling my attention to tell me another hurtful comment or push me around because I had done something wrong in front of his friends. Every time he called me out I would feel my muscles go stiff and panic flood inside my veins.

“Yeah?” I said trying to keep my voice level. I didn’t want him to feel my fear as I was almost sure he fed on it. He could feel my every move and my every emotion, and I knew he lived for the panic that was induced into my body every time he raised his hand around me or he called me out.

“My parents are taking me out to the mainland next week. Do you want to come with us?”

That had not been what I was expecting to hear, but I knew that this was going to be an opportunity for me to get away from him. He was going to be gone next week and I couldn’t go because it was my mother’s birthday. I knew Ryan was not going to flip out because he respected my parents way too much to take me away from them on one of their birthdays.

“I can’t,” I began softly. I noticed how his nostrils flared in annoyance, probably expecting me to give him some excuse he thought was lame. “It’s my mother’s birthday, remember?”

Ryan’s anger seemed to drain out of him and I noticed how his muscles relaxed. He pushed himself off my bed and stood up, coming closer to where I was seated. I had been folding my laundry when I felt him come close to me, and I ducked my head down to avoid any eye contact with him. Much like an animal, sharing eye contact with Ryan could be dangerous and send him into a frenzy.

He hand suddenly latched onto the back of my neck and gently tugged me towards his chest. He was crouching down, both of his legs around me. He pressed a rough kiss to my lips but I didn’t respond. He pulled away and stared down at me.

“We need some rules for when I’m gone.”

I knew he was going to say that. Just like every time he had something to do and couldn’t be around me, he was setting rules that were probably going to be ridiculous. However, I was too afraid to stand up for myself. I did not want to end in the hospital again, and I had enough bruises that were hidden by my clothes on my body. So I just simply nodded.

“I don’t want you spending time with anybody. Only your parents.”

He stood and began to pace around my room. He did that often when he was thinking or trying to control himself.

“I don’t want you texting anybody but me. If you don’t reply in twenty minutes I will call you. If you don’t pick up, you know what to expect when I get back.”

I nodded but didn’t turn around to look at him. I knew I wasn’t going to be following his first rule, but I would need to follow the second one for sure. I knew he had a tracker on my phone (I had found that out after getting a pretty bad beating), so I wouldn’t be texting anyone else anyway.

“When I call or text you, I want you to give me a full report about where you are. I will be checking in with your parents so don’t even think of lying.”

Ryan continued to walk behind me as I carried on folding my clothes. I felt myself sweating, already planning what I was going to do once I was away from him and his overbearing tendencies. 

Once he had settled down, he laid down on the bed once again before fishing his phone out from his pocket. I had finished folding my clothes and headed over to my closet to put it away.

“Understood?” Ryan suddenly spoke out from where he was. I nodded and then said, “Yes.”

He seemed happy enough with that.

The following week I found myself heading down to the Chateau, which I hadn’t stepped foot in since Ryan had beat me up and I was in the hospital. I was nervous, not knowing if they would want to take me back into their group, especially since this was the second time I had abandoned the Pogues. 

However, this time was different, and I felt as if they could feel that as well. The last time I had left them behind was because I had chosen to do so (and which now I kind of regretted), but this time it had been against my choice. And so when I walked in with my heart beating inside my chest, I felt relief wash over me as the boys I loved so much came up to hug me.

“We thought you were dead!” John B exclaimed as his arms wrapped around me. I flinched slightly when he raised his arms and I tried to ignore the panic that spread through my body at the moment. 

JJ noticed though. He had been through so many beatings he knew exactly what it was like to flinch when somebody was going to give me a hug or when I thought someone might throw a punch at me. JJ saw how I had a little bit of panic swimming inside of my orbs and how I was covering my body a lot more than usual. He noticed how I winced when Pope’s arms pressed against my ribcage and how a tear pooled in my eyes as JJ stood up to approach me. He noticed how small and bony and frail I was under his touch, and how much my cheekbones were sticking out from my skin. He noticed how pale I was and the dark circles under my eyes. He recognized himself in me, and that made him worry.

I noticed how his arms were moving extremely slow, almost as if he didn’t want me to panic around him. His arms came around my shoulders and I noticed how he avoided my ribcage in general. I closed my eyes in relief that he had forgiven me, but they shot open in panic when I realized he had probably noticed what was going on with me.

He couldn’t know. JJ couldn’t know. But he did. So now I had to make sure that Ryan would never know that JJ knew what had been happening behind closed doors.

This was the only train of thought going through my head as we all boarded onto the HMS Pogue and headed out into the marsh. JJ noticed every time I flinched and every time I would recoil from what was going on around me. I could feel his gaze burning into me, and as much as it would have made me blush two months ago, now it was making me nervous.

When we finally arrived back at the Chateau, JJ accompanied me to get something from my car. It was then when he tried to talk to me.

“Hey, Kie,” he said questioningly. He didn’t know how to approach the situation at hand, and I could feel his nerves rolling off from his body. His hand reached out to touch my back, right between my shoulders, but I jumped away from him and wrapped my arms around myself.

His wide eyes made me know he had noticed how jumpy I was, and I cleared my throat, trying to make the situation less awkward. “What’s up?”

“I just… Are you okay?” he asked. He sounded genuinely concerned and I felt bad for lying to him. But I knew if I ran my mouth and Ryan found out, I would probably end up in the hospital again.

“Yeah, J. Why wouldn’t I be?” I lied.

“It’s - I mean, is Ryan - Are you and Ryan okay?” he asked now. Oh God, now I was certain that he knew. It made sense that he would be the one to notice exactly what was going on with me. It was foolish of me to think I could hide this from him.

“Yeah,” I voiced out. However, my word broke and JJ could instantly tell I was lying.

“Kie,” he tried softly. He was probably trying to imitate the tone of voice I would use when he would come back to the Chateau beaten by his dad. I remember I never knew how to act, but speaking softly seemed to calm him down. “I know you’re lying. Can you please tell me the truth?”

Tears instantly broke out from my eyes. They fell down my cheeks and they burned, and just like JJ had done when I had first arrived at the Chateau, he raised his arms as slowly as he could and hugged me. I broke down completely after that, sobs choking and ripping me apart, while his hands rubbed up and down. I felt butterflies erupting from my stomach, but I pushed them down. It was so stupid that from this situation all I felt for JJ was love. How could I love him when I was nothing? How could I love him and want him to hold him if I was worthless?

“I know, Kie,” the blond whispered in my ears. His hand went over my hair, petting it down as he tangled his digits through my locks. “You can always come to us, okay?”

I shook my head. He didn’t get it. “I - I can’t!”

“Okay, can you tell me why you can’t?”

“Because he’ll find out. And then it’ll happen again.”

“What will happen again?” JJ asked. His voice had suddenly turned a lot harder. He knew what was going on with me, but now that he heard me speak out the truth, he was angry. Did he know all the truth, to begin with?

“He - he - I’ll end up at the h-hospital again.”

“Wait, what?” he growled out. His fists were suddenly scrunched up, holding onto the cotton of my shirt. I tensed up when I felt his hands take the form of fists, afraid that he might lash out on me. It was ridiculous, as I knew JJ would never do that, but I was still afraid. He must have felt me become nervous because JJ relaxed his muscles.

