#y’all better like this because i have finals and am supposed to graduate college next week

[unhappy-sometimes]

First Date

I really want them to have an actual date where they do things that actually look fun

Hope that makes sense

[queencryo]

I’m gonna liveblog my ccapstone final presentation and you’re all going to have to deal with it ^_^

ASPODFIASPODFIAPOSDFIAPOIVZJX PROF IS DOING A DESCRIPTION OF THE TEAMS WE ALL INHERITED FROM

THE ONLY GOOD THING SHE HAS TO SAY ABOUT THE ONE WE INHERITED IS THAT THEY WERE REALLY PERSERVERING. I’M LOVING THIS. THEY TRIED SO HARD BUT GODDAMN.

liHoly shit the glove group’s demo looks SO much better than their previous one. Full swag! full swag! And putting up a dude with TWO future tech cool gloves is always a huge coolthing to do during your presentation you know? That slaps hard.

Hope our presentation goes well, really badly hope it does... Man I hope they don’t shit on our putting so much time into internal testing for the presentation? That testing is what saved our project (ie: what made our prof finally start being on our side on things)

Holy shit I forgot that the glove group fucking. used pressure-to-conductance sensors then did tests with a cooking scale to convert their voltages to gram-force (which is what “hand specialists” use I guess????)

I’m fucking gargling, glove team had a team member in thailand so they did a lot of work at 830 PM or 830 AM. (*Ignores that we did a huge amount of work between the hours of 9PM and 6AM*). oh my GOD the guy in austin just.. left his computer on and the thailand one teamviewer’d into his PC to program stuff...

THEY FRIED AN ARDUINO. AND HAD TO SAW THROUGH IT BECAUSE UNSOLDERING WAS TOO HARD. ***AND THEY ACTUALLY PUT THIS INTO THEIR FUCKING PRESENTATION***. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I FRIED A RASPBERRY PI BUT YOU DON’T SEE ME PUTTING THAT SHIT INTO OUR PRESENTATION

also dude y’all know the budget of $200 was what the university would give us right? you know you were supposed to get under $50 for the project itself right? right?

Glove group is getting some hard questions. Not insurmountable, but not easy. Hopefully I can figure out anything they ask!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA also i am out of adderall so we’ll SEE how this goes :)

Next up is uhhhh I think one of the survivor guys? The phone guys? I’m tryna be p vague but yeah

holy SHIT survivor guy demo was. so bad. so bad. the audio sounded terrible, the splitscreen videos weren’t synced up quite right. oh my god. I don’t want to be mean but I’m just. literally I was cringing. jeez. Bad audio.

The rest of the presentation isn’t as bad, except that oh dude I can see part of your windows background? and your taskbar? AND YOUR TASKBAR IN A COUPLE OF FRAMES ELSEWHERE???? it just. this doesn’t feel like they put effort into it.

They do all look crisp with their white button-ups though. our team decided on black t-shirts, because we’re all fools.

WHY IS YOUR ENTIRE PRESENTATION NOT FULLSCREEN. DUDE DID YOU ONLY DO ONE TAKE ON THIS SHIT?

I feel like their presentation genuinely looks worse than their prafctice presentation. jesus. FULL SECOND BLANK BLACK SCREEN DURING SECTION TRANSITION

im bored so im now zoning out and talking to my friends on pisscord~

I’m also... unmedicated lol. im ouuttttttttt

oh! I asked some porn lady on twitter where she gets her hormones since I’m about to graduate out of access to the uni clinic i get em from now, so imma look into that at some point :) some kinda. anime-themed hrt distribution thing.

Which is weird but hey. I figure... if they’re putting effort into theming, they probably aren’t putting out cocaine-laced trash ya know?

THIS MOTHERFUCKER GETTING DISCORD NOTIFICATIONS WHILE THEY’RE ANSWERING INDUSTRY PROFESSIONAL QUESTIONS

literally chatting with my friends and manically laughing in hte moments up to my final presentation. this is just like my high school graduation.

Alright we’re UP babes. my video is ON and our recorded presentation is UP on my teammate’s (and perhaps... *friend’s*............) sccreen (that was a joke) (but yeah the presentation is up we’ere just waiting to GO baby!)

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Aaaand muting our presentation during the parts I talked in... I like her fine I just don’t want to listen to her...

The industry guys look perplexed but idk if th oh GOD why is the video stuttering... I hope that’s on my side not on anyone else’s...

aaaaaaaa I hope they don’t ask us anything TOO hard. they’re probably going to ask why we used the sensor we did, but beyond that I really have no idea.

okay im paying attention again. I think our presentation is a LITTLE on the sexual side. I can’t be sure but... :smirk: Wish I had a friend who talked as much as me. Ah man you know what I miss? Watching movies with Al or Morgan. never hung w ppl who talked during movie theatres as much as them and me :) It was really good times!

God our mobile application UI is OS fucking sexy. holy fucking shit. God our guy on that did such an amazing job. There’s even animations when things are happening? It’s SOOOO good.

Now is the internal testing section of the presentation. Kinda show off that “hey mang our sensor just sucks DICK.” it’s super narrow and it HATES detecting black things. ... holy fuk I hope the choppy video is on myyyy siiiiiide... .. eh, I guess chopy video is kind of survivable. Not exactly our fault or something we could possibly predict, you know?

DISCORD

THIS IS A TRASHBIN FOR ALL MY WORDS SO THAT I DON’T TALK OR SAY SOMETHING STUPID WHERE IMPORTANT PEOPLE COULD SEE IT. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

at least the audio isn’t usually choppy during the parts of the presentation that aren’t videos? so that’s awesome :)

We did solve the problem of our faces getting in the way of the presentation

NOOOOOOO MY NAME ISN’T MARROW NOOOOOOOOOOO

ASDFASODPFAISPDFOI SHOWIN OFF THE PREVIOUS TEAM’S SHIT. PUTTING THEM ON FUCKING BLAST. FUCK Y’ALL. tho i did have the realization last night. you know what... if I passed with that shit I put in for 462, you know what... they can pass with what they did for this course. neither was good. <_<

ah fuck I’m talking again I gotta mute THAT SHIT (if it’s not clear, we pre-recorded our presentations and are now just... showing that, in da meeting).

hell yeah man hell yeah man

I think if they ask about our sensor choice I’ll say we got a $20 sensor beccause we had a budget of $50 for the final system. which. we SHOULD’VE then said “ohka ylet’s not use LiDAR.” but we didn’t, so here we are! I... think maybe part of this is my fault. Maybe a pair of microwave sensors was the way to go after all.

OH FUCK THE PRESENTATION IS OVER TIME FOR QUESTIONS.

They asked about the environmental concerns, and why we mentioned 3-d printing for the chassis when we didn’t actually do any such printing. both directed to me. we didn’t do any enviro conerns, and we didn’t end up 3-d printing because we couldn’t get it working so we just went with wood the whole way through.

Of course, we have a question about messaging between cones, because hey i mean that’s the most interesting part of our project, from a design standpoint. it is. it is. it is.

AY THEY SHOUTED OUT OUR ZOOM BACKGROUND FUCK YESSS

AY WHOOP AY WHOOP AY WHOOP THEY DIDN'T ASK SHIT ABOUT OUR PRESENTATION (i ASSUME BECAUSE IT WAS SO FUCKING FLAWLESS AND AMAZING THAT THEY HAD NO QUESTIONS AT FUCKING ALL BABY) 

THEY LITERALLY ASKED 4 QUESTIONS, ABOUT ENVIRO CONCERNS, CHASSIS, MESSAGING, AND SOME QUESTIONS ABOUT THE DATABASE

GOD THIS IS SO GOOD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

goddamn. survivor guy group 2 is going SO MUCH BETTER than the last one. opened on a description of the project, with the arm slowly opening to reveal their little screen with a heart on it... that’s SO good bro.

This presentation is so much better than the last one. Oh my god this is so good bro. Y’all did so awesome. I’m in lvoe with you. LOVE THIS SHIT

lmao oh yeah our CPM critical path went from 30 days to like 79 days. partially cuz 30 of our days were spent waiting for parts...

SURVIVOR GUY SHOWING OFF THEIR ABILITY TO PLAY VIDEO WITH A CLIP FROM THE OFFICE. DEEPLY IN LOVE WITH THEM (I DONT LIKE THE OFFIE BUT THAT’S WAY MORE ENTERTAINING THAN THE OTHER SURVIVOR GUY TEAM’S EXAMPLE OF THE SCHOOL FIGHT SONG YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH)

really really great presentation. I went into their pisscord and made sure to tell zem i loved their presentation.

AW DUDE I LOVE MY SISTER SO MUCH. NOT RELATED. JUST LOOKING AT MY DMS AND SAW HER NAME.

I don’t really care about group 5. i just don’t care! I’m. my part is done. I’m free, mostly. I’m god now....

yeah i haven’t paid attention to much on group five. just can’t be assed!

bluh i have a shitton of history homework due tonight... gotta do an interview and like 5 fuckin writing assessments. Really dropped every ball available ya know?

PROF SAID “THIS IS THE BEST I’VE EVER SEEN GROUPS DO” IDK IF THAT’S TRUE BUT HELLLLLLLLLL YEAH I FEEL FANTASTIC

Prof says yall did great, woulda done great under normal circumstances and that you did so good under these is amazing.

:)

Something about making an abstract or something...? Student research week or something.

goddamn. finality. we did it folks. holy sh8it. last meeting ofthis class. kind of... the last meeting of my college career, if everything goes as planned? so that’s. weird.

hhhh okay i can’t let Finality Anxiety get to me I still have shit to do. don’t let it set in!!!!!!!!!

[norequestimagines]

Safeguard [Pt. 3]

A/N; WHAT’S UP MOTHER FUCKERS, IT’S FINALLY HERE.I am genuinely so sorry this took as long as it did. I couldn't get the ending quite right. I suck at ending things. I just feel like it’s cheesy and not as tied up as I’d like but I hope y’all like it. Please let me know! CC is always welcome. 

trigger warning: arguing?

A soft yellow haze filled the room while the sun rose, shining through the window. I stretched and rolled over, my heart dropping when I realized Josh was gone, but my hope was quickly restored when I  saw the steaming mug full of coffee on the nightstand next to me. Soft metal- on-metal noises could be heard coming from the kitchen.

Josh stood at the stove, turning bacon with a fork and attempting to scramble eggs with a wooden spoon in his non-dominant hand. He’d jump when the bacon fat popped, splattering onto his bare abdomen.

“It doesn’t hurt if you’ve got a shirt on.” I giggled from the bottom of the staircase. 

He turned to smile at me before turning back to the bacon. “I didn’t hear you complaining about me being shirtless last night.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely not complaining. Though, I might complain about the egg puck and burned bacon you’re working on, there.”

“Yeah… I was going for a whole thing here but I don’t think I have a future as a chef.” He grumbled, placing his hands on his hips and scowling at his failed attempt at a breakfast. 

“Grab some more eggs, you can focus on the bacon. Just make sure you start with the pan cold, Gordon Ramsay.” I giggled, placing my coffee on the counter before starting to crack eggs and whisk them into a froth. 

It was easy. He asked questions about how I beat the eggs and how I got them so fluffy. I danced around him to place bread in the toaster and pour us both more coffee before returning to stir the eggs, ensuring that they didn’t burn. Laughing at his childlike wonder at my (rather basic) cooking skills, it was hard not to feel some sense of melancholy. It was always so easy with him. There was no stress and no overthinking because everything always just worked. And even now, as we made breakfast together while being broken up and having jus had sex the night prior, it felt right. 

We ate at the table outside, taking in the early morning sun. He didn’t ruin the second batch of bacon, nor did he make breakfast uncomfortable. We kept the conversation light, joking about his being completely hopeless in the kitchen. Neither of us came back to reality until he told me I had no idea how beautiful I was. 

“Josh, you can’t just-” My gaze fell to my plate; suddenly my fork pushing my eggs around was incredibly interesting. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...” His voice trailed off and I refused to look back at him, instead turning my eyes towards the horizon. Our place overlooked a few acres of land and mornings here were always my favorite. 

Suddenly, this morning wasn’t so easy. 

“Thank you, Josh, for everything. But I uh, I should really get going.”

Standing before he could say anything, I stood and walked quickly into the house. I could hear him hot on my heels. 

“Kara, wait! Kar, please, just- Kara!” He grabbed my wrist as my foot hit the second stair, putting me a few inches above him. “Can we please just talk about last night?” 

I chewed my lip and mulled it over. Deciding I may as well get it over with, I met his eyes and took a deep breath. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” 

A flicker of a smile passed on Josh’s lips before he lead me to the living room, his fingers locking with mine. We sat on the couch, right next to each other, in the most uncomfortable silence I’d ever been a part of. 

“So last ni-”

“What happ-” 

We laughed and I insisted he go first. 

“Last night… What uh; I mean I wanted to be here for you in whatever way you needed, but I just… wasn’t expecting that to happen. Like, at all. And don’t get me wrong, it was great! I just don’t want you to feel like you owe me for what I did or like-” Josh rambled when he was out of his element. I’d always found it endearing. 

“Last night, I was vulnerable and scared and I just wanted to feel safe. I wanted to feel at home, you know? And I didn’t come to the guest room with the intent on that, but it just felt so…” “So normal.” He finished for me.

“SO normal! I’d had a horrible night and all I wanted was you.” 

Josh stayed silent, electing to grin shyly at me before picking at a stray thread on his sweats.  I took a few moments to take him in, the silence now comfortable. I missed staring into his ocean blue eyes over dinner. The feeling of his rough hands against my scalp after a hard day. I missed arguing over whether or not he should cut his hair and going out to breakfast when we both had a morning off. He was the only thing in Ohio that felt like home and I felt so lost without him. 

“What happened, Josh?” I whispered, not trusting my voice to be any stronger. “Why did we break up?” My eyes met his and he looked as if he’d just kicked a puppy. “ I mean I know why, but I don’t… Things didn’t happen the way you think they happened.”

“I know.” His voice was raspy, tears lining his waterline. 

“You know? You know?! So you did read the letter and you never even called?” I stared at him in awe. 

“No, that’s not… Kara, please, just let me explain my side.”

I stayed silent, nodding for him to continue.

“When I saw his instagram, I just freaked. The guys offered to buy me a few drinks, try to get my mind off of it. But the more I drank the more pissed I got. So I came home hot headed and drunk and I handled everything all wrong. I should’ve asked you what was going on. And I should’ve listened to you when you tried to tell me. I was just so wrapped up in my own head. In how hurt I was. How insecure I was. I thought it was best for both of us if I let you go.” 

“Insecure?” Josh was a professional athlete, in a town full of people who worshipped him. Girls threw themselves at him every time we went out whether it was just the two of us or with the whole team. What did he have to be insecure about?

“Yeah, I uh, I’ve always been intimidated by you. Remember when we met, and I didn’t actually ask you out for weeks? It’s because I couldn’t imagine a girl like you wanting to be with somebody like me. You graduated college at the top of your class. You don’t take shit from anybody. You can outdrink half the team and they all fucking adore you. I’m just some dumb jock who got lucky. And I know you’ve been wanting to take the next step. I can see your face when our friends get engaged and have kids and I can’t give you that right now. It wouldn't be fair to you or our kids for me to be away all the time, or to have to move around if I get traded. I want those things with you, Kar, but I can’t ask you to keep waiting around for me.” He scoffs, looking at the ceiling, willing himself not to cry. I grab him hand to stop him from ripping a hole in his sweats. His hands grasps mine tightly and he smiles at me sadly, a tear running down his face. “So then I see pictures of you with this guy, and you looked so happy, I just thought… I figured you found someone who could give you what I can’t yet, and I panicked. Once you left and I read that letter, I felt more stupid than I ever had in my entire life. I went back and looked at the pictures again and realized how different you looked. How sad your eyes were. I knew you were telling the truth. And then Boone told me about the court shit and I couldn’t face you. I let you go through all of that alone. You deserve so much better than that. You deserve the wedding you’ve always wanted, and the kids I’m sure you already have names picked out for. You deserve someone who can give you the world.”

I kept a hold of his hand as I turned to him, wiping tears from his cheeks with my free hand and tears of my own flowed down my face. “Josh, you are my world.” I choked out.  “I want to get married to you. I want your kids and I want our life. No other man could ever be enough for me.” 

