#gotta pay for orientation soon regardless

[faeikoaries]

Pros and cons list for two colleges:

College #1

-in my state, will see my wife next year, far enough from parent that I won’t have to see them every weekend, I can pay for most of it with scholarships.

-will have to visit parent occasionally, not very good for my career (none of the colleges in my state are), not guaranteed a dorm, $100 orientation.

College #2

-out of state, might get to bring emotional support dog, guaranteed housing, $35 orientation, better for my career.

-crippling debt, will live with religious grandparents, scary, won’t see my wife for 2 years :(.

[lucrloux]

— meet LUC RIOUX !

hello ! my name is ani and i am so excited to be here ! below the cut you can find some information on my son, luc ! if you are interested in plotting please feel free to like this post or simply shoot me a message ! 

— the OVERVIEW !

( WOLFGANG NOVOGRATZ, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — oh gosh, sorry LUC RIOUX ! i didn’t see you there ! y'know, i can’t believe you’re already 26 years old; seems like just yesterday you were tripping over yourself, or was that yesterday ? just kidding, just kidding ! anyway, i hear that you’ve been here since 1955, or so you think; congratulations ! at least that shining EXTROVERTED personality of yours hasn’t changed a bit, especially that OBSERVANT + CHARMING, but IMPULSIVE + FRAUDULENT way about you. look, i gotta get back to the group, but i’ll see you around ! 

tw: ww2, alcohol, smoking.

— the BASICS ! 

full name /  luc rioux.

nickname /  lu, lucky.

age /  twenty-six (26).

year of disappearance /  1955.

date of birth /  7th april.

star sign /  aries.

hometown /  paris, france.

current location /  raven house.

nationality /  french.

gender /  cis male.

pronouns /  he/him.

sexual orientation /  bisexual/biromantic.

occupation /  art forger.

language(s) spoken /  french & english.

faceclaim /  wolfgang novogratz.

— the STORY ! 

there is meaning in all things… but are you paying attention? 

tiny fingers curled around mother’s hand, green eyes glossed over in an attempt to take in the world but it is too much– there is too much for you to see. you hear whispers of difficult times, hushed tones floating through otherwise empty halls. mother and father try to hide their worry from you. they try their best to keep the world beyond arched windows hidden, though even a simple glance outside gives way to their delicately spun tales. you see figures rushing past, always in a hurry– never stopping to look at the beauty in this world. as the months grow colder, their features fall– worry encompasses all the shadows you have yet to know. 

would you look at it? 

the world as you know it crumbled, nothing is as it was. nothing will ever be as it was before, times are changing and so are you. your heart yearns for simpler days spent chasing your sister up and down flights of stairs, dancing in the rain and watching father unfold the morning paper without scowling at the newest headlines. this world is not for you– this world is rough, it is cold, it is void of what makes us human. you are yet too young to understand the gravity of it all, but you see the pain. you see the exhaustion in people’s faces, the darkness beneath growing with each moment that passes. you watch it reach out from the corners, you watch it divide those you know and care for. you don’t understand, but you are filled with sorrow for them. you roll up your sleeves, and help where you can. 

you watch father leave for war, his head held high wearing his pride visibly on his chest. for a moment you fear you might never see him again, but mother is there to hold you, to carry your burden. you fear he might never return. and then a letter arrives, you only catch a glimpse of it before mother tears it from your grasp. you see her tears fall, and though you cannot know for sure– you know it must be about father. you pray for his safe return, but in his stead soldiers enter your home. they speak a foreign tongue, and though you do not understand– you are told to fear them. and most importantly, to keep your sister safe. 

your life has changed so drastically. you now serve the soldiers who have taken over your home, you bring them their morning coffee and scramble away as fast as you can. every part of you is filled with rage, you wish for nothing more than things to return to what they were before. you yearn to see your mother’s smile, but these days even the light in her eyes seems to have vanished. and though you are young, you must grow up fast. you must protect your family at all costs, but even so you cannot bear to bite your tongue and hold in your obvious distaste for these men. your sister tries to keep you in check, but you cannot help spitting in their cup, you cannot help calling them names, you cannot help making them feel unwanted in your home. and whilst you feel good in the moment, the punishment is always severe. though, in your eyes your little acts of rebellion are worth every moment of them. even if you tried, you could not sit quietly by. 

the tides are changing… 

the times are changing yet again, the men who occupy your home are no longer composed. you can see the terror in their eyes, and it brings you joy. they become crueler, and that fills your heart with hope– for even they know that their time would come to an end soon. there are whispers of forces liberating your country– and you hope it to be true. 

c’est la vie…

you watch as horrid flags are taken down, and your own are raised once more. the city you call home is far from glory, it is in shutt and ashes. the very foundations collapsed under the turmoil of the war. and yet, everywhere you turn you see life return to empty shells. and with such a return, so does your father. but he is a changed man. he is not the sweet and tender man you remember him to be. his gaze has hardened, blue eyes turned cold as steel. you cannot find your way home to him, for his heart is shut with the despair of what he has lived. 

you try so hard, but you are always met with disappointment. 

you have a pale memory of that time, but why? 

you are old enough to sit at the table, you are old enough for your voice to be heard. and yet, in your father’s eyes you are but a child. he pushes you aside, in his eyes you are worth nothing. and you have to wonder why is it that you are so wrong for this world? but you never learn the answer beyond never being good enough in his eyes. and so, you stop trying. instead, you follow your heart. 

though the war is over, its remnants loom over your shoulders. you cannot unsee the things that have come to pass. the graveyards filled with bodies– old and young alike. the city is a ghost town, lights flickering as you walk past. when you wake in the middle of the night, covered in a layer of sweat, all you can think of is those horrid soldiers leaning back on your living room chairs, their dirty boots placed on the table. all you can remember is your mother running through the house fulfilling their every demand and you are angry. you are angry at the world for being so disappointing. 

setting fire to our insides for fun, to distract our hearts from ever missing them… 

*tw alcohol*

for a while, you think, it would be best to feel numb. you want to forget– you want to bury the terrors you have witnessed. but you cannot seem to forget. and so you turn to the bottle, you hope that maybe the answer lies at the bottom of your glass. but there is none to be found, instead, you watch the world go blurry. and you decide, you have seen enough– as well as far too little. you want to enjoy your life. you want to dream. you want to escape into different worlds all together. 

*tw end*

art attracts us only by what it reveals of our most secret self…

your sister urges you to follow your dreams. she urges you to showcase your talents. and for a moment you believe her. you believe in yourself. regardless of what your father might think, you enroll in art school. you study the grand artists of your time, but you will never measure up to them. and once more you are met with the word you despise the most: disappointment. though you see your professor’s lips moving, you hear your father’s voice. and once more you run– you run from responsibility. but you are not willing to give up the life you love. and so, you turn elsewhere for guidance. 

people leave pieces of their soul in their art… 

you look to the masters for guidance, you know their work– and you can paint fairly well. you may not know yourself, but you search for pieces of yourself in their art. brush on paper, you begin to duplicate their works. after the turmoil of the war, art is lost and scattered and you abuse this. you sell your work for theirs, forgeries none the less– but good ones. 

suddenly you have more money than you know what to do with. and you spend it foolishly. you spoil your mother, your sister and most importantly yourself. finally you have the means to do as you please, and so you do. you treat life as though it were a game, an illusion. you aren’t sure what is real and what is not– for you haven fallen under a spell, intoxication. but one thing remains certain: you are in for a wild ride. 

— the THE FACTS ! 

luc was born and raised in paris, france. 

his family was well off, but like many others they still struggled with the economic demise prior to ww2. 

during the war, his father participated in the battle of france, but never returned home. like many others he was taken as a prisoner of war. leaving his mother to take care of luc and his little sister. 

during the war, their home was occupied by german soldiers and they were forced to serve them. he hated this more than anything in the world, and acted out despite severe punishments. he was never one to sit by quietly. 

during this time, his mother helped smuggle people out of the country and while luc was but a child, he aided her as best he could. 

after france was liberated and his father returned home nothing would ever return to as it was in the time before. his father was a changed man from his time spent as a prisoner of war. he was cold, and distant. luc did not know how to deal with him, nor did his father know how to deal with luc. 

he went on to study art and art history at university. but, there too he was met with disappointment. his professors did not agree with his style of work and eventually luc gave up and dropped out. his father, ever the more disappointed in him threatened to cut him off. 

luc is a very proud young man, and so he essentially dared his father to cut him off. which the man then did. forcing luc to try and make ends meet himself. 

luc was used to luxuries in his home, and he was not willing to give up such a life. so he turned to the other side of the law. he began forging famous paintings that had gone missing during the war. selling his own work as those of renowned painters. with the money he lived a lavish lifestyle. 

he worked hard in this illicit career, but he partied even harder. 

the young man had been dabbling in matters on the opposite side of the law, fraudulent behaviour on the verge of being uncovered. his sister had been so kind to pass him a note at breakfast, it hadn’t been signed by name though the message was threatening: ‘ we know what you are doing, it’s only a matter of time until we can link you to the crime. ‘ alas, he sought out a space, in which he could go about his work undisturbed. 

checking in under a false name, jacques de villiers, the young man patted himself on the shoulder in the belief that this would solve all his problems. he would be able to use his hotel room to forge artwork, all evidence placed in the hands of the hotel, whereas at his home there would be none to be found when the police came knocking.

— the RAVEN HOUSE ! 

the year was 1955. 

the young man decided to check into a hotel, tucked away in the heart of paris. it was far from modest, but truth be told he wouldn’t settle for less. luc had always been drawn to the luxurious aspects of life: a glass of champagne in the morning, silken sheets hugging his body, and leaning out the window to smoke his first cigarette of the day with a perfect view of champ de mars. 

perhaps he had indulged in too many pleasures the night before, for when he pushed the door to his room open he was greeted by an entirely different interior. it was beautiful nonetheless, crystal chandeliers and ornate decorations. and yet, something was off. he caught glances of people passing by, each dressed in a manner he could not recognize to belong to his time. with a smile plastered on his lips, the young man left to discover the place he found himself in only to become aware of the fact that he now resided in the raven house. 