“He was mad, JJ. So mad. And he said I was cheating on him a-and he beat me up until I blacked out and -”

My sobs didn’t let me continues. And so JJ cradled me until I stopped crying. Until I was okay enough to be able to speak and tell him what had happened. By then, we were back inside of the Chateau with the rest of the Pogues around us.

Once I had told them everything (and after breaking down like seven more times), they wrapped me up in their arms and told me that everything would be fine. That was probably a lie, but it gave me enough sense of comfort to hug them back without flinching and without breaking down again. 

They helped me organize my thoughts and tried to convince me to break out of the toxic relationship I had with Ryan. They tried to get me to talk to my parents and they all stated that they would support me along the way. But what gave me a feeling of security was not their words. No, instead, it was JJ’s hand that had been wrapped around mine ever since he led me back into the Chateau.

His thumb would rub small little circles into the back of my hand, and it was almost grounding to me. It made me forget about my panic and about what was going to happen once Ryan found out what had gone down this afternoon. 

Once I got back inside of my car with JJ by my side, he continued to throw out promises that sounded sweet and reassuring. Once again, however, it wasn’t this that made me feel more relaxed and safe. His hand on my thigh was what made me calm down.

When we arrived back at my house, he climbed out of the car with me and headed inside. I was happy that my parents weren’t back from The Wreck yet because this meant I didn’t have to sneak JJ in. 

Just as the blond had promised me before, JJ helped me clean all of the wounds that were right now on my body. From bruises to small cuts. He told me a story of something that happened to him and the rest of the Pogues while I had been absent, distracting me from the stinging of the rubbing alcohol. He pressed his fingers around my ribcage to spread a cream that would help with my bruising as he began to joke around. When he was done, he stood up straight again, eye level with me. I was seated up on the counter, and he slowly wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Kie,” he whispered out while leaning in closer. “I want you to know that whatever he said about you is fake.”

I simply nodded, not trusting myself to speak without crying again. Instead, I just leaned forward into his comforting touch wondering if I would ever have the nerves o come clean about what I felt about him.

“Kie,” he called out again. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

I nodded, whispering a small “Same” to him. He continued to lean forward until finally, his lips were on mine. 

Instead of making my heart race at an ungodly pace, my heart seemed to slow down. My blood wasn’t pumping in my veins and everything around us fell utterly silent. His touch wrapped me around in a blanket of safety - one that didn’t make me feel trapped or panicked at all. It brought me comfort in a way nothing had ever brought me before - more than when I was small and my dad would pretend to scare away the monsters in my closet and more than when my mom would kiss my head goodnight. The pressure of his lips on mine was just perfect and made me feel loved and cared about. 

When we broke apart I almost whimpered, wanting to feel safe again. He let out a breathy laugh before pulling back and wiping my tears away.

“I want to keep doing that,” JJ said to me. I was surprised he was being so open with his feelings. But I guess we were both vulnerable and that made him feel safe as well. 

“Me too,” I said softly. “But I’m still with Ryan right now.”

JJ nodded in understanding. “I’ll help you with whatever you go through. Okay?”

I nodded. I wrapped my arms around JJ and rested against him as he hugged me back. The feeling of safety that I had felt while kissing him came back to me and made me feel better. I wasn’t okay yet, but I would be. As long as I had JJ and his comfort by my side, I could grow into a person I wanted to be. A person that would be okay.

[nightcoremoon]

here's some controversy that has nothing to do with social issues.

a lot of people hate the band five finger death punch. saying those words provoked a visceral response in half the people reading this, and a "who?" in the other half. they're a groove metal band; similar to slipknot, mudvayne, disturbed, all that remains, system of a down, korn, and killswitch engage. they're one of those really controversial bands that are hated because they're ~not real metal~ by dumbshits who think that NWOBHM is the only valid metal genre. even though england ruined metal and punk but that's a conbfetsation for another day.

now, if you just don't like metal, that's fine. I don't expect everyone to like every genre. so obviously you won't like them, or any band in the genre. obviously. and these are not the people who are being targeted with this post. no, this goes to those who love metallica, ozzy, megadeth, slayer, pantera, testament, opeth, tool, manowar, meshuggah, children of bodom, cannibal corpse, fear factory, mercyful fate: this is to the people who love metal. now, I say this as one of us, but metalheads are one of the most judgmental groups of people in history. and frequently I find that metalheads make the same remarks in regards to their opinions on five finger death punch.

they do nothing but covers. they just yell and cuss. forty year old men with teenage angst. bad musicianship. they look stupid. they fuck their sisters and daughters. they sold out to the military. they're gay. they do too many ballads. they're redneck bait. they're toxic masculinity and macho personified. they rely on guest stars to carry their songs. they're talentless hacks.

these are all complaints I've heard multiple times from multiple people. and frankly I'm sick of it. I'm sick of hearing the bullshit complaints rather than the ACTUAL REASONS why they aren't the best band in the world. which I'll go through now.

they have an overreliance on breakdowns as if they were a post-hardcore band but they're not. breaking benjamin also skirts the line between post-grunge metal and post-hardcore and have many breakdowns, but the difference is that BB's breakdowns have math rock roots and use different patterns that syncopate well. five finger's breakdowns are... eighth notes. it's the difference between, say, black veil brides- who have excellent syncopated breakdowns- and as I lay dying, who have shitty and boring breakdowns. the only difference is that AILD has blast beats (and is fronted by an abusive asshole), and five finger has... ivan growling threats or whatever because they think that it sounds cool to have metal blaring while he says shit like "you wanna disrespect me? I will slap you so fucking hard you'll feel like you kissed a freight train, fuck you," or "if there was ever a time for you to back the fuck up it's right fuckin here and right fuckin now" or "it's not the size of the dog in the fight it's the size of the fight in the dog," or "in the end we're all just chalk lines on the concrete, drawn only to be washed away; in the time that I've been given, I am what I am", etc, all preceding screams. and no these are not exaggerations, these are literally exact quotes. there's also one that plays radio chatter from the military while he goes "hut hut oorah", which is different slightly. and in any case, they have done nearly a hundred different solos over their career, there is NO REASON for them to have such a ridiculous amount of breakdowns. they rival memphis may fire in that regard, but MMF actually has great breakdowns. churko is a metal producer, NOT a hardcore producer, and they sound empty when you strip out the vocals.

sometimes they will overuse a chorus, and hit the pop music pitfalls of having a song that's over half chorus. I'm sure they did this so the label would be happy with singles because the music industry is a commercialized garbage fire and holding it against the artists would be so fucking stupid especially since tool (the best metal band in existence) fucking said it best, "all you know about me is what I sold you, I sold out long before you ever knew my name, I sold my soul to make a record, dipshit, then you bought one; I've got some advice for you little buddy, before you point your finger you should know that I'm the man and if I'm the man then he's he man and you're the man as well so you can take that fucking finger and shove it up your ass". translation; the fact that you know a band at all means that they sold out to even exist in the first place because that's what selling out is. so even this complaint I have that sometimes they have repeated chorus is more of a complaint about a music industry which dumbs things down to sell radioplay to the lowest common denominator, which EVERY SINGLE ARTIST IS GUILTY OF. so moving on.

sometimes they'll have songs which are fairly simple from a harmonic/mechanical standpoint. opening verse chorus verse chorus solo bridge chorus chorus ending. verse goes some mix of eighth and quarter notes and rests in 4:4, solo is just the vocal line of the chorus, bass and drums are nonexistent and only serve to be a melodic backbone, and the music only exists to serve the lyrics... oh wait I can make the exact same arguments about metallica, rage against the machine, pantera, disturbed, and a hundred other bands. those guys aren't hated as much as five finger. hmm. wonder why.

the lyrics are often angsty. namely that they deal with honor, government corruption, mental illness, we live in a society, religious corruption, abandonment issues, recovering from toxic relationships, hey wait a minute these are all just insanely common topics for metal songs!

they usually play in the same key- wait shit every band has a favored key.

they do a lot of covers- wait shit they have literally more ALBUMS than covers.