Josh released a sob before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me to straddle his lap and burying his face in my neck. It felt incredible to be surrounded by him again. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” We both cried for a moment, just taking one another in. “What can I do?” He mumbled again. I felt him lean away from me, placing his large hands on either side of my face, lifting it to meet his. Our eyes locked and I choked out another sob.  “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me what to do, sweetheart, please, I-”

I rested my forehead against his and closed my eyes, silently praying to anyone who might be listening for some clarity . “ I don’t know, Josh. I don’t know what to do, either. I needed you to listen to me and you wouldn’t. I needed you to be there and you weren’t. How am I supposed to trust you again?” 

His hands moved down, one to hold my waist and one to rub large, comforting circles on my back.. “I’ve seen my life without you and I never want to live that way again. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this up to you. You say the word and it’s done. Please just come back home.” Josh whimpered and I could feel my heart breaking for him.

The past few months flashed before me. The sleepless nights in an empty apartment. Boone bringing takeout to my place because he knew I was too down to cook for myself. Feeling completely lost without Josh to share my life with. I knew he and I weren’t ready for marriage and kids yet but I couldn’t imagine having any of that with anyone else. 

“Don’t you ever let me go again.” 

In an instant, Josh’s arms were squeezing my body against his.  Neither of us spoke a word. After spending months apart and then having such an emotional roller coaster of the past 12 hours, we chose instead to take each other in. I could see the freckles that spread across his shoulders like constellations in the night sky. I could feel him wrapped around me, strong and steady. It’d been months and now that I could hear his heartbeat and smell his body wash and be with him, I finally felt safe. We had a lot of work to do. Our relationship would have to be rebuilt, a little at a time. But for now, we were together, and that was enough. 

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic | How Wonderful Life Is (While You’re in the World)

Title: How Wonderful Life Is (While You’re in the World) Summary: This is an epilogue/sequel to tiny dancer, because an extra dose was necessary. Word Count: ~1.7k Relationship: Branjie (Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo) Rating: T

Read on AO3

“I thought you’d be a little more excited by now,” A’keria observed. “You only graduate college once.”

Vanessa shrugged, setting the glue stick down. They’d been spending the day decorating their caps, but her heart just wasn’t in it. And that was because her heart was doing ballet in France. “I just miss her.”

“Come on, this was supposed to be a fun distraction,” Blair gently chimed in, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Brooke would want you to enjoy yourself, right?”

“Fuck, you make it sound like she’s dead,” she groaned and rest her head against the table. “How am I supposed to do this shit for another two months?” They were only two weeks into the ten-week engagement, and she already decided she couldn’t handle it.

A’keria pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, you just a drama queen. Aren’t you visiting her next month anyway? Bitching and moaning like you ain’t about to go to fucking France.”

Vanessa pushed herself up off the table, only to slump into her chair. “Y’all just don’t get it. We haven’t spent more than a few weeks apart in four years. I got separation anxiety!” Her cheeks flushed red, she was still embarrassed - she was self aware enough to know she was being childish and maybe a bit self-centered, but she couldn’t help herself; next to her mom, Brooke Lynn was the most important person in her life.

Blair nodded sympathetically. “Aw, honey, we understand. Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow? You should go give her a call before it gets too late over there. Go ahead, we’ll clean up here.”

A’keria arched her brow. “We will?”

“Yes,” she glared

Vanessa wasn’t paying attention to the bickering going on between her friends. Once Blair had given her the go-ahead to leave, she was gathering her things and heading right out the door. She glanced at her phone on the way out - it was about ten at night in Brooke’s side of the world, if she remembered correctly.

And lucky for her, Brooke Lynn was still awake and willing to Skype by the time she returned to their apartment.

“You’ve got glitter all over your face,” Brooke observed with a soft chuckle. “What sort of fun have you been getting up to over there?”

“None, I promise,” she retorted flatly. “We was decorating our caps but I just wasn’t feeling it. It’s kinda tacky at this point anyway,” she added, pulling dried glue off of her fingertips and flicking it away.

She pouted sympathetically. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “I think you should decorate it, though. It’s not like you to ever blend in.”

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “How’s shit over there?”

“I mean, it’s hard to complain about this place,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “The only thing it’s missing is my beautiful girlfriend,” she cooed, batting her lashes.

Vanessa chuckled softly, looking down and pushing her hair off of her shoulders. “So, you ain’t gonna leave me for some fancy French bitch then?” She did her best to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but even after all this time, there was a nagging sense of doubt somewhere inside her that worried one day Brooke would wake up and realize she could do better.

Brooke scoffed and shook her head. “As if anyone in this entire continent could hold a candle to you. I’m offended at the mere suggestion, Vanj.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve just been missing you.”

“I miss you too, but you’ll be here before you know it, and you’ll have a shiny new degree to be proud of.”

She looked back at her half-decorated cap on the dresser. “Still kinda hard to believe.” On paper, it had looked like all the odds had been stacked against Vanessa from the get-go. No one ever truly believed that she had the intelligence and determination to earn a college degree. Hell, when she had finished her first year, people around her had been surprised.

Except for Brooke.

“No it’s not,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “You busted your ass from the moment I met you, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that tries as hard as you. You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with.”

“Guess it’s hard to argue now that you got proof,” Vanessa conceded, “I just wish you was gonna be here for it.”

Brooke sighed sadly. “I do too, baby. But I promise, Nina’s going to be there livestreaming the whole thing to me.”

It wasn’t the same, but there was no point in belaboring the issue - it wasn’t going to change anything and they both would only feel worse. “You right, I know. Imma let you get to bed, talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright, love you,” she blew a kiss at the screen.

“Love you too,” she smiled fondly and ended the call.

However, when Brooke Lynn closed her laptop, she didn’t leave it sitting on her desk. Instead, she packed it into its case and put it in with her luggage. She flopped down on her bed for a moment, she’s not an actress and lying to Vanessa was harder than any course she’d taken during her master’s program, especially seeing the sadness in her expression - it was physically painful, but she knew it would pay off.

The alarm went off on her phone moments later and she made her way to the front of the apartment building to wait for a taxi. “L'aéroport, s'il vous plaît,” her diction had improved, but her French was still remedial.

But she got there just fine and landed in JFK around midnight. She took the train back into Manhattan, then took a cab to Nina’s apartment. “Thanks for waiting up for me,” she whispered as she slipped inside and carefully closed the door behind her.

“No problem, but you definitely owe me,” Nina chuckled and grabbed her a bottle of water. “Now, tell me again why you’re waiting until her party to show up?”

Brooke took a swig from the bottle and set it down on the table. “Because the graduation ceremony is going to be too busy. Besides, the party is going to be all about her, it’ll be the perfect moment for, you know…”

Nina nodded in understanding. “She’s going to be so excited to see you. I can already hear it; ‘Brooke Lynn! You’re here!’” She imitated Vanessa’s distinct way of speaking, getting her friend to laugh and hopefully alleviating the nerves she knew were still lingering.

------

Vanessa ran to her family, one hand clutching her diploma and the other holding her cap steady on her head. “Y’all seeing this shit? I’m a fuckin’ graduate!” She beamed brightly as her family surrounded her with affection and praise, the reality that she had actually survived college - something even she didn’t anticipate for herself.

“Come on sweetheart, it’s time to celebrate,” her mother cooed, leading her into the car so they could relocate to the venue.

They had reserved a private party room at one of Vanessa’s favorite restaurants. It had already been decorated with balloons and congratulatory banners as family and friends began filing in.

“Aw, you guys! This is so nice of y’all,” Vanessa beamed as she looked around the room.

“Actually,” Nina started, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with a giddy expression. “We have a little surprise for you.” She glanced over her shoulder, her smile brightening even more.

The room was silent, aside from some confused murmuring, until the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor got louder and louder until Brooke Lynn was standing in the doorway.

Vanessa’s eyes went wide and began to well with tears. “Brooke Lynn!”

“Hi, baby,” Brooke had barely gotten the phrase out before Vanessa launched herself at her. She caught her in a tight embrace, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What about your show?”

She shrugged as she set her down. “The understudy agreed to do a couple shows so I could surprise my girlfriend,” she kissed her sweetly and ruffled her hair. “It’s so good to see you.”

Even after she was set down, Vanessa was still hugging her tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, oh my god,” she tilted her head up to blink away tears.

Brooke stroked her fingers through her hair, humming softly. Then she took a step back, swallowing thickly. “I… um… I actually have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

She laughed awkwardly and shook her head. “No, this is just… something I’ve wanted to do since… honestly, since our first Thanksgiving together. I’ve been ready but… I finally think we’re ready,” she haphazardly rifled through her purse, her legs trembled as she got down on one knee.

The Mateo family had already erupted in excitement, scrambling for their phones and enthusiastically chattering in Spanish. Vanessa was the only quiet one, biting down on her knuckles as she was already starting to cry.

“Vanessa--”

“Yes!” “Let me finish!” Brooke giggled softly, then collected herself as quickly as she could, opening the box up. “Vanessa, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, regardless of how stubborn I was about it in the beginning. But over these past four years, my love for you has only grown exponentially. And that’s why I want to ask you… will you marry me?” There was a beat of silence. “You can answer now.”

“Yes!” It was somewhere between a scream and a sob, Vanessa hardly knew what to do with herself, so she just threw her arms around Brooke and cried into the crook of her neck until she had pulled herself together enough to slide the ring onto her finger. “Damn, look at this rock!” She exclaimed to distract herself and everyone else from how much of a mess she was.

“This bitch really got a diploma and a wife on the same day,” A’keria remarked to Blair with a laugh. “But I’ll be damned if there ain’t anyone that deserves it more.”

As the newly-engaged couple embraced, the energy that surrounded them made it clear that everyone shared those sentiments. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had been through a lot since the day they met in Katya’s dance class, but it was all worth it to lead up to this moment.

[sunny1ace]

Fix You- Part 3.2 of the FamAU

Characters: Logan Sanders, Patton Hart, Remy Hypnos

Summary: Logan gets a job offer and makes Patton sad.

Words: 2115

Warnings: Guilt, anxiety, sad feelings, let me know if I should add any more :)

A/N: I don’t like this chapter, it didn’t turn out the way I wanted, I hope y’all still enjoy it!

Taglist (let me know if I should add you): @espepspes @kaileah-kat @i-need-you-buddy

***

Logan can’t do this.

He’s not an anxious person, growing up the way he did, it’s a miracle he isn’t, but he’s not.

That aside, it’s impossible for someone to never get anxious... everything is just too confusing.

Feelings and deadlines and interviews and-

Logan’s phone rings and he stares down at the caller I.D, too afraid to answer.

Afraid.

If there’s one thing Logan wishes he could never be again, it’s afraid.

The commons are busy, alive with half dead college students wandering about. A few feet from where Logan sits is a couple fighting, on the other side two girls talking about their little sisters at home.

For everyone else, it’s just a normal day. No one else is plagued by the uncertainty Logan is feeling, no one else keeps getting these stupid calls!

As the phone rings again, Logan takes a deep breath and holds it to his ear, “Hello?”

“This is The Florida State Education Department, calling for a Logan Sanders?”

“Yes.” Logan winces, “That is, speaking. I’m Sanders- Logan.” This is already going great.

Reminding himself that he isn’t anxious about work, that other things are bleeding into his professional life, Logan takes a breath.

He’s smart. He’s capable. He knows what he’s doing.

“Wonderful. This is Cathy Eliot. I’d like to discuss a possible career opportunity for you.”

If Logan weren’t a professional, he’d be jumping up and down. Instead he clears his throat and takes a few steps away from the couple next to him. “I see, are you presenting an offer?”

“Mr. Sanders,” Mz. Eliot begins, “we have a large group of graduates we’ve been considering.”

Logan smirks, two can play at that game. “I understand there’s a high demand. Though I’ll tell you I’ve gotten multiple offers from other school districts.”

It’s not a lie, he has received other offers. He’s just… turned them all down.

Though risky, the gamble draws the desired effect from the woman. There’s a pause, and then she sighs. “What I was meaning to say, Mr. Sanders, is that though we have a lot of candidates, you are our desired individual for this opportunity.”

“That’s good to hear! Are you willing to discuss this in depth now?”

“It would suit our time better to email you the details, and set up a call later on. My file says you currently live in Michigan, is that correct?”

“That is,” Logan responds promptly, leaning against the wall.

There’s some typing noises before the woman speaks again, “our board of directors are free around one o’clock your time. Does that work for you?”

Logan pauses as he’s about to say yes. One o’clock is when he meets Patton for lunch. “Is there anyway we could do it a little later?”

“We need to know you’re serious about this, Mr. Sanders.”

Of course they do.

Logan bites his lip, tapping his middle finger against his thigh to the rhythm of a classical piano piece. “I…” He adjusts his glasses and swallows. “Yes. One o’clock works for me. Thank you.”

“Have a good day Mr. Sanders.”

He wishes he’d stop using his name so much. “You as well.”

After he hangs up, Logan leans back to smack his head against the wall. This sets off his plan with Patton, not to mention he’s never cancelled before, he hates going back on his word.

Without really thinking about it, Logan starts walking towards the coffee shop he’d visited earlier that day with Patton. He’d since finished his coffee, and the desire for caffeine is making his neck itch.

He should probably look into that.

“What can I getcha hon?” The barista asks with a smile, leaning over the counter.

Logan blinks, then clears his throat. “Black coffee.” Then, “Please,” as an afterthought.

The barista grins and turns to start making the coffee as Logan pulls out his wallet. When she turns back around to pass it to him, she shakes her head. “It’s on the house dear, any friend of Patton is a friend of mine.”

“Oh,” Logan slowly puts his money away. Patton. Always Patton. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” she replies, and Logan doesn’t believe her. She passes him a peppermint stick and winks. “Peppermint always helps me when I’m stressed.”

Logan perks up and nods, “You’re correct! In fact, people exposed to the aroma of peppermint and peppermint oil experience enhanced memory, increased alertness and increased processing speeds, according to the International Journal of Neuroscience-“

“That’s nice,” The barista responds distractedly. Logan snaps his mouth shut and nods another thank you, then turns and leaves.

Sipping his coffee, Logan feels his phone buzz in his pocket and he pulls it out, wincing at Patton’s number.

Knowing he has to cancel at some point, Logan answers, “Patton, I was just about to call you.”

“Really?” And god, Patton sounds so excited, Logan wants to smash his own face through a wall. “Well I guess I beat you to it!”

“I suppose you did.” Any other time, Logan would be smiling.

“I wanted to ask you something, but you go ahead, okay?”

“Very well.” Logan clears his throat. “I’m afraid I- well you see something came up and- Patton I’m afraid I’ll have to cancel lunch.”

The pause on the other side of the phone is deafening.

Distantly, Logan can hear someone whispering something, and Patton saying something back. Finally, Patton’s voice gets loud enough for Logan to make out. “That’s okay Lo! Don’t worry about it!”

That’s a relief. “Excellent. Now, what was your question?”

“Oh..” Another whispered exchange and then, “I was just wondering where you wanted to meet. That doesn’t really matter anymore though!”

Logan nods. “I really am sorry Patton. So, how-“

“I’ll see you around!” Patton hangs up.

“-are you,” Logan finishes flatly. He pockets his phone and shakes his head with a huff.

It’s not until he’s halfway finished with his coffee that he realizes Patton didn’t finish their conversation with the usual ‘don’t forget how incredible you are!’, something was off with him.

Patton is hurt. Because of Logan. Again.

Suddenly, his coffee tastes as bitter as Patton describes black coffee to be.

By the time one o’clock rolls around, Logan has had three more cups of coffee, four peppermint sticks, and too many worried looks from the barista to count.

It’s taken all the self control he has not to skip class to find Patton. That, and the fact that Patton is also in class, and he’d hate to disrupt even more of his day.

Now, sitting in front of his laptop, waiting for the call from Florida, he still can’t keep his mind off Patton.

“Focus Logan,” a sharp voice says. At first, he thinks it’s his mom, he almost goes into a panic when he realizes it came out of his own mouth.

“Focus,” He says again, calmer. That reminds him of Patton, and it doesn’t help in the least.

Logan takes a deep breath and hums. “Focus.”

This time, he sounds like himself. Good.

His laptop beeps and he waits until the second one to answer, situating himself so it doesn’t look like he’s sitting on his dorm room floor with moving boxes piled up around him.

