#8th grade hall ball way

[uglysharkistankstillcoffeeugly]

Everybody makes chases

[irlnumbuh3]

more knd middle school headcanons!

shoutout to @irldonniee they are so real WE ARE MOOTS HERE AND ON TIKTOK ITS CRAZY!!! :00 ILY MOOT

- wally picks ceramics as his elective and holy shit it is so cute😭

- all that aggression , he’s able to put into working with clay. and maybe certain days he does slam the clay harder on the table than others… but it’s a good stress reliever ! we know wally feels a LOT, and that only intensified in middle school

- kuki does ceramics with him, she’s really gentle with her work unlike… someone else… she’s almost too gentle, but when she’s had a bad day, STAY AWAY because that clay is gonna be fucked up by her LMFAO. her speciality is the glazing/painting part of the class

- hoagie and abby do band together! hoagie attempts the saxophone, and abby plays the flute

- nigel feels stuck between picking electives but ultimately goes the art route because there was no way in hell he was going to be asked to play the sousaphone by his father AGAIN

- these 5 play ninja at recess it gets crazy

- THEY PLAY BOXBALL/4 SQUARE TOO IT GETS EVEN CRAZIER

- at some point in time boxball gets banned for a little bit bc of them mostly wally…. the other kids weren’t too thrilled with them… the glares were deadly i’m telling u middle schoolers are serious about boxball at least i was

- it was finally able to be unbanned when wally threatened to make his own boxball game but instead of a light ball, u used a 10 lb weighted ball ………..

- they all decorate eachothers lockers for their birthdays

- kuki and abby are the two girls who gossip and walk the mile together

- the boys try and outrun eachother in said mile hoagie nearly had an asthma attack

- there’s a shower in the boys locker room and all of the boys were told to never turn it on because it hadn’t been turned on in 20 years. it becomes a game to see which boy in the locker room can get the closest to turning it on

- hoagie holds the record currently . wally is not thrilled by it

- thus wally gets in school suspension for turning on said shower. 3 DAYS OF ISS LMFAO

- wally goes through an axe phase and thinks he smells amazing and tough and masculine. he gets humbled by abby at lunch one random tuesday

- hoagie and wally buy lunch from the school and will play with their food by trying to make the most disgusting combinations. one day they make the entire cafeteria smell so foul that there’s an evacuation 💀

- nigel gets back together with lizzie in 6th grade and they’re the infamous middle school couple. she sits with them at lunch and brings her friends. she beefs with everyone occasionally 😭

- she plays messenger and makes her friends deliver her orders/comments to nigel at recess and throughout the day LOOL

- you know yaga? where you pull someone’s hair and say yaga? wally does that to kuki all of the time. especially during assemblies

- oh but she gets back at him in 8th grade when he starts growing his hair out to be shaggier

- meaning she literally GRABS his entire head of hair to yank back…. the group doesn’t think she knows how to actually play yaga….

- when walking around at recess, everyone likes to stuff random shit in wally’s hood

- kuki eventually drops her elective to switch to chorus. she’s a soprano!

- abby realizes she hates band and changes her elective too. she joins wally and nigel in ceramics. and wow do they TALK in that class

- the only class they all have together is study hall. and the teacher umm… she’s not the most patient. it’s a silent study hall

- and these 5 are awful at being silent -_- the teacher doesn’t even want pure silence she just wants peace. and they’re bad at that

- and because they got to pick their seats in the beginning of the year , hoagie and wally are next to one another, then abby and nigel are next to one another behind them, and kuki is directly in front of hoagie’s desk

- there’s an empty chair next to kuki, and this girl is a social butterfly, people come and sit next to her all of the time

- usually just “girly girls” but occasionally some boys… like maybe Ace or some loser who calls himself “30C” like “who even calls themselves that??”

- the antics are usually fine in study hall i mean it’s the last period of the day, everyone just wants to go home right!!

- wrong there is so much energy in one class

- some kids from their elementary are even in that class, like an irish girl named fanny and joe balooka, the instigator himself… he plays with his yipper cards with hoagie occasionally and so kuki and hoagie swap seats

- they all help wally with his homework

- sometimes they all play uno in study hall

- but everyone typically tries to do their homework, so they don’t have to after school. keyword: TYPICALLY. when all ur friends are in one class together, u don’t always wanna do ur work🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️

- the note passing is crazy in there. and they’re usually slick with it, but sometimes it’s so much more fun to just be as obvious as possible

- one day wally started it by crumpling up his note, walking to the garbage, pretending to throw it out, and then turning around and throwing it in hoagie’s face

- was it impressive? 100%.…

- to get back at him, hoagie walked around the room only to come back to his desk and to slam the note on wally’s desk and FUCK is it funny for no reason

- and of course this turns into a competition…. kuki is determined to win whatever this game is, nigel rolls his eyes but oh he’s planning something, and abby just keeps covering her mouth to laugh while thinking she’s about to eat this shit up

- it’s kuki’s turn. she writes on the paper and gracefully gets up to the front of the room, and the very first person to the front all the way to right, she says, “pass this to wally please”

- and that note makes it to every single kid in that class LMFAOAOAOAO

- impressive yes. but abby’s up next. she leaves the room, where the hell is she going??? then next thing you know, she’s back, and kuki’s homeroom teacher is calling her to the office 😭😭

- “kuki, honey!! this note was left for me to give to you. it was slid into my mailbox. it says it’s from your counselor.”

- FUCKKK WAS THAT GOOD OR WHAT

- then nigel’s turn.. oh and does he have the best one yet. he grabs the paper and he writes his message and then… wait why is miss thompson walking over here? guys? wait plz hide the note somewhere oh no she looks mad oh my god guys-

- “nigel uno! a student i’d never expect to be passing notes, why don’t we tell everyone what’s on your mind?” “nonono miss thompson that’s a project we are all working on pls-“

- “fuck u” and some obscene doodles… “fuck u x2 >:)” “ur mouths are filthy. wash them please ♡ xoxo kuki! ps. hi abby!!!!! ily!” “hey kuki. ily2. and ur move, nigel. unless you chicken out now… :P” “who do i look like i am? do i look li”

- they all kinda got separated for the week

- kuki asks everyone to play MASH with her

- she 100% had a slime business in school

- said it before and i’ll say it again, her and hoagie are theatre kids. her and hoagie share a love for be more chill LMFAOAOAO

- no one else understands their obsession

- wally starts playing soccer in 7th grade. and for starting late, this kid is GOOD

- the boys fieldgoal one another. it’s awful (fieldgoaling: kicking eachother right up the ass when ur behind them. u also have to scream field goal. my middle school friends did this to eachother. highlight of middle tbh)

- especially wally he will field goal u in the middle of fucking no where it should be illegal. hoagie hides out in the bathrooms one day after teasing wally about kuki a little too much. as soon as he heard the start of the word “fiel-!” he ran

- they all carpool home together on fridays to hang out

[starsarefire824]

the pact

Two weeks.

It's Monday morning and there are exactly  two weeks left before the last day of school. Ten school days left until the Party finally makes it to the seemingly ever unattainable graduation day. Mike can’t believe it.  It’s finally fucking happening . He will finally be free of this bullshit school once and for all. He and his friends will all finally be free of this place that has tortured them for the last decade. No more Troy. No more football players defiling their lockers, or shoving their faces against the shower walls in gym class so hard their jaws clicked. No more tripping in the hallways or snide “faggots” or “freaks” snickered behind their backs. No more spit balls in their lunch. No. More. Bullshit.

Mike would get to enjoy one last Upside Down free Summer: filled with swimming pools and mowing lawns and sticky popsicles running down his chin. One more Summer with creek splashing and smoking weed in the rebuilt Castle Byers, driving his car too fast down the old highway, and drinking his Dad’s stolen beers while watching fireworks at the fairgrounds, laying next to a certain friend with big hazel eyes and a sketchpad in his hand. Mike had been looking forward to it for  so  long. Counting down the days, wishing and hoping and daydreaming about it when he should have been paying attention to his Calculus lecture. Mike smiles bitterly as he makes his way in the crowded hallway. It’s bursting with life at the moment, loud chatter and the tin clatter of metal on metal echoing as lockers open and shut. There’s some hooting and hollering down the hall where a group of 11th grade jocks are huddled in a group. It’s too hot and sticky and smells like deodorant and sweat and cheap cologne.

Mike approaches his locker, cursing as he struggles two times in a row with the combination.

“Motherfucker,” he whispers bitingly as he finally gets it, roughly removing the lock and tugging at the little square handle. He shoves his giant math book on the top shelf and pulls out the novel he’s reading for English class for one final book report. He pauses a moment, the picture of the Party, well the original four of them anyway, from a long while ago, is taped up next to his class schedule, a picture of Eddie, and a magazine clipping of Bowie. Will had stuck little golden and glittery star stickers he found on the Library floor around him, arranging them in a little cluster along the singer’s painted cheek, like a little patch of lightning bugs. They blink prettily as they catch different angles of the buzzing fluorescent lights above.

Will had given him the picture too, probably in 10th grade. His mom had found some old film in a drawer and had it developed. The four of them were sitting on Joyce’s porch at the Byers’ old house in what he thinks was 8th-9th grade. Before California. They’re all clad in shorts and tank tops with a heated shine at their brows and along their arms. Dustin wore his Camp Knowhere hat, still bright green and crisp at its edges. Lucas was holding a bottle of Coke, his smile flashing bright white and eyes crinkling happily. Mike and Will were sat on the rusting metal loveseat, feet up resting against the edge of the table in front of them, connected from their shoulders to their knees. Mike is looking up at Dustin, whose face is a little blurred because he was laughing so hard at something Lucas said. Mike can’t, for the life of him, remember what it was. But Will…..well, Will is looking at Mike. His eyes are squinting with a happiness, so rare for him at the time that Mike doesn’t even really remember him like that. He only remembers the heaviness and darkness around his eyes, and fights in the rain with some kind of significance he was only now beginning to understand.

But in this picture Will’s smile is so big. Full, pale pink lips spread across white teeth, the front two a little bigger than the rest. His expression is so soft and warm, eyes appearing more brown than green in the shade. Now that they're older, after everything, it makes Mike blush when he studies it for too long.

His face falls. He presses his lips together and swallows the emotion that wells up in his throat, his fingers twitching at his thigh as he fights the urge to rip it off the door and shove it into his locker. Sighing heavily, his face pinched in a disagreeable frown, he slams the locker shut with unnecessary force as he readjusts the strap of his tired  and worn black and teal backpack that hangs lazily off his left shoulder.  

As it bangs loudly in his face, Mike blinks, revealing…Max. He peers down at her. Her now ridiculously long, red hair (extended hospital stays will do that to you) is pulled back into a low ponytail tied loosely at the nape of her neck where her headphones are still permanently perched. Little flyaways and two thick pieces, slightly wavy from the humidity, fall softly around her face. It flows in gentle twists and turns past her chest and almost to her bellybutton. She flips it back and out of her way with annoyed exasperation, and it disappears behind her small shoulder. She has her back pressed flat against the locker and one leg bent up, lackadaisically resting two textbooks on her thigh, how angry she is revealed in the way her fingers curl white around their spines. He can see one bright red sock and one teal one peeking through the holes along where fabric meets the sole of her ratty Vans. She’s wearing a baggy flannel over a green tank top, loose jean shorts buttoned high on her waist, and a scowl.

The Pact- Prologue X (click to read the rest!)

[oldsalempost-blog]

The Old Salem Post

Contact: theoldsalempost@gmail.com                              Distributed to local businesses, town hall, library.                            Volume 7 Issue 14                                                                                                  Week of March 27, 2023                https://www.tumblr.com/settings/blog/oldsalempost-blog                                                         Lynne Martin Publishing

EDITOR:  People visit our area for different reasons.  What we have to offer is much like a piece of heaven, here in our own Eden.  We have an abundant supply of God’s blessings of natural resources, churches, families who have lived here for generations, farmers, hard workers, friendly people, and a generous community when others are in need.  If this is what you are looking for, you have found the right place.    LRMartin  

Town of SALEM: Community Easter Egg Hunt April 8th. Help share the true meaning of Easter.  You can help this mission by dropping of wrapped candy at the Town Hall.         SALEM LIBRARY:  Open Monday 10am-6pm– Tuesday-Friday 9am-5pm. Check out their great movie selections and new arrivals.  

Jottings by Jeannie   Hooray for the BOBCAT BATTALION                                       This is Miz Jeannie reporting live from the 54th Annual Military Ball and Awards Ceremony at Seneca High School.  "Enthusiastic" describes the students enrolled in the four year program, the Army Junior Reserve Officers' Training Corps, led by Citadel Graduate and combat veteran, Lieutenant Colonel Henry Delacruz.  My impression of military instructors has been colored by films portraying them as sadists and bullies. In fact, in the receiving line, I was I was shaking in my stilettos until students assured me not to fear "The Colonel."     Students LOVED the program and respected and adored  Colonel Delacruz.  Here are some insights they shared:   "He is a fair instructor.  If we don't master a skill he doesn't yell or call us names. He assists us to master the task with confidence."   "Approximately 75% of class time is spent in physical activity or drilling and learning marketable skills."   Some of the  students in the Army J-ROTC program plan to serve our country while tackling challenging careers.  Two have  enlisted in the Marines, and two have enlisted in the National Guard.  I envisioned a bright, protective light around these students and prayed that they would never see combat.  But if they do, they will face the enemy with skill and courage thanks to Colonel Delacruz.      MJ                      

 JOCASSEE VALLEY BREWING COMPANY,(JVBC) & COFFEE SHOP 13412 N Hwy 11 Open Wed-Sat 8am-9pm. Sun 2pm-7pm.  Events this week: Wed: Blue Grass Jam 6:30pm  Fri– FOOD: Wing Wagon  Music: Cecil Tompkins at 6:30pm.  Sat–Music: Canon and Cohen 6:30pm Food: IRON PIG    Sunday: 2pm –7pm            

Tamassee DAR offers Spring Break Camp:  April 3-7, 7:30am-pm.  Breakfast and Lunch and afternoon snack included.  Open to all children K-8th grade.  Fee 100-120/ week. Register 864-944-1390 Ext 118.  Have fun enjoying activities and learning.