(yeah that's weird to me too, but they only did a new level by pantera, from out of nowhere by faith no more, bad company by bad company, mama said knock you out by LL cool J, house of the rising sun by the animals, gone away by offspring, and blue on black by kenny wayne shepard... that's 7. they have 8 albums now.)

so shut the fuck up forever about the cover songs. metallica and the deftones and a perfect circle all had fucking cover ALBUMS, van halen only has a career because of the kinks, and every single rock band in the world is just ripping off the beatles, pink floyd, black sabbath, the who, led zeppelin, and cream. pick a legitimate reason to hate on a band, hypocrite.

alright what else...

"they're gay"

I'm not gonna dignify that with a response.

"they suck"

so does your favorite band. boom roasted.

"they're bad at music"

I'd like to see you do better then.

"they sold out to the military"

no they support the veterans and the troops; they fucking hate the military if you pay any attention at all. they believe in the good parts of the military that the government pays half our taxes to make us believe. you're not better than anyone else just because you see through one specific piece of propaganda because odds are you're blinded by another dozen. they write songs about how war is hell and how when vets come home they should be treated better. and anyway when you're in the dog eat dog world of the music industry hey guess what you need a market to sell to or else it's back to baskin robbins. I don't blame them for one second. if I had the option of endorsing cops to pay my bills you bet your ass I'll fly a blue lives matter flag and sell my soul to make money, and then donate shit to the black lives matter movement. flying a flag is worthless if I can do actual good with the money that those dumbasses send in. and name better irony than fighting to abolish a group that pays me to do it go on I'll wait.

"you're just a fanboy"

a) it's fangirl but metal elitists don't give a shit about the LGBTQ and b) just because I like a band doesn't in any way diminish the validity of my statements and any bias I might have is easily countered by whatever bias you might have and c) they're not even my favorite band you idiot I just think there's way worse out there just like I think it's unfair to say nickelback is the worst band in existence when drunk mom rock like hinder buckcherry savingabel and kidrock exists, and limp bizkit is standing right there, and d) they're not even the worst groove metal band, just look at fucking lamb of god, and e) if I was a fangirl I wouldn't have pointed out the flaws you fucking brainless troglodyte, and f) even if they were my favorite band in the world it doesn't matter if you think they suck because music taste is subjective anyway you goddamn moron. those guys write their own music, play their own music, perform their own music, and they love their fanbase more than most other bands. andrew biersack and kellin quinn and pepper keenan and glenn danzig and liam gallagher and axl rose and van halen and ted nugent and kurt cobain HATE their fans, or at least are huge fucking assholes. but not five finger. jeremy played until he literally broke his back; he's as devoted as phil collins, and if he made like atreyu and sang while drumming he'd be singing from a wheelchair, or like dave grohl when he broke his leg right in the middle of a concert, went to the hospital and got set and put in a cast, THEN CAME RIGHT BACK TO THE FUCKING SHOW AND PLAYED GUITAR AND SANG IN A CAST AND WHEELCHAIR. oh but wait, people say phil collins and dave grohl suck too, and turn around and suck mustaine's dick even though he's the biggest asshole in thrash metal behind tom araya and drunk james hetfield. point being, just because x doesn't like y doesn't diminish z's opinion.

"the singer fucked his daughter lol lol his grandchild is his son too lol lol his daughter is his wife lol lol it's funny because rednecks and incest lol lol" he's from colorado not alabama you dumb motherfuckers, and all the lol incest in georgia jokes are rooted in good ol yankee classism. also the guitarist is hungarian so the american redneck jokes don't even fuckin work. shut the hell up, you have all of the intellectual capacity of a common bog leech.

you can dislike the band. you can say you don't like it. you can say that you'd rather listen to different music. that's fine! that's okay! listen to justin bieber if you like him, listen to taylor swift if you like her, listen to new kids on the block if you want! I don't care! but stop expressing your opinions that you stole from someone else as fact. all you're doing is meme bandwagoning so you can find a community because you don't have the social skills necessary to meet people through the things you love so instead you try to pull serotonin out of making other people feel as miserable as you do.

with that being said, fuck all of the annoying dudebro douchebags who listen to the band and show 5FDP next to the confederate flag, blue lives matter flag, don't tread on me flag, punisher skull, trump sticker, and the crossed assault rifles on the back of your truck. you're all shit for reasons other than your music taste.

[nurseydexunsolved]

My first ever nurseydex fic! Please go on ao3 and leave comments and reblog & all that jazz, I’ll love you forever. Also! If you have a prompt you desperately want someone to fill, just send it my way! Okay enjoy :)

//

William Poindexter was wheeling someone, but for the life of them, no one in the haus could get him to confess who.

Nursey noticed it first, entirely on accident. Dex had walked into the kitchen, shoulders at least two inches lower than they usually were, expression calm, and when Nursey knocked over his water, Dex just laughed and said, "Don't worry, I'll clean it up."

Nursey stared at him, shocked. The shock had to be the reason he said something as stupid as what he said next: "Whoa, bro, who took the stick out of your ass? You're acting... weird."

Unfortunately for Dex, Ransom, Holster, AND Shitty were all in the kitchen (preparing for the kegster that night) when Nursey said this, and the way they all immediately stopped their conversation and zeroed in on him was truly frightening. Dex barely had time to give Nurse the stink eye before he was being devoured by their well-meaning but invasive friends. Nursey wanted to join in on the chirping, but he realized he was feeling a little bit sick to his stomach, so he escaped upstairs.

Despite this, or maybe because of it, Nursey was the first person Dex told.

A couple days later he still hadn't cracked, to the endless irritation of Ransom's spreadsheets. They were hanging out in the library with Chow, but when Chris went to the snack shack downstairs, Dex tapped Nursey's foot with his.

"Hey," he said, which made Nurse's heart start thumping a little bit harder, because what could he possibly have to say that Chowder couldn't hear? And Dex's expression didn't help. He looked... nervous. And a bit vulnerable, like he was made of glass, which of course was never a good combination with Derek's clumsy ass.

"Yeah?" he said, trying to be delicate.

"I kind of have a question."

"What's it about?"

"Well, it's about... poetry," he said, looking anywhere but Nursey's eyes."Poetry? Bro, have you been holding out on me?? Do you need me to critique your couplets? I'll do it, I promise, there is nothing I want more than to read poetry written by Mr. Grumpy—"

"Shut up," Dex laughed, the tension eased a little bit. "No, it's not my poetry. It was written... well. It's kind of, um, about me. And I want you to tell me if it's good."

Nursey's heart plunged into a cold lake. "Oh, for real? Well, I mean, there isn't really such a thing as bad poetry, you know. I'm not elitist about that sort of thing." The look on Dex's face told him that was the wrong answer. "But, I mean, I'll take a look. Do you have it with you?"