A smiling man blinks into view on the screen, wearing a blazer over a shirt with tiny sunglasses on it, on his face are another set of sunglasses.

Logan blinks in surprise. This is not what he expected by ‘board of directors’. “Hello… I’m Logan Sanders. Who am I speaking to?”

“Sup! I’m Remy. Nice to meet me.”

...What.

“Uh, yes. It is.”

For a few seconds, Logan forgets everything he’d learned about interviews, letting Remy stare him down as they sit in uncomfortable science.

“You want the job?”

Logan almost falls over, “What?” At Remy’s raised eyebrow, he fixes his tie nervously, “Er, that is, What… is the job?”

“My secretary is a ho,” Remy grumbles and then sips loudly out of a cup in his hand. “The job, Logan, is an opportunity to head a new education branch for financially challenged and er- to put it delicately, behaviorally challenged kids.”

For some reason, Logan has a feeling Remy knows a lot about the latter group. He holds back any snarky comments as excitement grows inside him. So his counselor hadn’t been lying when he’d said Logan was being looked at for high positions.

“Hello? Where’d you go, space?” Remy snaps his fingers, “Earth to space boy!”

Logan snaps his eyes up to meet Remy’s, fully aware of the stupid grin on his face. “I’d be honored, sir.”

“Please don’t call me sir.” Remy holds his pinky up to the screen, “Pinky swear you’ll email me back when I send you the details?”

“Of course I will.”

“Do it.”

“We aren’t capable of touching, I’m not sure what you mean by-“

“Shake your damn pinky and you’ve got the job.”

Logan nods and shakes his pinky in the air, the smile still on his face as Remy signs off.

He has a job.

He has his dream job.

Four years ahead of schedule!

He has to tell Pat-

The smile slides off his face. Patton.

So what? Maybe Patton was a little hurt. He can fix that! The meeting ended up going a lot faster than he thought it would. There’s still time for the two of them to get lunch.

Fumbling his phone, Logan holds it up to his ear, counting in his head as it rings.

“You’ve reached Patton! Leave it at the beep kiddo!”

“Leave what at the beep?” Logan whispers and hangs up. He could try calling again, or text.

Logan huffs as he stands. Who is he kidding, his feet are already on the way to Patton’s dorm.

Thoughts like, he should’ve brought a jacket, texted Patton to warn him, and thought about the possibility that Patton wouldn’t even be at his dorm completely escape him.

All Logan knows, is he has to tell Patton everything.

The door to his dorm is decorated with stickers, paper hearts, a sign that says ‘Hungry? We have cookies!’ and both Patton and his roommate, Dee’s name.

Logan smiles and knocks, careful to not mess up any of the decor. “Patton? It’s Logan, do you have a moment?”

No answer. Logan knocks again, “I’d assume it’s plausible that I hurt your feelings earlier, perhaps we could still have lunch now?”

Again, silence. Logan can hear his heart in his ears.

“Patton I am truly sorry, i never meant to hurt you, not again.” Logan swallows hard and takes a breath, “The fact is, I- well- I love you. Truly. And it was impossible for me to get those words out before, because of what I’ve been through, I see now that.. that is no longer an excuse. I love you, Patton Hart. And I believe- I believe I always will.”

If this were a comedy show, crickets would be chirping, and Logan would be, in fact, a clown.

The air is still, and Logan realizes he’s holding his breath. He waits, waits until his face is probably red and his jaw is locking up and his eyes are watering and telling him to breathe goddammit, and Patton doesn’t answer.

Logan turns away, gasping for air and shakes his head. His eyes don’t stop watering.

His phone dings, and he looks down, staring hard at the text to see through the tears.

‘Sorry I missed your call! Out at lunch with Dee, call you later?’

Logan laughs, he’s not in his dorm. He’s not in his dorm and Logan just confessed his love to an eccentric door.

Typical.

Logan pockets his phone, wipes his eyes, readjusts his glasses, and leaves to order another coffee.

The day pitters by, and Patton doesn’t call back.

Slowly, Logan’s fears resurface, and he starts to wonder if he ever will.

He’s still thinking these exact thoughts, sitting in the campus library at three am.

He can’t take this anymore.

Without thinking, he sends Patton a text, not expecting a reply. He gets one forty-eight seconds later.

Ten minutes after that, Patton is standing in front of him in the empty library, beautiful and kind and tired and sad.

Logan tries to remember his plan, his speech, any one of the poems he’d written for Patton over the years, some way to eloquently tell his best and only friend how he feels.

At least six cups of coffee, the rollercoaster of a day, and the late hour make this impossible.

Patton shuffles his feet and then meets his eyes, “Logan-”

“I’m in love with you,” Logan blurts.

Patton’s eyes widen.

The world stops.

[artificialqueens]

How Wonderful Life Is (While You're in the World) Branjie - Joley

ao3 link

“I thought you’d be a little more excited by now,” A’keria observed. “You only graduate college once.”

Vanessa shrugged, setting the glue stick down. They’d been spending the day decorating their caps, but her heart just wasn’t in it. And that was because her heart was doing ballet in France. “I just miss her.”

“Come on, this was supposed to be a fun distraction,” Blair gently chimed in, resting her hand on her shoulder. “Brooke would want you to enjoy yourself, right?”

“Fuck, you make it sound like she’s dead,” she groaned and rest her head against the table. “How am I supposed to do this shit for another two months?” They were only two weeks into the ten-week engagement, and she already decided she couldn’t handle it.

A’keria pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, you just a drama queen. Aren’t you visiting her next month anyway? Bitching and moaning like you ain’t about to go to fucking France.”

Vanessa pushed herself up off the table, only to slump into her chair. “Y’all just don’t get it. We haven’t spent more than a few weeks apart in four years. I got separation anxiety!” Her cheeks flushed red, she was still embarrassed - she was self aware enough to know she was being childish and maybe a bit self-centered, but she couldn’t help herself; next to her mom, Brooke Lynn was the most important person in her life.

Blair nodded sympathetically. “Aw, honey, we understand. Why don’t we pick this up tomorrow? You should go give her a call before it gets too late over there. Go ahead, we’ll clean up here.”

A’keria arched her brow. “We will?”

“Yes,” she glared

Vanessa wasn’t paying attention to the bickering going on between her friends. Once Blair had given her the go-ahead to leave, she was gathering her things and heading right out the door. She glanced at her phone on the way out - it was about ten at night in Brooke’s side of the world, if she remembered correctly.

And lucky for her, Brooke Lynn was still awake and willing to Skype by the time she returned to their apartment.

“You’ve got glitter all over your face,” Brooke observed with a soft chuckle. “What sort of fun have you been getting up to over there?”

“None, I promise,” she retorted flatly. “We was decorating our caps but I just wasn’t feeling it. It’s kinda tacky at this point anyway,” she added, pulling dried glue off of her fingertips and flicking it away.

She pouted sympathetically. “Poor baby,” she cooed. “I think you should decorate it, though. It’s not like you to ever blend in.”

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, maybe,” she shrugged. “How’s shit over there?”

“I mean, it’s hard to complain about this place,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “The only thing it’s missing is my beautiful girlfriend,” she cooed, batting her lashes.

Vanessa chuckled softly, looking down and pushing her hair off of her shoulders. “So, you ain’t gonna leave me for some fancy French bitch then?” She did her best to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but even after all this time, there was a nagging sense of doubt somewhere inside her that worried one day Brooke would wake up and realize she could do better.

Brooke scoffed and shook her head. “As if anyone in this entire continent could hold a candle to you. I’m offended at the mere suggestion, Vanj.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ve just been missing you.”

“I miss you too, but you’ll be here before you know it, and you’ll have a shiny new degree to be proud of.”

She looked back at her half-decorated cap on the dresser. “Still kinda hard to believe.” On paper, it had looked like all the odds had been stacked against Vanessa from the get-go. No one ever truly believed that she had the intelligence and determination to earn a college degree. Hell, when she had finished her first year, people around her had been surprised.

Except for Brooke.

“No it’s not,” she replied without a moment’s hesitation. “You busted your ass from the moment I met you, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone that tries as hard as you. You, my dear, are a force to be reckoned with.”

“Guess it’s hard to argue now that you got proof,” Vanessa conceded, “I just wish you was gonna be here for it.”

Brooke sighed sadly. “I do too, baby. But I promise, Nina’s going to be there livestreaming the whole thing to me.”

It wasn’t the same, but there was no point in belaboring the issue - it wasn’t going to change anything and they both would only feel worse. “You right, I know. Imma let you get to bed, talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright, love you,” she blew a kiss at the screen.

“Love you too,” she smiled fondly and ended the call.

However, when Brooke Lynn closed her laptop, she didn’t leave it sitting on her desk. Instead, she packed it into its case and put it in with her luggage. She flopped down on her bed for a moment, she’s not an actress and lying to Vanessa was harder than any course she’d taken during her master’s program, especially seeing the sadness in her expression - it was physically painful, but she knew it would pay off.

The alarm went off on her phone moments later and she made her way to the front of the apartment building to wait for a taxi. “L'aéroport, s'il vous plaît,” her diction had improved, but her French was still remedial.

But she got there just fine and landed in JFK around midnight. She took the train back into Manhattan, then took a cab to Nina’s apartment. “Thanks for waiting up for me,” she whispered as she slipped inside and carefully closed the door behind her.

“No problem, but you definitely owe me,” Nina chuckled and grabbed her a bottle of water. “Now, tell me again why you’re waiting until her party to show up?”

Brooke took a swig from the bottle and set it down on the table. “Because the graduation ceremony is going to be too busy. Besides, the party is going to be all about her, it’ll be the perfect moment for, you know…”

Nina nodded in understanding. “She’s going to be so excited to see you. I can already hear it; ‘Brooke Lynn! You’re here!’” She imitated Vanessa’s distinct way of speaking, getting her friend to laugh and hopefully alleviating the nerves she knew were still lingering.

——

Vanessa ran to her family, one hand clutching her diploma and the other holding her cap steady on her head. “Y’all seeing this shit? I’m a fuckin’ graduate!” She beamed brightly as her family surrounded her with affection and praise, the reality that she had actually survived college - something even she didn’t anticipate for herself.

“Come on sweetheart, it’s time to celebrate,” her mother cooed, leading her into the car so they could relocate to the venue.

They had reserved a private party room at one of Vanessa’s favorite restaurants. It had already been decorated with balloons and congratulatory banners as family and friends began filing in.

“Aw, you guys! This is so nice of y’all,” Vanessa beamed as she looked around the room.

“Actually,” Nina started, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet with a giddy expression. “We have a little surprise for you.” She glanced over her shoulder, her smile brightening even more.

The room was silent, aside from some confused murmuring, until the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor got louder and louder until Brooke Lynn was standing in the doorway.

Vanessa’s eyes went wide and began to well with tears. “Brooke Lynn!”

“Hi, baby,” Brooke had barely gotten the phrase out before Vanessa launched herself at her. She caught her in a tight embrace, picking her up and spinning her around.

“I can’t believe you’re here! What about your show?”

She shrugged as she set her down. “The understudy agreed to do a couple shows so I could surprise my girlfriend,” she kissed her sweetly and ruffled her hair. “It’s so good to see you.”

Even after she was set down, Vanessa was still hugging her tight. “I’m so happy you’re here, oh my god,” she tilted her head up to blink away tears.

Brooke stroked her fingers through her hair, humming softly. Then she took a step back, swallowing thickly. “I… um… I actually have one more surprise for you.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

She laughed awkwardly and shook her head. “No, this is just… something I’ve wanted to do since… honestly, since our first Thanksgiving together. I’ve been ready but… I finally think we’re ready,” she haphazardly rifled through her purse, her legs trembled as she got down on one knee.

The Mateo family had already erupted in excitement, scrambling for their phones and enthusiastically chattering in Spanish. Vanessa was the only quiet one, biting down on her knuckles as she was already starting to cry.

“Vanessa–”

“Yes!”

“Let me finish!” Brooke giggled softly, then collected herself as quickly as she could, opening the box up. “Vanessa, I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, regardless of how stubborn I was about it in the beginning. But over these past four years, my love for you has only grown exponentially. And that’s why I want to ask you… will you marry me?” There was a beat of silence. “You can answer now.”

“Yes!” It was somewhere between a scream and a sob, Vanessa hardly knew what to do with herself, so she just threw her arms around Brooke and cried into the crook of her neck until she had pulled herself together enough to slide the ring onto her finger. “Damn, look at this rock!” She exclaimed to distract herself and everyone else from how much of a mess she was.

“This bitch really got a diploma and a wife on the same day,” A’keria remarked to Blair with a laugh. “But I’ll be damned if there ain’t anyone that deserves it more.”

As the newly-engaged couple embraced, the energy that surrounded them made it clear that everyone shared those sentiments. Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had been through a lot since the day they met in Katya’s dance class, but it was all worth it to lead up to this moment.

[kuntrabida]

2. the axon snaps and thoughts can’t travel (a rant abt COVID-19, senior year spring, and college in the fall)

12 may 2020

the gap year. the fall sem. the jump cut. the FUTURE. much on my mind right now folks lmao (prob folk in singular since like one (1) person’s gonna read this ashvcxjkv)

okay so let’s break this DOWN ig. yea LET’S unpack my inner psyche and my mental baggage at this point because i’m sure that i can’t be the only one feeling this way and even if i am, i’d like to get it off my chest and not rant to the same five people who’ve heard me talk about the same sad subject throughout the entire duration of quarantine asdjfkvcxufdsw

let’s start with senior year haHA :) still haven’t gotten over that xoxo even tho i’ve tricked myself into thinking that i have! gonna refer to it as ye olde Jump Cut because that’s exactly what all this feels like... like mother nature just threw the video file of my high school experience into a fuckinn Premiere timeline or smth and slammed her fist on the W key (an esoteric reference, i know, i know, my bad, but iykyk). 

THE JUMP CUT – senior year’s over and i know it’s a stupid fucking thing to be upset about during a LITERAL GLOBAL PANDEMIC where people are losing and risking their lives and entire livelihoods are being upended but i still... can’t help but feel upset and terrified and devastated about what i’ve always viewed as this buffer period in my life between high school and college to just VIBE and figure myself out a little bit more being cut short. especially when, for once, things were going so well.  

god, the last thing i wanna do is sound dramatic and utterly tone deaf because I RECOGNIZE my privilege and how incredibly fortunate i am to have a roof over my head and food in my fridge and a bed with a damn duvet cover to sleep in at night but i’m... so fucking sad. i’ve BEEN so fucking sad, and i think what’s even worse is the fact that i’ve been DENYING how fucking sad i’ve been feeling because i don’t think i’m... allowed to be sad in this situation? but at the same time i consciously understand that my feelings are valid and everything... it just feels like legitimately everything else in the world right now dwarfs all my concerns combined. but alas. here i am, making a blog post about my feelings to finally try and sort them out...

i just aghsdfhxhzjlk i wasn’t finished. that really is the best way to put it. i wasn’t finished with any of it. and i suppose a lot of that is my own fault for taking all the good times for granted (but also lowkey the fault of idek who... american society? for romanticizing and commodifying the culmination of high school oop)/

i feel like so many people focus on those big milestone events associated with senior year: prom, graduation, senior awards, etc. but to me personally, and to nearly every one of the friends i’ve talked to, it’s the little things that matter most — the absence of which we feel the deepest. i miss spilling coffee on myself in the cafeteria and burning frozen pastries in the toasters and complimenting people’s outfits in the hallways and staying in the building from dawn till dusk and eating takeout on the floor and hastily texting my friends at the end of the school day asking if they wanted to hang out or if they could give me a ride home and i MISS spontaneous sushi and starbucks excursions and quiet heart to hearts in coffee shops and last minute target runs and stressing out about music events and belting in the practice rooms and learning choreography in parking lots where confused drivers would momentarily glance over and just KEEP ON DRIVING and lying on the ground in one of the school’s hallways facing the sun when the light would hit JUST RIGHT through the glass and i could close my eyes and pretend i was at the beach or on an island or in a canyon somewhere or SOMETHING, anywhere, anywhere but there. and i feel this chasm in my throat whenever i think about it because looking back at those moments, i realize that there’s literally no place i’d rather be right now than inside my high school building on a normal ass day dealing with normal ass problems with exceptional, radiant, life-giving souls there to have my back and support me and hug me wow, GOD, hug me. wow how i miss hugs. and I miss my friends. shit. 

hell bro i even miss the days where everything would become a little too much for me and i’d have to find recluse in a digital media classroom and the scent of old lemon-laced coffee grounds as they brewed into dingy styrofoam cups and wandered through the halls with me during the period, into the music room where i literally grew UP and found my voice and discovered validity in my own identity and all that JAZZ and into the bathrooms where i’d spend such subtle, unsuspecting mornings with friends still practically sleepwalking and FUCK bro. frankly i’m just not ready to jump into a life where all the things i hold dear are “remember when”s. i can’t imagine this entire world that i’ve built for myself being a thing of the past, a thing that i’ll look back on as one of the best fucking times of my life even though i never realized it when it mattered, a thing i still want so so so much more of, that i am not and may not ever be ready to let go. i want it all back. but i know getting upset over it is a futile pursuit, because there’s nothing i can do, and that just fuels this feedback cycle of anger and hopelessness and denial and back again. 

i do think of that good ol’ winnie the pooh quote, though. “how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” but it doesn’t really make anything hurt any less. and i guess i’m just tired of hurting lol. 