— the PERSONALITY ! 

his unpredictability made him a menace to society, or better said the social circles his family operated in. he was everything but poised and calm, he had a certain spark in his eyes: the desire to live life to its fullest. luc was charming at his root, equipped with honey lips and a serpent’s tongue. though he didn’t necessarily say the right thing at the right time, he had a way of getting away with it. perhaps it was his sociability, or the way he would make the person he was speaking with feel as though they were the only one in the world. that was until his attention drifted elsewhere, which it always did. ever with a drink or cigarette in hand, he was the life of the party, one debacle after the other– a sight to behold, but never to own. he came and went as he pleased, making himself at home in any environment that he deemed acceptable. in his core, he is an extrovert– though a rather chaotic one. 

— the HEADCANONS ! 

001. his most treasured item: it was a gift from father to son, the one object he owns that symbolizes his father’s acceptance. gifted to him upon his birthday, it came with the words, “now you are a man.” it was the only moment his father seemed to stand eye to eye with luc, as though they were equals. but this is not why the object means so much to him, no– he couldn’t care less about that man. he holds it dear for the words so delicately scratched onto the bottom by his sister, “l’artiste est semblable au prince des nuées “ (the artist is alike the prince of the clouds). the object is none other than a silver lighter with his initials engraved onto the center of it, always found in the comfort of his pocket. 

002. when luc first entered the raven house he was content simply enjoying every day that passed without responsibility. however, when it dawned on him that he would never be able to see his family or friends again he became obsessed with remembering their likeness. he tried his best to draw images of those close to his heart, but with each day that passed he came to realize that those memories were lost. there are a vast amount of ripped up images, or unfinished pictures scattered around his room that he furiously scribbled over in frustration. for he was only ever able to draw one person from his past life: his father. the look of disappointment ingrained in his mind for all of time to come. though, the worst part of it all was that he couldn’t manage to create a single image of his sister, who he was really close to. he felt so guilty that he could not remember the details of her features beyond the green eyes they shared– and even then he was unsure if he remembered her eyes or if he was simply drawing his own. 

003. after his mysterious disappearance, the note was discovered by his family. his story quickly became a rather large investigation, but as no trace of him was found his family grew impatient with the investigation and offered up a rather large reward for any news on their lost son. the case found the tabloids, the newspapers, and general gossip quite quickly. his story influenced the character « charles bonnet » in the movie “how to steal a million” years later.

004. when luc first entered the raven house he was only able to speak french, but one of the other guests was so kind as to teach him english. he still struggles with the pronunciation of words to this day, but he tries his best. it doesn’t exactly bother him either that his mothertongue often slips through when speaking in this foreign tongue, for he never cared much to perfect this skill-- he only wanted to be able to communicate. (this could be a possible plot ??? one of the other guests that teaches him english !!! ) 

[yandere-daydreams]

Some mature, lemon-rated, Yandere!Oc/Reader content for a lovely anonymous commissioner. Gotta say, one of the main aspects of this was how *southern* the Yandere was, and I’m both disappointed and proud to say I remember way too many phrases from my six months on a farm.

Word Count: 1.5k

~

Somedays, you couldn’t help but think that he just thought of this as taking care of another animal.

Zacharia was a field-hand, first and foremost. A farmer through and through, even if he insisted he had other hobbies besides growing so attached to his hens he couldn’t stand to slaughter them, when the time came. It was a life-style that bled into everything he did, including holding someone hostage, apparently. From the rural, wicker furniture he’d leave scattered around your room, to the herbs he’d leave to sprout in the sunlight of the only window of your room, to the way he mumbled to himself as he tied to bowline-knot around your wrists every morning. Zacharia would talk to you as he did his animals, feed you on a precise schedule as he did with his livestock, and groom you so thoroughly, you nearly thought you’d be presented in front of a county-fair as a blue-ribbon captive.

Maybe there’d be judges, and psychos who did this kind of thing as a fun, low-impact sport. It would’ve made sense, you supposed, considering how excited Zacharia had been when he first hit you over the head with the back of his shotgun.

Even now, he mumbled quietly as you leaned against his chest, your wrists bound loosely to your neck with a long stretch of pink rope, thinner than the kind he’d use to guide cattle, but not exactly soft, still. The denim he insisted on covering himself with didn’t help much, either, rough fabric scratching against your barely-covered back. For once, you wished you’d accepted his offer to let you wear one of his flannels, something you’d rejected because he’d kidnapped you and you weren’t crazy. But, it wasn’t like fighting off the heat in the thin bralette and lingerie he’d provided was any less unpleasant.

He must’ve noticed you were no longer paying attention to whatever he was saying, your eyes starting to close as you lulled into a warmth-oriented daze, because Zacharia was quick to loop an arm under your restraints, pulling you further into him and resting his free hand on your thigh, as he so often did. “You’re not paying attention, darlin’. And we’ve talked about how much I love that, already.”

His voice was already dripping with venom, and although you usually tried to ignore him, you decided it’d be easier to relent. Just this time. “I’m sorry, my mind was-” Your voice caught in your throat has the hand on your thigh squeezed gently, kneading your skin for a moment before sliding inward, falling onto the inside of your knee and pushing ever so slightly. Regardless, you clenched your legs together, glaring forward. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“You were stressin’ about something else, I’m making it better,” He laughed, the arm still wrapped around your chest pulling you closer, making it so difficult to breathe. But, you didn’t have time to think about your now-limited access to air, not as Zacharia’s hand smoothed over your leg, fingers lingering a little too close to something a little too high. Small, slow circles were soon being rubbed into white lace, and despite your best efforts, you twitched, writhing and struggling subconsciously, only allowing your captor to better access more… vital regions. “Y’know, I was thinking… a pretty little gal like you ain’t never had a boyfriend to go home to, right?”

The embarrassment flooded in before your common sense could, heat rising to your cheeks as you opened your mouth, quickly shutting it and gritting your teeth as his fingers found your clit, pressing down harshly. You only gave yourself a second to get used to the feeling, still trying to shift away from his hand. But, every little movement just ended with something hard becoming more evident as it pressed against your back. “Fuck off, don’t touch me!”

“That doesn’t sound like a ‘no’, baby.” The arm around your stomach loosened its hold on you, but only slightly, just enough to grope at your sides while he spoke. “And you’re needy enough for it, too. You’ve been begging for me to touch you since I first saw those big, ol’ doe-eyes.” His smile faded, a slight frown soon pressed against your skin. Zacharia’s voice was deeper than it had been, when he continued, vibrations reverberating against your neck. “You should thank me, just for holding back this long.”

You weren’t sure what it was, really. Maybe something in his voice, or the way he held you so possessively, or anything to do with this fucked up situation, but before you knew it, you were thrashing as violently as your restraints would allow. If Zacharia was something besides simply annoyed, he didn’t show it, his nails only digging into your side. It was a silent warning, but one you were more than familiar with, the light pressure enough to stop you from struggling beyond a cold, over-the-shoulder glare and a few bared teeth.

Zacharia huffed, smirking cockily as he pulled his hand back, slowly slipping three fingers into his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he swirled his tongue around his fingers. You were the one to look away first, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. But, you were brought out of your brief meditation seconds too early, Zacharia pushing your panties to the side and shoving three long, thick fingers into your heat.

You could help but mewl, keeling forward from the shock, Zacharia giving you no time to adjust as he moved ruthlessly against you, slick noises quickly filling the room, both from your own wetness and the man’s saliva. He curled his fingers as he worked, forcing you to bite your cheek raw just to suppress the noises trying to crawl up your throat. Absentmindedly, you reached for his hand with your bound wrists, attempting to make him slow down, at least, but Zacharia just grabbed the pink fucking rope, twisting your arms into your chest and damn-near choking you.

“Nuh-uh, naughty girls have to ask for what they want,” He mocked, his pace never slowing. And yet, as the pain diminished, sparks of pleasure began to race up your spine, your stomach tieing itself in knots, tightening and heating up and fuck, it felt good. All it took was his palm rubbing against your clit to have your thighs unclenching on their own, bending before going stiff, just moving to open, better accommodating the man assaulting you. There was a soft hum as your keened and squirmed, Zacharia occupying his free hand with rough gropes and prodds to your chest. “Look at you, such a goddamn whore for anyone who touches you right. I bet you’re glad I gotcha first, or would you open up your legs for anyone who asks nicely?”

His voice was just a blur, at this point, barely audible to the pulse now beating in your ears. Hell, your own voice sounded further than it should’ve, distant but pathetic, all the same. “Zachy, please, I can’t-” The words died on your tongue, his thumb making contact with your clit and rubbing violently, like he was trying to silence you. You could feel his fingers spreading apart inside of you, stretching your cunt. “No, if you do that, I’ll…”

You fade into a whine, burying your cheek in his jacket as you came. Expecting Zacharia to stop, already having thoroughly humiliated you, you let yourself relax, only to find Zacharia finger-fucking you faster. The pleasure bordered on painful, your heat now raw and spent, sharp spikes of discomfort accompanying the electricity quickly building up. Fruitlessly, you shook your head, looking for something to grab despite knowing he’d never let you have that kind of support.

At some point, you must’ve started crying, Zacharia kissing your cheek so sweetly as he forced another orgasm out of you, coaxing it from you as much as he tore it from your body. His voice was too childish, too innocent, you almost didn’t recognize him. “It’s not so bad, babydoll. I’m pretty, aren’t I? C’mon, doncha think I’m cute?”