Tune in to Joyce Meyer Ministries:  Channel 16 Monday-Friday at 10am—Joyce was abused by both her mother and her father. She was angry and bitter for years.  She shares real life and ministers to all  after she was raised from the ashes of shame .  “You cannot use being abused as a reason to abuse others.”   Jesus was abused, thrashed, ridiculed, and nailed violently to a cross to die.  His last words were…” Forgive them….”   Read Jeremiah 18 1-5  The vessel in the potter’s hands was marred so he made it again and it seemed good.  We all have been marred in one way or another….Jesus can make us new.

ASHTON RECALLS:  By Ashton Hester

I'm glad to see that Pat's Cash and Carry is reopening. I used to deliver Keowee Courier there on Wednesday afternoons during 1993 and 1994. It seemed to be the center of activity for that neighborhood. I also went to Little River Store (operated by former boys' basketball coach Robert Herron), the Gulf Station/grocery store in the middle of town, the store on Highway 11 that Randy Jones (school board member) operated, and Key Mart. Also a store in the Burnt Tanyard area, whose name I forget.   AH

Here is the third installment of Pauline Kelley Cannon's story: DAR STUDENT FROM 1942-1946 RECALLS EXPERIENCES - (Third Installment). . . We lived in the South Carolina building all that first year. Maggie roomed with Midge Green after Mary Jane Rholetter left. . .Miss Lola Wilson, who was secretary for Mr. Cain, lived downstairs. She also took care of the post office. . .The dormitories were heated by steam radiators which made a popping noise until they got hot. . .We had certain times that we had to stay in our rooms and study. This was called study hall. . .Many times during the year we would have fire drills, day or night. We never knew when they would take place. We would often have to go down a ladder or outside steps to get out. . .THE SECOND YEAR we were there we were assigned to the All States Hall, a two-story building. Miss Juliette McCrory (who we called "Miss Jule") was house parent, and Ollie Mae Burrell was supervisor. . .There were only two beds in these rooms. My roommate was Evelyn Swangham. She didn't stay too long, and I finished the year rooming with Betty Hasket. Maggie doesn't remember who her roommate was. . .Our jobs that year were working in the kitchen of the dining room under the supervision of Mrs. Eloise Grant and the dietician, Mrs. Marett (I can't remember her first name), and in the laundry under the supervision of Mrs. Sam Nicholson. . .The dining room was located in Ohio Hobart Hall. In the kitchen was a large stove, a sink to wash dishes, and shelves to store them on for the next meal. There were coolers in the basement for keeping the perishable food and milk. The boys milked the cows and brought the milk up, morning and night. There was a screened porch at the back of the kitchen, where we usually went to peel potatoes, chop cabbage to boil, make coleslaw, and prepare other vegetables and fruits. . .Mr. Cain would come in at times and watch us peel potatoes. Sometimes he would say, "Girls, you are peeling too much off." He would emphasize that we must be thrifty. . .TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK                                              

 EAGLES NEST ART CENTER , 501c3, 4 Eagle Lane, Salem, SC                        Treasure Shop– The Eagles Nest Treasure Store will open on Saturday April 1, 2023  at 9am-3pm.                                                                                          ENAC Hosts BLESSING OF THE BIKES: Saturday April 1, 2023, 1pm-4pm Sons of the Savior M/M, Redeemed Chapter.  This is on outside event.  There will be music, competitions, a prayer tent, and a youth tent.   Come check it out.  

Healthy Sign at Shady Grove Church:  Exercise daily. Walk with the Lord.          Scripture revealed is like going on a hike.   Each time you see something new.  Like a hawk.  A deer.  Flowers in bloom A recent  devotional spoke of God like a trail that can come familiar. When we feel confident in the walk, we can fail to seek a closer look.  We will miss the beauty of each season.  LM

Café Connections– a ministry of Get Up & Go Ministries, Inc– 319 East Main street Pickens, SC.  Visit this sweet place of people who love people and Jesus.  They operate purely on faith. They feed the hungry daily and nourish every one who enters to gather at the table.                        

Easter will soon arrive!   Have a wonderful week!                     Lynne R Martin                                                                                                                                             

[thunderholtz]

virgil gets angry and just clocks onto the nearest person whos pissed him off. hes like ‘you. youve pissed me off. we’re scraping’

dunno if scraping is used anyway buy england but is slang for fighting 😅

“You don’t need to teach me self defense, Princey.” Virgil said with an eyebrow raised as he looked to Roman. Roman was trying to teach him how to defend himself in case of being kidnapped or being attacked.

“But I don’t want you to get hurt, dearest.” Roman said. “It would be better if you learned how to defend yourself.”

“I already know how to defend myself, Roman.” Virgil said with a hum, staying on the couch in the living room and looking up to Roman. “I’ve been in fights before.”

Roman’s whole face lit up. “What?” He asked. “You’ve been in fights before?”

“Oh, so many.” Roman looked like he couldn’t be more attracted to Virgil than in that moment. “I used to fight people almost every week in middle school.”

“Really?” Roman asked, going to sit next to him. “Why?”

“I was the weird kid.” Virgil said simply with a shrug.

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Weird how?” He asked

“Well, weird like I am now. I research and figure out who supers are. I have encrypted writing. I don’t tell anyone about what I’m writing.” Virgil said, going to take a sip of his tea that had been sitting on the coffee table. “I was the bud of most jokes in my school.”

You could see the way Roman’s eyes darkened at that. He would kill those assholes that hurt his dark Angel. “What happened?” He asked, sounding calm and gentle like he always did, but his eyes showed his rage. The corner of Roman’s lips twitched downwards into a frown. Not many people would notice, but, Virgil, being himself, did notice.

Virgil took Roman’s hand in his own. “It started in 6th grade.”

“Look at him! He’s just a freak that’s into finding out secrets. I bet he’s not even right about any of his theories.”

Insults like this always stirred in the halls behind Virgil. He was a loner who liked solving mysteries about who superheroes and villains were. He was someone who never stood up for himself, as well, which meant that bullies just came up to him more often.

“I bet he’s not even that smart. I bet he’s just pretending to be smart. He won’t get anywhere in life after high school. I bet he won’t even get into college. He’s barely passing his classes now.”

There was an uproar of laughter and snickering and insults. Virgil couldn’t take it. He turned around to face the guy who was making fun of him. He glared daggers into the guy.

“Ooooooh.” A crowd of people teased as the guy glared back but raised an eyebrow at Virgil.

Virgil was a fairly small kid. He was short and skinny but, damn, he had some fight in him. The guy across from him was big. An athlete, no doubt. Maybe even an 8th grader. But Virgil wasn’t scared. He was just pissed.

“What are you going to do, little kid?” The guy snickered, making the people in the hall laugh as well.

Something about that made something snap in Virgil. His mind filled with anger and rage enough to not let him be able to tell what was a good decision and what was bad.

His fists moved faster than his mind and suddenly he punched the guy in the face, making people in the hall scream. Some screamed for teachers and some chanted for them to keep fighting.

Virgil knocked the guy over before he could fully process what was happening. He got on top of him and punched him a few more times. But after a moment he was thrown off of the guy. His back hit the ground and the air was knocked out of him. Now it was the other guy that got on top of him and hit him a few times.

Virgil then started to process things, but only enough for his fight or flight instincts to yell at him to get the guy off of him. So that’s what he did.

Virgil brought his leg up fast and hard and hit the guy on top of him in the balls.

The guy yelped in pain and quickly stumbled back, his hands over his privates. “He kicked me in the nuts! He kicked me in the fucking nuts!” He yelled, the rage showing in his eyes as his whole expression turned to anger. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Virgil quickly stood up and glared at the guy again. “Fucking try it!” Virgil growled.

“You really think a prepubescent kid like you can beat a man like me?”

Virgil’s eyes onto darkened at that. The guy threw his backpack down so he could fight better. Virgil smirked mischievously.

The guy jumped at Virgil to tackle him to the ground but Virgil quickly scrambled out of the way. “You’ll have to be quicker than that, asshole.” Virgil challenged.

The guy quickly stood up and Virgil immediately went to kick him in the chest, but the guy grabbed Virgil’s foot before he could kick him back. “Oh shit.” Virgil said

The guy smirked and threw Virgil down to the ground, using his foot at leverage. The guy then went to get back on top of Virgil, straddling him. He went to punch him in the nose. Virgil heard something crack and he let out a yelp of pain.

The very large crowd around the two was screaming. It was too loud to think. All Virgil could register was the adrenaline. Virgil could hear teachers shouting and trying to get through the crowd, but he couldn’t see them, so he wasn’t in immediately danger of getting in trouble by them.

Virgil quickly went to push up on the guys shoulders and he pushed him until he was on his back and Virgil was over top of him. Virgil then went to start hitting him in the face again.

Soon after, though, someone pulled him back. Virgil quickly tried to pull away from them, but seeing as they were an adult, Virgil didn’t get away. Someone went to restrain the other guy as well.

“You two! Straight to the principals office!” One of the teachers shouted.

Virgil didn’t even register what the teacher said. He just tried to go and keep fighting the guy. He wanted to make him regret ever saying anything to Virgil. He growled as he tried to get away from the teacher.

Virgil could feel the blood dripping down his nose and the way his hands must have been bleeding from the punches. But the adrenaline was too much for him to register any of that yet.

“That little freak beat Peter up!” One person shouted from the crowd. Virgil glared daggers into the person.

“He didn’t beat me up! I let him do that!” The other guy said, the desperation in his eyes. He couldn’t let people think that he was beaten up by a 6th grader.

Virgil didn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help the mischievous smile that came to his face. He would keep fighting people if they kept being assholes to him.

[wrathandgreed]

Idea: Barbatos professing his love for you the first time. Take it however you want with angst or fluff 😘

Surprises

GN!MC x Barbatos (fluff)

Word count: 6.5k

Author Note: Somehow, this took on a life of its own, and now I’m in love with Barbatos.

You wonder, briefly, if this is how Cinderella felt.

Everyone assumes that Cinderella spent the ball floating on air, waltzing gracefully with the prince, impressing everyone with her beauty and charm.

Did anyone ever think that maybe, just maybe, Cinderella felt completely out of place? That huge ball gown, skirts wide enough to knock food off tables. The high heels, so much harder to walk in than bare feet. And everyone looking at her, always eyes watching her.

Maybe she found her true love, sure, but maybe she really just wanted to dash off to the kitchen, where things felt familiar and safe.

As you stand in Diavolo’s heavily decorated ballroom, a smile plastered on your face, pity for Cinderella runs through your head. Couture might look good, but it was constricting. You didn’t dare eat or drink - nothing washes out of this fabric. Also, trying to undo the whole outfit just to pee was NOT going to happen. The ballroom was sweltering hot and you were sweating under your clothes.

To be fair, it hadn’t been all bad, especially not in the beginning. Stepping into Diavolo’s castle was like stepping into a fairy tale. Millions of tiny lights floated all around, little wisps that barely illuminated anything but lent a bewitching aura to every room. The edges of the ballroom were lined with tables full of Barbatos’ cooking and baking. You smile as you passed a tray of cookies you had helped him make yesterday; maybe when the ball was over and you no longer had to worry about your party clothes, you’d steal one.

The music had been fun - instrumental and easy to dance to, and boy had you danced! Every one of the brothers had, at one time, claimed your hand and spun you around the dance floor. Lucifer had waltzed and twirled you expertly, covering the entire dance floor in one song. Satan, somehow, was better - perhaps because he cared more about dancing with you than showing off that he was dancing with you. Mammon fumbled more than anything else but, except for bumping into other demons a few times, his feet were pretty sure. And once he gave up on trying to replicate the fancy moves of Lucifer and Satan, the two of you just whirled around the dance floor with absolutely no concern for your safety or anyone else’s.

Asmo refused to let you go for almost half an hour while he showed off moves the two of you had practiced together. Belphie and Beel pulled you into a strange three-person dance with a lot of hand-holding and ducking under each other’s arms until all three of you were howling with laughter and had to excuse yourself into the hallway.

And in the hallway, you even managed to lure Levi into a little swaying slow dance in the corner. It felt a little like an 8th grade formal, but his eyes shone when you put your head on his shoulder, so everything was good.

The brothers had passed you from hand to hand, protecting you and dancing, laughing, talking, flirting. When you thought no one was looking, you snuck out your phone and took selfies with them, for the scrapbook you were making of your time here.

But like Cinderella’s coach, you felt like you turned into a pumpkin around midnight. It was now a few hours past and your patience and enjoyment were wearing thin. You thought longingly of the room Lord Diavolo had given you here for the night, but Diavolo himself had vanished and demonic etiquette dictates that you not leave without thanking him personally, and perhaps indulging the Demon Prince himself in a dance.

Your feet ache at the idea of another turn around the floor.

“MC, darling, don’t move! There’s someone I want to see, but I’ll be back in just a second,” Asmo whispers in your ear before slipping off into the crowd.