THE FUTURE – dawg what the fuck is happening with colleges in the United States right now bro what is the protocol what do i DO¿

pretty damn self explanatory. my defense mechanism has ALWAYS been, “at least things will be better a couple months from now!!!!” and yeah, with university and the reality of getting to attend my dream college fast approaching i did believe that for a hot second but CORONA DAWG CORONA just plunges everything into the sea of uncertainty. i know i’m not the only one frustrated by this damn virus and i should be comforted by the unity we all have in our confusion but lmao i do not feel any better! no! one! has! any! answers! asdjfkvlcxvjl being a graduating high school and incoming college student right now is so FUCKING confusing and frightening and once again i want to acknowledge what an incredible privilege it is to even have the option of a higher education open to me but it’s such a multifaceted and unpredictable issue this year and thinking about the future — again my go-to defense mechanism and at the very least a worthy consideration since i’ll be putting down hella dollars for it — has been the cause of so much stress... 

THE FALL SEM – i! don’t! know! if! it’s! gonna! be! on!line! and i am not planning on staying in my house any longer for a goddamn variety of reasons soo i have no clue how to plan for this! no one does right now! 

our administration keeps affirming that we’re planning for a return to normalcy in the fall semester but a considerable amount of students and experts alike are saying that it’s essentially a cover so no one’ll panic and decline or defer their acceptances. SO MANY OTHER COLLEGES are revealing their contingency plans to have an online semester and ahaHA if i have to STAY in this HOUSE for ANOTHER 4 MONTHS that would FRICKIN SUCK DAWG lmaO i’ll leave it at that! so i’m: very much panicking! 

i know that things are so uncertain right now and there’s really no point in trying to predict what’s going to happen in the next couple of months because so many unknowns remain. i know that a lot of universities are gonna be in deep shit if they don’t open in the fall but at the same time, if it’s a damn public health risk it’s definitely better to keep as many people home as possible. but i have no CLUE what institutions are gonna end up doing and again, literally no one does either! i was listening to a podcast yesterday about university plans for the upcoming academic year and i got asdhvjckxv so stressed when they said that we could be one week away from the start of the school year and things could still be drastically different the next week... there’s just no way of knowing much of anything and god i hate that. it’s making me so goddamn anxious. 

i really doubt things are going to be back to normal in New York in the fall sooo...? i don’t know man again it comes down to asking people questions they don’t have the answers to and that’s just incredibly frustrating because i just want to know ONE THING for certain right now. ONE THING! idk i just wish that my college would be a little more transparent about their plans as they move along and figure things out but i know that’s not feasible. at the very least i hope things will be safe enough for them to make dorming on campus an option — freshmen have a pretty ample amount of singles available anyway. but if i have to spend the first semester of college onLINE in THIS HOUSE that’s... gonna suck. especially because i’m still probably going to be paying thousands of dollars for it which is, as my grandmother says, foul! 

THE GAP YEAR – to defer or not to defer? that is the question. 

so naturally in preparation for a potentially wonky ass academic year i’m considering deferring enrollment. but lmao... the deadline to do so is in uh *checks watch* three (3) literal days so. don’t know about that chief! 

like, i know i’m PROBABLY NOT gonna end up taking a gap year. but i guess it’s just the fact that i have so much more canvas space to daydream about it that makes it so appealing... there are so many more possibilities that i can think of that are more likely to be open to me. then again, nothing’s guaranteed. not even my own health in the fall. which is also pretty fuckin scary as hell.

y’all wanna know where i get my gap year daydream fuel? UNJADED JADE. bruh i’ve been binging her videos like MAD especially the ones where she interrails Europe during her gap year and UGH. it seems incredible. and that makes things even more confusing because i really don’t know what the right decision to make is right now. to defer or not to defer... 

again it’s all so heavily influenced by unknowns. of all the things that could happen, i’d much prefer to have a regular freshman year fall with the people in my class whom i’ve already been getting to know pretty well through groupchats and social media and the like. they’re a pretty dope bunch and i think college with them is gonna be a hoot and a goddamn half. but if i’ll end up just staying home and watching zoom lectures in my basement anyway... i’d much rather be taking a gap year. 

and i’ve been brainstorming what i’d do during this gap year (again, thanks Unjaded Jade for the god-tier content agh) and there’s just like... so many options. i could get a goddamn JOB and start saving up for tuition instead of paying tens of thousands for online school. hell with the money i make working full time i could probably save up enough to afford an apartment so at the very least i could move out of my house into a place where i feel more comfortable. and lmao I: s a l i v a t e at the thought of using that time to focus on my writing, too. the amount of writing i could get done in a year of empty calendar space... glorious. what an utterly glorious prospect. 

and of course, i’d love to fucking travel, volunteer (with a reputable and well-intentioned organization) in a foreign country, do a workstay abroad, take a train across america, but again, i don’t even know if any of that’s going to be feasible in the fall. it’s so FRUSTRATING because i’ll think of a possibility and then another one comes in and completely shuts the former down. 

and it’s not like i can ask anyone for advice right now because we’re ALL none the wiser. plus, i’ve realized that frankly, even if it’s unreasonable, i don’t want anyone to tell me that my plans for a gap year aren’t feasible. it’s such a petulant thing to say... but i don’t want anyone to add to my sense of there being a limited amount of options that i can take advantage of because everything’s already so goddamn stifling as is. i guess the prospect of a gap year excites me so much because it seems like a year where i don’t have to be defined by anyone or anything but myself. and that’s so fucking liberating. 

i just want the freedom to imagine right now because that’s when i feel happiest, but at the same time i’m afraid to get my hopes up for anything because i have this sinking feeling that the absolute worst case scenario is going to become reality. lmao. people in my state aren’t even fucking social distancing correctly so i’m damn sure that we’re in for a second and a third wave and that’s gonna suck but people are stupid as hell :)  

lol on that positive note, thanks for reading this... increasingly depressing and chaotic rant. don’t really think i’m doing this “blog” stuff right but if you got this far, i love you. leave a note if you so please, comment your thoughts, reblog if you’d like (still don’t really understand the difference between reblogging and reposting on this app but lmao feel free to click the boxy arrow thing), and stay safe and healthy and all that jazz <3

[emilyjunk]

Chloe and everyone's reactions to finding out about Beca/Emily relationship or sex?? Yes please? I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to see Chloe be jealous or upset. (Love her but I also love jealousy fics)

this isn’t really jealousy im sorry but it is what it is. anyway read ON AO3 or below

Beca would’ve paid good money for the Bellas to find out about herand Emily in any other way than the way they did. To be honest, she would’vepaid good money to have someone knock her out hard enough to get amnesia so shenever had to remember the incident ever again.

Maybe it would’ve beenbetter if she and Emily weren’t so new, the two of them still navigating thestrange emotions that led to them making out on the couch in the Bella livingroom. And maybe it would’ve been better if Beca hadn’t already been keeping thesecret of her internship from them the whole year. And also maybe if she hadn’thid the fact that she’d broken up with Jesse halfway through the year and hadbeen single for a good four months.

Or at least she hadbeen, until the day after the retreat when she’d been alone with Emily in theBella house, the two of them spread out on the floor of the living room doingtheir homework, and they’d kissed, first soft and slow, then fast and intense.

But that had been amonth ago, and even if they’d gotten over the initial shock of that perfectfirst kiss, they were still new and fragile -- they weren’t even exclusiveor anything -- and Beca was sure the Bellas sticking their noses in Beca andEmily’s business would be enough to scare Emily off.

(Okay, maybe notenough to scare Emily off, but God, it was definitely enough to scare Beca off,and she really was trying to avoid that kind of pain and drama where Emily wasinvolved.)

And it’s not like theywere trying to get caught, not like they enjoyed the rush of the secret, thehigh that came when anyone could walk in on you at any moment. No, it wasn’tthat at all, because they were supposed to be alone.

They’d come home fromthe recording studio, high on their success from Flashlight, their phonesbuzzing with group chat texts from the Bellas saying they were going to theTrebles’ for a party and to meet when they were done.

So really, Beca had thoughtthey were alone, that they would continueto be alone for at least sometime, and then they could go join the rest of the Bellas in drunken shenaniganslike every other weekend of their college lives.

That’s why she had letit happen, why she hadn’t been nervous when Emily had crawled in her lap,pushing her against the couch cushions and sliding their lips together. Whyshe’d allowed herself to let Emily work her up, kissing up her neck, unzippingher jeans, dragging her fingers down Beca’s stomach and below the elastic ofher underwear.

If she had known whatwould happen next, of course she wouldn’t have let it happen.

As it was, she didn’tknow, so happen it did.

“Oh my fucking GOD!”

The warmth of Emily’sbody immediately vanished from on top of her as Emily nearly jumped out of herskin, her body rolling off the couch and butt hitting the floor.

Beca pushed herself upon her elbows, her eyes wide and heart beating out of her chest.

“Amy -- ”

“What the fuck?”

“Oh my God?”

“Legacy, you player!”

Heat rushed throughher body as Bella after Bella crowded into the living room, all of them havinggotten an eyeful of Beca pinned against the couch, helpless and panting underEmily’s touch.

“Umm.” Emily scrambledto her feet, her arms wrapping around herself delicately. “You. And uh. Here.Beca and I. So… yeah. Yeah.”

The Bellas were alltalking over one another and Beca couldn’t understand any of what they weresaying. She pushed herself off the couch, her elbow brushing Emily’s, and metthe eyes of the only person not screaming at someone else about what they’djust witnessed.

Beca’s heart droppedinto her stomach. “Chloe.”

“Chloe?!” Stacieexclaimed. “She’s involved in this too?!”

“I’m certainly not,”Chloe snapped, her eyes sliding away from Beca and narrowing in Emily’sdirection.

Emily flushed brightred. “We just…” She looked at Beca helplessly. “I mean, I… um…”

“We’re dating.” Theexclamations and excited conversation came to a sudden halt as all the Bella’sstared at her. Beca could feel Emily looking at her, too. “It like, juststarted, so please don’t make a huge deal out of this.”

“Honestly, it’s moreof a big deal that you bottomed for Legacy than the dating part for me,” Stacieinterjected. “I did always peg you for it, though.”

“You should chooseyour words more carefully,” Amy said to Stacie. “If you pegged her, obviouslyshe’s a bottom.”

“I know what I said.”

Beca was probablygoing to die from embarrassment. Emily was just standing stock still, her gazeflicking from questioning toward Beca to guilt at Chloe.

Chloe had crossed herarms, her jaw clenched tightly. Beca thought if looks could kill, then Emilywould probably be Chloe’s newest victim (after DSM and the Trebles of course).

“Chlo.”

“Really, Bec? Anotherdistraction? Another secret.”

“Anothergirl fight,” Cynthia Rose excitedly whispered.

Chloe grunted. “Inter-groupdating is bound to end horribly, and where will we be then? Homeless probably,because we’ll be disbanded forever!”

“You can’t live herewhen you graduate, Chloe,” Jessica tentatively intervened. “Nobody is going tobe homeless. We’re all moving out.”

“I think they’recute,” Ashley said, smiling at Beca.

“Thanks,” Beca spitout.

Emily’s fingers foundtheir way between Beca’s, questioning and uncertain. Beca tightened the grip,trying to ground herself. Chloe was still glaring daggers in their direction.

In the back of hermind, Beca wondered if there was more to her anger than Chloe was letting on,but it was a bit too late to take a walk down that path. Beca squeezed Emily’sfingers harder.

“Look, this group isfull of drama and fighting and one crisis after another. So let’s just, like,take it down a notch. Nobody is going to be homeless, and if the Bellas getdisbanded, it’s not gonna be because of me and Emily.”

She glanced at Amy,who lifted one shoulder. “Yeah, that’s probably fair.”

“See, even Amesagrees.”

“Agrees is a strongword.”

“Y’all have my lesbianblessing,” CR grins, shooting Beca a wink. Stacie makes a hum of approval andloops her arm through CR’s, leading her to the kitchen and saying somethingabout tequila. The prospect of shots has Amy and Flo following quickly behind.Soon enough, all the Bellas have dispersed, even Chloe, who’d stormed off witha dramatic huff.

“Sorry,” Emilysqueaked out, finally dropping Beca’s hand. “I shouldn’t have… you just lookedso pretty and we were so excited about the song and I just -- ”

“Stop, no.” Becapeeked over her shoulder to see that Bellas really hadall gone. “It’s fine, dude. This was a two-way thing. I mean…” She shrugged. “Iwanted you to.”

Emily nodded, fiddlingwith her fingers. Beca wanted to grab them again. “Chloe was like, really mad,though.”

Beca hummed, reachingout to tug Emily’s hands apart so she could hold one. “She’ll get over it.There’s always some kind of drama here that makes someone mad at someone else.In two days, something new will happen and everyone will probably be mad at Amyinstead.”

Emily chuckled. “Yeah,I guess.” She looked at Beca uncertainly. “So you really wanna be dating? Imean, I know we hadn’t talked about it or anything and we only kinda started thislike a month ago and stuff, so I don’t know if you just said that to say thator like, if you -- ”

Beca laughed. “Ididn’t say it just because.”

“So you want to?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Emily smiled,first shyly, then growing bigger by the second. “Okay, me too.” She hesitantlycupped Beca’s face. Beca didn’t want to wait for Emily to kiss her, so sherocked up on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together. She felt a familiartightening in her abdomen when Emily sighed hotly into her mouth.

“Oh my fucking GOD. Isthis gonna be a thing now?!”

Beca internally rolledher eyes, barely disconnecting her lips from Emily’s. “Fuck off Amy.”

“Fine, whatever, justkeep it out of our room!”

“That’s gonna getannoying,” Emily giggled.

“Yeah,” Beca agreed.“But I don’t care.”

And really, Emily’shuge smile against her lips almost made the whole incident worth it.

[supernatural-jackles]

The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 13

Title: The Man on the Side of the Road - Part 13

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 3,834

Warnings: High Stress Levels, Mentions of the readers shitty Mom, FLUFF, All around cuteness! 

Summary: Driving down the road, going well over the speed limit. You come across a man walking in the opposite direction with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His head cast down as he walked. Your gut instinct is telling you to check on this man, no matter what your parents told you growing up. Little did you know just how much this would change your life.

The Man on the Side of the Road - Masterlist

A/N: Three parts left after this one! I hope y’all enjoy this part! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Happy Reading!! 

Your head was pounding. Your vision was starting to blur and everything looked the same. You felt like you had been awake for forty eight hours. Your stomach was in knots, your chest was tight. You were beyond exhausted.

 Finals were going to be the absolute death of you.

 You buried your face in your hands, trying your hardest to clear your eyes and make them see one thing instead of eight. You had been at this for hours and nothing was sticking. You needed to pass this final. It was the most important one and you needed a seventy five in order to advance to the class you were taking next semester. You needed to learn the next twenty definitions and the process of seven more things and you literally had no idea how you were going to pull this off.

 “Knock knock,” Dean called out from behind your door. You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

 “Come in,” you called out, trying your hardest to sound okay. Your bedroom door opened and Dean walked in. He was wearing his new pyjama pants that Sam had sent him as an early Christmas present. They had presents scattered all over them, and quite frankly they looked cute on him.

 “Hey you,” he greeted you. “Still studying?”

 “More like dying,” you sighed.

 “Nothing’s sticking huh?” he frowned, taking a seat at the end of your bed, giving you a bit of space.