You couldn’t hold yourself back now, whining and mewling and moaning at every little movement, Zacharia giving you no reprieve, no time to rest. Another climaxed washed over you like a haze, making you twitch and scream, but with your cunt as oversensitive as it was, you weren’t given much time to prepare before another hit you like an oncoming freight train.

Thankfully, he must’ve gotten bored with torturing you, because soon, Zacharia slowed down, easing his fingers out of you while brushing past your clit, grinning as you curled into yourself. He continued to hold your hands in place, for a second, watching with cold, blue eyes as cum dripped onto your thighs, your pussy trying to clench around nothing despite the lack of stimulation. With a chuckle, he let go of the rope, allowing you scramble to your knees, panting heavily and trying desperately to recover.

But, the color hardly had time to drain from your face before a strong hand wrapped around the twine collar, jerking you back onto the mattress, throwing you down as Zacharia straddled your waist, that terrible, confident, alluring smirk plastered across his face. You didn’t have to guess at what he wanted, but that didn’t stop the boy from making it blatant.

“Don’t think I’m gonna let you run away that quickly, now, darlin’,” He laughed, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “I did something real nice for you, so it’s only fair that you... return the favor.”

[ghostgothgeek]

Blush. Chapter 3 has been posted!

Disclaimers: actual sex ed talk

FFN || AO3

---

Sam slowly walked over into the next room, saying hello to Mallory, who she already knew from her visits at the clinic, on the way to a seat in the back. Their class wasn’t huge, so it took only a minute or two to gather all the girls in one room. Ms. Tetslaff took note of who was in attendance before pulling out a newspaper and flipping to a crossword puzzle. Apparently, it was awkward for the teachers to be in the same room as the students as well. 

Mallory shut the door and took a seat on a stool in the front of the room. “First things first, this is a safe space. What happens in this room stays in this room. No question is a dumb question. We are going to be open with each other and respect each other.” She smiled and glanced around the room. “I see some familiar faces, but for those who don’t know me, my name is Mallory and I’m a nurse practitioner at Planned Parenthood. Feel free to reach out to me personally for any questions and resources you may need. Again, this is a judgement-free zone. Let’s jump right into it. By a show of hands, how many of you have heard about birth control or are on it already?” 

Sam looked around the room, seeing most hands go up, and raised hers as well. 

“Excellent. Now, birth control can come in many forms, including an IUD, an implant, a shot, and most commonly, pill form. Obviously the name states that it can be used to prevent pregnancy, but it can also be used to help with period symptoms if yours gets too unbearable that you can’t continue on with your normal daily activities. It can help control your acne, and can help regulate your cycle. If you are interested in learning more about this and how it pertains to you, I recommend making an appointment using the website or phone number on the back of my card there. Are there any questions thus far?” 

The girls all shook their heads and remained awkwardly silent. 

“Alright well, with all these hormone changes, you’ll begin to see more physical and emotional effects on your body. You’ll also likely develop more sexual urges and thoughts as well. You may find yourself sexually attracted to the opposite sex, the same sex, both, or none of these. Each sexual orientation is valid, and I would love to cover more of them in this short amount of time, but I was given specifics from your principal due to recent events.”

A couple of girls sunk down in their seats in embarrassment, while some others (Paulina, particularly) smirked and took note of exactly which girls she now had blackmail on. 

“I want to mention that regardless of how you identify, it is still important to use protection during sex of any kind. Even if you are in a situation where you can’t get pregnant, it is important to protect yourself and your partner from STDs as well. I’m sure most if not all of you are sexually active, so let’s talk about that. I’ll grab some things from my bag and we will go over them, but feel free to talk amongst yourselves while I set up.” 

Mallory started pulling things out of her bag while the girls remained fairly quiet at first. A few shifted in their seats or coughed, but Paulina was the first to break the silence, a small smirk forming on her face as she decided to torment her favorite victim.

“Well, we all know Sam gets plenty of extracurricular physical activity with Danny.” Several girls giggled at Paulina’s comment. 

“W-what do you mean?” Sam looked around the room nervously, avoiding everyone’s eyes. There was no way Paulina knew Sam was helping Danny Phantom fight ghosts. Did Paulina somehow make the connection between Fenton and Phantom? 

“You know what I mean. Is he good?” Paulina rested her chin on her hand and waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, yeah. He’s great. I can’t see anyone else doing what he’s doing.” Sam remained skeptical as to why Paulina suddenly decided to grow a brain and uncover Danny’s secret. 

“Really? I would think he’s pretty small…” Paulina loved to see the goth girl squirm. 

“He’s not! He’s been growing a lot lately and gets better every day.” Sam crossed her arms over her chest as she defended her friend. Danny has put on a lot of muscle since the accident!

Paulina raised her eyebrows as a few girls started to whisper. “Interesting. Are you guys adventurous?” 

“We...kinda have to be?” Danny was going to flip once he heard Paulina and now some of the other girls in the classroom knew he’s half ghost.

“That must be exhausting, trying new things all the time. But it’s also gotta be really rewarding as well,” Star chimed in with a wink. 

Valerie let out a small chuckle from next to her. She knew Sam was obviously misinterpreting what Paulina was implying, especially because she knew both girls rather well. Sam would not be that open with her enemy, or anyone for that matter, about her sex life with Danny. Valerie was pretty sure Sam was thinking about ghost fighting. It’s only been a few months since Valerie knew about Danny’s secret identity, which she intended to keep secret because Danny was actually a nice guy. She’s fought alongside them a few times and actually considered them friendly acquaintances, but for all the trouble the goth had given her over the years, particularly when she was interested in Danny too, she decided to let Paulina tease Sam for a bit. 

Paulina, although she had experimented, hadn’t actually done anything, despite what most people thought. But Valerie knew she always grilled everyone for information on sex, both for her own learning and perhaps leverage if she ever needed it. Paulina actually had quite a perverted brain, probably a side effect from all the time she spent with Dash and Kwan. Valerie also knew Paulina would never pass up the opportunity to embarrass Sam Manson. 

Meanwhile, Star would just do whatever Paulina told her to do or whatever she thought Paulina would be most pleased with. Plus, Star actually held all the secrets to Casper High. She was very observant and a keen listener. For some reason, everyone trusted her with their secrets. She was easily the Gretchen Wieners of Amity Park. 

“Ever do it in public?” Valerie bluntly asked, a small smirk on her face. Paulina seemed pleased her former friend was joining in on bombarding the goth girl. 

“Uh, I mean usually it’s in a public place, I guess. We can’t really control that, though.” Sam pressed her lips together and hoped all the attention she was getting would be ending very, very soon. She’d have to do damage control, that’s for sure. She’d have to make every girl in the room swear they’d never tell Danny’s secret, or she’d have to kill them. Most people were already afraid of her anyways, adding death threats she would never actually carry out wouldn’t be a huge surprise. 

Paulina’s jaw dropped slightly. “Wow. I have to give you losers more credit. I never thought you’d have the guts to actually do anything.” 

Sam scoffed at her. “We’re perfectly capable of handling ourselves.” 

“Clearly,” Star started, “I’m so telling Uncle Jeremy about this.” She whispered the second part to Sam. Only Paulina knew that Star and Sam were actually cousins. She’d keep that secret until her death bed for the sake of her best friend’s reputation. 

“You tell my dad, I tell everyone we’re cousins.” Sam narrowed her eyes at the girl.

“One is the truth and one is a lie. Which one is more believable?” Star crossed her arms defiantly. She sure lived up to the reputation she built herself. “You’re with Danny all the time.”

“Then I’ll tell everyone who your secret crush is. Both of them.” Sam smirked at her cousin’s shocked face. Most people knew Star liked Kwan, but she wasn’t fully out as bi just yet. 

“How di-”

“Like that’s a giant leap? Please, it’s obvious.” Her eyes quickly flashed to the Latina girl next to Star, then back to the blonde. “You can’t tell anyone about Danny.” Sam warned sternly. 

“Ooh, so this is secret information?” Paulina smiled, suddenly interested in the conversation again. She loved secrets. 

“Of course it’s secret information! Why would he ever want this getting out? His parents would kill him!” 

“Well, for one he’d be quite a hero,” Paulina pointed out.

“He already is a hero.” 

“If you say so, freak. So, is it actually romantic? Does it hurt?” Paulina took mental notes. 

“I mean, sometimes we get hurt, but it’s nothing we can’t deal with. Especially when Tucker is there to help too. As for romantic, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sam was beginning to think Paulina was batshit crazy.

“Oh, so it’s a friends with benefits kinda deal then?” Ashley, a girl from their class suddenly piped in. Sam had never spoken to the girl in her life, and now she and almost half of their class found Sam quite interesting. If only they invested their time into actual causes that matter rather than gossip...

“Must be,” Star said. “No wonder your parents don’t like Danny.” She giggled. 

“Friends with what?” Sam looked at the girls confused for a brief moment before she remembered what they were learning about today: sexual education. The girls were talking about sex the whole time. In particular, sex with Danny. 

Sam’s eyes widened as her face heated up, turning a bright crimson. “N-no, uh, it’s not...I mean we never, we aren’t doing...he’s my f-friend…” She couldn’t stop stammering; she had never been more mortified in her entire life. 

“Uh huh, sounds really convincing.” Paulina smirked. 

“Yeah, freaky girl likes to get freaky, no big deal.” Star shrugged nonchalantly. 

Sam wished she had Danny’s power of invisibility right now. Stop thinking about Danny in sex ed. “We….we aren’t a couple, we’re not dating, we are not together.” She felt like she was sitting under a microscope. She looked up at Mallory, who was still writing things on the board and paying absolutely no attention to the girls gossiping in the back. 

“You can keep telling yourself that, but there’s always been something more between you guys. Trust me, we’ve all seen it,” Valerie said as all the girls nodded.