Surprised, you look around and realize none of the brothers are moving to replace him at your side. Lucifer had disappeared with Diavolo, muttering something about paperwork. Mammon and a few lesser demons are playing cards in a game room across the hall. Levi - well, there was no keeping Levi at a formal function full of people for any length of time. Beel was….. yes, Beel was over there by the food tables, and Belphie was probably napping on a couch in the hallway.

You realize you can’t see Barbatos anywhere, either. Through it all, you’d catch glimpses of him, refilling food and clearing away glasses. Once, he caught your eye and gave you his gentlest, friendliest smile. A few hours later, he happened to be in exactly the right place to catch you as you and Mammon tripped over another demon’s tail while trying to waltz.

You would have welcomed his presence, but for the moment you were alone.

Wonderfully, gratefully, blessedly alone.

You gather the extra material of your outfit and in your head you see Cinderella hiking her ball gown to her knees to book down the stairs. Trying to remain unseen, you carefully open the terrace doors and slip out onto the balcony.

The crisp air outside slaps you in the face and you almost whimper in relief. Without stopping to think, you lean your back against the now-closed terrace doors and yank off your shoes.

A noise off to your left startles you, has you whipping your head to the side and clutching your shoes to your chest. If you have to put your shoes back on, you’re going to cry.

But it’s Barbatos.

He’s humming lightly along with the music inside as he passes by more slim banquet tables, gathering empty wine glasses onto a silver tray for washing. His hair catches the moonlight and for a moment you’re bewitched by him, by his gentle demeanor and quick efficiency.

It had been that demeanor and efficiency which allowed you to become friendly in the first place.

Devil’s sake, why are these stupid meetings always so long?!

You hadn’t been in the Devildom long, but somehow you’d had to sit through like seven Council meetings already. And this one was going on forever, but  you weren’t allowed in the room because it was a SECRET meeting and you’re not a Council Member.

And you’re also not allowed to just walk home because you could get eaten by a lesser demon.

So instead, you’re sitting on the floor in the hallway outside the council room. Trying to get comfortable and read your book, but your feet keep going numb any time you settle into a reading position. In a minute you’re going to just say hell with dignity and lay flat-out on the floor, tent your book over your face, and take a nap. You’re getting more and more annoyed when - 

“That certainly does not look comfortable, MC.”

You glance up from your book, and there’s Diavolo’s butler. His name had something to do with islands. Barbatos? Bora Bora? Aruba sounded wrong. You’d spoken to him a few times, but barely knew him at all so, as far as you’re concerned, he’s part of the problem. Right now, every demon is part of the problem.

“It’s not comfortable,” you return tartly. “But I’m stuck here until this meeting is over, since I’m not even allowed to walk back to the damn House on my own.”

The butler’s face clouds over, but all he does is excuse himself and enter the council room. For a second, you worry that you offended him with your rudeness, but then you decide you don’t care. He’s a demon. If he deals with this lot regularly, rudeness shouldn’t be something that bothers him all that much.

You settle into another position - back against the wall, legs straight out in front of you. It’ll relieve the pins and needles in your feet, but you just know your ass will be numb in twenty minutes….and suddenly Barbatos/Bora Bora is back in front of you, bent over at the hips and with an extended hand to help you rise. When you just gape at him, he smiles that small self-contained smile of his. 

“I’ve spoken with Lucifer, and I have leave to walk you back to the House myself, so long as I remain with you until one of them returns.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have way more interesting things to do than babysit me.”

His smile widens, his eyes sparkle just a little at your polite refusal. He doesn’t wait for the little lamb to stand on their own and, instead, grasps your hand with both of his and pulls you to your feet. 

“I insist. I have all the time in the world, after all.” 

Your own smile twists, just a little. You had no idea what he meant by that at the time, and it’s still a little creepy to think about.

The butler did, indeed, walk you back to the House of Lamentation. And he did, indeed, refuse to leave you alone once there. Every suggestion and argument you raised - because, really, you’re an adult and you can stay alone in a damn house - was met with that smile, that patience, and that absolutely immutable stubborn will.

But, hey, after passing on the information that one of the brothers would grab dinner from Hell’s Kitchen and bring it home, Barbatos insisted that the two of you make dessert.

You knew what he was doing. You’re not stupid. You’d barely been in the Devildom two weeks, and you knew no one trusted you on your own yet. You were to remain, both under guard and guarded against, until trust could be established.

And it fascinated you to watch Barbatos work. It wasn’t exactly a punishment to sit in the warm kitchen and watch a master doing his thing. Initially, he had insisted you help, but…..

“You are truly hopeless, aren’t you? And I thought the rumors of Solomon’s cooking were alarming.”

“Yeah, well, cooking’s boring.” When Barbatos shoots you a look, you shrug, refusing to back down. “If you like doing it, cool, works for you. I don’t. It’s just…. it’s FOOD. You spend two hours making it, and everyone will eat it in under fifteen minutes. Less if Beel is around.”

“I find it soothing,” the butler returns, amusement evident in his voice.

“Awesome for you. That’s not a dig, really, it’s great that you enjoy it. I like to knit; everyone has something. But I can’t do any of this stuff in the first place, and DEFINITELY not in silence. It’s too distracting.”

“And what music do you listen to when working?”

“Oh, uh, not music. Audiobooks.” You FEEL yourself blushing. “I’m a Lit major. Well, I was. I’ve probably been thrown out of college for non-attendance at this point.”

Barbatos smiles as his hands move effortlessly through the ingredients. “I believe Lord Diavolo has ensured that your education will continue as you desire after this year is over.” He hesitates just a moment, then continues, “I believe Satan has mentioned audiobooks in the past, but he has to go to the human world to get them. They are what they sound like?”

You hitch yourself up on a high kitchen stool. “Yeah, exactly. A recording of someone reading a book out loud. Usually it’s more of a dramatic reading, sometimes like a play with a bunch of people taking different parts. Not a Devildom thing, huh?”

“No, but I shall bring the idea up to Lord Diavolo. Perhaps we could interest more demons in the Royal Library this way. Humans enjoy them?”

“Until we had stuff like radio and TV, most entertainment was someone reading to the family while everyone did their own thing. They’re not as big now, but yeah, some humans like them.”

Hands still clutching your book from earlier, you watch Barbatos in silence for a few minutes, then blurt out before you can stop yourself, “Maybe you might like it? I feel bad that you’re doing all the cooking and I’m just sitting here.”

A brief expression - it might have been surprise - flits across the otherwise placid face before Barbatos murmurs an assent. And, a little nervously, you open your book and start over, reading aloud from the first page.

Of course, you had less than an hour of quiet time with Barbatos before the brothers brought their chaos home. Enough time for the cake to be in the oven and for the butler to make you a cup of tea to soothe your voice. But it was nowhere near enough time to enjoy the book, and the company. 

A few days later, an incoming text from your DDD surprised you.

ButlerBarb: MC, it is Barbatos. Might I request a favor?

MC: You need a taste-tester? I’m sure anything you’re making works, but I’m absolutely willing to sacrifice my life for some more of that cake.

ButlerBarb: I am flattered! And you are always welcome to sample my food. 

MC: Awesome. So what’s this favor?

ButlerBarb: I have been mulling over the book we shared the other night. I don’t like to start things and not finish them. Might I borrow the book when you are done with it? 

MC: Of course! I’m almost done myself, so I can get it to you soon.

ButlerBarb: I must warn you, I have little spare time for reading. It might take me some time to return it.

MC: That’s not a problem! 

MC: Actually…..why don’t I come by and read some more to you while you cook or whatever?

MC: You could get more of the story at a time and I’d have someone to discuss the book with.

MC: I miss having smart conversations about books. Satan’s probably my only option and he seems to think I’m really sus right now. Literary criticism doesn’t seem to rank high on anyone else’s list around here.

ButlerBarb: And what makes you think it’s high on mine?

ButlerBarb: Forgive me, I forget how curt jokes can look over text. I am uncertain what “sus” means, but I would like to listen to and discuss the book with you. Perhaps tomorrow, after your classes? Lucifer and Lord Diavolo have a meeting and I doubt Lucifer would object to walking you over.

ButlerBarb: And perhaps you could taste-test some pastries for me. I would never want to serve anything substandard, after all.**

And that had been that. As time went on and you began to trust the denizens of the House of Lamentation, to laugh and joke and flirt with them, you also made sure you spent a few afternoons a week reading to Barbatos and debating story arcs, narrative choices, and character motivations. You also discussed these things with Satan now, but Satan was more like one of your professors - he had very definite opinions, and they were usually the old, staid opinions that every professor over the age of 50 had. Truthfully, it was fun trying to inject queer theory, feminist theory, and all sorts of modern interpretations into the discussion. Anything to shake him up a little. He absorbed them and found them interesting, but he was more comfortable with interpretations that had centuries of influence.

Barbatos was different.

Barbatos wanted to know what you thought. He was curious about the human interpretation of the events of the novel, the human understanding of character. You weren’t sure if he was interested on his own behalf or Diavolo’s, but his questions made you think about your own opinions and thoughts of the novel - of storytelling in general - in ways you hadn’t before.

He would then contrast your opinion/human opinion with a general demon opinion, and then his opinion. And when he offered his own opinions…..hoo, boy, you would have paid good money to see him argue down some of your more uptight professors. He was a little scary, sometimes, and he often made you remember, sharply, that demons definitely had their own morals and values.

Like when he defended Iago and his jealous meddling in Othello’s life. (“If Othello had any strength of mind at all, he never would have fallen for it. It was a good test for him - a man in charge of armies should not allow himself to be undone by a single jealous rival.”)

Like his absolute judgement on most of the characters in Sense and Sensibility. (“Frankly, Willoughby would wind up being tortured for a few millennia for his deceit and vanity, the greedy branch of the Dashwood family - well, there is a very interesting way of dealing with the greedy down here….”)

Like his amusement in Medea’s vengeance. (“A strong woman who refuses to allow herself to be cowed or tamed. Oh, damned for sure, but an admirable woman nonetheless.”)

You loved the discussion and debate. He stretched your mind in ways you had never considered.  But what you loved more was how relaxed Barbatos become.

Inch by inch, he loosened up. When the food was cooking or the bread was rising, he began to sit with you at the kitchen island. Initially, he would sit ramrod-straight, his hands often cutting vegetables or decorating pie crusts. After a few more weeks, he would sit and listen to you read with his head resting on one hand, absently plucking grapes from their stem with the other. Eventually he simply stood, leaning on the table next to you as you discussed the latest chapter over a cup of tea. Watching the slow, cautious relaxation in his posture was almost as interesting to you as his literary opinions.

Discussions of literature became discussions of life. Of choices, and the consequences of them. You learned far more about his powers as he detailed one choice in one life and the ramifications across multiple timelines.

His matter-of-fact discussions on time, the nature of reality, and the links between them tortured you and kept you up at night. For the first time, you truly abandoned fiction in favor of books of science. And still you knew you’d never really get it.

But that brought up new topics - what other consequences might there be for the actions taken in the books you’d read together?

You remember one fascinating night, after dinner at Diavolo’s, you sat with Barbatos in the kitchen as he cleaned up. Instead of reading to him, you were both throwing out ideas about other potential action-consequence links from Middlemarch, a book neither of you had really enjoyed. The suggestions got more and more ludicrous, helped along by a bottle of wine left over from dinner, until you saw something you never thought you would ever see.

Barbatos was laughing.

Not snickering, not giving his small amused smile, not even his occasional sarcastic smirk. But full-on, eyes-sparkling, belly-laughing. Almost, but not quite, hooting with it. It was the kind of laughter you can’t really stop, the kind that becomes contagious. You start chuckling with him, then laughing yourself, and now you’re both laughing simply because you’re already laughing.

He tried, very hard, to stop when Lucifer entered the kitchen with some request or another. He stood quietly, hand over his abdomen as usual, but you could see his body quivering as he held in his laughter. He tried to ask what Lucifer wanted, but every syllable threatened a chuckle so he remained silent. Lucifer looked at the scene, both you and Barbatos struggling to appear calm, eyes and faces shiny with laughter, and he started to lecture you on taking up Barbatos’ time.

Without thinking about it (also kind of drunk, so there’s that) you leaned over to Barbatos, put your hand on his shoulder, and sing-songed in a stage-whisper, “Uh-oh. Daddy’s mad.”

And Barbatos broke. Both of you were gone again, laughing so hard that the only reason you were standing is that you were holding each other up.

You assume that Lucifer went and tattled to Diavolo, covering it up by “apologizing” for how you monopolize Barbatos’ time, but all that came of it was an open invitation from the Demon Prince to come over to the castle whenever you wanted, as Barbatos could use some more laughter in his life.

And so you did.

The more time you spent there, the more you realized not just how important Barbatos was to the running of the castle (and, thus, the Devildom), but also how nice he could be. He always had your favorite treat or tea on hand. You started accompanying him on many of his chores. In fact, you saved the best discussions for when you were both out of the kitchen. Nothing made weeding the garden or polishing the silver go quicker than a bright and easy discussion. 

One of your favorite times with him was riding the train to the market. He insisted on turning the tables and reading to you. It was one of the only times where no one could expect him to have other chores to do, so he read instead. 

Maybe because of how generous Barbatos always was with his time, you started bringing little things with you. Some cut flowers from the House’s garden. A single box of rare tea that you know Barbatos said was out of stock (of course, it wouldn’t occur to him to ask Levi to track it down online). And once, browsing a used bookstore with Satan, you found an ancient recipe book that you couldn’t wait to bring to the castle.