 “Nope,” you shook your head. “I am not going to pass this final at this rate. I’m stressed out, exhausted and all I want to do is sleep for ten years.”

 “Don’t say that, sweetheart. You just need a break,” he suggested. “Why don’t we go make some dinner and pie. I did the groceries so we’ve got some food in the house. I can make you one of my dad’s recipes and after we can make your grandma’s homemade apple pie recipe.”

 “What are we going to make for dinner?” you smiled. “Mac and cheese? Winchester surprise?”

 “I was thinking I could make your favourite chicken with some mac and cheese,” he said with a smirk.

 “You know I can’t resist that,” you squinted at him.

 “I know. That’s why I’m making it. You gotta come out of this room and you’ve gotta eat something that’s not dried cereal or leftover beef jerky from our road trip nearly two months ago.”

 “You’re making me sound like I have a problem,” you giggled.

  “You do. It’s called being overworked,” he chuckled. “Kitchen. Now. Then I need you to watch a short movie with me. Give yourself a break. After that, we can kiss a little and I will help you study for however long tonight,” he declared proudly, looking at you with a sweet smile

 “Okay. We’ll go with your plan, chief,” you said with a weak smile. “You win this time. You had me at kissing you.”

 “Let’s go.”

 The second you got to the kitchen, you felt guilty for not having your books in front of you. The worry of not passing this final was really starting to get to you. You knew Dean was right; that you needed a study break because nothing was going to stick if you kept trying to cram it in. He offered to help you later, and you prayed to god that it would stick in better.

 Dean had the pasta noodles on, and the chicken already in the oven, like he was planning this all along. All that was left was to grate the cheese, and he was already halfway done. You just got to sit there, and watch him do what he did best.

 “When I was little,” you started, glancing up at Dean, “my mom tried to teach me how to bake. Red velvet cookies were what I wanted to make because I saw a picture in a recipe book one day. So she found one that would work and picked out an afternoon to do so. I thought it was going to be fun. You know, spending time with my mom, just the two of us. But I accidentally dropped an egg on the floor, and of course it broke. My mom was furious with me and sent me to my room for destroying her good kitchen floor. All because the egg slipped out of my hand and fell.”

 “That is terrible,” Dean frowned. “Accidents happen all the time.”

 “It was,” you nodded. “She came into my room hours later with a single cookie for me to eat. It was the first time I looked at something and felt like I didn’t deserve it.”

 “Why are you telling me this?” He asked, turning to face you.

 “Because I feel like I don’t deserve you sometimes. Especially on days like today when I’m cranky as hell, and not so fun to be around. You’re here making sure I eat and don’t overwork myself, and I don’t deserve to have someone as great as you in my life.”

 “Yeah you do,” he argued with a smile playing on his lips. “You deserve to have someone looking out for you, Y/N. You do the same for me.”

 “Well, I’m glad I’ve got you,” you smiled.

 “Likewise,” he smiled softly. “When I was growing up, my dad was the one who taught me how to cook. He told me it was a valuable life skill that I would need one day. I was always taught that it wasn’t just a woman’s job to cook for the family. I don’t remember a whole lot of my parents together. I was four when she died. But what I do remember is that they were happy together, and I wanted to have that one day.”

 “Do you still want that?” you asked him.

 “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve got you. I know my parents loved each other. Even if I remember them arguing, and such. I asked my dad about her from time to time, and he always talked about her with that same look on his face that he had when he saw her. Their love was something real. That’s what I want.”

 “The real thing,” you teased. “Growing up, my dad was my best friend. He had this big office in our house that no one was allowed in but me. He had a chair in there for me, and a computer there for me to do work at one end of his desk. It was our space that my mom couldn’t enter. It was a safe place for me. His Sunday’s were spent playing golf, away from my mom. Those were supposed to be the days I spent with her but she never wanted to. She had her girlfriends over for drinks and I’d be shoved into my bedroom, away from everyone and everything. My parents never spent any time together when I was growing up. My dad travelled during the week for work. I spent Saturdays with him. The more I think about it now, I wonder why they waited until I was twelve to get divorced. They were never happy together.”

 “That’s not fair to you,” he commented.

 “No it’s not. It’s like some sort of arrangement for them, I think,” you agreed. “You want what your parents had, and I want anything but what my parents have. How strange is that?”

 “Have you ever gotten along with your mom?” Dean questioned as he poured the cheese into the noodles. “I know Ketch said to you at the diner that night that your mom loved him more than she did you. Is that true?”

 “Unfortunately yes,” you shrugged. “And for the longest time, that was so hard for me. I mean, my mom loved my boyfriend more than she loved me, and I was her daughter. God, my mom was more excited when she found out I was going out with Ketch than I was. Sure, his family is the richest, and their house is a million times bigger than this. Ketch literally doesn’t need a college degree for crying out loud. It’s not like we ever struggled with money. I mean my dad still makes amazing money and he bought this house for me so I wouldn’t have to stay with my mom while I went to school.”

 “He’s got connections to everything and your mom liked that huh?”

 “It made her look good. It was good for the parties and for all the people at the country clubs. It’s like he’s fucking royalty or something,” you scoffed. “My mom didn’t want me to go to college at first, actually. That’s one of the reasons why I’m so late in graduating. I fought hard to go, and she would only let me go as far as here. My dad fought for me. He knew I wanted my own life. My mom was determined. A girl like me shouldn’t have to work hard for one. The job at the hospital was hard enough work. At one point, she even told me I wasn’t smart enough to get in, which was untrue. It’s just not me. I can’t just sit somewhere and have everything done for me. I’ve never been that way, even if my mom tried to raise me that way. It wasn’t right. I think she thought that Ketch was going to turn me into someone that she’d approve of. A housewife. Someone like her.”

 “I could never see you sitting back and doing nothing,” he chuckled. “You work harder than a lot of people.”

 “Thanks, Dean,” you grinned. “I’m at the point where I’m trying not to care about her. I don’t answer my mom’s texts anymore. Her calls are ignored. I’m done dealing with it all. All it ever does is upset me and I’m tired of putting myself in that position. I gotta move past it all.”

 “Good for you, sweetheart,” he nudged your shoulder. “You graduate in June right?”

 “Maybe! If I pass this final and all my classes next semester, then yes,” you let out a dry laugh.

 “You will,” he reassured you. “You’ll get home tomorrow feeling relieved that it’s over with and that you aced it. I’ll pick up some pizza and beer on the way home, and we’ll celebrate.”

 “And I can pick the movie?” you asked with a wide smile.

 “‘Course you can,” he winked.

 You and Dean ate dinner with a constant flow of conversation. For the first time all day, you felt relaxed, and you knew that was going to do your brain some good. When you were to go back to studying, there was a good chance you were going to retain more than you could before.

 Dean was the first one to finish, and he instantly started on the dishes. You couldn’t help but watch him as he worked. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt every so often. It had been a whole two months since you had slept with him that night, and the morning after. Your feelings had only grown stronger for him. You were taking it slow, enjoying the ride as you went on. Since you already lived together, you kept the sleepovers until Friday and Saturday nights. You didn’t want to rush this and ruin things.  You wanted to still have that friendship between you. It was the most important thing to you.

 You were slowly but surely moving past the whole, not good enough for him thing. There were still days when you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, and that was normal. Most of the time, he was the one who made you feel like you were. He was always making sure you knew that you were doing good, especially in the moments when you felt like you weren’t. There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that you weren’t head over heels for him. This had the potential to become what his parents had. This had the potential to be something amazing.

 You got up from the counter, placing your utensils in the sink and your plate on top of his. You reached for the towel, taking the first mug out of the sink, drying it off. Dean gave you a soft smile before returning back to what he was doing. Your heart began to race in your chest.

 You wondered exactly what was going through his mind. If he was thinking about dinner, or anything else in specific. You wondered if he looked at you and thought the same thing you did when you looked at him. If he thought you were beautiful. If he thought he was lucky to have someone like you in his life. It was the little things.  

 There was a part of you that wanted to tell him that you loved him. You knew it wouldn’t be the worst thing to say, especially with how long he had been in your life. But at the same time, you were always the one who expressed how you felt first and that never worked out for you in the end. It was fear this time around. You didn’t want to push it so far only to have it crash and burn in the end. Dean was all you had at this point. You could wait. You could wait a lifetime for him. He was worth it.

 “Pie time?” he chuckled, pulling the apples out of the fridge. A few weeks ago, you had decided to go apple picking one Sunday. He remembered the day you met him that you mentioned something about your grandma’s recipe needing fresh autumn apples. He thought it would be a good date idea for the two of you and it was. It was one of the memories you think about that makes you smile.

 “Pie time,” you nodded.

 You opened up the cupboard, grabbing your book of recipes. Dean was already pulling out everything you needed from the fridge. You stifled your laugh, knowing just how excited he was for this. Quite frankly you were too. He was like a kid when he was excited and you loved that about him.

 He peeled and cut the apples while you made the pie crust. You worked side by side, bumping into one another a few times while you worked. You tried your hardest to focus on the pie in front of you, but when he stood so close, you couldn’t help but look over.

 “You’re cute,” he muttered, taking a slice of apple, bringing it up to his lips.

 “You’re cute,” you smiled, taking a bit of flour before flicking him. The white dust covering part of his shirt and his cheeks.

 “You’re going to pay for that,” he threatened with a laugh, placing his hand in the flour before rubbing your face. “Much better.”

 “Dean!” you shrieked, letting out a laugh. You smirked, inching closer to him, wiping your cheek on his shirt. He gasped, laughing in the process. “Okay, I actually have to finish this if you want to eat this tonight.”

 “Fine,” he grumbled, flicking you once more before getting back to work.

 You managed to get everything ready within half an hour. Dean added a lot of apples into the pie, and extra cinnamon. You smiled when he helped you with the top of the pie, patting it down with you. Your hands brushing against one anothers every so often. He took it when it was done, and put it in the oven for you. You were really looking forward to tasting it after this.

 His hands made their way to your hips, backing you up to the opposite counter until you hit it. He lifted you up quickly, his body settling between your legs before his lips were on yours. His kisses started off slow and soft; chaste. Moving in a perfect sync with yours as his large hands travelled over the length of your back. You melted against him, allowing yourself to enjoy being with him like this. It was really nice to have a boyfriend that wanted to kiss you the way he did on a constant basis.

 “You want to watch a movie, or a few episodes of Dr Sexy? You’re nearly caught up,” he pointed out as he placed a slice of pie on your plate. “Fuck, this pie is amazing.”

 “Dr Sexy!” you stated. “Gotta see if Dr Sexy and Dr Tara get together. I’m glad you like the pie.”

 “I love how into this show you are,” he let out a laugh.

 “This is your fault,” you side eyed him. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you.”

 “Hey, this is on you too. I had no idea you had a medical kink,” he winked.

 “So do you, Winchester,” you teased. “You and I both know if I dressed as a nurse, you’d have a field day.”

 “There is no denying that,” he shrugged. “You’d make such a hot nurse.”

 Dean pulled it up on the tv as you sat down in your designated spot. Right next to Dean. It was one of your favourite parts of movie nights. He’d always end up playing with your hair while the movie ended, and you soaked up every second of the attention he was giving you.

 “Can I ask you something?” Dean asked about halfway through the episode.

 “You just did,” you turned to face him with a wide smile. “What’s up?”

 “What’s the plan after you graduate?”

 “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure yet,” you answered. “I have lots of options, and I think that’s what matters the most.”

 “Which one sounds the best?” he questioned.

 “Teacher’s college,” you breathed out. “The one my mom would hate the most.”

 “For that reason?”

 “That’s a bonus,” you chuckled. “But I think I could make a good career as a teacher.”

 “My mom was a kindergarten teacher,” he revealed, giving you a soft smile. “I think that would be an amazing career path for you. You know I’ll support you in anything you want to do.”

 “Thank you,” you smiled. “I have to apply at the end of January, so I still have time. But it’s definitely something I’ve thought about for a little while now.”

 “You’re good at helping people. I’ve learned so many things from you,” he added. “You’d make an amazing teacher.”

 The episode finished, and you needed to get back to studying. You couldn’t relax any longer. You needed to get these last few things down before you could go to bed. You flopped down on your bed, opening up your notebook. Dean was in not long after you with two mugs of peppermint tea. You knew that there was nowhere he’d rather be than here with you, making sure you got this material down.

 It was around midnight when you packed it all up and crawled into bed. Your eyes were drooping, and words started to blend together. You studied the best you could and you felt a million times better than you did earlier. Dean helped you get down the last eighteen definitions and you had memorized the processes you needed to. You have this final in the bag.

 Dean left your room to go lock up the house, something he did nightly for you. You flicked your side light off before curling into your pillow. A few moments later, you felt your bed shift, the comforter moving just a little, before the bed dipped next to you. Dean was sleeping next to you tonight.

 “Gonna sleep with you tonight,” he whispered, linking his pinky with yours.

 “Good,” you muttered. “Night handsome.”

 “Night sweetheart,” he mumbled, reaching over to place a kiss to your forehead.

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

 You walked through the front door with a smile playing on your lips. Friday were the best days. The start of the weekend. The best damn part of the week. You kicked your shoes off, heading straight for the kitchen with your bag in hand. You couldn’t wait to start the weekend off right with the man you loved. 

 “I’m home!” you called out.

 “Hey beautiful,” a familiar voice filled your ears. Your smile only grew wider. Your eyes glanced over to the counter where he stood. The sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing his strong, toned forearms that drove you crazy.

 “Hey sexy,” you winked at him. “How was your day?”

 “Great. Bobby gave me a raise today,” he revealed. “He said I had been working really hard the last few months and it’s paying off.”

 “Dean! That’s amazing,” you grinned widely, dropping your bag to the ground. You circled the counter quickly, reaching Dean in an instant. You stood on your tiptoes, your lips crashing to his, kissing him hard as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you!”

 “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he smiled, licking his bottom lip. “You’re my rock.”

 “And you’re mine,” you whispered, reaching up to kiss him once more.

 “How was your day, sweetheart?” he asked, tugging you in close to him.

 “Good. No tears today. No parents to call. And it’s Friday,” you chuckled. “Today’s a good day.”

 “How’s our baby girl?” he questioned. His right hand slipped from the small of your back to your growing bump.

 “Why don’t you ask her?”

 Dean kneeled down to your stomach, pressing his lips to the bump. His hand held either side of your stomach. It had to be the best thing you had seen and he did it over and over again. She already had her daddy wrapped around her tiny little finger. She was going to be a daddy’s girl for sure. This was exactly what you wanted.

 “Hey baby girl,” he said softly. “You being good for your mom in there? Not kicking her insides too much?”

 “Not today,” you whispered.

 “I love you, peanut,” he muttered, pressing another kiss to your stomach. “And I love you, sweetheart.”

 “Not as much as we love you,” you smiled.

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

 You shot right up, your eyes opening widely. Your heart was pounding in your chest. You swallowed hard, realizing that it was just a dream and it was the middle of the night. Dean was still fast asleep, facing your direction.

 For a moment, it actually felt real. It actually felt like you and Dean were going to end up together, and you were having a baby together. It actually looked like life was looking good for the two of you. God, the way he kissed your stomach. Ugh, and the way he kissed you. It was everything you wanted and more. It was everything you wanted with the person you loved.

 “You okay?” Dean breathed out, shifting a little. He never even opened his eyes.

 “Yeah,” you whispered.

 “Bad dream?” He asked you, popping one eye open.

 “No. Good dream. Best dream I’ve had in awhile. I’m just sad it came to an end,” you admitted.

 “Dr Sexy?”

 “Something better,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ll tell you some other time.”

 “What if you forget?” He cocked his eyebrow with his one eye still open.

 “Trust me. I will never forget this dream.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Did you like it? What was your favourite part? Share your thoughts with me via reblog, reply or send me an ask! Your response is what keeps me sharing stories like this! 

[freeyourheartandsoul]

Nervous.

Prompt: Based on “Nervous” – Shawn Mendes; Scott McCall; fluffy ending - @deepblueo-cean

Author’s Note: I went a different route than how I usually write songfics. Hope y’all like it. 😊

Master List | WattPad

Nervous.