Why was everyone suddenly so interested in Sam and her sex life? Or rather, lack thereof. Sam preferred being ignored over this. “N-no, we aren’t….having...sex…” It was so hard just for her to get the words out. 

“But you’d like to. Someday. I mean, we all know you like him...like, like him like him.” Valerie raised an eyebrow at the goth. “Maybe even then some.” Valerie and Sam had some silent understanding, though they never actually had the conversation, that Valerie backed off of Danny for more than just ghost fighting reasons. “It’s normal to want to sleep with the guy you like.”

“I don’t-” Sam stopped as Valerie held her hand up for her to stop talking.

“Don’t try to deny it. I saw you guys making out in the bushes freshman year.” Valerie’s comment earned a lot of chatter amongst the girls. Lots of “I knew it”s and “no wonder”s and “I told you so”s filled the room. 

“Give us details!” Mia, another girl Sam had never spoken to, screeched, all girls drawing their undivided attention towards Sam. 

“Oh my God.” Sam face palmed and dragged her hand down her face. “Kill me. Kill me now.” 

“Alright, ladies!” Mallory clapped her hands to get their attention. Sam silently thanked all of the possible higher powers for the save. “I already mentioned birth control. However, the best way to prevent getting an STD is to use condoms.” She held one up high in the air. “They look like this, and come in various sizes. Please do not feel embarrassed to buy them for your partner, and remember to check for the expiration date and any signs of damage.” She unwrapped it and stretched it gently for a demonstration. “It’s always better to be over prepared and to protect both yourself and your partner. Now, we are going to practice putting one on.” 

Mallory picked up the crate from the floor and set it on a chair, pulling out a bunch of bananas and snapping one off. “So, if this is the penis, you start by rolling the condom on like so. I’m going to pass out some supplies and you are all going to do what I just demonstrated. Please pass back a banana and a few condoms to your fellow classmates.” She gave everyone in the front row a bunch of bananas followed by a large handful of condoms. 

With Mallory temporarily distracted, Paulina decided to keep pressing for information. “So he gave you earrings, picked you to win the pageant, you spend more time at his house than your own, and you’ve been caught rolling around in the bushes at least once. You’re really trying to tell us there’s nothing going on between you and Danny Fenton?” 

Sam groaned. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I’m not dating anyone, especially not Danny.” She grabbed her supplies from the girl in front of her. 

“Well you got pretty cozy pretty fast with Elliot not too long ago.” 

Sam narrowed her eyes at Ashley. “Wow, and people say you never pay attention in school.” She finished off her sarcastic remark with a signature eye roll.

“That’s right! You were all lovey dovey goth freaks until Danny broke you up!” Star perked up at her sudden recall of information. 

“That’s not at all what happened. Now, can we please stop talking about me and Danny and how we aren’t dating?” 

“You can still sleep with him without dating him. That’s what friends with benefits means,” Paulina pointed out.

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, growing to a surprisingly new level of annoyance she never thought was possible. “Danny and I are just friends. Best friends. That’s it. We aren’t dating, and we definitely aren’t having sex. Zero. Zip. Nada. Zilch. None.” She sighed in relief as there was no immediate response. Perhaps this time she was stern enough and they would leave her alone.

Then, after a moment…

“Even if she says they’re not sleeping together doesn’t mean they aren’t doing stuff.” Sam wanted to scream. “They’re always sneaking around and trying to get away from other people. Plus she has DSL.” Paulina examined her manicure. 

“DSL?” Some girl, Hannah may have been her name, asked. 

“Dick sucking lips. That purple lipstick must go places.” 

“Alright, that’s enough. Let the girl breathe.” Valerie stepped in. It had gone too far. She looked over at Sam and mouthed an apology. Sam forced a small smile and mouthed a thank you. Valerie meant well, really. And she was generally pretty cool. At a certain time, the topic of Danny made things harder between the girls, though they had mainly moved past that at this point. The girls were fairly friendly now that Valerie wasn’t wanting to kill Danny Phantom anymore. 

Paulina smirked and opened her mouth to torment her victim more, but the instructor had finally spoken up again. 

“Alright, each of you should have been supplied a banana? Good, now you’re all going to take the condom, unwrap it, and roll it onto the banana.” Mallory gave another demonstration, covering the fruit in a colorful green rubber this time.

Sam wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t pay attention. She didn’t give a fuck what people thought. But this also involved Danny. She could feel a light blush hit her cheeks just thinking about him. She couldn’t drag Danny into this. Plus, why would he even want a rumor going around that they were sleeping together? He didn’t like her that way. He definitely didn’t think she was attractive enough for...that. He pined after other girls all the time. And they’re only 18! Well, she and Tucker were 18. Danny still had a few weeks before his 18th birthday at the beginning of April. But either way, that’s way too young to be hav-

“Sam, I know you already know this stuff, but please set an example for the other girls.” 

Sam looked up at Mallory like a deer in headlights. She just noticed she had peeled her banana and started eating it in the middle of her whirling thoughts. She stopped chewing and looked down at her banana, which was a quarter of the way gone already, then at all the girls who were trying to roll the colorful rubbers onto their own bananas.

Sam mentally slapped herself. She was totally calm earlier this morning. Like she had told Tucker, it’s just the human body, it’s natural. But ever since Paulina had made that first implication of Sam sleeping with Danny, she was frazzled. She couldn’t stop imagining what it would actually be like if they were to ever date...

Mallory sat another banana on Sam’s desk and gave her a soft smile. Sam grimaced after Mallory turned and walked back to the front of the room and stared down at it. Ugh. Why does it have to be a banana? She would never be able to eat one now without thinking about dicks. They’re probably not shaped and sized like this anyways. Sam couldn’t imagine any guy in school having a dick the size of a banana in their pants. Surely that would be noticeable? 

She glanced down at the banana again as she slouched in her seat and rolled the condom onto it. 

How would something as big as a banana fit up there anyways?! She knew from her research (fanfiction and romance novels) that girls preferred guys to be bigger...down there. Plus, guys seemed to compare or mention sizes all the time. 

Sam looked at her banana with the purple condom rolled onto it. Was Danny that big? 

WOAH. Nope. Abort mission! Don’t go there, Manson. 

She felt her face heating up again. She hoped Danny and Tucker were having an easier time than she was. Stop thinking about Danny in sex ed! 

Valerie glanced over at the goth again, noticing her red face. “Hey, I’m sorry if I egged them on too much about the making out in a bush comment,” she whispered. 

Sam shot her a small smile. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. It’s only happened a small handful of times.” 

Valerie raised her eyebrow and moved closer to Sam. “Spill,” she pursed her lips, “if you want to, that is.” 

Sam took a deep breath and smiled at Valerie’s level of respect. She was definitely getting closer to Valerie more recently, and it was a nice break from all the testosterone every once in a while. She could even start seeing Valerie as a best friend, one she could talk to about boys and period problems. But that required effort. 

“Okay umm…” She saw Valerie’s eyes light up when she realized Sam was actually going to talk to her. It was actually kind of a nice feeling to finally talk to someone about this. Plus, she could trust Valerie. If Valerie could be trusted with Danny’s secret, Sam felt she could trust her with just about anything (except her family’s wealth; she didn’t need to reopen old wounds for her new friend). Sam gave a genuine smile, feeling a little excited to be able to finally gush about this. “Well, you mentioned the first time it happened. In the bushes. But it doesn’t totally count because it was a fakeout makeout and we were trying to distract you from discovering Danny’s secret,” she said quietly. 

Valerie nodded eagerly and motioned for Sam to continue. 

“There’s been a couple of fakeout makeouts since then. So it’s really not a big deal, but it is really nice kissing him. I don’t know how he feels though.”

Valerie chuckled, “Girl, I saw his face after you kissed him. He definitely liked it. Oh and, uh, sorry for calling you guys losers. You’re actually some of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.” 

“We’re past that, Val. All is forgiven.” Sam opened another condom and rolled it around in her hands, giving them something to do. She wants to be friends with Valerie, but she was still nervous. Gushing about boys certainly wasn’t very goth of her, but she really appreciated the bond she saw many women having with each other. So she wanted that too. Sue her. 

“So have there been any times where he’s kissed you for real?” Valerie set her three colorfully wrapped bananas on her desk, giving Sam her full attention. 

“Um. I’m not really sure. Kinda once. And uh...he may be banned from my house right now because my mom caught us lightly making out…” Sam twirled her hair around her finger as Valerie let out a laugh. 

“No way! Really?!” 

Sam laughed also, “Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I don’t know what would have happened if my mom hadn’t walked in, if we would have gotten together or not, but yeah. If I ever bring up Danny in a conversation, my parents get all frazzled and my dad leaves the room. It’s actually been really fun to mess with them.” Sam grinned. 

“Wait, your mom walked in on you and Danny having sex?!” Paulina said a little too loudly, earning a few heads turning in their direction. Paulina reached into her backpack and dug around for a bit. What the heck was she doing anyway?

“No!! That’s not at all what happened!” 

Valerie chuckled again, “well, you know I-” Her watch suddenly beeped. “Ghost,” she mouthed to Sam, who nodded and looked around as well. She spotted Kitty ducking her head back in through the wall. 

Before Valerie could jump into action, Sam grabbed her arm. “Don’t worry, I got it. And thanks.” 

Quickly rising from her seat and ignoring all the eyes on her, she mentioned to the instructor she needed to use the restroom and walked out of the classroom before anyone could stop her, sneaking a thermos out with her. Once the classroom door was closed and she was in the hallway, she started walking around.

“Kitty?” Sam whispered, jumping a bit when said ghost suddenly popped up in front of her. “What are you doing here?” Sam hissed. 

Kitty shrugged. “Johnny and I were riding by and saw the guys and girls all split up and got curious. By the way, if you ever need some alone time with Danny, just let us know. We can try to keep other ghosts away for twenty minutes or so.” She winked at Sam.