Each of your little gifts had been received with surprise, then a smile that seemed really genuine. The flowers had been arranged in a pretty glass vase and placed by the kitchen window seat, the tea immediately prepared for you both, and the recipe book declared a wonderful find — apparently, it had a recipe for Newt-Spiced Devilbread that he had never seen before.

You had beamed with pride over his pleasure in the book, and been touched when a small package containing Devilbread (modified, according to the note, for human tastes) was found on your desk in the House a few days later.

Everything about him made you feel appreciated. Which is why you were so happy to see him there, otherwise alone on a balcony.

Of all the people at the ball, it was the upright, too-correct butler that you weren’t afraid to have see you in bare feet. He’d seen you covered in dirt, covered in flour, and, on one occasion when he’d dropped by the house unexpectedly, in ratty pajamas and toe-spacers with a face mask on. That one was Asmo’s fault.

You want him to see you now. You want him to turn around and see you, to have a moment, any kind of moment, while you were dressed in couture at a ball. You want to be the reason he genuinely smiles, the reason he laughs. 

I mean, look at him! Decked out in demon form like the rest. But instead of being scary or intimidating, his demon form was….comfortable. It suited him, far more than the human-look. While his clothes still looked butler-ish, something about the ruffles and falling folds looked like a modern Victorian-style suit. It fit his fussiness without being uptight.

That was it. His demon form was still “correct” in the way a butler was correct, but it wasn’t stuffy or uptight, the way the normal butler outfit was.

You’d been around demons so long that wings, tails, and horns looked absolutely normal instead of strange. The delicate crown of black-bone horns, instead of looking demonic, looked like a regal frame for his face.

Something about him being buttoned-up from head to toe made you want to jump on top of him.

Okay, so you had a crush. No way were you going to ruin one of the best and most equal friendships you’d ever had by making a move on a thousands-year-old demon for fuck’s sake.

Even if just watching the surety of his hands made you weak sometimes. But you could handle it. It was fine. You were fine.

While you were watching him oh-so-efficiently stack glasses (you would be drooling right now, if you weren’t dehydrated from avoiding drinks in this outfit), he finally glances up and notices you.

“Ah, MC,” he says, and you take heart in his obvious pleasure in seeing you. “Taking a break?”

“It’s a little hot in there. And a little crowded.”

“And you tire of them following and leading you around,” Barbatos finishes with complete understanding. “If that is the case, come over here a moment where there are no windows; everyone can see you through those glass doors. It is only a matter of time before one of them comes looking for you.”

You get a split-second image of being railed against the wall there, just inches away from the glass doors, but stifle it instantly. “Sure,” is all you say as you walk over as casually as you can. “Want some help with the wine glass collection?”

The look he shoots you is amused and his voice is (you think you hope) full of affection. “As you are dangerous around glass at the best of times, and we don’t want broken glass and wine while you are both barefoot and in that outfit, I believe I’ll carry on on my own.”

An awkward silence fills the air. At least, it feels awkward on your end. The two of you had been silent together any number of times, but for some reason you can’t stand the silence right now. Just for something to say, you gesture at a small tray with assorted cookies.

“How did the pomegranate-jam alfajors turn out?”

“Excellent, and I thank you again for helping me make them. Would you like one?”

“Barbatos, we both know I did nothing more than hand you the jam and read another Sherlock Holmes story. Besides, I can’t risk this,” and you gesture to your clothes.

A mischievous look - not the first you’ve seen on his face - comes into Barbatos’ eyes. “Well, we must protect your sartorial savoir-faire. But we also can’t have you perishing from hunger, can we?”

He picks up a cookie and closes in on you. He’s not tall, not really, but he always seems tall when he stands so close to you. He holds the cookie at your mouth and cups the other hand under it, to catch crumbs.

“I can feed myself,” you mutter sullenly, ignoring the tingling of your body as his proximity. You don’t know why you’re resisting, he’s popped tidbits of all sorts of food into your mouth as you’ve cooked together in these past months. But this isn’t his well-lit kitchen, and it doesn’t feel like an innocent moment.

Barbatos merely lifts his brows a little, his smile widening imperceptibly. With a sigh, you take a bite of the cookie. “Happy?”

He brushes his thumb over your lips, dislodging a few loose crumbs. You know you’ve stopped breathing. “There.”

His face is so close to yours; you can feel his breath against your skin and see the swirling melding colors in his eyes. He still has his fingers on your face and you’re so close, so close….

You wait a moment. Every book you’ve ever read says that after a gesture like that, there’s a surprise kiss. It’s such a fairytale moment. But Barbatos just pops the other half of the cookie in his own mouth and turns away, returning to his work.

Confused, let down, you drift to the balcony railing to look out over the grounds. The last thing you want is for him to be able to read your face in the dim light. In fact, right now, you’re just wishing you were alone again. Now you’re in constricting clothing, barefoot, hungry, thirsty, somehow both warm AND cold, exhausted, and, thanks to that misleading cookie moment, bordering on depressed.

You glance at Barbatos quickly, but he’s just working as always. He’s always hard to read, and the flickering lights here make it even harder, but something about his face looks wrong. He’s not smiling. If anything, he looks - you want to say frustrated. Or angry. At what? At you?

“Barbatos?” You ask quietly. “Are you ok?”

He looks up sharply and you see another first. His hand fumbles on the glass he’s holding and it tumbles to the ground, shattering. You turn to help him gather the pieces and - 

“Stop,” he snaps out, and for the first time since you’ve known him he actually sounds mad at you. A moment later the wine glass is back on the table, whole and unbroken.

A few breaths, and his face softens. “I apologize. I had to be sharp or you might have kept moving and hurt yourself. Or have you forgotten your feet?”

You glance down at your bare feet, your shoes forgotten on the ground a few feet away. You were just about to walk over broken glass to get to him. Symbolic, much? 

“Barbatos….are you mad at me?”

“No, MC.” Why did his voice have to be so kind? It’s almost worse. “I’m angry with myself. A mistake I made earlier. You would think, with my knowledge of time, that finding a good moment….. But never mind.”

“Is it something I can help you with?”

He stays still a moment, as if thinking about it. “Perhaps. But it still requires the right moment, and I must find it myself first.”

“One of those demon things? A thousand years from now, maybe?” You’re trying to joke and you know it’s going to fall flat, but the uncomfortableness of this moment is getting to you.

“Oh, not that long. Soon, I’m sure.” His normal voice and face are back, and you envy his equanimity. 

You nod at his pronouncement. You’re never going to argue with him about time, that’s just a losing battle. There’s also no way to get something out of him if he doesn’t want to talk about it. If he needs your help, you hope you’re friends enough that he’ll ask. Instead, you just turn back to the garden view. 

The silence stretches out, and you wonder why Barbatos is still out here. The glasses are on the tray. The cookies and cakes have been refreshed. And now that you feel awkward, uncomfortable, and rejected, the desire to be alone is even stronger.

“MC, now it is my turn,” you hear from behind you. “Are you ok?”

You just nod. Time to evade. “Tired. It’s a late night for me. It’s beautiful here though,” you continue bravely, trying to get back on the right foot. “I love the gardens around here. I kind of wish I could see them in sunlight, though.”

A short laugh from Barbatos. “As that is unlikely to happen, I’ll have to show you around the grounds the next time there is a full moon and a cloudless night. There are many areas that are fully lit. Be prepared for a walk, though, the grounds are extensive.”

“Do you ever get used to it?” you ask suddenly. You’d only half been listening, instead you were thinking about the depth of the grounds, the amount of space here.

“Get used to what?”

“This,” you say, sweeping your arm to encompass everything around you. “This place, the castle, the grounds, this…..this luxury and beauty and, and grandeur.”

A moment passes and you feel him step up to the balcony railing on your left. The crispness of the air seems to fade as the demon comes to stand close to you. You want to step away, but you’re afraid he would misinterpret the movement, and maybe even be hurt. Quietly, as if revealing something, he says, “I have, I think, gotten used to it. Mostly. What’s the human expression? Not seeing the forest for the trees? It is difficult to see beauty and grandeur when you’re the one responsible for keeping it polished and clean. The number of details, the sheer magnitude of things to do…..it keeps your eyes focused only on what’s in front of you.”

But now his eyes rove over the grounds, taking in the garden and its sparkling lights, the endless expanse of sky and stars. His smile was, as always, slight, but there was satisfaction in his eyes. “Sometimes, though, when someone reminds me….it is a wonderful thing to allow myself to be swept away by it all again. It is beautiful. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

There was a moment of silence  - and it felt like comfortable silence again - as the two of you survey the garden, so dark that the glittering fairy lights become almost indistinguishable from the night sky itself.

“But then,” Barbatos says, so softly his voice was almost a whisper, “you constantly remind me to look at things in new ways. And when you do, I always find something beautiful or interesting. Often both.”

His gloved hand reaches out and covers yours, where you had it on the balcony railing. You straighten and turn your eyes to him - the two of you had touched before, but never so deliberately. His hands over yours as he attempted to help you roll out pastry dough, holding each other up while laughing, and even an ill-advised flour war that would have been manageable had Diavolo not stepped into the kitchen and insisted on joining. For a moment, the pressure on your hand subsides, and you imagine you’ll simply have to power through the new awkwardness with a joke, but instead you find your hand suddenly clasped even more tightly in his.

“I can see everything, if I choose. The past, the present, the future. Any past, present, or future. So how is it that you always surprise me?”

“I’m sorry,” you say automatically.

He turns you suddenly and for one of the first times you truly read surprise on his face. “Don’t apologize!” It comes out stern and sharp and his voice immediately softens. “It has been….centuries, I think, since I was surprised at all. And I have never met someone by whom I was so constantly surprised. I….appreciate it.”

There’s something in his eyes, and you try desperately not to read too much into it. You’ve been disappointed once tonight already. Your own heart will break if you’re wrong. So you smile and joke instead. “Really? Lord Diavolo surprises me almost every day. They all do.”

Another smile. “The Young Master is impulsive, that is true. But I have served him for millennia. I have known all of them for thousands of years. And while I cannot predict everything they will do, even the strangest choices are no longer surprising.”

“So maybe I’m only surprising because you don’t know me well yet. Because I’m new here, or because I’m human.”

“I have known a lot of humans.” His gaze holds yours steadily and that word - bewitching - comes back to you again. “MC, you came here against your will and the first thing you did is begin to heal those brothers in there. Heal their wounds and heal their bonds. Who could have predicted that? How is that not surprising?”

“But that’s just - I mean - I just wanted to help?”

“It is help they needed. I hear from the Young Master that Mammon is passing most of his classes, albeit barely. Satan doesn’t rage as he did. Leviathan attended a party, and stayed for almost two hours!” A chuckle escapes him. “You have improved their lives immeasurably.”

“Yeah, well -“

“You have also improved my life. Immeasurably.”

The first instinct is denial, to brush it off. Laugh it off. But his dark eyes are still holding yours and you realize, belatedly, that at some point he captured both of your hands in his. This isn’t a moment to brush off. So if he’s being serious and honest, so will you. You drop your eyes, though, because serious and honest also makes you awkward and hesitant.

“And you’ve improved mine. More than I can say.”

He takes a breath, and a small step forward. “I think….the most surprising thing about you is how I feel. I have lived longer than I can truly count, and I had thought I had seen and experienced and felt everything. But I had never loved - until you. I had never even known that I hadn’t loved. And I hadn’t ever feared how empty my life would feel without it. It was truly a surprise to realize how little I knew myself.”  One of his hands leaves its hold on yours and you feel the soft leather of his gloves as his fingers wrap gently around your chin. A tiny bit of pressure, and he lifts your head so you can look eye to eye again. “Do you think, MC, you could come to love me in return?”

His face is calm, his eyes steady on yours. So calm and steady, just like his voice, that you could almost think you were just discussing the weather. If it were anyone else, you would suspect a prank. But - and it’s a strange thing to notice - his tail is swishing, just a little. If you’ve learned anything about living with demons, it’s that their wings and tails express what their faces don’t. And that little back-and-forth swish, at least in Satan or Levi, would be agitation, uncertainty. 

You feel a ghost of a smile cross your face. “Don’t you already know my answer, Mr. Time Travel?”

“I didn’t look. That would be cheating. Besides….I’d rather you surprise me.”

And so you lean forward and up, Cinderella in borrowed finery, barefoot at the ball, and kiss your prince softly on the lips. 

“I fell in love with you a long time ago,” you murmur as you pull back just a little. “And it didn’t surprise me at all.” You look into his eyes, dark and sparkling like the garden. “Is this the moment you needed to find?”

He only smiles and leans down to kiss you again, and you feel his hands on the small of your back, pulling you closer. You’re pretty sure you feel the end of his tail wrap around one of your ankles, but you’re more interested in pressing against his chest, kissing him while the music from the ball fades from your hearing and the dirty wine glasses sit forgotten on their tray.

Suddenly, a sound makes you jump. Fireworks, the traditional end to a Devildom ball, erupt over the garden and  lake. The demons inside the ballroom come out to watch them, jostling against you and Barbatos. You find yourself carefully, subtly guarded from them by his body. And instead of slipping off into the crowd as he normally would, Barbatos turns you to watch the fireworks, wrapping his arms around you from behind.

You realize, awestruck, after a moment of the display, that the fireworks, all of them, were variations on your favorite colors combined with Barbatos’ signature teal. Tilting your head slightly, you see him smile that little smile as he meets your eyes.

“Surprise,” he murmurs into your ear, and presses a soft kiss against your hair before resting his head against yours to watch the show.