Dex wordlessly handed it over, and Derek read.

 "I've never been very religious I believe in entropy and science, experiments and evidence, gravity and stars But then I look and I swear, there is something in the glow of your golden eyes and well that is an unexplained phenomena if I've ever seen one And perhaps you were always meant to disprove my hypothesis Because I swear I found Virgo in the constellations on your collarbones And there must be a gravity around you because I feel it like a tug on my sternum when you leave And if there is a God, he must be a sadist Because I am sure he made you and thought, "Here is a smile they will start wars for.""

 There was a lot going through Derek Nurse's head.

First, his English major brain started critiquing it: too short, not a very smooth flow, some odd sentence structures.

Then he thought, God, who could describe Dex in cliches. Gravity? Constellations? I would have said—

Then he stopped himself. And started to panic. And realized this person was really in love with Dex, because duh. They weren't wrong about the smile.

He glanced down and saw he'd been gripping the page tight enough to crinkle, and smoothed it onto the table.

"So?" Dex said, searching Nursey's face almost desperately. "Is it good? Do—do you like it?"

Nurse almost laughed at that. Was it good? Yeah, maybe. Did he like it?

Fuck no.

He focused on the first question.

"Um, well, I really liked the way she tied the subject to her questioning religion and science, almost making him a messiah-like figure, and the continuity of that metaphor—"

"Nurse. This isn't workshop. I asked you if you liked it."

Derek tried to imagine that he'd been presented this piece in workshop, and not by his d-partner, who was currently giving him the most unbearably eager expression. Nursey couldn't imagine why his opinion mattered to Dex, but he glared down at the paper and said, "Yeah, overall, I liked it."

Dex stared at him for another really long moment, and Nursey didn't know what to do with his hands, and then Dex grabbed the paper and shuffled it around.

"So. I mean, not to pry, but obviously—"

"His name's Evan," Dex said. "I met him at that Sunday kegster, the day party. He told me he wanted me to 'look' at his poem, but it's obviously about me, and I don't know. He's really nice and cute and it's just." Dex sighed, avoiding Nurse's eyes. "It's nice to know someone looks at me like that. That someone could, in any fucking universe, describe my eyes as 'unexplainable phenomena.' But I didn't know if it was just bullshit or what, so I wanted to show it to—to you."

Dex finally looked him in the eye again, and—oh. Nursey had been so fucking stupid, he was so mad he hadn't thought of writing poetry about Dex's eyes first. They were so raw, so expressive. He was a tad dumbstuck, until he managed to sputter out, "Well, do you—do you like him too?"

"I think I could," he said, like it was a confession. He looked away, toward the window, and Nursey really wished he was a photographer in that moment, so he could capture that look. "I really think I could."

//

In the end, Evan gave himself away.

Dex and Nursey were sitting alone at the kitchen table, with Bitty humming happily at the counter, when Derek saw it.

Before he could help himself, he whispered to his phone, "Oh, you know not what you do."

This earned him a very confused look from Dex. He simply handed over his phone, watching Dex's eyes bug out, as he raced to unlock his own phone and delete the incriminating evidence.

It was too late. They heard the loud, "Dude!" followed by Holster's booming "DUDE!!!" before Dex had even pulled up instagram. Ransom was on insta almost as much as Bitty was on twitter.

Dex's fate was sealed.

"Ummmmm DEX?" came Holster's voice down the stairs before he thundered into the kitchen. "Who is this HOTTIE commenting WINKY FACE EMOJIS on your selfies??"

"It's not a selfie—"

"Actually Holtz, I believe the comment in question was, 'looking good dex,' then the winky face emoji."

"Oh, of course, how could I be so foolish."

"Did y'all already send the screenshot to the gc?" Bitty asked, looking down at his continuously vibrating phone. "Oh, give Dex a break, will ya?"

"Yeah, I would love to, Bitty," Rans said, grinning at his phone with what could only be called malicious glee, "but it turns out Dex's new boo-thang has been posting delightful candids of our boy here along with captions written in—wait for it—free verse poetry."

"How the fuck did you find--? He's on private!" Dex objected, the confusion momentarily distracting him from hiding his very red face.

"Dude, this kid can write," Holster said. "Are you sure he's not only dating you for an excuse to write autumnal prose?"

"YES!" Rans yelled. "The poetry drew her in! Lardo joined the flaming!"

"GOD," Dex groaned, muffled into his sleeves since he was facedown on the table. "LET ME DIE HERE.”

"Now, of course we all support you and your sexuality, but in the interest of equal opportunity chirping—"

"SHUT UP HOLSTER!"

//

The real problem began when Nursey went to his poetry writing seminar on Wednesday, because now he knew what Evan looked like. He’d put a face to the poem, and discovered the proof confirming Evan’s sadist theory that God was personally TiVo-ing Derek’s Actual Life and laughing his ass off, because Evan?

Evan was in Derek’s poetry writing seminar.

Even better, when the prof counted them off into groups for mini-workshop sessions, Evan was in his group.

Guess which poem he brought to workshop?

Derek would have been the first to admit that he maybe didn’t handle the situation as maturely as possible. He had a reputation in their class of being opinionated, but even he knew as the words were coming out of his mouth that he was going overboard. He talked about this metaphor not hitting just right, that line maybe wasn’t totally accurate? (After all, he did know who the poem was about. He could judge accuracy.) By the end of class, he had practically rewritten the whole thing for him, but to his credit, Evan took the whole thing like a champ, taking notes on everything Derek said.

“By the way, are you married to the whole second-person thing?” Derek said, hating the words even as they came out of his own mouth.

“Um, well, I kind of conceptualized it as a literal love letter. Like, I wanted to evoke the feeling in the reader of like, the person who I love is pouring out their soul to me in an ode, and all that’s missing is some cursive and a postage stamp in the corner,” he said.

“That’s a really cool idea,” Derek gritted out, mostly because he meant it. “Is that why it’s so vague?” he asked, because maybe there was hope. Maybe he really just wanted Dex to read his poem.

“What?” Evan replied, looking surprised.

“Well, I mean, you don’t have any particular details in it: this could be about anyone. Did you do that intentionally so the reader could envision it being addressed to them?” And, honestly. His prying was getting a little pathetically obvious now.

“Oh. Um, I guess you’re right, but that wasn’t intentional. Actually, it is about a really specific person. Ha, guess it’s just the closeted queer kid in me, avoiding any obvious markers of gender or whatever. You’re totally right, I’ll work on that.”

Derek sunk back into his seat, real guilt settling on his chest as their groupmates sent Evan sympathetic looks.

It would have been much easier to hate Evan if Derek didn’t like him so much.

//

He didn’t mean to write the poem.

Honest. It just spilled out of his fingers, typed into a shame-note on his phone, not even titled.

Well, until the third draft. Then he titled the note, “Freckles.” And then he had to transfer it to google docs, where all his poetry went, just to be safe.

And somehow, some way, Derek ended up in the library printing out 20 copies for his entire workshop to read.

It wasn’t that he hated himself; nor even that he was convinced that it was that great of a poem. The whole “having feelings for Dex” thing was too confusing and intense and new for him to be able to be objective at all. It was just, he’d procrastinated the hell out of the assignment, since he'd had two essays due the same week and thought, “It’s a poetry prompt. I have notebooks stuffed with poetry. I’m sure I have something.”