“What?! How did you hear about that?!” 

“Good gossip travels fast in the Ghost Zone.” Kitty shrugged nonchalantly. 

“The entire Ghost Zone has heard about this?! But it’s not even true!! You have to tell them it isn’t true!” What the fuck, all the ghosts knew about today now?! Did Paulina secretly have a ghost counterpart in the Ghost Zone? Was Sam in the Twilight Zone? What the fuck was happening today?!

“Nah, it’s fine. They definitely don’t want to sneak in on anything.” Sam raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Also holler if you need tips or anything. I know my Johnny sure likes it when I top sometimes. The trick is to move your hips like-”

“La la la I don’t want to hear this!” Sam covered her ears and looked back at the ghost. “Do I need to stuff you in the thermos or not?” She popped her hip and held up the thermos. 

“Don’t be so dramatic! I just want to help. Johnny and I love helping couples! He went to find your boyfriend a few minutes ago, actually. Trust me, Johnny knows what he’s doing. He’ll teach Danny how to do it right.” 

Sam choked on her spit at that comment. “What?! Oh god, this day needs to be over already. What the fuck is happening?” She let out a long groan. 

“Okay, I don’t need a preview or anything. Just let me know if you need tips. By the way, you definitely should listen to that lady. Always use protection. I never really know when Johnny’s feeling extra...glowy that day.” Kitty zoomed off before Sam could change her mind about putting her in the thermos. 

Glowy? What the-?

Oh. Oh god. Ghosts...must glow when they...did that mean that when Danny would…that he...does he think of her ever when he...?

Sam’s face burned scarlett again. STOP THINKING ABOUT DANNY LIKE THAT!

She leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. Letting out a sigh, she blew her bangs out of her face. The girls’ comments kept swirling through her head. And now the ghosts are all in on it too?! She wasn’t sleeping with Danny! “But you’d like to. Someday.” She growled at Valerie’s words. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it before, she just always squashed those thoughts immediately. They were still in high school for fucksake! And they weren’t even together! 

For a split second, Sam let her mind wander; the thought of getting that intimate with anyone was terrifying, but she always felt safe and secure with Danny. She was closer to him than anyone else in her life anyways, just not, you know….physically. Only a little bit.

Oh God, stop going there. She felt her face heating up again, so she climbed up from her spot on the floor and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face and calm down. 

This whole thing was stupid, anyways. Sure, she liked Danny. A lot. But that didn’t mean anything would happen between them. Just because they kissed a few times didn’t mean that Danny liked her. As far as she knew, he still liked Paulina and probably still Valerie to an extent. She frowned. She would never understand what guys saw in Paulina. 

She dried her face off with a paper towel and stared at herself in the mirror. Danny would never see her in any way other than a friend or a sister. And high schoolers are just dumb. Hormones ran wild, as expected with teenagers, and everyone always talked about doing things, but aside from the whole debacle that got the school to have a sex education day in the first place, she highly doubted anyone was doing anything beyond second base. Everyone was just so immature. Guys and girls can be best friends and have sleepovers and find each other attractive without it being weird. But what if she and Danny did have something more than friendship?

She facepalmed. Nothing would ever happen. If anything were to happen, Danny would have made a move by now. Don’t get your hopes up. People were just stupid and trying to tease her. She knew she had to just not give a shit about what other people say or think like she always did. Once she convinced herself that she was calm and everything was normal (ghosts aside), she rounded the corner and left the bathroom feeling more confident. Until she ran into someone. 

Sam was so flustered from previous events and was walking with so much momentum, she didn’t notice Danny walking out of the boys’ bathroom at the same time she was leaving the girls’. And because he was taller (and clumsier) than she was, he knocked them both to the ground.

[estrelladeishtar-archive]

Guess its time for update posts again huh?

So I just want to lay this out first, in light of some things...

Personally, I really am not okay/comfortable with tracing of my work in any way/shape/form. It is something that I do take issue with & would prefer NOT be done, & especially if it is vent art. However, since I feel someone is going to do it anyway (since I know this stuff can happen regardless of my wishes), the only thing I can ask is that I at least be credited for whatever is copied & that it NOT be used for profit. I DON’T want my work being used that way at all due to how my personal stuff is, well, personal to me? But if that still isn’t going to stop someone, then I at least ask for credit where due, & that it be solely for personal use.

That said, I also am going to say this—I am more than willing to be asked for art tips & stuff of that nature. I add this bc I know in most cases, it tends to be due to someone wanting to be better w their work (even if it isn’t exactly approached in the best way at times)... so I figured, why not be willing to help, since to me that’s much more beneficial a solution in the long run. Better this method for me, personally.

Now, all that out the way, bc I don’t want to discuss that any further—

Life so far has been a bit... well, idk. Lupus still is a bitch to deal with & I’m soon barely gonna be on month 2 of treatment for it. Meds for lupus that I’m on unfortunately take about 3-6 months to see their full effects, so until then I am more or less getting by, doing what I can & resting on the days I get major flares. I will say tho it is ... well, VERY difficult to make it through the days when you have this, as well as a bunch of past issues & mental illness bs, & more irl stuff like bills to add to that... but I’m managing as best as I can. After all I did manage to finally pay off two of my bills, so. Progress. Nothin’s gonna be keeping this bitch down LOL

Commission work rn is in progress too—& thankfully I am doing better on that front, as meds have at least gotten me to function a /little/ better. Its not by much sure, but any sort of progress is better than none, especially when I’m actually getting work done (rn I got 1/4 comms done for this batch & am workin on my 2nd, which was bein paid to be self indulgent <<“). I am still taking it steady, making sure to pace myself appropriately, but also making sure not to overdo it. I plan also to maybe make designs to sell more, but we shall see how that goes?

Also I am trying to get back to bein more active on dA. I need to REALLY be reminded to update that place bc I am super forgetful >>.... but still. Details.

Now, in regards to personal work, I do want to say this... I most likely will, for a while, be kind of focusing more on my own self indulgent stuff (be it fandom related or not), as well as be more oriented towards my own OCs & probably talking abt them more. This is both in part due to recent events AS WELL as the fact that this sort of thing helps me cope, & honestly I figure maybe its about time I start lettin myself be open to talkin abt my own original stuff again & let myself be more self indulgent (regardless if its purely oc stuff or oc/canon or whatever the fuck). It makes me happy to be able to be more open in discussing this stuff, & frankly that’s most important, so.

For a long time I kind of clammed up abt my stuff due to being in a crowd that kinda heavily discouraged that, & over the past two years I’ve managed to break outta that enough to where I feel ready to try again. So If you notice I’m not postin /as/ much j.s.@.b related content in my free time? It is due to this reason specifically, & I would heavily appreciate not being pestered abt this decision. This doesn’t mean I will stop making fanart altogether, but I feel I need to give much more time to myself & my more personal stuff too. My AU blog will also be on a temporary pause again due to this—as I feel a need to kind of reorient myself & also do other things I love that aren’t just fandom based—goin back to my roots as more OC focused which was what this acct was when I first started <<

All this said, I also want to thank people for the support I HAVE received, as I am both close to 600 follows here & already reached over 1k on my twitter (to which I’m hosting a raffle for over there)! Its not somethin I anticipated this soon, but it does mean a lot. I’m thinking I may do a sketch rq stream for this place when I get the chance—uncertain yet, gotta see what my physical health will allow me ofc lmao. But if I do I may also set it to be mic on & all that, so. There’s that. For now these are just ideas though, no solid plans set in stone or anything.

I guess that’s about it for updates? Bit longer than usual I gotta admit, but 🤷‍♀️

[anangelicday-mrwolf]

Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 13 – The Past

Click.

Takio could not take his eyes off the door, until it automatically shut tight, its locks securely latched. In reality, he was picturing the person in bed beyond the door. As always.

And her last words were unchanged.

Takio, I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Just make sure you’re safe. Okay?

It was a euphemism pleading him not to take part in life-threatening experiments. Nevertheless, Takio could not help steeling his mind and body in order to sign up for more demanding experiments. Greater power was a must in order to protect her.

He ultimately resolved to volunteer for this new project on enhancing modified bodies, scheduled to commence in a few days. He was semi-absentmindedly dragging his feet across the corridor, until he heard voices nudging the corners of his ears.

He was at a quarantine sector accommodating test subjects that could prospectively become agents. And he could see several test subjects standing in a circle at a space just outside the hallway of cabins, big enough to house a couple of people for a chit-chat. Feeling no need to join them, Takio was about to round up the corner towards the hallway.

...Teira, was it?

But then the name he will never miss regardless of time and place forced a U-turn on his feet. He kept himself hidden, however, to first find out for what reason were they uttering her name.

His sense of hearing had been heightened thanks to the latest experiment he participated in. And to his fury, the contents of their conversation set fire on his ears and bowels.

“Heard she’s basically a talking corpse, so fragile she can’t even rise from bed without her brother.”

“Huh. And he calls her a sister? More like a burden of flesh and bones.”

“Agreed. Now that brother of hers will be made slave to the Union forever because of her.”

“If I were him, I’d rather kill her behind everyone’s back, pretending there was an accident.”

“But then the Union wouldn’t let him get away with it. Even if it were an accident, they’ll punish him for failing to safeguard an asset, albeit useless.”

“Oh. You’re right. Then it’d be up to that girl to use her head and do the right thing.”

“Damn you’re right. If I were her, I would’ve killed myself already. There’s no reason to stick to such rubbish life, let alone be an eternal shackle to one’s bro...”

At that point Takio could experience for first time in his life the world in red due to wrath. After a sensation of bloody cloud berserkly enveloping his sight, Takio found himself confronting the test subjects, all of them wearing alarm in their huge eyes.

“Take it back. And apologize. Now.”

“W-what the... Wait, are you that brother?”