[apoemaday]

To This Day

by Shane Koyczan

When I was a kid I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing I thought they were both pork chops and because my grandmother thought it was cute and because they were my favourite she let me keep doing it

not really a big deal

one day before I realized fat kids are not designed to climb trees I fell out of a tree and bruised the right side of my body

I didn’t want to tell my grandmother about it because I was afraid I’d get in trouble for playing somewhere that I shouldn’t have been

a few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise and I got sent to the principal’s office from there I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie as far as I was concerned life was pretty good I told her “whenever I’m sad my grandmother gives me karate chops”

this led to a full scale investigation and I was removed from the house for three days until they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises

news of this silly little story quickly spread through the school and I earned my first nickname

pork chop

to this day I hate pork chops

I’m not the only kid who grew up this way surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme about sticks and stones as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called and we got called them all so we grew up believing no one would ever fall in love with us that we’d be lonely forever that we’d never meet someone to make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed so broken heart strings bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing don’t tell me that hurts less than a broken bone that an ingrown life is something surgeons can cut away that there’s no way for it to metastasize

it does

she was eight years old our first day of grade three when she got called ugly we both got moved to the back of the class so we would stop get bombarded by spit balls but the school halls were a battleground where we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day we used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse outside we’d have to rehearse running away or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there in grade five they taped a sign to her desk that read beware of dog

to this day despite a loving husband she doesn’t think she’s beautiful because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half of her face kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase but couldn’t quite get the job done and they’ll never understand that she’s raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word mom because they see her heart before they see her skin that she’s only ever always been amazing

he was a broken branch grafted onto a different family tree adopted but not because his parents opted for a different destiny he was three when he became a mixed drink of one part left alone and two parts tragedy started therapy in 8th grade had a personality made up of tests and pills lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs four fifths suicidal a tidal wave of anti depressants and an adolescence of being called popper one part because of the pills and ninety nine parts because of the cruelty he tried to kill himself in grade ten when a kid who still had his mom and dad had the audacity to tell him “get over it” as if depression is something that can be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit

to this day he is a stick on TNT lit from both ends could describe to you in detail the way the sky bends in the moments before it’s about to fall and despite an army of friends who all call him an inspiration he remains a conversation piece between people who can’t understand sometimes becoming drug free has less to do with addiction and more to do with sanity

we weren’t the only kids who grew up this way to this day kids are still being called names the classics were hey stupid hey spaz seems like each school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year and if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear do they make a sound? are they just the background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say things like kids can be cruel? every school was a big top circus tent and the pecking order went from acrobats to lion tamers from clowns to carnies all of these were miles ahead of who we were we were freaks lobster claw boys and bearded ladies oddities juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal but at night while the others slept we kept walking the tightrope it was practice and yeah some of us fell

but I want to tell them that all of this shit is just debris leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought we used to be and if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself get a better mirror look a little closer stare a little longer because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit you built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself you signed it “they were wrong” because maybe you didn’t belong to a group or a click maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground if everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it you have to believe that they were wrong

they have to be wrong

why else would we still be here? we grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them we stem from a root planted in the belief that we are not what we were called we are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting empty on a highway and if in some way we are don’t worry we only got out to walk and get gas we are graduating members from the class of fuck off we made it not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me

of course they did

but our lives will only ever always continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain

[enemy-to-the-state]

Things I’m Starting to Question About Myself:

- I’m obsessive about time, being on time, all the time. When I was in the fifth grade, my mother was a teacher who’s classroom was right across the hall from my teacher’s classroom, meaning it was impossible for me to ever be late. However, without fail, every morning, I would stand at my mom’s classroom door, with my backpack on my shoulders, 20 minutes ahead of the bell, watching the clock. I needed to be On Time, no earlier, no later.

At first, my mother thought this was cute, but when it was a repeated action, she commented on how odd and weird it was, “You’re going to be on time no matter what, Ash; you don’t need to stand at the door.” I tried to listen, tried to Not wait at the door, but it made me feel so uncomfortable and wrong that I would run to the door with my backpack anyways, vibrating and intensely looking at the clock.

When I start getting closer to the time I need to leave to go somewhere, I get increasingly agitated. My dad meanders slowly. “Dad, please, it’s time to go.” I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet by the front door. He frowns, “C’mon, Ash, you’re gonna be on time, there’s no need for that kind of passive aggressive behavior.” Except, I wasn’t trying to be rude or passive aggressive, I’m just so nervous. I need to be on time.

I caught pink eye once, since I hadn’t known to address how unwell I was feeling beforehand, my father only found out that morning. I made my sister late for school. I felt so guilty that I wasn’t even focused on myself being sick. I kept thinking all day “God, I’m so horrible. I made her late. I made her late. I made her late.” My sister doesn’t even remember this, yet I can’t get it out of my head.

I was only late for school once, In 8th grade. It wasn’t my fault and was excused immediately, but I started to cry as soon as I got to my first period classroom, shaking. My teacher had no idea what to do, so she sent me out to the hall to cry it out.

- I had a deep fascination for shipwrecks, but specifically the Titanic.

When I was in the third grade, I read one 3rd grade reading level book on the Titanic and I was hooked. I wanted to no everything about it. I needed to know. How many people died? When exactly did it sink? What was found? What are those rust stalagtites that cling on to the ship underwater now? How deep is the Mariana Trench? Absolutely everything.

I read every book I could find about the Titanic, even books far above my reading level. I would read read read read read. My parents were like, “Awwww our little reading genius,” but I didn’t really care or recognize the reading level, I just cared about the Titanic.

When a program would come on about the Titanic or any shipwreck, I’d be like “No no no leave this on!” I needed to see it. More information was welcome.

I found a book in a drawer at my grandparents house about the Titanic. I read it all night.

When the topic was introduced I would start vibrating in joy, and info dump. “Ash, I didn’t need to know all of that.” ....”.....Ah okay, sorry.”

Even today, when I see something like Drain The Oceans or some Titanic Documentary, I’m like “I’m watching this Right Now.”

- I’m “careless”, and by that I mean that I’ve been labeled as “clumsy”.

I’m prone to dropping things,or having things slip from my grasp. People get mad, “You need to learn to be more careful.” But I’m trying. I’m watching my hands, looking where I’m going, and I still fuck up somehow.

I don’t know how much pressure to apply to the fridge’s filtered water dispenser. I grab a glass and push, but it was too much pressure because the glass slips, and water gets all over the floor. It’s been the same refrigerator for years.

I suck at sports that require any sort of hand-eye-coordination. Basketball? I sprained my finger because the ball bounced back at me off the rim. Football? I throw, but it goes way off mark. It’s the same for frisbee, volleyball, and even speedball. Sports that don’t require that, like skiing, hiking, kayaking, backpacking, or biking are all things I excel at.

- When I get nervous or excited I start getting “bouncy”

Like I mentioned in the time segment, I bounce on the balls of my feet when agitated. When i’m excited, I need to make some kind of motion like finger flicking, foot and/or leg bouncing.

I make a lot of unnecessary lip movements too, although I desperately try to hide that one in public (so the masks are kind of nice right now i guess) because I’ve been told it looks very weird.

- Eye contact is an issue.

I can make eye contact with people, but it is THE absolute worst. I hate it. It makes me feel wrong, scared, agitated, and a little bit threatened. Usually I stop just short of eye contact for people so they think I’m looking at them, but I can semi-get away with looking at their mouth or nose.

- There are certain textures I can’t deal with. I touch it, or even think about touching it, and I immediately need to touch something else more agreeable.

Examples include: rubber (why I hate to wear crocs), any socks tbh I usually go barefoot, styrofoam, chalkboard.

Touching or thinking about touching those things makes me shake because I’m uncomfortable, and I need to go touch like....sandpaper or something.

- Noises

It’s difficult to say, but it’s very very specific sounds and volumes that bother me.

Similarly to touch, I also hate the sound of styrofoam. It grates on my nerves. My sister thinks it’s sooooooooo funny that I’m bothered by the sound, so when she has styrofoam she’ll start squeaking it together just to bother me. I’m not amused.

My dad didn’t understand it when he was walking on metal with crocs, and it made this horrible high-pitched squeal, that I was so unnerved that it caused me physical pain. I had to put my hands over my ears to block it out. He says I was overreacting.

My mom had the volume on her laptop up. I couldn’t even stay in the same room.

There are a lot of sounds you don’t really think about. The electrical hum of your computer, the fish tank slightly bubbling, a tree branch hitting the side of the house softly. You think it’s quiet, but it’s not.

Anyways, I have no idea if this means anything. I’m still trying to figure myself out.

[wevelocityteampresents-blog]

Animal Adventure X Episode 8: Get Ready To Get Schooled! (SCRIPT)

It’s been a while since I posted any Animal Adventure related content. But luckily, I found something that’s pretty interesting. A script for the 8th episode of Animal Adventure X! (At least, the script for the English dub.)

The script ends pretty abruptly nearly halfway through. But what we have so far is good enough to give us some insight as to how the episode itself would’ve played out. (Along with giving us a glimpse into what the Animal Adventure X TV series is like.)

With all that said, let’s dive in!

(Strikethrough text reflects the pieces of dialogue that were cut out.)

                                             ANIMAL ADVENTURE X

Episode 8: Get Ready To Get Schooled!

Narrator: Another day begins in the Aeros region. As our heroes--

(The camera pans to Velocity, Alex, and Amy who are still sleeping)

Narrator: Still sleeping...

(Chi bursts through the door. Cheery as ever.)

Chi: Wake up guys, it’s time to start the show!

(The others ignore her and continue sleeping)

Chi: I said... WAKE UP!!!

Velocity: What did you do that for?

Alex: Yeah sis, you I was having a great dream about a rice ball until you showed up.

Chi: Well, I’m sorry that I woke you up from your “PERFECT DREAM”. Besides, you’ve got three have a serious day of Stamp collecting ahead of you.

Amy: That’s right!

Velocity: We still gotta get the 3rd Aeros League Stamp!

(The three of them run oAfter eating their breakfast, Velocity, Alex, and Amy run off into New Leaf Town wh unaware that they’re being watched by Dr. Dogman and Britty.) who are watching the trio from a nearby tree.)

Britty: Well, whatever are they doing now?

Dogman: Looks like those fools are headed for the town. Probably for another Stamp.

Britty: Which should be the perfect time for an ambush!

Dogman: Precisely! Now let’s follow them and see find what out what else they’re up too!

Both: Huzzah!!

(Before setting out to follow Velocity and friends, both their stomachs start to grumble.)

Dr. Dogman: After we get something to eat...

Britty: Nya...

(The next scene switches back to Velocity, Alex, and Amy as they continue to walk around the Town)

Alex: Says here that the next Stamp tent should be in Neon City.* [EMPIRE CITY]

Velocity: Great! That means th should get me even closer to the Aeros Leagues!

Amy: Don’t forget about us!

Alex: Yeah Velocity, do you even have some type of strategy to take on Bijou?

Velocity(Baffled): Bijou?

Alex: Says here that she’s supposed to be the Stamp Holder there. The guidebook also says that she uses lightning fast attacks against her foes.

Velocity: Lightning fast? Pssh, I can take her on anyday.

Amy: Well Your missing the point Velocity. Georgi and Colette Chi might have been easy, but Bijou is a whole nother 10 times different.

(Velocity soon understands how strong Bijou is)

Velocity: I guess you’re right... But, what can I do in order to prepare for Bijou?

Amy: Well--

???: Are you three talking about Stamp Holders?

Velocity: Yeah. L- Wait a sec, who said that?

???: I did!

(Suddenly, a man wearing a purple uniform approches the duo)

Alex: Who are you?

Piggl

Piggleston: Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Piggleston and I run the Piggleston Battle Academy here in New Leaf Town!

Alex: Battle Academy?

Of course

Piggleston: In my The Battle Academy is a special school where students can learn how to take on Stamp Holders with using by using the best battle strategies that there are!

Piggleston: And the best part, is I’m that I’m the Headmaster!

(Piggleston begins to twri twirl around in a purple leotard while dancinc laughing.)

Velocity: Uh, does that mean you’re also one of the teachers there?

Piggleston: Yep!

Amy: That’s great!

(Pats Velocity and Alex’s backs) before firmly p

My name’s Amy and, me and my friends here could really learn a thing or two from you.

Piggleston: Does that mean you’re all interested into enrolling into my academy?

Amy: Of course! We’d be glad to join.

Piggleston: Wonderful!

(Piggleston : continues to dance while Velocity and Alex begin to get angry at Amy)

Velocity: What was that all about?

Amy: You should be thanking I don’t know why you two are angry at me, you should be thanking me for what I just did back there.

Alex: I guess you’re right...

Velocity: Those lessons could help out us come up with a way to beat Bijou.

Alex: So where is your Battle Academy Piggleston?

Piggleston: It’s right near Route 1! Follow me!

(The trio then follows Piggleston to his Battle Academy. Mea While that’s happening, Dogman and Britty pop out of a nearby bush.)

Dogman (Baffled): Battle Academy?

Britty: Looks like the twerps off to hit the books again.

Dogman: Figured. That feline pest is more suited for school higher grades

Britty: rather than Stamps.

Britty: You know, you could probably learn a thing or two from that same school Dogman head, that way, you won’t fail anymore!

Dogman (Ticked off): I’d watch my mouth if I were you. I can disassemble you anytime I want.

Britty: *sigh* Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a robot...

(The camera cuts to Velocity, Alex, Amy, and Piggleston who are all on their way to the Battle Academy)

Piggleston:

Amy I think I’m starting regret to regret my decision...