Sunday

Since starting college at UC Davis, Scott’s been swamped with his studies and still trying to be there for Liam when the supernatural of Beacon Hills calls. He wants to make his mom proud and still be a good alpha to Liam and his friends when needed. It’s difficult sometimes. His social life is severely lacking, but he’s found a good balance between school and being an alpha. However, finding that balance with his best friends, the friends he graduated with, is proving more difficult. With him being at U.C. Davis, Malia finally jetting off to explore Europe, Lydia at MIT, and Stiles busy with the FBI program, it’s nearly impossible to get together.

Thankfully, Stiles caught a mini vacation right when Scott has spring break. Missing the California sun, Stiles made the trip to Davis for some overdue best friend bonding. They’ve never been apart this long before, so they have a lot of catching up to do. First stop to do so, a local diner that Scott swears has the best burgers and shakes – Stiles’ favorite.

After they sit down and order, Stiles starts rambling about how being in the program is basically like living with his dad again. Except, his dad was a little more lenient with him even though he’s the sheriff. According to Stiles, he’s constantly “overstepping his boundary” as the teachers like to say. He’s never been a fan of boundaries, especially when it comes to mysteries.

“So, why don’t you just stop and do what they tell you?” Scott questions even though he already knows the answer.

Stiles makes a knowing face, “have you met me? That’s like impossible sometimes.”

Scott nods, “true.”

“Especially when I’m right ninety-five percent of the time, and they end up going with my plan anyways.” Stiles continues.

The waitress brings their Oreo and chocolate shakes and they thank her. “I’m sure they love that.” Scott says with a chuckle as Stiles tries to suck his shake through the straw.

“I can’t help that I’m extremely intuitive and always figure things out,” Stiles states with a nonchalant shrug.

Scott shakes his head, “Lydia’s spoiled you rotten, man.”

Stiles grins proudly. He always does at the mention of Lydia or their relationship. It’s probably the accomplishment he’s most proud of. Screw getting into the FBI program. His ten to fifteen-year plan to make Lydia Martin fall in love with him actually worked. Luckily for him, he landed his dream girl and the job.

Scott couldn’t be prouder of his long-time best friend. He’s truly happy for him. However, as Stiles starts rambling about his relationship with Lydia, Scott gets distracted by the girl who walks into the diner. Her long and wavy, brown hair blows back perfectly as she walks through the door. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts on this unusually warm Spring day, and her skin is already sun-kissed tan. As she lifts her hair off her neck for a second, undoubtedly welcoming the cool air of the restaurant, he can see the sweat formed at the nape of her neck.

As the mystery girl sits down with a few friends three booths down from Scott and Stiles, her chestnut eyes catch his and she smiles. Damn, she caught me staring, he thinks as he tries to focus his attention back on Stiles. He can’t do it, though. His heart’s racing, tempting him to steal another glance.

He does, and she’s looking at him again. This time, she arches an eyebrow and smirks smugly. There’s a spark in her eyes that makes him grin a little as well.

“Dude.” Scott’s attention is stolen when Stiles throws a fry at him.

“What?” Scott asks, kind of annoyed. Stiles gestures to beside their table as he pops another fry in his mouth. Scott looks to where he gestured, and the waitress is looking down at him with a quirked eyebrow as she holds his plate of food. “Oh. Sorry. Thank you.”

The waitress places his plate in front of him, “sure thing, hun. You should take a picture. It’ll last longer.” She suggests before walking off to take another order.

Stiles looks at Scott confused, “what was that about?” Scott nods towards the mystery girl behind them, and Stiles follows his gaze. She’s now laughing about something or another with her friends. “Ahh…”

As if she could feel their gazes on her, she stops laughing and stares right back at them with another grin. The guys attempt to play it cool by quickly looking away. “Well, that was smooth.” Stiles comments before taking a bite of his burger.

Scott steals another glance her way as he takes a sip of his shake, but she catches him again and sends him a wink. The gesture nearly causes him to drop his shake because his hands start shaking. He clears his throat, trying to compose himself. “Get it together, Scott,” he mumbles as he focuses back on his food.

“Damn, dude.” Stiles can’t help but chuckle a little. Girls have always made his best friend a tad nervous. “You okay over there?”

Scott glares at him and throws a fry at his head. This only causes Stiles to laugh more and raise his hands up in defense.

***

Saturday Night

Scott takes a sip from his cup as he glances around the crowded fraternity house. The downstairs is full of students taking advantage of the last party before spring break ends. Most of them are still drunk from their typical spring break escapades. Not Scott, though. Besides the fact that he can’t get drunk, he hasn’t really been interested in the party scene. He wasn’t even going to attend the party, but before Stiles headed back to D.C., he insisted that Scott needed to participate in at least one spring break party. It’s a right of passage, he claimed. What really convinced Scott to go, though, was when Stiles suggested the mystery girl from the diner might be there.

Stiles also conveniently waited until he was about to leave, three days later, to confess that mystery girl asked about Scott while he went to the restroom at the diner. The news sent Scott into a tailspin of thoughts and questions. What did she ask? What’s her name? Did she leave her number? Did she ask for his? Unfortunately, Stiles said she took off before giving up any information about herself.

Ever since that day, Scott’s mind has been consumed of this mystery girl. He still doesn’t know her name, or even if she goes to Davis. All he’s sure of is that she makes him nervous and excited at the same time. Their little eye flirtation, or whatever you want to call it, at the diner left him wanting more. He’s kept his eyes peeled for her everywhere he’s gone for the past week, but there’s been no sign of her. If it weren’t for Stiles also seeing her, Scott would think she’s nothing but a figment of his imagination.

To his surprise and luck, as soon as he steps into the backyard pool area of the house, he spots her. She’s dancing with her same friends from the diner. Her sundress flares as she spins and dances to the beat of a Demi Lovato song. A smile full of laughter radiates and infects others around her, including Scott. Her eyes land on him and suddenly he’s a ball of nervous, insecure, and excited energy. It’s a feeling he’s been experiencing any time he simply thinks about her.

Next thing he knows, she’s sauntering over to him with a slow, flirty smile spreading across her lips. It’s clear she’s more than a little tipsy, but damn, she pulls it off. Scott swallows hard as she gets closer. By the time she reaches him, his hands are shaking once again. So, he shoves one in his pocket as he holds onto his beer with the other.

“I know you. You’re Scott.” She slurs, her big brown eyes staring into his.

Scott chuckles a little, “you see, that’s funny because I don’t remember telling you my name or getting yours.” He mentally smacks himself in the face at how lame that came out. It sounded better in his head.

She grins even more nonetheless, “sorry about that. My friends rushed me off. I’m (Y/N).”

“Are they going to drag you away again?” He asks, nodding towards her friends who are still dancing.

(Y/N) looks back to her friends before arching an eyebrow back at him, “not if you don’t let them.”

She bites her lip just as he takes a sip of his drink, nearly causing him to choke. Is she flirting with me? What am I supposed to say to that? What am I supposed to talk about period? Thoughts run through his head as she just stares at him with raised eyebrows. Great, now she probably thinks you’re an idiot.

“You want a drink?” He asks, not sure what else to say.

Surprisingly, she shakes her head, “I think I’ve hit my limit for tonight… or the week.” She answers with a giggle.

“Had a good spring break, I’m guessing?”

She shrugs, “did you?”

If by good you mean spending it looking for you everywhere I went, then sure. “It was alright. Showed my friend around town mostly.”

“The one from the diner? Stiles, right?” She asks, seeming genuinely interested.

Scott nods, “yeah. He’s in the pre-FBI program and caught a break, so he came back home for a bit to check in with his dad and hang out.”

“Wow. Pre-FBI sounds fancy.” Her eyes gleam a little, but he’s not sure if it’s just from her drunken stupor or not. “What about you? You doing something fancy here at Davis?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I’m trying to become a veterinarian.”

“A man after my own heart,” (Y/N) smiles as she places her hand over her heart. “I love animals.”

“Oh, so you’re going for the same thing?”

She laughs a little, “God, no.” She must’ve realized how that came out because she explains, “I mean, no offense to you or anything. I just wouldn’t be able to handle it. I’d cry over the first injured dog.”

Scott laughs, “I get it. I used to work at a vet clinic and my boss showed me how to ease a dog’s pain, and I cried like a baby. Not even kidding.”

“You cried giving a dog pain medicine? Man, how are you going to survive,” she jokes.

“No, I mean…” He’s about to explain how he can take pain away, but quickly stops himself from saying too much. Otherwise, he’d have to tell her everything, and that would undoubtedly scare her off. “Yeah, but I’m good now. No more tears. I just suck it up and apologize profusely to the animal,” he recovers with an awkward chuckle.

She eyes him suspiciously and looks like she’s about to say something, but the music suddenly gets louder as Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk” starts to play. Everyone around them starts singing and dancing along, and Scott can barely hear his own thoughts. They both look around at the chaos surrounding them before looking back at each other.

“Do you wanna-“

“Will you-“

They laugh as they try to yell over the noise at the same time. (Y/N) leans up a little closer to his ear, “walk me home?”

Scott smiles as he nods. He grabs her hand and leads them through the crowd and out of the house. “So, where to?” He asks once they’re on the sidewalk in front of the house.

“Magnolia apartments.” She answers dramatically with a pointing finger as she starts leading the way.

“Really?”

She nods, “why?”

“Because I’m in Spruce,” he says with a chuckle.

A look of surprise crosses (Y/N)’s face, “and yet we’ve never ran into each other.”

“Completely different schedules, I guess.” He suggests with a shrug, noticing she still hasn’t let go of his hand. “Plus, I’m not there a lot.”

“Oh? Got some secret girlfriend you’re not telling me about?” She jokes.

“What? No, no. I don’t have a girlfriend, I swear. I’m just always really busy with school and helping-” Scott responds, quickly shaking his head, once again stopping himself from saying too much.

(Y/N) stops them and puts her hand on his arm. “Relax, Scott. I was just joking,” she says with a giggle. Her smile instantly calms him down, which is kind of terrifying. No one’s made him feel like this since Allison.

Right now, as he stares into her big, drunken doe eyes under a street lamp, he wants nothing more than to kiss her, but he’s not sure if he should. His nerves are getting the best of him. He doesn’t even know if she wants him to or not. She’s still holding one of his hands and looking at him like she wants him to. So maybe he should just do it. You’ve got this, Scott. Be the alpha, as Stiles would advise.

He leans in slowly and so does she.  He can hear her heart beating faster, almost as fast as his. Almost. Just as their lips meet, a rain drop falls on his cheek. He starts to pull away, but her other hand flies behind his neck, forcing him to keep his lips on hers. He can taste the tequila in her mouth that she’s probably been drinking all week.

The rain begins to pour on them, but they don’t care. Their lips move in perfect sync as his hands move to her waist and hers lock behind his neck. Both of their hearts are racing. They finally pull away when their lungs start to burn. She smiles up at him as he tucks a soaked strand of hair behind her ear. Next thing he knows, she’s pulling him by the hand towards her apartment again.

---

Once they’re outside her apartment door, under the glow of a light fixture, a silence encompasses them. The whole walk over was filled with laughs and jokes and kisses. Now, though, it’s almost awkward. Scott’s suddenly a jumble of emotions again. His nerves are back, but the way she’s looking at him makes him excited yet self-conscious at the same time.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” His words come out as more of a question after he clears his throat.

“Or…” (Y/N) drags out, her words still slurring, “you can still see me right now.”

She still has a hold of his hand, and her glossy eyes are staring into his. Her chemo signals are radiating desire. As much as he wants her too, he’s thankful she’s not a werewolf. Otherwise, she’d sense his mixed emotions. He’s not sure why he’s feeling like this. It’s not like he’s never done this before. Maybe it’s because they barely know each other. He’s always been in a relationship with the girls he’s been with. Never a one-night stand or a hook up on the first date – is this even a date? He’s just not that type of guy.

“Come on.” She unlocks her apartment door and pulls him inside with her. A lamp was left on in the living room, leaving just enough light to see to walk around. She pulls him over to the couch and nudges him down before straddling his lap and crashing her lips to his once again.

His hands instinctively go to her waist, “what about your roommates?”

“Won’t be back until tomorrow,” she explains as her lips move down to his neck.

While it feels amazing, Scott’s jumbled emotions are keeping him from being fully into it. Maybe it’s the tequila still lingering on (Y/N)’s lips and her tipsiness. He doesn’t want to take advantage of her even though she’s the one initiating everything. Or maybe this is just moving too fast. He likes her and doesn’t want to ruin the obvious spark they share.

That’s why when her hands go to unbutton his shirt, he stops her. “Wait…”

Her eyes meet his, searching for answers. “You don’t want me?”

Scott shakes his head, “no, no… I do.” He sucks in a breath and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “trust me, I do. I just… you’re a little drunk, and I don’t –“

(Y/N) cuts him off, “you won’t be taking advantage. I want this.”

She moves in for another kiss, but he stops her again. “I like you, (Y/N). A lot. You’re all I’ve thought about for the last week. You make me nervous and excited and everything in between.” His warm eyes stare deep into hers, “I want you, but not like this. Not when you’re drunk, and we just officially met less than an hour ago.”

He lifts her off his lap and sits her beside him before standing up. She offers him a drunk pout and he can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re cute,” he says before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

“Cute enough for you to stay?” Now she’s giving her best puppy eyes as she grabs his hand.

Scott shakes his head, “you need sleep. But first…” He walks to the kitchen and searches the cabinets until he finds a glass. He fills it with water from the fridge and hands it to her, “chug this.”

Reluctantly, she does as told and he heads for the door. She’s quick on his heels, “but you don’t have my number.”

“Don’t worry. I know where you live,” he states with a wink. He gives her quick kiss and a smile before leaving.

The Following Morning

Scott knocks a few times on (Y/N)’s apartment door. A few minutes later, she swings it open and he has to contain a laugh. Her hair is on top of her head in a messy bun. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts and tube socks, and she’s glaring at him with last night’s make up a little smeared. He can’t help but think she looks adorable.

“Good morning,” he says with a smile, holding up a couple coffees and a brown paper bag.

“That’s debatable,” (Y/N) grumbles as she holds the door open for him to come in.

This time he can’t hold the chuckle that escapes. “Rough night?” He asks with a smirk.

“Ha Ha…” She shoves him a little as they sit down at the bar.

She reaches for the coffee, but he pulls it away. “Nope. First, you need this.” He pulls a blue Gatorade, a bottle of Advil, and what she recognizes as the diner’s famous turkey, egg, and cheese sandwich from the brown paper bag.

(Y/N) looks at the items and then back at him in awe, “you brought me hangover goodies.”

Scott gives a shy smile as he nods, “figured you might need it.” She nods vigorously in response causing him to laugh as he hands her the sandwich.

She opens it and takes a bite, “so good.”

“Best in town,” Scott grins.

She nods in agreement before getting two Advil and downing them with a sip of Gatorade. “So, did I make a complete fool of myself with you last night?”

His grin broadens, “oh yeah. You dragged me back here in the rain and tried to force me to sleep with you.”

(Y/N)’s eyes go wide, “oh, God.” She buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. “I’ll go crawl in a hole and die now.”

“I’m kidding. You were fine. Nothing embarrassing.” He says with a laugh as he rubs her back in reassurance.

She peeks out at him, “you promise?”

“Cross my heart.” He makes the gesture to cross his heart with a smile. She removes her hands and looks at him in suspicion. “What? I promise, you didn’t do anything embarrassing.”

“It’s not that,” she says with a shake of her head before taking another bite of her sandwich.

“Then what?”

“You’re a really good guy, aren’t you?” She questions after swallowing and taking a sip of her coffee.

Scott shrugs, “I like to think so. But I’m not perfect by any means.”

She smiles a little and continues eating. They sit in silence as she finishes her sandwich and he sips his coffee. Nothing really needs to be said, but they steal soft smiles with each other. It’s not awkward or filled with tension. It’s comfortable, relaxing even.

“You know, I do remember something you said last night,” (Y/N) suddenly says after her last bite.

“Oh yeah?”

She grins as she nods, “you said that I make you nervous and excited and everything in between, and that you’ve done nothing but think about me all week.”

Scott ducks his head a little in embarrassment, but she lifts his chin so his warm, chocolate eyes are staring directly into hers. “Likewise.” His eyebrows raise a little as if asking if she was serious, and she nods with a smile.