Except, then it was the night before Wednesday, and he realized he didn’t have anything that fit the prompt.

Well. Except one poem.

Which was how he printed out and handed his own ode to Dex right into his boyfriend’s fucking arms.

Oh yeah, because that was a thing.

A couple weeks ago, half the team had “accidentally” run into Dex and Evan on a date, where Dex had introduced Evan as his boyfriend and Evan had tried to chat with Nursey about their seminar and Nursey had excused himself to the bathroom, to quiet his shaking hands.

Since then, whenever Dex went to kegsters and the bars and even a house party at one of Rans's Weird Sciencey Friends's place, Evan was with him. Which like. If you didn't know they were together, you probably wouldn't even guess it. Nursey had never seen them kiss, and the most PDA he'd spotted was Dex dragging Evan out of a kegster by his hand. Technically. But the thing was, Dex was so...different when he was with Evan. Evan made him laugh, like belly laugh, all the time. Dex was constantly smiling or laughing or joking whenever Evan was in the room, and Nursey really just could not deal. If he'd thought he had it bad before, that was literally a joke compared to the sight of Dex animatedly telling a funny story, swinging his arms everywhere, barely able to finish for laughing so hard.

The problem was that he wasn't telling the story to Nursey.

All this, maybe, possibly, Nursey could handle. He could move on. If Dex hadn't walked into their room looking extremely distraught less than a week ago.

Well. Extremely distraught on Dex looked like mildly perturbed on most other people but Nursey could read Dex pretty well at this point.

"Dex?" he said, "Are you alright?"

He expected a brush-off, like every other time Nursey inquired after his emotional state. What he got was, "I don't know."

Nurse swiveled away from his laptop, full attention to Dex. "What's up?"

Dex gave a frustrated huff. "It's just...ugh. It's gonna sound shitty."

Nursey raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Dex huffed again. "Okay. But I might not say it right. Um, so Evan has some... mental health issues. Which is fine! That isn't the problem. I like all of who he is, not just... ugh. The problem is... I don't think he's really... dealing with it?"

Nursey kept his face impassive. Dex knew about Nursey's mental health struggles as well, and yet he chose to come to him for this. He would withhold judgement until Dex said what he had to say.

"Like he... he makes me happy, and he makes me laugh, and he makes me feel good about myself. But he puts himself down all the time. And I don't think he's fishing for compliments or reassurance or anything, but it feels like, if I don't reassure him every time, I'm just feeding into it and reaffirming those thoughts and making everything worse. And that's like, a lot of pressure? And he has some really concerning symptoms. Like, he'll just casually drop that he had a panic attack in class or that he dissociated for hours this morning and I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help. I can't, I am so not qualified for that. So I'll be like, 'maybe you should see a therapist or get a diagnosis or like...talk to someone'? And he'll just be like 'I probably should' and then do nothing. And I try to tell him nothing will change or get better if he doesn't do anything, and I'm just starting to feel like if I don't make his mental health a priority then no one will, and because I care about him, I want to see him, I don't know, be okay. But that means taking it all on, and I just, I don't, I've been monologuing about this for long enough and please help."

Nursey nodded, face still carefully composed. He'd been in a similar situation with a cousin, and told Dex he was on the right track and had to take care of himself first, and to talk to Evan about it first, and if after that he couldn't prove he was making an effort to improve his health then Dex should end the relationship. All in all, Nurse was quite proud with his maturity in handling the situation, and could sleep well knowing he gave Dex the advice he would give anyone.

Except.

Knowing this was so detrimental to Nursey's dumbass feelings-for-Dex heart balloon, which expanded with shallow, selfish hope with the knowledge that Dex wasn't totally happy and that Evan had, like, at least one flaw.

It was the stupid balloon that had made him write the poem in the first place. He just had to let some of the air out before it popped. How could he have known it would end up like this?

He reread the poem nervously while class was winding down, tuning out the prof's droning about atmosphere.

 i bet you heard that your freckles were constellations, stars scattered across shoulders but i have never heard something so wrong stars are dead things, explosions of heat and gas, and what we see are the remnants of light, hanging on only to the echo but your skin is a living masterpiece a splattered miracle of pigment and sundrops and pointilism you might be the water droplets that bead up on the car ride home, as i watch two drops race each other to avoid looking at your hair or your eyes or your freckled fists on the wheel, because i know if i look i will do something stupid like fall in love— but it's too late. i didn't see it coming because i always thought it would be gradual, but all it takes is for me to see the fireworks of freckles on your sternum, permanently burned onto your skin like the imprint of the sun on the back of my eyes and it explodes in my chest, this thing that i let happen so no, dear, you are not like the constellations so fickle, disappearing every morning, hiding behind the clouds your freckles are like freckles because i have tried and tried, but i cannot for the life of me think of a more beautiful word

 An elbow in his side jolted him back to class. It was Evan's.

"Can't wait to read your poem!" he said.

"Haha, thanks," he said.

Haha, fuck, he thought.

//

"Nurse. I read your poem."

Nursey's eyes tracked slowly up from his reading to the puppy-dog eyed boy in front of him. Evan. Shit.

"I can explain," he said.

Evan slid into the booth next to him at Annie's. "I need your advice."

Nursey repeated Evan's word in his brain once, and then twice, and then a third time, really breaking down each word, and he was still confused. "What?"

"With Dex. I have eyes. You obviously really care about him. Like, you're in love with him, I mean. And maybe that makes me stupid for asking you, but I don't really have anyone else I know who'll hear what I have to say and have Dex's best interests at heart, and so I'm trusting you to be honest with me, because I don't really think I'm capable of being honest with myself right now."

"I'm sorry, are you asking me for relationship advice?" The words left his own mouth but they still didn't make sense.

"Kind of. It's just. Has Dex told you anything about me?"

He knew what Evan was asking. "He told me you had some mental health issues, yeah. And that it's been... well. A support system can't be one person."

Evan nodded, like this was what he had been wanting to hear, which only succeeded in confusing Nursey more.

"Yes. Exactly. So. I wanted to ask someone who actually knew Dex about it, because I don't think he's being honest with me. I mean, I think he's trying to hide his feelings because he's afraid it will like, break me, or make me feel worse, or whatever. I guess my question is... am I hurting him?"

And, fuck. All of Nursey's irrational dislike of Evan flew out the window when he heard that soft little question, Evan's voice almost too raw to bear.

Which was why Nursey knew he was being honest when he whispered, "Yes." He rushed on to amend, "Well, it's not actually your mental illness, whatever that is, Dex never specified. It's that Dex feels like the responsibility for your mental well-being is entirely on his shoulders, which is not healthy for anyone to feel, ever. He really cares about you, Evan. But from what I gather, you're putting a lot of weight on him. You need to have someone else besides Dex: your family, other friends, maybe a therapist. Okay, no, as someone with bipolar, you actually should definitely have a therapist. But it's gonna take a while, dude. And until then... yeah. You are hurting him."

The fucking look in his eyes, man. "I need him," he said.

"I know," Nursey replied. "Which is probably why you have to let him go."

Evan sighed, a release of understanding, of learning something you already knew. "Thank you. I just needed someone to say it out loud to me." He looked down at his hands, picking the skin off the side of the nail. "Um. Do you know how... where would I find a good therapist? Do you think?"