Alex: Come on Amy, this was YOUR idea.

Velocity: Yeah! We’re not

Velocity (Continued): going anywhere until we learn a bit about Stamp Holders Bijou.

Piggleston: Ah, here we are!

(Piggleston runs off in front of the school) Feast your eyes on the Battle Academy!

Velocity, Alex, and Amy: Woah!

(The trio is amazed by the scope of the Battle Academy)

Velocity: This place is huge.

Alex: I wonder how much money went into making this school.

Piggleston: About 500′000′000 dollars. But enough about that, please come in!

(The four enter the Battle Academy)

SO, you three want to know how to beat Bijou right?

Velocity: That’s kind of the whole reason why we came here.

Piggleston: Well lucky for you, there’s a class about Bijou right down the hall! Now, let’s get going!

(Piggleston then pushes Velocity, Alex, and Amy into the classroom while that’s happening, Dogman and Britty follow them inside)

Dogman: This place is huge!

Britty: I bet’cha the Headmasters loaded.

He’s probably swimming through a pool filled with his money as we speak.

Dogman: If he’s that rich then, he must have something valuable.

Britty: And whereever we  find something valuable, we take it!

Dogman: Exactly!

(The camera then cuts to Velocity, Alex, and Amy. Who are escorted into a by Piggleston into a classroom)

Velocity: This classroom is huge!

Alex: I guess that’s what happens when you have 500′000′000 dollars.

Piggleston: Alright, you three can take a closer seat over there while I begin the lesson.

(Piggleston clears his throat before greeting the class)

Piggleston: Good Morning class!

Class: Good Morning Mr. Piggleston!

Piggleston: Today, we’re going to learn about Stamp Holders. Now before we get started, I would like to introduce you to our temporary students for today. Please give a warm welcome for Velocity, Alex, and Amy!

(The entire class turns around to greet the trio)

Class: Hello, welcome to the Battle Academy!

Amy: Wow, the students here are so lively.

Alex: They really must enjoy being here.

Piggleston: Now that that’s out of the way, it’s Time to start today’s lesson! Today, we are going to clearn about Stamp Holders. As many of you may know, Stamp Holders are people who challenge anyone who steps into their Stamp Tents in order for to test their opponent’s strength. Once they have been defeated in a battle, the challenger is awarded with a Stamp! Unlike your average Stamps, these Stamps are gi special as they give you access to are proof of your victory against the Stamp the various Stamp Holders across the region. an One example is the Basic Stamp which is given out by Chi, who is the Stamp Holder of our very own New Leaf Town.

Alex: That’s my sister!

Piggleston: Now we will discuss on how to beat a Stamp Holder. Our subject for today will be Bijou from Empire City.

Velocity: Finally time to learn something about Bijou.

Piggleston: Bijou is known for her lightning fast agility and dazzling attacks, which could do be disasterous if you’re not quick enough.

Student 1: So, what should you do?

Piggleston: Good question Kenta! The first thing you need to do is to watch her moves so you can se what she will come up with next. The next thing you should do is to counter against her with a Protective attack or by using a Ground technique technique which should the latter should come in handy i when Bijou comes in for a close range attack.

Student 2: What happens if you defeat her?

Piggleston: I was just about to get to that Chip! If you remember what y I have taught you today and successfully defeat Bijou, then you will be rewarded with the Pop Star Stamp!

(The class is then impressed by a picture of the Pop Star Stamp)

Velocity: So that’s the STamp I’m aiming for.

Alex: Yep! Says so right here in the guidebook.

Piggleston: Now before we end today’s lesson, I want all of you to take a 2 page quiz on what you learned today.

(Velocity, Alex, and Amy are Velocity: What, a quiz?

Alex: Nobody said anything about a test!

(Piggleston co walks over to the trio to ensure them)

Piggleston: You don’t have three d Relax Alex. You three aren’t a part of this school which means, that you don’t have to take the quiz.

Amy: *sigh* That’s a relief...

Piggleston: I’d As much as I would love to guide you three around the school, I have to stay here in the classroom and take care of the class. But because of your interest in this is the Battle Academy, I’ll assign two of my students to give you a tour. Ricky? Momo? Could I please have a minute of your time?

(Two children get up from their seats and s walk over to Piggleston)

Piggleston: Velocity, Alex, Amy, allow me to introduce you to Ricky and Momo.

(Momo a callico cat that wore a white dress and a pink skirt along with a red bow on the back of her head, begins to greet the trio)

Momo: Nice to meet you!

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

And, THAT’S the whole script. Like I said earlier, the script ends pretty abruptly. Ending right after Momo introduces herself to the main trio. (We don’t even get any dialogue for Ricky.)

I remember reading this a few years back and remembering that there was more content written. With Velocity and the gang hearing a loud blast while eating dinner. (Which probably would’ve lead to the big confrontation between the heroes and Dogman for the episode.)

From a critic’s point of view, this episode does a good job at elaborating more on how the battles in this show work alongside the Stamp challenge. There’s some pretty funny lines in here too! (I find Piggleston to be the funniest out of most of the characters in this episode.) The dynamic between Velocity, Alex, and Amy is pretty solid with each of them retaining their personalities from the video games while also fitting in some new ones that make them play off of each other very nicely.

Hopefully, the full script (or better yet, the ACTUAL episode.) is out there somewhere and someone can finish up what I never got to write.

(I should get going now. It took me nearly an hour to write this...)

[lalka-laski]

What color hair did your first crush have? Dark brown

What type of shoes do you find the most comfortable? Barefoot is the way to be! But if I absolutely have to wear shoes, I opt for flip flops.

Are you male or female? Female

Do you feel your personality matches your heritage? This is an interesting question! Kudos to you for asking probably the most thought-provoking question I've ever seen in a survey. I'm Northern Irish and Polish, both notably kind of stoic people. But I'm a rolling ball of emotions and FEELINGS every second of the day so no, I guess on the surface I don't embody the personality of my cultures.

If you could design your own mug, what would you put on it? I have an assortment of super cool Bowie mugs that I don't think I could ever top with my own design

What’s one item on your wish list? Short term: Finish decorating my living room Long term: Write a book

What is the best beach you’ve been to? I love BEACHES and I love the water- be it lake, river, ocean. I always feel at peace.

What is one thing you physically can’t do? A split

Do you know a lot of people who have the same middle name as you? Yes. Funnily enough I met a girl today named "Catherine Elizabeth" which is my name flip flopped.

Do you like your middle name? I love it. I love the flow of my full name. It's regal and elegant. (If only I was too, ha)

Would you ever audition for American Idol? No. Not only because I don't have vocal chops, but because those shows are a sham. Who would you most like to have a sit-down conversation with? Well they say never meet your heroes but dammit if I wouldn't love to just chat with David Bowie for a little bit...

What book are you currently reading? We are the Brennans by an author I can't remember. And don't wish to remember because the book is D-R-Y.

What song are you listening to? None, just the sound of my fan.

Have you ever been to a funeral? Yes

If you live alone, do you leave the bathroom door open? I don’t live alone but when I did, yes. I still do it when Glenn's not home.

Do you wish you could go camping more? Honestly kind of. I don't consider myself outdoorsy but maybe that's because I never give myself the CHANCE to be? The few times I've been camping were always a blast and I think I'd benefit from some more time in nature.

Have you ever visited your state’s capitol building? Negative

Have you ever visited your nation’s capitol building? Yep. The 8th grade DC trip is kind of a rite of passage for Northeast kids.

Name 3 cities you’d like to visit again. Toronto, Oshawa (to vist my family), New Orleans

Name 3 places you’d like to visit that you’ve never been. Iceland, Poland, Northern Ireland

Elephants or cats? Uhh... in what scenario?

Do you have any regrets? No. I mean yeah, there's mistakes that still haunt me at night but if given the chance, I wouldn't undo any of them.

Who was the last person that said something that warmed your heart? Glenn

Do/did you have a favorite seat in church? I don't attend church

What is your favorite park? We have a lot of beautiful parks in the area so it's hard to choose!

Do you miss having a roommate, if applicable? I suppose Glenn is technically my roommate?

Your first year of college, what were the people across the hall from u named? I actually lived across from the bathrooms, so.

Have you ever felt an earthquake? Actually yes. We didn't realize 'till after that's what we felt and damn was that weird.

Do you have to take pain medicine regularly? Nope, thankfully.

What were the best years of your life? These ones right here

Have you made any huge mistakes? Well who hasn't?

Do you have any regrets that haunt you currently? Didn't we just go over this

Was it warm out today? It was one of the cooler days we've had recently, which was very pleasant! Still warm, but comfortable.

What is the next holiday you will celebrate? My birthday!

Do you own a lot of shoes? Hardly

Do you believe anyone is asexual? Of course. That's not up for debate and certainly not for me to dictate.

Do you chew gum regularly? I've never been a gum chewer but lately I've picked up the habit

What color socks are you wearing? None. I never wear any if I can help it.

What was the last flavor of tea that you drank? Peppermint

Is there a certain person that makes you feel hurt every time you see them? Not anymore. Time heals!

Were you abused? What a question

Have you ever missed a deadline? Mhm

Where did you go on your first train ride? Toronto if I'm not mistaken

…first plane ride? Phoenix, Arizona.

Can you tell Mary-Kate and Ashley apart in pictures? No, but I CAN tell Tia & Tamera apart. That should count for something, right?

Do you have natural blonde highlights? Well I'm naturally blonde all over so yeah, I guess.

What color was the last nail polish you used? Teal-ish

What electronics are you using right now? My phone & my Chromebook

When someone hurts you, do you start to feel jealous of them? Uh what?

Do you like to sleep with the windows open? I love it until god-forsaken birds wake me up with their bullshit in the morning

List all the people you’ve met whose name started with a Y. No thank you

What color was your first boom box? I remember having a pink and green one. I assume it was my first?

Do you do all the chores yourself? Hell no, we split them equally

Do you find it hard to keep up with everything? LOL, story of my life baby

[childtraumaloss]

When I was a kid

I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing

I thought they were both pork chops

My grandmother thought it was cute

So she let me keep doing it

Because you know, they were my favorite

It wasn't a big deal

Until I was seven years old

And a bad fall caused me to bruise my upper arm and shoulder rather severely

I didn't wana tell my grandmother what happened

Because I was afraid I would get in trouble

Because I was playing somewhere I shouldn't have been

One day in gym class the teacher notices the bruise

And I was sent to the principals office

Not long after that I ended up in another small room

With a really nice lady who asked me all sorts of questions about my life at home

I saw no reason to lie

It was pretty good as fas as i was concerned

So I told her, whenever I'm sad my grandmother gives me karate chops

This lead to a full scale investigation

And I was removed from my grandparents house for three days

And then returned when they finally asked me how I got the bruises

News of this silly little story eventually spread through the school

And when the students finally caught wind of it

I earned my first name

Pork Chop

To this day I fucking hate pork chops

I'm not the only kid

Who grew up this way

Surrounded by people who used to say

That rhyme about sticks and stones

As if broken bones

Hurt more than the names we got called

And we got called them all

So we grew up believing no one

Would ever fall in love with us

That we'd be lonely forever

That we'd never meet someone

To make us feel like the sun

Was something they built for us

In their tool shed

So broken heart strings bled the blues

As we tried to empty ourselves

So we would feel nothing

Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone

That an ingrown life

Is something surgeons can cut away

That there's no way for it to metastasize

It does

She was eight years old

Our first day of grade three

When she got called ugly

We both got moved to the back of the class

So we would stop getting bombarded by spit balls

But the school halls were a battleground

We found ourselves outnumbered day after day

We used to stay inside for recess

Because outside was worse

Outside we'd have to rehearse running away

Or learn to stay still like statues giving no clues that we were there

In grade five they taped a sign to the front of her desk

That read

"Beware Of Dog"

To this day despite a loving husband

She doesn't think she's beautiful

Because of a birthmark

That takes up a little less than half of her face

Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer

That someone tried to erase

But couldn't quite get the job done

And they'll never understand

That she's raising two kids

Whose definition of beauty

Begins with the word mom

Because they see her heart

Before they see her skin

Because she's only ever always been amazing

He

Was a broken branch

Grafted onto a different family tree

Adopted

But not because his parents opted for a different destiny

He was three when he became a mixed drink

Of one part left alone

And two parts tragedy

Started therapy in 8th grade

Had a personality made up of tests and pills

Lived like the uphills were mountains

And the downhills were cliffs

Four fifths suicidal

A tidal wave of anti depressants

And an adolescence of being called popper

One part because of the pills

And ninety nine parts because of the cruelty

He tried to kill himself in grade ten

When a kid who could still go home to mom and dad

Had the audacity to tell him "get over it"

As if depression is something that can be remedied

By any of the contents found in a first aid kit

To this day he is a stick of TNT lift from both ends

Could describe you in detail the way the sky bends

In the moments before it's about to fall

And despite an army of friends

Who all call him an inspiration

He remains a conversation piece between people

Who can't understand

That sometimes becoming drug free

Has less to do with addiction

And more to do with sanity

We weren't the only kids who grew up this way

To this day kids are still being called names

The classics were

"Hey stupid"

"Hey spaz"

Seems like every school has an arsenal of names

Getting updated every year

And if a kid breaks in a school

And no one around chooses to hear

Do they make a sound?

Are they just the background noise

Of a soundtrack stuck on repeat

When people say things like

Kids can be cruel?