“I heard the only thing not-so-wasteful with that girl is her face, and I gotta admit – same could be said of you. And, uh... That’s a compliment, by the way.”

The men were flickering their eyes from side to side and yammering incoherently, sweating like ice out in the open, presumably ethical enough to be ashamed upon caught red-handed in the middle of backbiting.

Of course, that was not at all good enough to quench Takio’s anger. He was evidently willing to simply hammer whatever he saw with his gun, if he happened to be holding one.

Yet, Takio registered a tad late that he was mistaken as well. There is no way people so casually discussing burden and suicide would be nice and apologize or take back what they said.

“Uh... So, looks like you heard what we said.”

“So shouldn’t you be the one to apologize?”

“Did your mom tell you to eavesdrop on others?”

“You should’ve just walked away. What gives you the right to glare at us like that?”

They were seemingly acting shameless because they had nothing to hide from the person who overhead everything. In fact, they looked prepared to engage in a fight if required. And Takio had already pledged not to back down once it happens.

“How could you talk about courtesy after slandering someone’s family to commit suicide? This isn’t even about courtesy; it’s about basic morale.”

“So what?”

“It’s the truth. Don’t be so melodramatic about it.”

“Listen to this, boys. Looks like it’s in their blood. The brother’s snooping around and demanding an apology for talking about plain fact, and the sister insists on living like a weed, without even realizing what kind of pain she is for her brother.”

“S-say what?!”

“Then what else did you expect? Her very existence is a chain to your throat, but she has no intention of ending her own life. And the Union has to waste resources, both human and inorganic, to keep her alive.”

“You have any idea how many productive things the Union could do for manpower and resources allocated for your sister? If I were here, I wouldn’t even wait for the night to just bite out my tongue and kill myse... Aack!!!!”

Without waiting for the man to finish his words, Takio launched his fist in a deadly aim towards his jaw.

The other test subjects naturally jumped in, and not long after a not-so-vast space was full of heavy muddled sounds of punching and struggling and indignant voices.

Alas, not even a lion can withstand mauling from a pack of hyenas. Takio might have impressed Union researchers with noteworthy results in body modification, but his upper hand was gone the moment the test subjects clutched his arms so they could freely batter him.

Yet he did not lose his ground, in spite of merciless fists boring through his belly and face. He swore he was not going anywhere, hell or heaven included, until he made sure he murdered these swines.

Just then, the wind took a rapid turn.

“Ugh!!”

“Argh!!”

His arms were released without notice, and the test subjects were hurled towards the wall, producing thudding noises that were by no means insignificant.

“Skirmish among test subjects is absolutely forbidden, and those who break the rule, particularly those who cause damage serious enough to hinder missions or make future experiments impossible, will be accordingly penalized by the Union’s rules. No exceptions. And I thought it’s mandatory for all test subjects to memorize this upon their orientation.”

Takio’s ears perked up at a voice he had never heard before, as sharp as a blade about to eject itself from its sheath. Peaceful and poised on the surface, but preternaturally penetrative under.

What fascinated him was the fact that the stranger was a woman, which was unusual since all test subjects are sheltered and trained according to sex, before they are enlisted as official agents. Which signified this stranger was either an agent with her bachelor’s degree in completing body modifications or a researcher who would have nothing to do with field work.

Takio wondered for a second if he was about to face Dr. Aris, whom he had never seen before, but he retracted the conjecture as soon as he checked her profile. He was smart enough to know that someone who would have spent her entire time awake handling test tubes and papers in labs would never possess such unrelenting presence or piercing eyes.

“B-but...”

“He started all this...! He was the one who threw his fist at us, so...!”

It was so obvious that this woman was powerful and pissed enough to pummel them just with her eyes. Intimidated even before deliberating who could she be, the test subjects pointed at Takio in synchronization.

“Don’t play innocent. It won’t work on me. I’ve got eyes. And ears. And please don’t tell me you had no idea you’d get punched in the face. If you really had no idea, I should run straight to the researchers in charge of your experiments to tell them to perform thorough check-up on your brains. It’s only natural for him to get mad. He just heard you losers insulting his sister.”

“But... We never asked him to eavesdrop on us...!”

“Whether somebody eavesdrops or not, it’s far from appropriate to verbalize something you cannot speak in the said person’s face.”

Words as fiery as her hair ruthlessly hit the men’s eardrums. In the meantime, they held their hands and kept their eyes on their toes. Takio could not even make a breathing sound either, as he watched the scene in live.

No one has ever taken his side under the Union’s roof, save for his sister.

However, Takio could see what would come for him. He started a physical fight with test subjects. The personnel in charge of him would learn of this, and he will be punished correspondingly. After all, the bodies of test subjects were defined as assets of the Union.

That was what he thought, until the woman said, “Now beat it. I’d hate to waste my time reporting to my bosses about some fatheads I doubt are equipped with basic human logics. But if this ever happens again, you will take responsibility for the future offense, plus the stupidity you conducted just now.”

Takio, along with the other test subjects, opened his eyes wide and gawked at the woman giving them unanticipated warning.

“Do I have to reiterate myself to make you idiots hit the road?”

Her facial features implied so severely that annoyance does serve as a legitimate excuse for homicide within the Union, and the test subjects promptly fled.

She did not even wait to see their butts rendered missing, and without further ado she flicked her red hair to exit the corridor as well.

“Wait...! Ma’am...!”

Takio hurriedly called, but it did not stall her footsteps. Slightly fazed, Takio had to hop to catch up to her.

“Uh, thank you. For helping me out.”

“...Like hell I did. I wasn’t helping you. I was annoyed at them.”

Takio wanted to add couple more words, including another thank-you. But she made it explicit that she will make him pay if he keeps her stuck in her spot any longer, because of which he had to give up on the idea. Nevertheless, he could not help asking for one last time.

“If it does not concern you, may I ask for your name...?”

“Forget about it. There’s nothing my name can do for you in this place. If you have time and energy to waste for pointless stuff, you should rather spare it for your surroundings. That way you would keep yourself alive.”

Takio attended to his savior, his lips well-zipped.

“The topmost priority in Union is survival. Survive. Save anything else for later, after you make sure you’ll stay alive. Don’t you forget it.”

She clicked away, with Takio gaping at her back, marveling at how puzzling yet profound her comment was, from someone who did not want to waste her time.

*****

Takio was still standing, just like he did back then, as he reminisced. Unlike that day, he was waiting for Yuigi to retrieve herself from confusion and memories.

“...That was you?”

“...Yes.”

“So you’re trying to repay me for what I did back then.”

“...Basically.”

“...So what are you going to do now?”

Takio was feigning an automatic reply bot so far, his mind yet floating in the sea of memoirs, and he lifted his head at her inquiry to find Yuigi staring at him.

“I appreciate that you took me out of that tank, but what are you gonna do with me now?”

Takio could only seal his mouth at her question.

‘...Now what?’

He realized he had never once thought about what to do with her once she awakened. As he rescued her, and as he waited for her to wake up, the only thing he had in mind was saving her.

Yuigi’s eyes were muddy with suspicion, and Takio could not even bring himself to make up an impromptu of a reason. He was now endeavoring to make himself appear not lost for words, when a sound that would be emitted only from the stomach of a human being deprived of food for a full week echoed exactly from Yuigi’s seat in an enormous RUMBLE.

After an awfully awkward silence, Yuigi lowered her eyes at her tummy, as if she would give anything if only she could pound her own body without embarrassing herself any further.

Takio held back his laughter by chastising himself that the fate of this safehouse (a.k.a. a property of a certain blonde human obsessed with welfare of his own belongings) lies on his lips. He then turned his body, thankful for the fact that he got something to occupy himself with.

“I knew a single meal wouldn’t be enough, so allow me to fetch some more. And let us take time to discuss this matter.”

Despite his own words, Takio had no idea what to do from here on. For now, all he could do was directing himself towards the fridge.

(next chapter)

First of all, I have a news - I finally managed to recover my USB drive that contains my fic! I checked the files, and it turned out I wouldn’t have to update my past episodes, thank heavens. :D

About the part that says Takio has never seen Aris before, I am aware that Aris was pretending to be his so-called sister Teira. But at this time Takio had no idea that Teira is actually Aris, so I hope there’s no confusion on this matter. :)

And some of you might have questioned why Yuigi would be at a quarantine section for test subjects that haven’t been made agents yet. Actually, there is more to this “past” between Takio and Yuigi that I made up, but it isn’t time yet to reveal what really lies at the base of their past. So I hope you’d stay tuned to find out what it is!

[jfnfopnip1z-blog]

How To Make a Great Rap Song

It's probably fair to express that hip-hop continues to be probably the most globally influential type of music since some young wag stepped on Elvis's blue suede shoes. Black  Getting started being a voice for African-American and Latin communities in the us, hip-hop soon spread and have become the soundtrack for the 80's, 90's and also the new millennium. Each year its influence and penetration increase, from commercials to films, and from charts to bars. Within this section I'll explain the basic principles of hip-hop production along with 20 have to know ideas to get the best hip-hop tracks possible.

BEATS AND LOOPS

With hip-hop its everything about the beats - consider getting inspired!

Beats are the backbone of most hip-hop. Whether you're in to the cheeky one-two of Dre's Eminem productions or even the juddering steps of Dj Premier, you have to be sure that regardless of anything else is playing, your beat still stacks up to scrutiny. As US comic Chris Rock input it: "If the beat's alright, they'll dance through the night."