//

Things after that were harder. But also better.

Dex was devastated, he was. But Nursey could also see the relief in the set of his shoulders. That Evan would be okay, or he was on his way to being okay, and it wasn't Dex's job to fix him. Or anyone's job but Evan's, honestly. Nursey had almost forgotten the whole ode to Dex thing.

Almost.

Until Dex burst into their room, paper in hand, yelling, "Hey, Nurse? What the fuck is this?"

Nursey froze at his desk. He didn't have to look. He could feel the words on the paper in the room with them, haunting him. Why did he have to be so melo-fucking-dramatic all the time?

"What's what?" he said instead of all that, swiveling around calmly, thinking maybe if he acted chill his blood pressure would be fooled and decrease.

(Or maybe it would increase just enough that he could have a heart attack and be in the ER and not this room?)

"Nursey. Please don't insult my intelligence."

He risked a glance up to Dex's face, which didn't look mad or embarrassed or any of the emotions Nursey would immediately associate with an unwanted love confession.

"Look, you were never supposed to see it, okay—"

Dex let out a laugh, one of those laughs when there's some sort of emotion in you and you don't really know where to put it and it just bursts out into a laugh. Nursey thought of volcanoes and pillow fights and popped balloons. His fingers itched for a pencil.

"Oh, so you were just gonna let me be ignorant forever? You were really never gonna tell me this is how you feel?"

"I—" Nursey watched Dex's face, but he really couldn't reconcile Dex's tone with his words with his face. They were all criss-crossed, like Dex's eyelashes when he woke up from a nap.

His hand actually made it all the way to the pen on his desk, screaming to write it all down, before he forced it to return back to his lap just to fiddle with. It wasn't his fault Dex looked so beautiful like this. So alive.

"I don't know what you want me to say."

This was clearly not the right thing, because he saw the irritation settle into Dex's face, like tinder on a campfire, before he closed his eyes, leaning back, and breathing in deep.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to come in here picking a fight. I want you to be honest with me. Please."

"I—" Three seconds ago, he'd been composing poetry, prose, metaphors about his feelings. And yet somehow in this moment, he couldn't think of one single thing to say.

"I'm obsessed with you," he blurted. "It's kind of embarrassing, actually. I think about you literally all the time. And I always write what I'm thinking about. So I wrote that."

Dex shook his head, his lips turned up faintly in disbelief, like he was laughing at a joke no one had told yet. "I'm sorry, when did you write this?"

"Um...like... a month ago? I think? Maybe."

Dex's eyes closed, like he was having trouble with the math. Dex was really excellent at math.

"So you're telling me you've liked me about as long as I've been with Evan."

Nursey mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "maybe."

"What about his poem?"

Nurse blinked. "What about it?"

This time Dex really did laugh. It sounded a bit delirious. "When I showed you his poem! Did you really think I wanted your opinion on his prose?"

Nursey said nothing, but the look on his face probably betrayed that yes, that was what he'd thought.

"For someone who can write such brilliant shit—" he waved the paper around, "—you really are dense sometimes. I was giving you a chance! To say something, to stop me, I don't know. But then you said you liked it, so I thought, 'well, that settles it, he's not into me. Time to move on.' And then I did. And then you have the audacity to write this motherfucking—"

Dex looked like he was edging into full on rant mode, so Derek stood up quickly and interrupted with, "Hey Dex?"

Dex hit the brakes, looking up at Nursey like he very much wanted to finish. "What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

And, man. Dex was so beautiful like this, arms askew in the middle of the point he'd been making, hair mussed, face confused, like his words had stopped but his brain was veering off course. He kind of looked like a mess. Derek's heart swelled.

"Okay," he said.

Derek rushed in, worried if he waited any longer Dex would keep talking.

He didn't.

Dex's hands found Nurse's waist, paper still in hand, gripping at his back and grabbing him, pulling him closer. Nursey framed his hands around Dex's face, dragging him into the kiss. One of his hands gripped at the back of Dex's neck, sliding up over his short hair, like he'd wanted to do for months.

His mouth was so warm, just like the rest of him, but more, somehow. Nursey opened his mouth, sucking on Dex's lip. Dex's hand reflexively squeezed Nursey's waist. Before he could get too cocky about that, Dex caught Nursey's bottom lip in his teeth, scraping slow over it, sending chills down his scalp over his whole body.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dex said, pulling away, kinda, in the sense that his mouth was no longer attached to Nursey's, but he was still pretty entwined all up in Derek. He leaned his head down to catch his breath, his panting blowing over Derek's neck, giving Derek the mental image of Dex kissing him there, which, fuck—

"I was gonna say something," Dex said, eyes still looking kind of scrambled.

"Mm-hmm," Derek hummed, leaning in close again. One of Dex's hands left Nursey's waist and brushed his own lips, and yeah, Nursey knew the feeling. His mouth was literally humming, floating away from the rest of him.

"I can't remember," Dex said, grinning, already leaning back into Derek.

"That's okay," Derek murmured against Dex's pulse, which he could actually feel thrumming rapidly against his lips. "We have time."

And he kissed and kissed and kissed him, until there wasn't a single freckle left untouched.

[afreakingdork]

Review: Saekano: How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend

“ Tomoya Aki, an otaku, has been obsessed with collecting anime and light novels for years, attaching himself to various series with captivating stories and characters. Now, he wants to have a chance of providing the same experience for others by creating his own game, but unfortunately, Tomoya cannot do this task by himself. He successfully recruits childhood friend Eriri Spencer Sawamura to illustrate and literary elitist Utaha Kasumigaoka to write the script for his visual novel, while he directs. Super-group now in hand, Tomoya only needs an inspiration to base his project on, and luckily meets the beautiful, docile Megumi Katou, who he then models his main character after. Using what knowledge he has, Tomoya creates a new doujin circle with hopes to touch the hearts of those who play their game. What he does not realize, is that to invoke these emotions, the creators have had to experience the same feelings in their own lives. “

So.... I hate this show. I hate it with a burning passion. This show was a waste of my time and the only reason I finished it is because I thought at some point it would get better, spoiler alert: it didn’t but let’s save that for... 

Criticism: 

Where to start? I guess first the characters are trope GARBAGE. I mean this isn’t even a meta on those tropes this is just straight up trope bullshit. They even go so far as to comment on how every girl in Tomoya’s harem is a trope and they even GUESS the next trope when it comes to Izumi. I hate them all, well except Megumi for whom the series I suppose is named? (not really, but we’ll get to the misleading name later). Too bad she is nothing but a background blank pallet to show off more tropes again. 

The name of this show is very misleading... how to raise a boring girlfriend? One, Megumi is not his girlfriend (though she totally should be, I think she could straighten Tomoya out whereas any other girl would just increase his bullshit). Then, there’s the training, I guess he is training her in a way, but really he is just forcing more trope-y bullshit on her so she can be the inspiration for his horrid dating sim. Yeah, that’s the real plot btw, he and his trope harem of girls who all coincidentally are all skilled in the parts necessary to fulfill his dream of making a dating sim are also in love with him and are willing to do it for free. ONCE AGAIN, HOW CAN THIS BULLSHIT NOT BE A FUN META BUT INSTEAD JUST SAME TROPE GARBAGE??????