They stare into each other’s eyes like that for another minute before leaning in slowly until their lips meet for a soft and sweet kiss. She may still be hungover, and he may still be feeling a mix of nerves and excitement, but it’s okay. Their hearts are beating at the same rhythm, and it puts him at ease. He’s not nervous anymore. (Y/N) can make him feel every emotion under the sun, but with just one touch, one kiss, he’s knows those are good feelings to have around. It’s how you know when something is going in the right direction.

[nickireadstfc]

The Raven King, Chapter 1 – The Show Must Go On (And By Show We Mean Exy)

In which practices stop for no one, Wymack rules at pep talks, family sentiments are expressed to Neil via a seating order, and Andrew reaches new levels of Fucking Weird And Disturbing With A Side Of Asshole.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

Before we begin, let’s take a look back at the foolish predictions I made a while ago about the rest of the first book (which my dumb ass forgot to include in last week’s summary):

Neil will be able to do all of the Raven drills eventually didn’t happen yet, we remain hopeful

Nicky and Neil will talk about the Club Situation yup! (kind of)

Alternatively, and even better: Andrew and Neil will talk about the Club Situation nooo sadly not

MORE KANDREIL TIMES hopefully if you count Neil defending Kevin on national television and Andrew almost punching Riko afterwards then yAAA

Either Riko or Coach Moriyama will appear HO BOIII

We will learn something about Renee’s backstory no snowflake backstory for us yet :(

Coach Wymack will be the best person alive JINX I know that’s gonna happen #dicksoutforwymack “Breaking news: I don’t care” my man

Neil will say more beautiful and savage things, dropping shade left and right HO B O I I I I

Seth will fuck off to somewhere (a girl can dream okay) oh my sweet summer child you were nOT PREPARED

I am starting to get why y’all keep telling me I am not prepared for anything that’s to come. I’M NOT.

And with that said, welcome to The Raven King! Even the cover tells us that playtime is over: It’s not the happy orange we had previously, it’s black and red and no doubt filled with violence, abuse, mean boys, infighting, and heaps of shade.

Let’s fucking go.

           It looked like Halloween outside, only two months too early. Last week Palmetto State was covered in orange and white streamers to celebrate the start of the school year. Over the weekend someone had replaced all of the white ribbons with black ones. It gave the impression that the campus was in mourning. Neil Josten thought it a cheap tribute, but that might have been his cynicism talking.

Shut the fuck up, Neil, that’s a cool as shit. My school would have probably put up one or two black ribbons on the flags next to the school gate and that would have been it. Your college decorated the entire campus. That’s a great tribute, shut up.

The book starts off with Neil and the Monster Squad on their way to the first practice after Seth’s death – gracefully scheduled for Wednesday afternoon, which is when Andrew will be in therapy.

Why not sooner, you ask?

           Generally, Andrew’s wild mood wasn’t a problem, but Andrew’s cheer didn’t make him at all friendly. An excitable Andrew confronted with the death of his least-favourite teammate was a recipe for disaster. The team should have come together Sunday morning to grieve their loss, but Andrew and Matt got into an ugly brawl instead.

Sigh. ANDREW, WHY.

I have a slight feeling Andrew’s drug-induced moods are going to play an important role this book. Just a hunch.

           Seth died Saturday night and was cremated Monday afternoon. From what Neil heard, Seth’s mother signed off on everything, but didn’t even show up at the crematorium to collect her son’s ashes.

What the fuck. What the fuck kind of mother is that. What sort of human being cares so little for their own children they won’t even show up to their funeral what the fuck.

This is the saddest shit I’ve read all day. Sure, they’re all from ~broken homes~ and whatever, but still. Some of you were also pointing out that it’s been said before that he was on antidepressants. This and how little fucks his family appears to give about him makes me feel even more sorry for him.

Ughhh. Why do I get them character feels only after his death. This sucks major ass.

           The Foxes were already the smallest team in NCAA Class I Exy. Now they were the smallest a team could be and still qualify to play. They’d lost their only fifth-year senior, and their remaining offense team consisted of an injured national champion and an amateur.

Meaning if Neil or Kevin want to take a time-out they just… can’t?

Boy, I’m sure there I absolutely nothing that can go wrong with that.

           Kevin’s presence on the team mean the Foxes needed full-time security, but the numbers had doubled over the summer when Kevin’s former team transferred to the southeastern district. Neil was getting used to seeing campus police everywhere he went, but he would always hate the sight of them.

I have a question here, which I’ve thought about before as well: What the hell is campus police? Because Germany doesn’t have that.

Is it just security guards? It’s not actual police, is it? I’m sure those guys will have more important things to do than to play standby watchdogs at a college.

           The door code was supposed to change every couple months, but with the Ravens in their district Wymack now changed it every week. This week it was the last four digits of Abby’s phone number. Neil was starting to think his teammates were right about Wymack and Abby’s secret relationship.

Honestly, how have I not seen fanart for those two yet. They’re cute as shit. Everyone, chill it on the Andreil and give me the fluffy Wymabby (Abbymack?) cuddles my heart desperately wants.

Once in the stadium, Neil finds Kevin and Aaron playing interior designers.

           “What are you doing?”

    ��      “Finding a new way to make us fit,” Andrew said, “unless you want to stare an empty chair in the face all season. (…) Four people barely fit on a coach. Five is out of the question.”

           “Five?”

           Kevin looked at him like he was stupid. Neil was painfully familiar with that look by now, but even after four months with Kevin he still didn’t appreciate it.

           “You do know your place, don’t you?”

Hhhhhhhasdfghjkl.

Another installment in our popular series Neil Doesn’t Realize People Actually Care About Him, episode 3 of a billion.

           Neil hesitated a second too long, and Aaron finally spelled it out for him. “You’re on the couch with Kevin and Andrew. Sit down.”

It’s a Kandreil Couch! Yay!

The Kandreil Kouch™, for alliteration’s sake.

           “I don’t like being boxed in,” Neil said, “and I don’t want to sit next to your brother.”

           “Nicky put up with it for a year,” Aaron said. “You can deal with it.”

           “You’re his family,” Neil said, not like it meant a thing to them.

They’re your family as well now, ya dingus.

Neil has something to say about ~families~, though.

           Wymack only recruited athletes from broken homes. At the Foxhole Court, “family” was a fantasy invented to make books and Hollywood movies more interesting.

Was someone looking for the Extra™ in this book? Fucking found it.

Also, was someone looking for Wymack? Because I was. Where is my fave.

           From what Neil could hear, someone was harassing Wymack about the team’s tiny line-up. Wymack’s obvious irritation made his reassurances less than convincing, but Neil knew he believed every word he was saying. Wymack didn’t care if he had nine Foxes or twenty-five. He’d stand behind them until the bitter, bloody end.

THERE HE IS. <333333

Just in case anyone needed a reminder of why Wymack is, in fact, the best person in this entire series.

           He strode into the lounge a couple seconds later and followed Dan’s finger to Neil. He looked from Neil to Kevin to Aaron, then around the room at the new layout, then back at Neil.

           “Last I checked Andrew didn’t like you,” Wymack said.

           “He still doesn’t,” Neil said, but he didn’t bother to explain.

I’m just imagining Wymack looking around faster and faster like a comic character and I’m enjoying it tremendously.

Also, “he still doesn’t”, sure, honey…

It’s time for arguably the best speech in this chapter: A Grade A Certified Wymack Pep Talk.

           Wymack folded his arms across his chest and studied each of his Foxes in turn.

           “Abby wrote me a speech to give you this afternoon. It sounded nice, had lots of stuff about courage and loss and coming together in everyone’s time of need. I tore it up and tossed it in the trash can beside my desk.”

Why do I find this so funny. I mean, harsh, dude, she put effort into that and it was actually so sweet of her, but also like. That is such a Wymack move and I love it.

           Wymack built the Foxes from the ground up and handpicked Seth for his first starting line. Between the players’ personal problems, a faulty original contract that let players walk out, and the option to graduate in four years instead of five, Seth was the only one who’d made it to a fifth year on the team. Seth had been a lot of things, most of them unpleasant, but he’d definitely been a fighter. Now he was gone.

Curse you, afterwards character feels! :(((

           Wymack cleared his throat and scratched a hand through his short hair. “Look. Shit happened. Shit’s going to keep happening. You don’t need me to tell you life isn’t fair. You’re here because you know it isn’t. Life doesn’t care what we want out of it; it’s up to us to fight for what we want with everything we’ve got. Seth wanted us to win. He wanted us to make it past the fourth match. I think we owe it to him to perform. Let’s show the world what we’ve got. Let’s make this our year.”

An actual leaked picture of me reacting to this speech.

How do I love thee, Wymack? Let me count the ways………. A FUCKTON.

After that rousing example of a pep talk, everyone gets ready for practice, and I discover a completely accidental pun that I can’t believe I witnessed with my own two eyes:

           A vanity separated the toilets from the shower stalls, and Neil stopped there on his way back to consider his reflection. (…)

           He didn’t realize how long he’d stalled until Matt and Kevin came looking for him.

Get it? Cause he’s in the stalls………….

I’ll see myself out.

           “All the way to finals?” Neil asked.

           “Miracles happen,” Matt said.

           “Don’t rely on something as insubstantial as a miracle,” Kevin said. “You won’t win anything by standing around. Finish getting changed and get down to the court.”

           “One day I want you to look up ‘insensitivity’ in the dictionary,” Matt said, annoyed. “I’m sure it’ll do your ego wonders to see your picture printed beside it.”

GET FUCKIN REKT. Matt, baby, I didn’t know you had such hidden sass qualities. Where were you hiding them and how can we see more of them, like, now.

After a bit of training, Nicky and Andrew finally show up, but before Wymack can shoo them out onto the court, something unexpected happens:

Andrew gets a phone call.

If we learnt anything from the last one he got (which was a killer, by the way), it’s that phone calls for Andrew never mean anything fucking good.

           “Pig Higgins, is that you?” Andrew asked. “Oh, it is. Yes, I’m surprised. Did you forget I don’t like surprises? What? No, don’t stall. You wouldn’t hunt me down after all this time just to chat, so what do you want?” Andrew went quiet for a few seconds to listen, then said, “No,” and hung up.

What. What the fuck is happening. How does Andrew have this police officer so whipped that he gets to call him Pig.

           “What? No, I didn’t hang up on you. I wouldn’t do that. I – no. Shut up.”

           Andrew hung up again.

I want to find this funny, but I just find it weird and disturbing, with a side of asshole-ish. He doesn’t seem in the mood for jokes, he seems serious, yet he keeps hanging up and denying it? This is very fishy to me.

           “Go back,” Andrew finally said. “Who complained? Oh, Pig, don’t give me the runaround. I know where you work, you see. I know who you work with. That means there’s a child in her house. She isn’t supposed – what? No. Don’t ask me that. I said don’t. Leave me alone. Hey,” Andrew said, a little louder like he was trying to drown the officer’s arguments out. “Call me again and I’ll kill you.”

WHAT IS HAPPENING. Who is “she”? What is she not supposed to do? And a child? Whattt.

           “Why is the Oakland PD calling you?”

           “The pig and I go way back,” Andrew said. “He just wanted to catch up. (…) He worked with the Oakland PAL program. Thought he could save at-risk kids by teaching them sports after school. Kind of like you, yes? Idealistic to the core.”

Excuse you, bitch, you’re making that sound like an insult and I am not liking it.

After that scene, completely unimpressed by everyone’s gaping mouths and ‘what-the-fuck’ expressions (including mine), Andrew decides to once again demonstrate his absolute indifference to anything Exy and gets the fuck out of there.

           Impatience pulled Kevin’s mouth into a hard line. “Knock it off. You can’t leave.”

           There was a heartbeat of silence, and Andrew turned around with a wide, wicked smile on his lips. “I can’t, Kevin? I’ll show you what I can’t do. Try and put me on your court today and I’ll take myself off it permanently. Fuck you practice, your line-up, and your stupid fucking game.”

           “That’s enough. We don’t have time for your tantrums.”

           Andrew twisted and punched the wall hard enough to split the skin along his knuckles.

Oh my god, chill out, my dude, what the fuck, take a chill pill, calm your tatas.

Obviously, everyone lets him go after that, but Wymack isn’t quite ready to let the entire subject off the hook yet:

           “Answers, now, Aaron,” Wymack said.

           “I don’t know,” Aaron said. (…) “He was Andrew’s mentor, not mine. I only met the guy once.” (…)

           “Oh,” Nicky said in startled realization. “Is he – ?”

           He didn’t finish, but Aaron understood what he was asking.

           “Yeah,” Aaron said. “He’s the one who told me I had a brother.”

OH SHIT. I’m beyond pumped for the explanation of that backstory.

And we’re done! Good first chapter, shade, practice, violence, lil bit of cryptic backstory, standard Fox program as always. Not much has happened yet, though, as it mostly serves to get us back into the story.

I’m excited for more.

[jillmckenzie1]

We All Suck at Dating

A common lead question in the world of online dating is: “What are you looking for?”

Aside from being a grammatical nightmare, this question poses its own set of anxiety-ridden answers. Because how hard in the paint do you really go in response to this question when you’re on the third line of a burgeoning digital transaction? The words that your thumbs manage to string together will inevitably become the foundation for any further communication (or lack thereof).

Sidebar. Dude, didn’t you read my bio? It clearly states, “Looking for a real life human with whom to do rad things. Sucker for good teeth, nice calves, and witty banter. Here for the shirtless gym selfies (you guys, it’s a joke).” Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.

My typical response to the aforementioned question goes something like this: “Surely not looking to get laid off an app. And absolutely not interested in receiving dick pics. Would be great to find a real-life male with whom to do cool shit who also believes in hand-holding, ass-grabbing, Netflix binge-watching, and tag-team Whole Foods shopping.”

Once upon a time, I had a younger guy respond to this answer: “But does our age difference bother you?”

Cough. Cough. He clearly wasn’t aware of my subconscious bias towards younger men.

I replied, “Age is a number. Maturity is a barometer for compatibility. Why? Were you simply trying to send dick pics?”

*unmatch*

I’m sorry, WUT?! Respectable people say goodbye, or they’re not interested, or that they don’t find my humor to be as amusing as I do; they do not just act like [insert desired superlative here] and vanish into thin air (as if I wrote the book on this stuff or something).

Here’s the point. By all means, unmatch me. I don’t give any number of fucks about our premature termination of conversation. The guy I choose is going to choose me in return. He’s going to laugh at the fact that I attempt to turn him on by mentioning that I always return my shopping carts. He’s going to send me memes and screenshots of tiny houses. He’s going to share my affinity towards Mexican food and ask me for my LinkedIn profile instead of my SnapChat handle, and he’ll really mean it when he says that he’s not in search of a booty call.

At the end of the day, I have zero interest in entertaining a guilt-free ghoster. The issue here is the action. Because dammit, it’s hard enough out there. Can’t we all just play by some unstated rules that, at the very least, are governed by the premise of honesty?

I know. It’s asking a lot.

 But that brings me to my next point. About dating. We all suck at it. Yes, all of us. I’m actually quite amazed by how many of us seek to individually claim this title from every rooftop, blog post, and digital message warehouse. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I just don’t think there’s anything unique about it.

We. All. Suck.

A small bit of evidence exists in our mutual affection towards Netflix and chill. I’ve seen enough dating profiles in these last few years to make one overarching and absolutely assertive statement: when given the choice, we’ll all opt for a night spent on the couch in sweatpants eating ice cream with our dog over any nightclub and party scenario. Seriously, I have yet to encounter any male in the digital stratosphere who prefers the latter.

Because, in my humble opinion, no one wants to find his or her significant other in a bar. Absolutely not. For some, sure, the bar provides a perfect backdrop for the infamous one-night stand; I’m quasi-drunk and you’re quasi-cute (could be up for debate in the morning), so in the words of Marvin Gaye, “Let’s get it on.”

But a match–someone who challenges us and makes our lives a whole hell of a lot better (even on the worst days)–yeah, we’re not walking into any bars with the expectation of finding a soulmate.

And, despite our current aversion to commitment that is fueled by our unrelenting fear of missing out alongside our limitless access to infinite information and individuals, we do want a soulmate. Not because we believe in this antiquated ideology that only one person was made for us. No, millennials don’t walk into this world with the Shakespearian belief that compatibility is reserved for a single Romeo and his Juliet.