Every school was a big top circus tent

And the pecking order went

From acrobats to lion tamers

From clowns to carnies

All of these were miles ahead of who we were

We were freaks

Lobster claw boys and bearded ladies

Oddities

Juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire spin the bottle

Trying to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal

But at night

While the others slept

We kept walking the tightrope

It was practice

And yeah

Some of us fell

But I wanna tell them

That all of this

Is just debris

Leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things we thought

We used to be

And if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself

Get a better mirror

Look a little closer

Stare a little longer

Because there's something inside you

That made you keep trying

Despite everyone who told you to quit

You built a cast around your broken heart

And signed it yourself

You signed it

"They were wrong"

Because maybe you didn't belong to a group or a click

Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything

Maybe you used to bring bruises and broken teeth

To show and tell but never told

Because how can you hold your ground

If everyone around you wants to better you beneath it

You have to believe that they were wrong

They have to be wrong

Why else we'd still be here?

We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog

Because we see ourselves in them

We stem from a root planted in the belief

That we are not what we were called

We are not abandoned cars stalled out and Sitting empty on some highway

And if in some way we are

Don't worry

We only got out to walk and get gas

We are graduating members from the class of

We made it

Not the faded echoes of voices crying out

Names will never hurt me

Of course

They did

But our lives will only ever always

Continue to be

A balancing act

That has less to do with pain

And more to do with beauty

- Shane Koyczan

[tazzykiki]

I’m tired, angry and bored so here we go! A messy list of fucked up Public School Things that may or may not be a universal experience:

The Lunches were a mix of good and horrible:

I was usually fine with the lunches because they were pretty decent and, like, yay food! But looking back they were just, so wrong????

Like in my middle school lunches AND breakfast were a mess. I got food poisoning like once or twice from the breakfast and the lunch was pitiful. At one point they just stopped cooking the pasta and left a bunch of uncooked, powdery noodles in a plastic box like anyone was gonna grab them and be like “mm yes! my favorite! hard noodles!”. Like what the actual fuck.

The pizza was also in a box, none of the toppings were labeled so it was a gamble on what type you would get, and most of the time they were burnt. In HS the pizza was fine but it tasted fake as hell and I’m pretty sure they just took some rubber and put cheese on it.  

My HS lunches were better but even then it was just, really concerning how limited and odd the food was. Luckily we didn’t have to pay except for like cookies and stuff smaller than your hand that costs like $2 cuz they want to “promote healthiness” despite feeding us what is basically prison food.

The class sizes were horrifying: I’m sorry but what person can teach 30+ rowdy kids and be perfectly fine??? Not to mention this was the norm the whole day! Imagine grading all those papers, keeping track of every student, and making sure they all shut up long enough to teach. And that’s just for the teachers who actually care.

Like a class size should be a max of 20 with a few exceptions. Do you know how stressful it is for everyone involved? Not to mention, 30 kids was considered SMALL!! Some classes had 40, even 50 STUDENTS!!!! WHAT THE FUCK.

We never had enough books, or supplies, or anything. Usually by the half point of the year, half the books would be missing or destroyed and it was a mess. In HS the Drama and Music teachers had to deal with like, one class of 10-20, and then like 5 classes of 40-50(all mixed grades too). And you know what’s even more fucked up? There was only one of each teacher.

There was one drama teacher. Who btw deserves the world and legit cares about her job and students. I honestly hope she quit and went somewhere better. She had to put up with 40+ screaming kids, grade all of those assignments, deal with insult and harassment(she was plus-sized and white. So she couldn’t talk back, would get insulted, and more.The only white people allowed to be sassy in that school were funny white men that were laid back), and had barely enough supplies to get by.

There was one music teacher. Who also deserves the world and legit cares about her job and students. She had to deal with 40-50, almost 60+, kids. The majority of them being sophomores and freshman, with bits of seniors and juniors. She taught music, taught band, and organized events and performances. She is, I believe, the first and only music teacher in that school and that’s just so fucked up. Like imagine being one person and having to manage hundreds of students like that.

There was only one digital arts teacher but I have no idea what they did since you can’t choose what class you attend. I just know it was constantly crowded, never really applauded, and they weren’t involved in a lot of things.

Oh yes how could I forget the art teacher! Yeah no there was no art class that involved drawing and painting. Apparently that class was scrapped years ago and has now turned into a JROTC locker! :D Speaking of JROTC:

JROTC and Sports had too much support and that’s a serious problem:

Hey maybe it’s because I’m an art kid and I hate exercising(because every attempt to do so was met with laughter, humiliation, and the ridicule of my body even though I can’t control how my body grows and changes), but man did JROTC and sports(specifically football) have way too much attention.

We had not one, not two, but FOUR ENTIRE JROTC CLASSES! Classes training you to be in the military, specifically Air Force. Classes you HAD to take unless you wanted to be in gym(never had the class but from what I’ve heard, there were about 50-70 kids, mostly male, filling up that class and they didn’t do anything but play ball or whatever. All of course, taught by one guy).

Somehow this program had enough support for uniforms, 4 different classrooms, supplies, several teachers(all of whom were in the military at one point[they were chill except for the freshman teacher who called you a whiny baby for being in pain]), and more. 

Not to mention, every so often military people would come by with pretty pamphlets and fun little strength tests and have kids to sign up to newsletters and shit and ask them to join the military when they graduate so they can get free college and happy fun times!! :D

Football was given way too much attention, even over the other sports, and I absolutely hate it. Every month was about  football, football, football. So much money went into football, so much support went into football. Yeah yeah yeah follow your dreams or whatever the fuck they tell you on Disney Channel, but there was too much support on this one sport that involved kids breaking their heads open. 

Please please give me ONE valid reason why this irritating-ass sport had so much attention while art students, craft students, theater students, music students, students who want to work in literally any other field that doesn’t involve science or sports had to fucking scrape every tiny little chance they could from the crumbs that were left behind. PLEASE tell me why I had to join a completely different program that was hella exclusive and restricted to Juniors and Seniors that had a certain skill-level just to have a proper arts class while football players got a cool fancy bus, a shit ton of gear, and praise every single day(seriously their pictures and trophies were everywhere). 

Why is it that they get scholarships and full rides for throwing a ball around and bashing their brains open while I had to fucking destroy my hand and scramble around for some shit like $200 which I wouldn’t even get because I don’t have the skill to paint the mona lisa or whatever. Anywayyyy~

Hey what the fuck was up with the rules? Sorry kids but if you’re reading this, everything they tell you on tv about high school is a lie. Unless you watched the Dora the Explorer movie, then that was actually pretty accurate.

Hey is it weird we had metal detectors and legit police officers(who were armed) in our school? Is it weird that we had to wear plastic, see-through book-bags, that weren’t even given to us for free and were so weak that they had to get rid of that rule because they would break after like 2 months? Is it weird we were all stuffed into a nasty, sticky, pest-ridden, staircase right in front of the main doors in the morning because we weren’t allowed all the way inside for whatever reason unless it was for a club(i.e. sports)? Is it weird that we were all trapped in the lunch room by security guards because they didn’t want kids roaming the halls even though they already did? Is it weird we weren’t allowed to go to the bathroom and were always told “you should’ve went your last class” when your last class didn’t let you? Is it weird we weren’t allowed to use the bathroom and were always told that “you should’ve went during the transition time” even though the transition time was only 4 minutes and the hallways were so crowded that it’d be time for class by the time you’d get there?

Is it weird that when we were allowed to use the bathroom, all of the bathrooms were locked and only one on the other side of the school was open, and the majority of the stalls were broken? And they kept the bathrooms locked, even after school, because they didn’t want kids skipping class even though they still did?

Is it weird that if you didn’t have a belt(if you were male), or a part of your uniform, you would be prevented from going to class if there were no more temporary uniforms?

Is it weird that if one kid did something bad, the entire class would be punished and class time would be wasted and the point of punishment would be lost because the teacher wanted a taste of power or whatever?(hey one time in 8th grade, both classes had to stand in one long ass line for about half an hour because someone was talking and it was treated like it was a joke. this took up our breakfast time too)

Other Shit: One time my HS got like $20,000 and instead of using it to fix at least one thing, they wasted it on useless flatscreen tv’s and SAT “tutors” that taught us 3rd grade english & math, how to annotate(I swear to fucking god one more person try and teach me how to underline a motherfucking sentence---) and did absolutely nothing to help us. Meanwhile the football players were living like kings.

We had a strange assortment of teachers, ya’ll know about my junior and senior english teacher. But did I ever tell you about the freshman JROTC instructor? She was so much fun~ I remember one time!!! ooh this is a good one :DDDD!!!! that I was in so muuuuuch pain that I was crying and couldn’t move! and guess what!!!!???? ooh! ooh! guess! She called me a whiny baby and said I was overreacting!!!! omg? She was so right tho, I was totally overreacting to being in immense, insufferable, pain that no one even attempted to be concerned about~~ 

Oh here’s another good one: I used to cry a lot! It was horribly embarrassing and not fun~ I was either sick, on my period(which according to the multiple doctors I had to be rushed to, was normal and the intense pain was hereditary), or having an emotional breakdown~ This lasted from 5th grade to Senior Year of HS! :D

One time I was in a lot of pain, 7th grade I believe, and cried for a whole hour straight. What did my teacher do? Have me sit in class while everyone went to like social studies or whatever, talked with some teachers, and then complained about how I “cried and cried and cried for an hour straight” with no concern whatsoever. BTW the nurse was never there and even then she was kinda useless.

Don’t even get me started on the several times I was on my period and was actually screaming in pain and was still looked down on because a student screaming and hollering in pain is no cause for concern obviously~ Really surprising how a lot of the male teachers and staff were more concerned then the female ones, especially the science teacher who has a uterus, has multiple daughters, and the audacity to say I’m ~overreacting~. I’m so happy our teachers and schools have our priorities in order.

Note: If you’re horrified by this. Good. You should be.

More misc things: My HS had a shit ton of roaches, water bugs, and whatever those long disgusting things that walk around on the walls and fall off once you see them. Art meant nothing to them. Teacher sanity meant nothing, student sanity meant nothing. The principal was great and I blame whoever’s “funding” schools and working behind the scenes.  I know this was more about personal stuff, but like a lot of things like large classes, lack of supplies, lack of empathy from teachers, constant pests, horrible food, stupid rules that hurt us more than helped, really weird exposure to cops and military, and too much focus on one subject is super common in public schools and I really really want it to stop.

[poguesofthebau]

Hi! I saw that you were doing OBX ships? If I’m wrong you can ignore this lol. I’m a bi girl, 5 foot 2, green eyes and brown hair that’s shoulder length but I have no clue how to style it so it’s usually up in a bun or ponytail, I guess I’m a little chubbier than average, I want to be a school psychologist and I love swimming, cooking/baking, plants, and dogs, and I laugh when I’m scared or nervous, I love true crime tv and I also love taking photos and making things like bracelets. Thank you!

this is some chaotic writing right here, for which i apologize. wound up being a little more about what your cute ass friendships with the boys would be but like..... my attention span is really small so i kept getting off track but that’s something we all just need to deal with bc it’s above me, luv xx

i ship you with kie!! (honorary mention: the moment jj found out you wanted to be a psychologist, he had you dubbed as his personal therapist. first you thought he was just being an asshole but the more he had you sit down for a ‘session,’ the more serious it felt. that’s how you’d get close with jj, and you would quickly become one of his most trusted advisors)

i can see you growing up with pope as your best friend. you two would’ve just always been in the same classes, since pre-school, and that was apparently enough to make you inseparable. pope would be the first person you ever trusted, and then middle school would happen. for the first time ever, you and pope would be put in different 5th grade classes. however mortifying it was at first, it would lead to you befriending john b in your class, and pope imprinting on jj in theirs. (it was jj and john b’s first year in different classes since 3rd grade when they met, and while jb was just trying to make some new friends in mr. b’s class, jj would not be handling it well across the hall in mrs. redfield’s class. that’s where you and pope, respectively, would come in. kie was in the other 5th grade class, with mr.z.)

soon enough the four of you became one big, infamous friend group in 6th grade when the school made the mistake of wound up putting you all in the same class. conveniently enough, this would also be the first year any of you met kie, who was also in your class. she had a reputation for being essentially unapproachable-- she had a couple of friends that she hung out with on occasion, but she spent most of her time with her family at the restaurant. (idk why but i feel like kie would always beg to be allowed to work at The Wreck when she was young, and mr. c would always cave and let her do registers and maybe take an order or two because damn for an 11-year-old girl she was good at it. at least, better than the 16-year-olds he’d hired from the kook academy who didn’t care about their jobs.) because she seemed to prefer flying solo, none of you pogues ever interacted with kiara during the first few months of the school year. the first time you guys ever had a substitute teacher, though, all hell broke loose in that classroom. kids were standing on desks, and throwing shit, and being the little demonic 11-year-olds that they were. the only people who weren’t really destroying the room were you (as you sat in the back of the room making bracelets), pope (who was reading silently to your left), john b (who was doodling and laughing at the chaos ensuing before his eyes), and jj (who was bickering with you and essentially throwing a temper tantrum because you wouldn’t let him ‘go have fun.’ but ‘no calls home today, jj,’ was all you would say, and he knew you were right). a few seconds after you pulled out a stress ball for jj to entertain himself with, a fifth party would be joining. kiara. “hey,” she’d began, standing before you with a soft smile. “can i do some bracelets with you? i’m kinda sick of the riot.” you’d nod, eyes wide as she sat down across from you. jj both watched the whole thing intently, including your facial expressions, and it registered with him immediately. you had a little crush. initially, he wouldn’t even care enough to confront you about it, or to even talk to the other boys about it. sure, sometimes jj would laugh at the way you absolutely lit up when kie touched your hair, or your arm, or you at all. but, up until 8th grade, he would keep his mouth shut.