Michiru = incest. Don’t care, she is his cousin, don’t fucking @ me. Also he has an otaku obsession with incest plots and the plot to his shitty dating sim is a time travel INCEST PLOT. Also he is afraid Megumi will fall for her cousin. Just fuck off with this. 

Why are some scenes color-coded. I thought at first that each girl has a color assigned to them that would appear when they are having an intense or romantic moment, but the colors would change around and were just distracting filters that made little to no impact other than distracting me. 

What the fuck happened between him and Utaha????? Like I know what happened, I watched episode 7  "Deciding the Night for Two", but all of it is NOT HOW ANY REAL HUMAN BEING WOULD REACT TO ANY SITUATION EVER. 

WHY DO THEY ALL LOVE HIM??????????????????????????? IT’S FUCKING STUPID PAPER THIN PLOT. 

Positive: 

Art is cute, I suppose. 

I like how Michiru was tricked and her band is an otaku band. I thought that was a cute twist and maybe the only time I laughed out loud. 

As I already mentioned, I liked Megumi.  She is interesting in that she is perceived to not be interesting, she is stoic and funny and the only saving grace in the series.  

Verdict: 

[wingedhumanoid-remade]

@wings-united because you’ve blocked me and I can’t reply to your messages. which is hilarious.

Oh i reallllllllllllllyyyyy am loving this. Are you actually reading um, anything im saying? Lets start with celocanths becuase you apparently didn't do any fucking research. Celocanths. dont. have. more. than. four. limbs.  Neither do any other devonian fish. I said it really slow so you'd understand. The "limbs" you are referring to is called a "limb-like appendage," heres some photos so you can grasp this concept.

See how that worked? The other fins do not even vaugly fuction as limbs, cause theyre not.  

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limb_(anatomy) "Limbs are jointed." "one of the projecting paired appendages (such as wings) of an animal body used especially for movement and grasping but sometimes modified into sensory organs." You dont look at fish, see their fins and go "HEY the've got more than four limbs!!!!" Come on. Ok, so now that that god awful excuse of a "rebuttal" is out of the way. My earlier statement still stands (hint because its a law of evolution) How did we evolve another fully functional limb. N other species on earth at the complexity above like, an amoeba, has EVER EVOLVED A NEW LIMB. Tell me, Kah.  So why do you think avians would grow new limbs? ell me exactly how the limb developed. "Evolution doesn't get to make whole new mechanisms out of whole cloth. Note that both bats and birds had to sacrifice their hands to make wings. Evolution didn't just tack on wings. Their arms and hands gradually changed into wings. They re-used the basic existing structures and pectoral muscles. It's a hack. Evolution is always a hack." "The only mammal to successfully gain true flight are bats, and they have been diverged from the rest of the mammalian tree for 100 million years. We just have not been evolving for long enough, and more importantly we have been evolving to fill a completely different evolutionary niche than the one filled by flying animals. It is basically impossible for evolution to change trajectories so drastically on such short notice." Why would the avian ancestors  "need" wings? What sort of circumstances could occur that would drive us to need wings that are not already resolved by us having exceptional creativity and cooperation between our kind? Evolution just doesn't work the way you're looking at it - "it would be nice if we had wings, so let's evolve some".  Even if wings were needed for the survival of the species, extinction is a MUCH more likely outcome.  (hy didn't the dinosaurs ALL just become tiny, so they could survive?  It doesn't work that way.  The ones that HAD become tiny - the ones that eventually became birds - DID survive.  That's how evolution works - you don't evolve what you need, you survive IF you've evolved what you need.)

Avian ancestors did not go from "lump on back" to "wings." Cause for that to happen you need a reason to have the lumps form in the first place, and then STAY there. What purpous would having extra stuff on your back to carry around have? How would that be an evolutionary advantage? "Regeneration is literally the growth, or regrowth of limbs, and it acts on stem cells. Wing growing is a form of regeneration, but it is creating new limbs. How did the gene for those limbs evolve, thats what I'm asking.  I know what regeneration is and it only works if theres a genetic code for those limbs to appear.

"You’re right, evolution edits what’s already there. Like cells, which create and grow things" No organism has ever had evolution start randomly mutating some cells on its back to grow a new limb, or anything even close to that. "My friend. We are not birds, therefore it would be impossible for us to get a pointed face, specialized heart" HOLy shit lmao. You really don't have a grasp on evolution. Theres no. reason??? avians wouldn't  have gotten a more pointed and streamined face shape. I'm not saying avians would just fucking. grow a beak? Im saying they would have become you know, shaped like they were ment to fly?

“To think that Homo Avians (IS, not could be, IS) a thing that would  be possible is simply stupid.” I’m,, holy shit.   You’re essentially telling me that avians aren’t possible and that  i don’t exist. "

HOLY SHIT ARE YOU. Serious?

Oh my god. I'm just stating the fucking facts my dude. Taxonomy is a real thing, and one rule is that organisms with a different amount of LIMBS do not get grouped in the same genus. Sorry? Again, get it through your thick skull. Just cause I say the classification of "Homo Avian"  wouln't make sense, doesn't mean I think growing wings is imposible. How many times am I going to have to write that before you fucking understand?

Hominids are in the superclass Tetrapoda contains the "FOUR-limbed vertebrates known as tetrapods"

https://biology.stackexchange.com/questions/21772/why-dont-mammals-have-more-than-4-limbs https://www.quora.com/Why-arent-there-any-species-of-mammal-with-six-legs https://www.quora.com/Why-dont-any-mammals-have-more-than-4-limbs-Why-didnt-they-evolve-to-have-multiple-legs-or-arms-like-insects http://www.ucmp.berkeley.edu/vertebrates/tetrapods/tetraintro.html

"Adding a limb, on the other hand (no pun intended), is pretty expensive. You're not just adding a single extra part, but a whole network of additional blood vessels, bone structures, tissues, and what-have-you. These all need additional nutrients and a good set of genes to ensure they work together properly. On top of this, you also need the limb to not be a disadvantage. It needs to be in a useful place anatomically and immediately offer an advantage as soon as the extra limb mutation comes into play. These mutations can occur, but it's vastly more likely that they're a disadvantage. Take frogs, for example. It's not altogether uncommon for frogs to develop extra legs. What usually happens, though, is you end up with a frog that's clumsier and slower and packing more meat. Predators tend to like that sort of thing, so the mutated frogs don't live long enough to produce offspring so that the extra limb(s) could eventually become useful."

= OH boy. Have I been WAITING to roast Project Icarus. 1. "The group is elitist, claiming a special, exalted status for itself, its leader(s) and members" "Project Icarus is THE ONLY GROUP THAT CANG GROW WINGS, and anyone else who doesn't have the special"gene" i just made up IS TRASH AND HOPELESS"  

2. "The group has a polarized us-versus-them mentality" Do I..... even have to say it? "US vs. "The stupid dreamers." Did you see how fast your group turned against us? Immeditly going from "friends" to "I HATE YOU RETARD NONE OF YOU HAVE POTENTIAL AND CANT GROW WINGS" etc...etc...etc... I could go on.

3. “Wouldn’t it be exciting to really know the secrets of being an avian?” HOLY SHIT. THATS LITERALLY HOW PROJECT ICARUS WORKS. "We, PI, are the ONLY group who knows the SUPER SPECIAL METHOD and the real SCIENCE of growing wings. All the other group are fucking stupid." My group is exhibiting NONE of those behaviors you’ve just “quoted”.