We more appropriately approach the definition of “soulmates” as two people who show up to participate in a revolutionized companionship. We are a generation that fully understands the power of choice, and we want to exercise this right romantically as much as we want to frequent farmer’s markets in lieu of spending our dollars at chain grocery stores. We believe in making ourselves whole, as individuals, in order to more powerfully stand beside someone who is doing the same. So, we choose ourselves as the catalyst to choose our other.

And yet, even inside of this space of a beautiful and raw and authentic desire to find a forever partner-in-crime, we’re still ghosting and we’re still sending dick pics. I’m sorry, rescind. We’re still sending dick videos. Yes, apparently, I graduated into some upper echelon of male debauchery.

Let me expand. A guy who I sparingly chatted with months ago decided to Snap me one lonely night in February (if you don’t know what “Snapping” is, keep it that way). I opened the video (which is the extent of my SnapChat proficiencies), and bam, hello, hi. My brain immediately hit overdrive as I considered throwing my phone 23 feet across the entirety of my Airstream.

I’m sorry, I haven’t spoken to you since November – neither did any previous conversation incite such ridiculous swapping of privates – and I’m now supposed to be the proud recipient of your amateur x-rated video?! Please, no. PLEASE NO.

Of course, I fired back something saucy (as if I’m going to save the world one indecent digital exposure at a time). And in the spirit of true chivalry (insert massive eyeroll here), he said that it was a mistake: “Wrong Stephanie.”

I actually can’t even (read: bull-fucking-shit).

But my potential diatribe inside an app that was literally designed to delete user history wouldn’t be saving anyone. My only hope at such a stage is the block feature because, at the end of the day, I simply don’t have time for this nonsense. Much like I don’t have time for the old flame (think college) who thought it was cute to slide into my DMs with questions about the kind of underwear I happened to be wearing. Or, the fact that exhibit B continues to patronize me with pet names (even after we established, months ago, that a romantic relationship between us would simply be settling).

Newsflash: y’all aren’t cute. YOU ALL ARE NOT CUTE.

And around we go, hiding behind our phone screens because we want the one (or at least one of the viable ones) to drop into our lives with the same level of excitement experienced by teenagers across America when Usher finally released his third studio album, 8701.

If you ask me, the going around is getting quite old. In fact, my motion sickness is at an all-time high. In the metaphor, I’m projectile vomiting out the back passenger-side window. Don’t ask me who’s driving. I don’t know.

What I do know is that I’m not puking alone.

Fact one. We’re drowning in our individual and collective nausea without any idea of how to stop the damn car. Or, at very least, slow it down. And we sure as hell don’t know where it’s going.

Fact two. Together, we are more powerful than the driver. But I’m not sure if we believe that (yet), and if we do believe it, I’m not sure that we know how to take control of the wheel (yet).

Because I would hate for us to resign ourselves to the fact that this whole dating thing is out of our control. I would hate for our desire of depth to become clouded by our habitual superficiality. I would hate for us to throw away our integrity in the name of conformity.

And I write this to us because I write this to myself. Plot twist, people. I, too, suck at dating. My judgment of those without an inkling of digital wit is embarrassingly high. It is standard issue for me to ghost anyone who resorts to asking me about my day within the first 24 hours of communication.

We just met. It’s fine. My day was fine. Am I supposed to tell you what I ate for lunch? Or about the conversation that I had with my mom? Or the hours I spent browsing Amazon for a new duvet cover?

Seriously, ask me anything else. And, please, I beg you, be funny. And charming (but not too charming). Our future depends on it.

Case in point. In a land far, far away, some guy asked me if I’d ever seen a movie titled La Strada. Clearly, not English. My answer was (and still is) no.

He wrote, “It’s foreign, so you have to be okay with subtitles.”

Well, no shit.

Me: “Great, I learned to read at a young age and quickly surpassed all of my peers, so this is promising.”

*crosses fingers and begs for a witty response*

His reply: “I like that answer. I need someone confident in what sets them apart.”

No dice.

*waves white flag*

I surrender. I absolutely surrender.

And by “surrender,” I mean that I simply fell off the face of the planet, never to associate with this poor guy (who probably had zero interest in sending a dick pic, let alone a dick video) ever again.

I just didn’t have it in me to push through in hopes of unearthing my very own Steve Carrell.

I’ll give you ten minutes. Make ‘em count. Effortlessly get me to laugh out loud, and I’ll strongly consider fraternizing as real-life people.

Hold up. Real. Life. People.

Yes, let’s be very clear, any digital union that transpires in human-to-human interaction is call for a good old-fashioned golf clap. Because it’s an anomaly by anyone’s standards.

So here we are. Together. Meandering through the airwaves and the land mines. Motion sick beyond measure. And I’d like to believe that we’re not helpless here, so my challenge is that we take control of the car. My challenge is that we align our actions and our words. Because there is nothing sexier than honesty. And honesty–honesty will save us. Also, humor. But mostly honesty.

We must be able to articulate for who or what we are looking. It is a common lead question because it is the question. It provides the foundation for action and expectation so, to revisit my initial commentary, we should go as hard in the paint as humanly possible (think Zion Williamson type shenanigans) in our responses. Because this answer allows us to proceed in a space where vulnerability is safe–whether we both swiped right in a sea of digital profiles or, quite literally, ran into each other in the singles line of our favorite chairlift.

You do not have to be in the search for serious. But you do owe the community your truth. The power is in your voice. And please, for the love of all things beautiful, let’s commit to considerate farewells that make “ghosting” so 2018 (as in, bye).

Speaking of bye and the singles line and chairlifts, I had to text my ex-boyfriend the other day to get back my second key fob for the entrance to my RV park

I refuse to pay the $20 for a replacement, okay. Judge me.

It had been nearly a month of not communicating, so you can surmise that it was a conversation that I’d been consciously avoiding. To be honest, I had stubbornly supported the idea that he should contact me first.

Obviously, unsuccessful.

So I spent hours typing and re-typing and then re-re-typing some ridiculous message that started with a Nugget update and ended with, “Oh yea, I need that key fob back.” I then spent hours deciphering and re-deciphering and then re-re-deciphering his response: “No problem. I’ll bring it to work and you can swing by one day and grab it when you’re done riding.” Please note, there is nothing cryptic here.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit nervous to, once again, look our honesty in the eye. Our ease had existed in our shared interest of doing the work. We had used our voices. And we both believed in the power of a considerate farewell. Also, laughing, there was lots of laughing.

For all intents and purposes, we were great. Apparently, our timing was not.

I’m reminding myself that, at the very least, this relationship taught me that there is hope for our collective whole to be better. It was the catalyst for me to shed an intense layer of distasteful cynicism. And for that, I can willingly embrace the uncomfortable.

It’s just two minutes. It’s just a key fob.

 Dating. It’s still a game of numbers. And we simply need to, in all of our honesty, keep showing up.

Together, we can stop the suck.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/we-all-suck-at-dating/

[eitherandor-blog]

Wait For The Moment

Like many children, classrooms were the formative environment of my youth.  These were places where I did an awful lot of learning (most of the time).  Some learning happened formally at desks or seated around a rug; other times, this was less structured, like learning how to share or be creative through interaction with others and my own independent learning.  All in all, much of my learning happened in a school setting.

Though I cannot remember all the lessons over the years, I remember a lot about the schools.  My first few schools I lived nearby and could walk to.  As a teenager, I would carpool with family friends.  I remember within each one, where some classrooms were located, where I could go #2 and stored my things, and how to enter and access each building.

Now fast forward to being a “young” adult, my professional career has revolved around the academic calendar, in a mix of school buildings and campuses.  After graduating for the final time as a student, my career has stayed close to education.  Since I’ve been in the workforce, my daytime is spent still orbiting around these institutions: on college campuses, presenting to a variety of school classrooms and youth programs, or based within one school at a time. 

At the latest school where I work, a public high school, hundreds- if not thousands- of our students organized and participated in a walkout in March.  This was hardly the singular example- a neighbor school had its own 3rd grade class simultaneously organize their own protest.  Students across the country- and globe- have been staging walkouts and protests months after the latest mass school shooting.  This was not the first, just the latest in a long line.  These actions were in response to the shooting earlier this year at Marjory Stoneman High School in Florida.  More students were marching on Friday, many participating from my same high school.

There is no one that (openly) agreed with these senseless acts of violence and shootings (that I know of, although I could be wrong on that somehow).  Reactions ranged, from tweets placing blame to those of uncontrolled- and justified- emotion.  Most notably though, there have been the voices, strength, anger, and leadership of students.  Since the Parkland shooting, the nation- and world- have taken notice of the leadership by these young people of Marjory Stoneman, and others like them.

Granted interviews and a microphone, many of the surviving students have been heralded as the fulcrum to finally crack the debate on gun rights and common sense reform.  With access to a platform and to politicians, many students and victim’s families are making their voices heard, having confronted their local politicians on gun control and those recipients of NRA funding.

All of that is amazing.

Now remember, none of these young people were seeking out this opportunity.  Instead, they witnessed, experienced and survived a school shooting. 

While no one is really supporting the fact that this shooting happened, many are taking this opportunity to remind of the importance, and constitutional right, of guns.  Even in Florida, within weeks of the shooting, the state voted to arm teachers (I wonder where that brilliant idea came from..).  And then things like this happen, and you wonder how this was ever considered a positive idea.

So the safety’s off, let’s talk about guns if that’s what y’all want.

...

(1) The notion of Gun Reform

Gun reform doesn’t mean:

-No one should own a gun

-You shouldn’t be able to be safe and protect yourself

-You are losing your freedoms

Who in the world needs an assault rifle?  I mean, maybe it’s because I do not like nor support the extreme weaponization of anyone and am likely always going to be antiwar.  Still, who could ever need an assault weapon?  Why is a bump stock necessary for hunting or for you safeguarding you property?  

Let’s be clear too: if the argument is “it’s in the Constitution, Bill of Rights, etc.,” this would not be the first time we reformed or rewrote our founding documents.  Remember that these documents were written into law at the founding of our country, centuries ago..when slavery was legal.  Not to mention, without our formalized (racist) institutions and much of the country unexplored/destroyed by European immigrants, safety looked differently.  

So I’m sorry NRA, private industries and interested citizens.  A few things may need to be adjusted for the times, guns included.  To start, let’s acknowledge that the rates of shootings in this country are inexcusable- and truly, preventable.  Trying to prevent the next shooting is not an agenda; it’s called logical sense.  There is really never going to be a time where it is “appropriate” to talk about guns, seeing as we are constantly using and killing with them across the country- so maybe we should be done talking? 

For those of y’all looking for voices of reason, there are perspectives and people speaking on both sides.  Be sure you’re at least listening to those who have had experience with firearms talk about some minuscule improvements to gun laws.  Reform with gun laws- like any reform- doesn’t mean that the original no longer exists.  It adapts and updates with the times, which leads to trying to decide between...

(2) Guns or people?

By the way, though I think that the notion that guns = safety is a false equivalency, it’s a little sad that there are some people who seem to prioritize guns > human life.  Like seriously, if I told you definitively, with research, personal testimony and the like, that with fewer guns in X country, there was less violence, fewer deaths and no increase in burglaries or vindictive animals who killed humans, there would still be people arguing for guns.

I get that this is something that seems deeply rooted into the fabric of our country and ‘American’ (I would counter these are not all positive affiliations, but I digress).  If that is your angle, how do you respond to the folks with military experience who contend that these are not an everyday necessity for folks?  Or that in fact more guns especially in schools have a direct link to greater/worser penalties and punishment of students of color in our school system?

Arming teachers, anyone, in a school building is a license to increase the school-to-prison pipeline and add capital punishment to the list of responsibilities of teachers.  When our schools, and especially punitive discipline procedures, require an overhaul, we want to give out more guns? Hell no.  Most teachers are not interested, most educators are overworked, and most students- namely students of color- are already over disciplined.  A gun will make that situation better?  If you talked to most educators- no, not her- the issues they are facing in schools and education, having a gun is not likely to be high on the list.

And then there’s the ongoing, supposed link between...

(3) Guns, Shootings, and Mental Health

As access to guns is relatively easy in this country, there are a diverse array of folks who own and gain access to weapons.  This includes people living with a number of mental illnesses as well as those who do not.  Some of them, maybe, have committed crimes, killing others and/or themselves.  Some of these shootings are not in the least related to the issue or perpetuated by folks with mental health illnesses. 

Now I can agree with the idea that some people should not have firearms.  If someone has been diagnosed with a mental disorder, and specific ones that can be determined by mental health professionals, perhaps they should have some evaluation before getting a gun, if ever.  I also think that if someone is an overt or closeted racist, xenophobe, anti-semitic, homo-, bi- or transphobic, they too should have difficulty gaining access to a weapon.  

I can also agree that there is a connection between shootings, guns, and mental health concerns.  Whether a large shooting with numerous casualties or a single shot that leaves no one dead, there are lifetime effects for the survivors.  Mental health services are a necessity for the folks that have to live with this trauma.  It also would unfortunately seem that among those who are shot and killed in senseless killings have their own history of mental health diagnoses.

Commonly, the most public retort after a mass shooting committed by a white man, we talk about mental health.  Maybe these folks need services and support.  Maybe we need to actually tend to reforming and updating our mental health system, rather than shuttling folks into our jails and prisons, and giving people the help they need.  However, we only talk about mental health on certain instances when guns and shootings are discussed, and that boils down to... 

(4) Privilege- who do we hear from and whose lives do we value

I hate what happened at Parkland.  And yet.  There are people dying of gun violence everywhere in our country.  People of color continue to be killed at alarming rates, publicly in examples by police.  Even in instances of clear murder, these police shooters or night watchmen are most often let free without punishment.  There are poor people, trans people, undocumented people and others whose deaths are not given any public, mainstream attention though their lives are lost too.

Specifically after Parkland, we have heard from the primarily same group of white and light-skinned students.  Now I don’t entirely fault the students themselves.  They are naming the discrepancy of how much coverage their largely white, largely affluent school and community have received since the shooting; how that might be different if there school was made up of different students.  And that’s great.

However, it seems like there are others in their own school looking to speak and be heard..and they aren’t getting a chance.  Beyond the school in Parkland, there are others, survivors of gun violence, clamoring to be heard who go unnoticed.  There are innumerable organizations and organizing vying to amend our gun problem.  These are commonly ignored, overlooked and not given the resources necessary or deserved- though on they fight and change the world.  Maybe the students can not just acknowledge others but actually invite other students into the fold, onto the platform?

...

I know there are people with guns who say they are liberal or vote Democrat.  I know Republicans that want gun reform.  I do not think is simply a black and white- or rather, blue or red political issue.  As is so commonly the case, there are an abundance of options that exist between current gun procedures and allowances and stripping everyone of their guns.

Also, there is no denying there is a problem with school shootings.  Although there is also a problem with shootings in movie theaters; at nightclubs; at concerts; at churches, mosques and temples.  I am not naive enough to think that guns are the only problem here.  However, if people are unwilling to talk about the big issues that are destroying our world- you know, like systemic racism, xenophobia, and the like- then getting rid of your damn guns to at least shrink the damage people can inflict seems like a must. 

People, daily if not hourly if not every minute in this country, are killed by the bullet.  Those involved in the struggle, and those parked outside it.  Millions are invested- and proposed to continue being spent- on our protection and institutions of “safety.”  This includes guns and weaponry, $95M alone in Chicago that could be spent on other more dire services.

However, if you would rather keep your gun, I am totally open to thinking how that can be possible.  If you are unhappy that people want to reign in the lax policies and availability of guns, that’s okay- don’t sing about it.  If change is hard for you, get in line.  Because while this may not be the time you want to have this conversation, we are having this conversation; there is no perfect time to wait for.  Actually, with how constant shootings occur, there is no way we can discuss an ideal time: this is an ever present reality in our country.  How could there ever be a time where we are not talking about this?  How can this not matter enough to be a topic now, tomorrow and from now on until we curb the violence?  In some sick, twisted way, it may appear beneficial to those clinging to their guns to hold out for a moment of peace and no shootings to talk, seeing as that time does not seem to be coming.

There is no argument when the right time is to get into it and dialogue about the issues related to guns and gun violence.  Rather, if there is a problem- a constant, daily problem, across communities and locations- you either confront it and have the conversation or you allow it to continue.  Stop waiting for the moment and do something.

(This latest blog is named after my favorite tune by Vulfpeck, straight outta Ann Arbor!  You can listen to the song- featuring THE Antwaun Stanley- here.  It’s worth listening beyond the introductory 45 seconds too.)