As we've already seen, hip-hop beats started off as breaks from records, beatboxes and sampling drum machines, so its super easy for hip-hop produced on a computer to sound a little lifeless. Live playing and clever quantisation can deal with this, though. The primary trick is always to maintain it sparse as soon as you have a basic groove going, try obtaining different percussive hits before adding more. Also, its important to keep it simple. If you pay attention to professional hip-hop productions, you'll notice that its rare for just two different percussive elements to experience at the same time - unless its a layered clap and snare, and even then they'll alternate on the bar or two between both playing then only one or another. You can also hear many parts were a musical instrument being a shaker only plays to get a small and specific part of a looped bar, almost as if the different percussive elements are taking turns. This can be no coincidence, as hip-hop culture is about this type of connection. Wether its DJs, MCs or breakdancers, hip-hop is, at its core, relating to this kind of back and forth interaction, and also this gets in each and every production element including beats.

Detail by detail the drums

1-The first thing I do when taking care of beats is lay down a hi-hat pattern. Usually , I actually do an eighth-note pattern then go back and change it if necessary after I've laid down another parts.

2-Next up will be the kick and snare . I keep them simple initially because I know that I'll be employing a drum loop underneath. I focus on a drum loop and add extra kicks and snares to bolster it. The kick and snare tend to be sounds that I re-use on many tracks.

3-Next I'll put in a sampled kick and snare to reinforce the stock kick and snare sounds. This makes the beat sound a little thicker and grimier. I additionally leave some 'air' on the tail end - this acts like 'sonic glue', giving the beat a more sampled feel.

4-The basic beat has become complete and able to send to the arrange screen, later on I'll utilize this pattern like a template for other areas of the song, were I'll add snare fills and rolls.

Step-by-step The loop

1-When using sampled breaks, I usually make sure they're either royalty-free, original roughly obscure they will not be recognized. Like that I do not need to bother about sample clearance. I'm a fan of busy drums so I'll usually choose an action packed two-bar drum break.

2-Now you have to match the tempo from the drum break to the tempo of your song. This can be achieved with any beat-slicing program.

3-Later on, after you've added vocals etc this can be drum break, were its needed during your song.

MELODIES, STABS, SAMPLES AND SYNTHS Just like almost every other kind of music, hip-hop's gotta have hooks

Melody or bass: it's tough to say which one you can start work on first, because hip-hop is at its best when its simple - great tracks frequently have a bassline but no melody or vice versa. And quite often the bassline will be the melody.

Most hip-hop continues to be constructed with samples as the main musical hooks, but while these samples were, for a long period, more often than not sections from classic records, today they may be much more obscure, edited and processed. Its no longer enough to sample an area off a 1980's rare groove hit and whack it more than a beat.

While hip-hop remains very much a sample-based discipline, there are numerous excellent synth-hop tracks on the market. If you've heard Kelis' milkshake, you'll know how funky a great synth line can sound with the right tight beats.

The critical thing to remember isn't to over-egg your production pudding. Invest the away one thing from all of these lessons, its that hip-hop is meant to the simple but effective, so always try getting sections or notes before you begin adding more. Please remember hip-hop is focused on bringing seemingly disparate elements toegether - Run DMC's sampling of Aerosmith on Walk This Way, for instance - so don't be afraid to experiment. Even harp solos and steal band recordings make excellent melodies within the right hands.

Finally take into account that in hip-hop you can never head to far wrong if the riff plays about the first beat of the bar, is quickly muted, after which picks up again from around the third beat. Seriously, this can be a winning formula - try it out!

BASS,BASS,BASS

Busy, bouncing or otherwise not at all... its your choice!

Some other electronic music are only for the ups and downs (well, in frequency terms, anyway), hip-hop definitely works from your waist down, and is also all about punchy mids and heavy bass. When you listen to a properly produced hip-hip tracks in the club, the bass will shake the room to its core, frequently even greater than much harder dance styles.

There are three main reasons why hip-hop will get away with having such heavy frequencies without one sounding just like a muddy mess. First, the tempo is very slow, giving much more room for individual notes to breath. Second, the make-up of hip-hop is a lot sparser, often with simply a straightforward beat and bassline throughout. And third, the bass patterns commonly are not as busy as other genres and so are often played so low the pitch of person notes are not an easy task to recognize.

Naturally, there are a number of b-line flavours in hip-hop, however these days basslines tend to be used just to reinforce the beats, layered underneath, or after every few bars, creating one more groove under those of the beats. The golden general guideline for hip-hop basslines would be to treat them as the second percussive element, rather than a melodic one. So that as with any drum pattern, everything you rule out is generally far more important than you leave in.

What type of BASS?

The issue of whether or not to keep the bassline simple or funky is a tricky one, and depends largely on which type of hip-hop you are making fast and funky Pharcyde-style tunes than you may get away with much more bouncy basslines. Similarly, if you are sampling a huge of the famous record, then you can bring your lead from that. But for other kinds of contemporary hip-hop, the bassline can be a less complicated affair. If theres some kind of sampled or played melody, then a bassline will most likely play in accompanying bursts. Another traditionally used trick is always to have simple sub-bass stabs every couple of bars, along with strong bassline in the chorus. Actually, sometimes there is not even any bassline inside a track in any way.

Finally, for those smokers out there, Cypress Hill along with other similar artists were pioneers of the deep, slow and simple rolling bassline. Black  Definely anyone to consider. Simply speaking, the key with hip-hop bass is almost always to keep it very sub-bass oriented and simple.

[paulrousseauwrites-blog]

“50 Pounds for $200,000

Fifty Pounds for $200,000

Justin graduated from college a couple days ago, earning a Bachelor of Arts degree in History. He waits at Eric’s front step, rolling on the balls of his feet. Eric is Justin’s new boss. Eric makes a little beat on his pants, glancing over some email and recipes online.

Justin rings the bell. Eric hurries to greet him.

“I am so glad you’re here,” Eric says. Justin follows a few inches behind. They walk directly to the basement door, as agreed. There is a handwritten sign taped to it reading ‘The Backyard.’

“Justin, right?” Eric makes sure. He says there were numerous other candidates. Justin nods, tucking in his upper lip. Eric’s eyebrows are shaven off, but the rest of his hair looks fantastic in a ponytail. Justin looks young with unkept scruff on his face and big, beautiful, coffee bean eyes. “I know how tough it can be to find a good job after school,” Eric says. “I got lucky in life. But don’t worry, your hard work will pay off here.”

He leads down a straight unfinished staircase. Justin goes pale, using the handrail until his first shoe sole touches the basement floor. It is covered in green turf, mocking the look and feel of grass. There is only enough square footage for one wooden picnic table, Eric’s furnace, and the type of scale found at a doctor’s office, with three variable sliding weights at the top. Eric motions for Justin to take a seat on the bench. Justin obeys.

“Welcome to your new office,” Eric says. He leans over the table. Justin is silent. He looks at the poking blades of worn plastic grass. “The décor was my mom’s idea,” Eric says. “She wanted to give me a taste of what is was like to play outside. You know how little girls put on make believe tea parties?” Eric asks.

Justin nods his head yes. He thinks about the tiara and scarf he would wear while babysitting his girlfriend’s niece, sitting cross-legged on the floor. She would tip the toy kettle spout over Justin’s cup, giving artificial weight to the pour. Justin would ask why nothing was really coming out. Pretend, she would say. And he would take a sip.

“I did make believe Backyard instead,” Eric says. “BBQs and picnics. I fed all the little critters that made their way down here.”

Eric is a self-taught chef. He pays recent college graduates $200,000 to live in his basement and gain fifty pounds eating the food he makes. And he feeds them constantly. Once they gain the weight, they get paid in cash, and then they can leave.  

***

Sara walks into Justin’s bedroom, a week before graduation. Justin is playing guitar in a swivel chair with his back to the door, unaware anyone has entered. The window is open, permeating the space in a perennial spray. It has gotten dark since he first sat down, but he hadn’t noticed. Sara pops the light switch upwards on instinct as she crosses over the doorway’s threshold. Justin’s pupils retract.

“Sorry! I figured you were in the bathroom,” she says. Sara is a Management major with a minor in Entrepreneurship.  

She wraps her arms around Justin’s neck as if her limbs were an oversized sweatshirt, crisscrossing at his throat. She catches a breath of his cologne. He doesn’t stop playing or turn to see who it is.

They hold there for a moment. Sara squeezes, applying a little pressure to the tops of her boyfriend’s shoulder blades, his collarbone. Justin picks his guitar, looking at the fret board binding and headstock inlays. She kisses his hair before releasing him to claim a patch of carpet near his legs.

Justin nods. Sara looks up, grinning as if she is out to dinner somewhere waiting patiently for her food to be plated, or in line for something worthwhile, like the opening night of a movie.

He plays a little longer. It sounds new, or improvised, too slow for Sara’s taste, but she watches anyway for a cue that his is finishing soon. Her expression looks stitched on like a sock puppet, like she has something to say, but the hand working her is refusing to interrupt. Justin places the instrument onto its designated stand, turns off the light, and sits back down.

***

Eric has moved on to bigger and better things now. No more BBQs and picnics for the rodents and insects. No more crumbs, bed sores, or pretend. “I’m going to start you off with my famous baked mac and cheese with charred short ribs mixed in, grilled asparagus in a chipotle aioli smear on the side, and for a sweet, two fudge brownie cupcakes. You don’t happen to like cream cheese whipped topping, do you?” Eric asks.

Justin nods yes, his eyebrows parked up higher than usual. Eric points parallel finger guns at Justin’s torso, one slightly behind the other. “I thought you might,” he says. He scampers upstairs, skipping every other step, then shuts The Backyard door.  

Eric himself looks like he doesn’t eat at all. He is very thin for someone who enjoys cooking so much, with a small tongue and flat lips. He has many dietary restrictions due to disease. He dips spoons in sauces and dabs out his stubby tongue to taste them, as if it were a dare. Forty-five minutes later, he returns to The Backyard with Justin’s first taste of employee business.

***

“Hey you,” Justin says. He stretches his spine over the back of his chair.

“Hi. I know it’s later than usual but I wanted to eat quick and shower before seeing you,” Sara says.