4. "I’m 100% positive that if someone joined your group and decided that Sahde’s was more logical, you’d threaten them, hackle them, be utmost bitches. " Ooh my god... the IRONY. You mean, hackle them and be utmost bitches like.... when sahde removed me as an admin when I didn't agree with her? When she told me to leave and make my own group cause I wans't going along with your cultlike beliefs? Actually, in my group I'm encouraging you know, actually free thought? As in "we all have differing opinions on how wings are grown, and thats ok." So yeah, good try bud but we aren't going to be like PI was.

5. "You’re making everyone in the group feel guilty and terrible." WHERE LMAO. Me? Me as in IM the one going around calling my members retards and stupid cult members like a child? oh right, thats you :/. Oh and crow, whom you persuaded to go into my group, lie, and then leave after calling us all "a cult full of dreamers." yeah. ok. and then the blocking of course. i've been blocked by almost everyone, expecially you becuase you didn't want to hear what I was saying anymore. I understand blocking oliver, and I do not condone their behavior and I definitely have asked them to stop sending you and the others edgy messages. I have not sent any one of my members to go yell at anyone from PI cause I have some common decency. You can talk to them if they hurt your feewings.

As if you and Ro are some holy angelic saints who are never mean uwuwuwuwuwu. if you're felling guilt, maybe theres a reason.

6. "invites random people to attempt to grow wings who will never grow them" You mean like.......................................................... you? sahde? ro? whom have never grown wings yet and not even proven their own ""theory?""" yeah......... thats smart. remember when sahde lied abut having wings?that was fun. remember? not cult-like at all.

We don’t let in random ppl, we haven't let anyone in. All my group is made up of ex-pi members who were tired of the bullshit. I gave them the option to leave and didn't force any of them to stay.

7. "The group displays excessively zealous and unquestioning commitment to its leader" GOD this is really funny. sahde can explain this one to you, shes already gone on a rant about it before.

8. " Questioning, doubt, and dissent are discouraged or even punished." ajhsbasjdhgjaskdashkjahfjhfldsjfh

http://www.csj.org/infoserv_cult101/checklis.htm

tdlr. i could do this all day. i know you’re never going to admit “hey maybe im wrong, my theory doesn’t make sense in terms of evolution” because you think you’re so smart and are again, full of yourself.

Please. Actually acknowledge the science instead of spouting bullshit.

[twentytoolate]

So the a few days ago I did something rather impulsive - like telling some person I’ve had class with that they can come to a concert with me. This results in me cancelling with the person I was initially going to go with. I thought hey, maybe new friends, new opportunities, do something different.

So I did and we went, and it was nice to begin. He said he never been to a punk show, we drink a little before going in, we have nice conversation about politics, writing, lifestyles. He tells this story how he “got arrested” but not really because he was a white guy from a rich neighborhood and was in a gated off community. Right.

I’m kind of like, explaining that often times people take for granted the life they have regardless of scenario and he claims that he hates being from a rich family - because you know, all the stress of “conformities.”

Right...

Then we decide for another drink - lets have a shot - just one? Double shots. Of what? Tequila. Hm I wonder what they have. Just get the cheapest. Oh I usually drink hsjhfsbf. What’s that? Some expensive fancy tequila. Hm oH. Yeah I should just start drinking cheaper stuff.

Ard, and it’s really not about tequila or anything like that, but I like tequila a lot and this guy probably knows top shelf tequila because of his stupendous funds. From his family. Of course he can be a writer/poet/comedian when he doesn’t have to pay bills.

This elitist shit kind of gets to me when he asks what beers they have (at a concert venue, what the heck do you think they have) and thinks it’s so interesting that they have Rolling Rock. Says he hasn’t drank it since freshman year. I drank it probably within the last year, because ya know, cost effectiveness. Alcohol is alcohol is alcohol.

So continuing on, we go to see part of the first band, and the crowd isn’t too in to it because it’s the first band that’s a little bit no-name but still good punk music. I’m jamming a little bit, regardless. And this guy starts saying how the band sucks. uh ok, nice opinion. Says, let’s make this more interesting - wut - and decides to try to make out with me.

First band. What the heck, it’s not even that lit in here yet for spontaneous make out sessions, and I pull away and it’s weird, and he keeps trying to do a weird grinding thing like we’re dancing/making a note to the audience that he’s claiming me as his. Anyway it’s fucking weird, and I move away to just stand next to him.

Idk, maybe it would have been better if I was crazily into him but this was a more friend-lets-see-how-it-goes event and perhaps you can be placed on a scale of would/would not hang out again. Besides thats way too forward, and way too much drunken confidence, and I’m a person who likes to live with spontaneity and fun - but I don’t like that touchy shit when I hardly know you. I’m not affectionate unless you’re someone really special. AND IF I TRUST YOU.

So he keeps trying to do this grind this, grabbing my butt, putting his hand on my lower back, and I keep tensing up or moving so it’s apparent i don’t like it - arms folded, etc.

Second band comes on, same shit, and it’s these people who obviously just sold more tickets to place not first, more boy-band, they look cute/hot, and so people like them more. He thinks this band is better. I’m not interested.

He tries to make out again, I move away, again, after like a courtesy few seconds to not embarrass this dude in a crowd. I’m not mean.

Anti-Flag comes on - finally. I kinda can tell that this guy is wondering what the fuck is this girl’s POV on rich people and the government / stupid guy ASSUMPTIONS about girls that like this kind of music. Like it’s for show or something, I don’t entirely understand.

So I distance myself away because there’s a mosh pit and it’s fun, also not into the guy. There’s a guy who seems to be by himself also moshing/standing next to me. One of those weird feelings that you’re both conscious of each other being solo people in the crowd, so you’re doing that weird peripheral glance/occasional look over type things. Then, like Justin Sane was aware of this says to meet the person on your right/person on your left, and we meet. It’s chillin, we continue to mosh. The other guy finds me, and I introduce them, we all go for a cigg and a drink, I go to the bathroom - at this point the asshole says “lets ditch this guy” - to which I say “wtf” but am walking away - and i come back to find the new guy gone.

Reel Big Fish goes on and I try to avoid the asshole the whole night - but am befriending the new guy in the skank-pit again, and also see another friend I haven’t known for a while. The new guy says “Can I have your number if I don’t see you? You’re friend doesn’t like me” ((((note: during anti-flag he asked if the asshole was my boyfriend to which i said no, simply a friend from writing classes))) And I say yeah sure - wait did he say something?

YEAH- APPARENTLY THIS ASSHOLE TOLD THIS NICE YOUNG PUNK TO BEAT IT OR HE’D FIGHT HIM.

what the heck, so I’m disgusted. Asshole tries to find me, puts arm around me and I dodged that shit and pushed him away like he was a fucking snake - which he is.

and so, I’m moshing around, having a good ole time falling and skanking, going nuts, this new pal is hanging around we’re pushing each other once in a while in all good fun. And then I’m just like, dwelling in how shit this asshole was, and turn to the new guy at the last song of the set and say “hey I’m leaving, wanna come to an after party?” And he’s like yeah sure! We duece and have a fun time at the party which he tries no bullshit and we simply exchange a hug goodbye, and he integrates himself into the party and everyone thinks he’s cool and not a weird asshole.

Not bad.

I told my dad about this and he said “good, he was an asshole, leave that fucker.” :) must be proud of me.