part of you would wish he’d said something right away. it would’ve been nice to have one of the boys know your big secret, but you were too paranoid to tell them. you trusted that they would still love you the same, but you didn’t trust that they could keep their mouths shut. regardless of your reasons for not telling them, you found out eventually that jj had known your secret all along. it was during the summer before 8th grade, really, when it happened. jj had been out surfing and scamming and roaming the island all day, and he wanted to crash somewhere other than with luke. so he’d make his way to your window, chucking rocks at it until you caught on and let him up. “something happen with your dad?” you’d ask anxiously as he climbed through the window, scoffing a laugh at your question. “nope. decided i didn’t even wanna give the dude a chance. stopping here for a bit, then i’ll crash at jb’s, i figure.” you nodded, retreating back to your bed before offering him a spot on your floor if he wanted. “nah, i’m good. big john already blew up the air mattress for me.” he’d flop down next to you on the small bed, causing you to chuckle. “so, you comin’ on the boat trip tomorrow? big john’s letting us take out the hms pogue for a while. kie’s supposed to be coming, too.” “what about pope?” he’d shrug, then nod. “yeah, pope’s coming, too.” you’d squint at him, flipping onto your back and sitting up to see him better. he looked at you quizzically, eyebrows raised as he waited. “why did you only tell me that kie was going?” he’d blink a few times, a smirk breaking out on his face soon after. your eyes widened, hands flying up to cover your face as you groaned and jj let out a giggle. “c’mon, dude. you think i didn’t notice your little crush?” you’d groan again, peering at him through your fingers. “how long have you known?” your hands would drop, and panic would rise in your stomach. “wait, you can’t tell her. you know that, right? she’s my best friend. she can’t know.” jj would give you a fuck that face, rolling his eyes at you. “bullshit, dude. i’ve always known, first of all. and, second of all, you should be the one to tell her. tomorrow, before we even get on the boat. just, let ‘er rip, right?” jj was standing from the bed as he spoke, backing toward the window again as you slowly and confusedly followed. “where are you going?” “headed to john b’s. but seriously. tell her. you’re not the only one whose little crush i can see loud and clear.” with that he was slipping out the window and hitting the grass below with a thud. you stuck your head out after him, looking at him incredulously. “you just came here to say you know i like our girl best friend and you know she likes me and then you’re just gonna leave?” jj nodded enthusiastically, shooting you two thumbs up and a bright smile as he began to jog away. “yes! truth’ll set ya free! love you, bye! see you at the wedding tomorrow!” (there was no wedding, but there would certainly be some fireworks.)

[thegoldenmink]

Okay so, I keep getting reminded of these things (mainly on Tiktok) so I'm just going to compile them here (since I'm not comfortable on camera)

Warning: this is pretty much a vent post of things that I still think about from middle school and high school. Maybe even some Elementary school events. I'll put them under a page break, that way it's completely optional to read them or not

Elementary: Getting called pregnant on the playground because I was fat

Elementary: Getting mocked when I got angry about things

Middle: The popular guys claiming that one of them liked me when I walked by. Guy getting targeted would be outraged and and would instantly sputter his disagreement while his friends laughed. All to mock me for being fat and undesirable (my personality also came into play here)

Middle school: The popular girls practically ignoring that I existed unless they were doing that thing where they try to 'make friends' with you while at the same time being vaguely condescending

Middle School: One of said popular guys made me very uncomfortable and I didn't want him near me. If we were near each other in the lunch line he would try to touch me on the arm etc because he knew it made me uncomfortable. Didn't stop even when I asked, especially not when I got angry about it. Same guy picked up something I dropped and tried to hand it to me, Knowing I was uncomfortable with him, and when snatched it from his hand and moved on to my class he went to the guidance counselor to say something about my behavior as if I was in the wrong

Middle School: Gym class in 7th grade there were 3 boys in 8th grade that continuously tried to bother me. One of them walked up to me and asked, and I quote, "can I eat you out". I avoided them every chance I got but sharing a class made it hard. Once in the volleyball unit the ball went flying across the floor so I went to get it, and one of the three picked it up to hand it to me. But he was red faced from trying not to laugh. Same group, claimed one of them liked me, tried to respond sarcastically with "suuure" but it came out wrong, and I made sure to clarify. But it didn't stop them from laughing like hyenas. Later the one they said liked me left, and when he came back the other two kept asking if I remembered him. As if I liked him or something

Highschool: Freshman year gym class, same guy that his friends claimed I liked him was in a different class. But they were in the balcony gym that day so they could see my class. Someone I knew and was tentative friends with (by proxy of them being friends with my brother) called down to me "I hear you two dated?" With a suggestive tone. Guy was grinning mockingly. I said no and tentative friend shrugged

Highschool: Walking in the hall way and some guy randomly puts his arm around my shoulder. He made a comment but I can't quite remember what it was because it was quiet. I move out of the way and his friends laughed about him getting "curved" with a mocking tone

Highschool: My geometry class. Three other students would make passive aggressive mocking comments to me. Making comments about something smelling, even though nothing did. One time the girl walked up to me and asked about why I wear pants under my dresses. Completely judgemental look when I said I wasn't comfortable without them. She then proceeded to ask if I smelled something, and I shrugged and said "Baby powder, I guess?" Because it did. I assumed it was deodorant someone was wearing. She then immediately started laughing like a hyena. Ever since then I ignored them, even when they spoke directly to me. One time they asked if I was in a relationship, and I was in one long distance at that time, and when I ignored her she made a noise similar to "that's what I thought"

Highschool: My intern class my junior year was with one of the freshman english teachers, because he was my english teacher freshman year. Had a 'chant' they would do every morning. One student that left had his name in it, they replaced it with mine. One of the freshman shared my theater class with me, and she got confused on my middle name because of her classmates in the english class. I didn't think anything of it at first. Then they were talking and it was a smooth transition for me to bring it up. "Yeah I heard you guys think my last name is Newman or something?" They immediately started laughing and I put the pieces together. One of the freshman's last name was Newman. During the 'chant' after my name they would start saying "Newmannn" in a mocking tone. Eventually told the teacher I don't like it, and he must have told them to stop. This didn't stop Newman kid from talking to me in that 'friendly' tone that's really just mocking me. Would continuously do this despite me ignoring him

Highschool: Same kid was in my intern period for senior year too. Would continue to use mocking tone and try to engage with me. One of which was him using the wrong name for me, my name, all in a mocking tone to get my attention. The last thing he said was "honey bun" in that particular incident. I would spend as much of my intern period as possible in the library just to avoid him. My chemistry teacher from year prior found out while I was asking my intern teacher for the current year to please seat him as far away from me as possible. When I told her, he heard as well. She agreed to sit us father away, and chemistry teacher tried to get me to go to the office. Doing so has literally never worked for me before, and I dislike confrontation with a passion. Chemistry teacher took me to student services with him because he convinced me to say something. I said I'd like to speak with person that handles these incidents, but ended up not following through. I ignored him for the rest of the time I was in there until quarantine hit.

I'm sure there's more that just aren't on the top of my head at the moment. And this is only one type of thing that keeps bothering me. Trauma from childhood and incidents that didn't make me feel awful on purpose, but still did nevertheless, are an entirely different topic.

Anyway,, if anyone read this- thank you. Comments are welcome, but not obligatory

[deans-baby-momma]

Past Haunts Part 3

At the school, Dean and Sam procure temporary employment; Sam a janitor while Dean is the physical education instructor. 

Sam can't help but laugh when Dean exits the bathroom in the white polo shirt emblazoned with the school's name, a pair of red polyester shorts, and tube socks pulled up to his knees. He had finished off the ensemble with a red headband and a shiny silver whistle hung from a thin rope around his neck.

"Wow, nice shorts" Sam let out a low chuckle. "You really look the part," He zips up the janitor jumpsuit, the dull gray overalls swallowing his body. 

"I can't believe they had something to fit your oversized frame," Dean retorts.

"Shut up, Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean smirks at their normal brotherly banter. "You got everything you need?"

Sam nods. "EMF reader to scan for electromagnetic frequencies. I got a canister of salt and this," he holds up a tire iron.

"Okay," Dean says. "Let's get this over with," he strides across the bathroom and out the door, heading toward the gymnasium. Sam follows to begin his sweep of the grounds.

"Oh Sweet Cheeks," Mr. Durgan sings. He is one of the regulars that the whole waitressing staff at The Coffee Cup tries to avoid. Unfortunately for me, he is in my section today. 

I paste a smile on my face as I approach him. "What is it, darling?" I ask, my voice oozing with faux glee. 

"My coffee needs more sugar, Sugar."

"Now, Mr. Durgan. You know there are packets of sugar right there," I express, pointing to the condiment caddy on the table.

"I know," Mr. Durgan answers sheepishly. "I was hoping you'd sweeten it with a little smooch right here,” he says, pointing to his cheek.

I shiver at the thought. Yea, Mr. Durgan might just be a crass old man but I still don't like his flirtations and implications.

"That would be fraternizing with the customers and you know we can't do that," I try to keep my voice light and cheery, although inside I am fuming. I want nothing more than to punch him right in the jaw. But, I have a daughter to think about, and I can’t afford to get fired. I turn and make my way back behind the counter, rolling my eyes at Elise, my co-worker. 

"I wish some of our other customers were that forward. There were a couple of hotties this morning I would have given all my sugar to. And more," she says as she fans her hand in front of her face. Elise worked the early morning shift, from 6 am to 8 am until I arrived.

I lift my eyebrow at her. "Oh really? Tell me more."

Sam pushed his cart down the familiar hallway, looking at all the pictures and banners hanging along the walls. 'Football champions 1999' 'Basketball champions 2001' He stopped at one of the framed photos. It was a paper written by him in 1997, from his time at the school. A plaque underneath read, 'Sam Winchester, Imaginative Fiction Winner, 1998. 8th Grade.' Sam looked at the  handwriting on the paper, recognizing it. 

He continues his trek down the hall as students begin filing out of the rooms that line the walls. As he passes by one, the door opens and the teacher steps out. Sam is taken aback to see his old teacher Mr. Wyatt. The two men lock eyes and Sam looks away quickly, noticing the students exiting the room. 

One of them, a girl of about 12, catches his attention. Her chestnut brown hair is pulled back into a braid, but it's her face that surprises him. Mostly her eyes, the bright green eyes that seem to take everything in. She smiles at him and then passes by. It all seems oddly comfortable, like he has seen her before. He shakes the thought out of his head but can't help to wonder.  What is a girl her age doing coming out of a classroom here? She's too young to be in high school. He continues his journey down the walkway, glancing down at the device hidden on top of his cart; another level cleared, no signs of ghosts. He heads to the gymnasium to update Dean.

In the gym, Dean is pacing in front of the phys. ed. class. "Today, you will have the honor of playing one of the greatest games ever invented. A game of skill, agility, cunning. A game with one simple rule... dodge."

He throws the ball into the boy at the end of the line. It hits him in the stomach and the kid let's put a "whoof" as he doubles over.

One of the other classmates speaks up.

"Uh, Substitute Coach Roth…"

"Yes?" Dean turns to the student.

"Ms. Boudreaux never let us play dodgeball. She says it's dangerous."

Dean rolls his eyes, "Well, Ms. B's in Massachusetts getting married, so we're playing. Life is dangerous and dodgeball is the perfect way to learn how to cope."

"But-," the boy goes to continue but Dean cuts him off by blowing the whistle.

"Take a lap!"

As the kid begins to run around the perimeter of the court,  the door opens and  Sam walks in. Dean picks up the sack of balls and throw them over his shoulders. "Go nuts."

Sam is smiling as he approaches his brother. "Having fun?" he asks.

"The whistle makes me their god," Dean announces proudly. 

"Riiight."

"Find anything?"

Sam sighs. "I've been over the entire school twice. No sulfur."

"Okay. So no sulfur, no demon. No demon, no case, " Dean confirms with a nod.

"I don't know," Sam huffs a breath. "Maybe I was wrong."

Dean slaps Sam on the shoulder. "Well, it happens to the best of us. I say we hit the road, huh? But after lunc-" Sam's radio interrupts him. 

"Janitor needed in the science wing. Bring supplies to clean up blood, a lot of blood."

Sam and Dean look at each other and then Sam leaves to go check it out.

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[reddiesetspn]

26 and 21??

21. an evening in the forest with elves, a night in the caves with vampires or a morning in the garden with fae?

this is an extremely tough choice but I will have to go with a night in the caves with vampires and I honestly have no reason to justify this but yes.

26. tell us about an experience you’ve had that seemed unreal or supernatural. (doesn’t have to be scary)

the high school I went to was built around this really old building that had been like a boarding house for young boys and there was this story that it burned down (i think that part was true) and one of the kids got stuck inside and died and people said that his ghost ‘haunted’ the school or rather just wandered around and stuff. some of my teachers told stories about seeing a figure when they worked late or hearing him bouncing a ball when they were walking through the halls. anyway when I was in 8th grade I was sitting in the second row from the back during science class (my teacher didn’t let anyone sit in the back bc she said that row was saved for the ghost of he ever wanted to join) and the door which had been shut started to creak open slowly, it didn’t open the whole way, just enough that a person could walk through and into the class and then it slowly shut again as if someone was closing, a couple of seconds later one of the chairs in the back row seemed to be pulled back from the desk. then it all just stopped, nothing happened for the rest of the lesson, but the chair stayed pulled out like that, as if someone was sitting there.