“Thanks, stinky,” he says.

“Well I was moving around a lot today! I get sweaty when I drive,” she says.

“How did it go with all the stuff?” he asks.  

Sara coils with potential energy before the hand controlling her mouth finally bursts. “I got a call back for a second round interview with Northgate!”

Justin blinks in triplets. His eyelashes are longer than most people’s. “That’s really really great,” he says.

“The only problem is that it’s at 11:00 and I have another interview with a different marketing firm at 9:30 so I’m nervous about timing. GPS says if I leave there by 10:00 I should be able to make it regardless of how heavy traffic is,” she says, flicking through maps on her cell phone.

“AM or PM?” Justin asks.

Sara doesn’t look up. “Really?” she laughs. “I get more and more worried knowing I’ll have to cut the first interview short if it starts dragging on too long. Is that rude? Will they call Northgate and tell them I was rude and then no one will hire me?”

“If you don’t care about the first one why don’t you just cancel it?” he prods.

“I can’t! I need the experience. Plus what if they pay six figures? It shouldn’t take more than a half an hour right?”

“Tell them you have to leave ahead of time.”  

“I suppose. I need that job at Northgate, Justin. Everyday, the front desk lady blares Brittany Spears. They get paid time off, health, dental, Thursday night drink specials with the entire staff, and a nap room. All we talked about in the first interview was Harry Potter and how much we love caffeine.”

“That’s really something,” he says.

Sara lifts herself up into Justin’s bed, on her side with her head propped up in the palm of her hand. “I need that job so bad.”

***

Eric sets the table with enough food to feed a family of five. He is wearing an apron imprinted with the text ‘in dog beers I’ve only had one.’

“And?” he baits, opening his arms like someone waiting at an airport terminal, expecting a hug.

 “Okay,” Says Justin. He closes his eyes.

 “What are you waiting for?” Eric asks.

“I’m saying grace,” Says Justin. He waits for Eric to leave.  

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Eric says. He hands Justin a bib, legs firmly planted on the imitation grass. Each coupling blade looks like a pair of arms, budding out of the floor to hold him down.

 “Why?” Asks Justin.

 “You gotta wear the bib,” Eric says. “Wouldn’t want to make a mess of your nice shirt.”

 Justin shakes his head no.

“It is in the job description,” Eric begins. “It could be a month or more till your next change of clothes.” Eric loves seeing the transformation happen. He loves watching his employees fill out and eventually outgrow their clothing, new flesh bursting at the seams. “You all balloon up like circus tents eventually,” he says. Eric puffs his cheeks out with air and slaps his belly. He laughs. “I can help if you’d like? Do you up in the back?”

Justin doesn’t respond. His eyelids draw closer together as if someone were slowly sewing them shut, pouring sand in his veins. The same devastation that used to haunt him when he’d get called on in class. A professor could simply announce Justin’s name in roll call to get him afflicted.

Eric repossesses the bib and ties it around Justin’s neck as if he were a newborn baby, in a perfect shoelace bow. “This way you can be as messy as you want and it won’t stink you up.” Eric takes a breath of Justin’s cologne. Both hearts are throbbing. Eric pats down the bib to flatten it. “There, ta da!” He waits, arms raised high above his ponytail. “Now… dig in!”

Justin shakes his head no.

 “I always supervise the first bite of my employees,” Eric says. He gets a Polaroid camera ready. “Consider it an orientation exercise.”

Justin fumbles with the silverware, hesitating between utensils, between fork and spoon, hesitating in his posture, where he is in space, and how he got there.

“The fork is for the asparagus,” Eric says. He gapes his nostrils in short bursts.  

Justin scoops a spoonful of macaroni and holds it tentatively above its dish. Everything steams. He brings the spoon closer to his split crescent lips and cools it softly.

“Eat up! No need to be coy. I made it just for you. Give your body the nutrients.”

Justin feels naked, like the first time he took off his shirt to go swimming. He gathers some of Eric’s noodles using his front teeth, raking them onto the cupped pallet of his tongue, miming the action of a miniature farming tool. Justin chews making as little noise as possible. He wipes away excess run-off cheese from of the corner of his mouth that bungeed and curled there. There is a camera flash.  

“Excellent. Thank you for the sweet satisfaction,” Eric croons. He ruffles the top of Justin’s hair. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” he says. He races upstairs again lunging over many steps at a time. Justin keeps feeding alone.

***

“What are you thinking about?” Sara asks, covering her legs in Justin’s comforter.

Justin steers with his feet, swiveling in little increments to each side as if he were skiing in place on his chair.

“Music,” he says. “History.”

“Still waiting to hear back from grad school?”

“Yes,” he lies. The email came last week, regretfully informing him, wishing him every success in pursing further studies elsewhere.

“You are a shoe-in,” she says. “You are way too smart. You are too smart for your own good.” She takes her shirt off. “I can’t wait until we live together. I am jealous of Kevin and your sister.” She touches her hands to her temples. “I want to buy a house with you.”

“They are older than us,” he says. “And almost married.”

“I know, but they are so lucky,” she says.

“I know,” he says. “I’ll hear back soon.”

“You’re so talented. Nobody could possibly turn you down,” she assures.

Justin crawls into bed with her using mostly his forearms. She rolls over, now on her back in a bundle of pillows. They lie side by side.

***

Justin eats it all, as agreed. Eric comes down the stairs at the thirty-minute mark, ringing a cattle bell and grunting some sounds a pig might make with his mouth, “oink oink oink.”

He takes a seat on the same side of picnic bench next to Justin. Justin pats down his forehead with paper towel and just now notices that the ceiling is covered in navy blue construction paper with crudely painted on treetops and clouds.

“Curiosity is gluttony. To see is to devour,” Eric quotes. “This isn’t necessarily a job requirement, but how was the grub?”

Justin’s sock puppet is stitched shut. It was the tastiest food he has ever had, better than anything his parents or grandparents have ever made for him in his own childhood home, but he admits to nothing.

“That’s fine, if you want to get paid, if you want to leave, you’ll eat it all the same,” Eric says. “Time for weigh-in numeral uno.” Eric points with his thumb over his shoulder at the scale behind them, propped up against a patch of drywall. His breath smells like hamster bedding. “Your new best friend, as I’m sure you are aware,” he says. He bites down repeatedly on his own teeth. The skin in charge of covering his cheekbones tightens like a snare drum.  

Justin’s stomach hurts. He blinks in triplets.

“Giddy up partner,” Eric says. “Hop on.”

Justin obeys, stepping up onto the scale, holding his torso. The turf stabs through Justin’s tennis shoes as he walks, gabbing at his feet. Eric says Justin is lucky he doesn’t make his employees crawl on all fours anymore. It became too painful for them to eat salty foods with their hands. Eric nudges the three varying brushed steel counterweight blocks, fingering the smallest in little jabs to get the best possible measurement. He bobs his shoulders, dancing a little, waiting for the bars to level. They recalibrate, and he does it again. Justin weighs 168 pounds.

“I think I see a little tummy forming already, bud! I really filled you up,” Eric says.

Justin is hunched over a little. Eric pens the number on the wall with a black permanent marker. He smiles, not showing teeth, thinning his already flat lips, stretching them longways until the color draws out completely.  

“Weigh-ins will be at seven o’clock every evening,” Eric says. He is rich. His dad invented the Rubix Cube.

“I need the money,” Justin says.

“I know,” Eric says.  

Justin needs the money for student loans, and property taxes, and cell phone bills, and engagement rings. Eric doesn’t need money for much of anything except ingredients.

***

“I’m awful. You must think I’m awful, or a snob,” Sara says, covering her eyes.

 “Why would I think that?” Justin counters.

 “I’m bragging about jobs and interviews and you’re still in limbo waiting to hear back from school. You’d tell me if you were getting antsy right?” she says.

“It’s fine. Really. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine,” he says. “You can’t be awful for just being excited.”

“Alright. You’re going to get accepted anyway.” Sara straddles her legs around Justin’s V-lined hips, drawing micro French curves all over his chest. “I just can’t wait to tell everyone about my boyfriend, the big sexy historian, teaching the world all sorts of history related things. You’ll be making bank, I’ll be making bank, we can buy a huge house, get married, go on tons of exotic vacations, throw money at each other, get unlimited data plans…”

“That’s painting quite the picture.” He rubs her thigh with his nails.

 “I can’t wait to bask in our success,” she says. “We are such a power couple.”

The hand operating Justin’s mouth creeps open, as if wanting to say something. Sara closes in. They kiss instead. She retreats, then presses her lips quickly on his nose.

“I love you,” she says.

***

“To snack on tonight I was thinking shredded chicken enchiladas tossed in a green chile sauce, pan fried walleye fish tacos, and beef empanadas with cilantro rice and refried pinto beans on the side.”  

Justin shrugs knowing he has no real say in the matter.

He steps off the scale and tries to find the warm spot back on the bench’s wood grain. Eric hustles upstairs, again bounding over two steps at a time. He stops in the doorway, and pirouettes. He pats a rhythm on his legs before saluting diagonally to Justin from the top of the staircase.

“Adieu, see you soon! I’ll bring a bucket with me after your next course, you know what they say, what goes up must come down.”

Justin waits for the privacy. He thinks about his girlfriend and her little niece. When they taught him how to pretend. He wishes Eric’s plates were empty like the toy kettle, that he just had to add artificial weight to them, and then take a bite or sip. Justin masks his head in his hands, twisting his face in an attempt to cry without making sound.

***

Sara is sleeping. Justin starts to climb out of bed, pressing his hands on the mattress as to gradually release the pressure that his body held next to hers. He doesn’t want to wake her up, he doesn’t know how to say I love you too right now. He checks his inbox instead. There is a reply from EricEats@hotmail.com with the subject bar ‘50 lbs. for $200,000.’