#ADDITIONALLY - WHEN MY MOM SAW THEM PRINTED THAT IT NEEDS TO BE PUT ON THE WALL

[doli-nemae]

I forgot to post about that but!!

Few weeks ago I participated in exhibition (first time since I ended school and first time with my digital drawing). And because of my burn-out, I decided to use my older drawings and....

YES, SPARROWS AND LUCIEN WERE ON SMALL EXHIBITION. IN GOTHENBURG. AND BECAUSE I MESSED UP WITH SIZES, THEY HADE WHOLE WALL (except for two lower arts , they aren't mine!!! o-o)

[mourntheantagonist]

“You’ve never been bowling?”

Steve is looking at Billy like he just said the worst thing in the whole world.

“No?”

Billy was standing in Steve’s room inspecting the bowling pin that sat on his desk, the one that Steve had stolen one night when he and Tommy had broken into the alley after homecoming. Steve remembers crawling down the slick lane and reaching for the center pin because he didn’t intend to end up like Tommy who had taken just two steps passed the line before he wound up flat on his back with his head hitting hard enough against the wood floor that he would have a headache for the next couple of days.

Teenagers in Hawkins had their pick of only four places in town to hang out unless they were willing to take the hour long drive into the city for some real entertainment. Those four options included the junkyard, the quarry, The Hawk, and of course, the bowling alley. More often than not it would be far too cold for the quarry or junkyard, and The Hawk was only ever good for taking girls to sit in the secluded back row while they didn’t bother to even pay attention to the movie on screen. So Steve, Tommy, and Carol all found themselves at the lanes fairly often.

It was one of the few little things he had where he felt like he was genuinely having a good time with friends. When people came over to his house he could never escape the thought that they were only there for the free booze and his pool and his parents who didn’t give a fuck and not for Steve himself. Drinking out of a flask Carol snuck from her mom while they sent multiple balls down the lane at a time giving the staff a never ending headache when they fucked up the ball return was an entirely different atmosphere.

So Steve had a nice relationship with bowling. It was such a stupid little activity he did drunk or high with friends, but those were some of the best times of his life.

And to find out that Billy had never been bowling before? He was beyond offended.

“How have you never been bowling before?”

Billy just shrugged his shoulders like Steve was being entirely ridiculous with his shock. “I don’t know, maybe cause San Diego has more than five things to do? Why would I waste my time throwing a ball into a gutter?”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Steve says, taking the pin from Billy’s hand because he simply lacks the proper respect to wield it. “We’re going bowling, right now.”

Before Billy could even begin to protest, Steve was dragging Billy down the stairs and out through the front door, and Billy was just too curious and too preoccupied enjoying Steve’s assertiveness over something as trivial as a heavy ball and ten pins.

Since the alley was only four blocks away from Steve’s house, they were in and out of the car in no time at all. It was late at night on a Wednesday so the alley was mostly empty save for the actual bowlers who weren’t just there to wreak havoc.

Just as you walk through the glass double doors, directly to the left was the most pathetic arcade you could ever see. It was really bold to even call it that with the flickering neon sign that hung above the entryway. All they had was a mostly empty claw machine, pinball, and the only actual arcade game worth playing, Pac-Man, had a piece of white printer paper taped to the screen with ‘out of order’ written in black sharpie. Billy was already having trouble reasoning why Steve would choose this run-down place with the loudest carpet flooring he’d ever seen as his main hangout space.

While Steve paid for their shoe rentals and their game, Billy wandered around aimlessly, staring at the rainbow of neon that decorated the place that seemingly had no rhyme or reason for its pattern. Most of the other bowlers were all together at the far right of the building, so of course Steve reserved the far left for the two of them. Steve hands Billy his pair of size elevens and together they walk over to their own personal lane, secluded from everyone else in a way that almost felt entirely private.

Steve has had a fucking attitude since the moment Billy mentioned how he’d never been bowling before. Even with the close proximity of the alley to his house, Steve insisted on driving ten over the speed limit, something he constantly was on Billy’s ass about whenever Billy drove the two of them in the Camaro. He just stared forward mumbling “I know the chief of police” whenever Billy opened his mouth to say anything about it. But, with all of the anger in that little body of his, there was also enough excitement clear in the way he walked from point a to point b that calmed Billy’s lingering thought that Steve might just take the two bowling balls he had in his hands and smash his head in if he even dared to say a word about all of his huffing.

So Billy kept his distance and let Steve set it all up for the two of them, setting the balls into the return and entering their names into the system. It was then, while Steve was sitting in front of the little monitor punching away at the keypad that Billy finally saw Steve’s look of anger change to a smile... but not a happy smile. A fucking evil smile. Steve looked up at Billy with the most heinous eyes before darting his eyes over to the screen above the lane before he broke out into a fit of laughter. Billy looks up to the screen and sure enough, printed in bold digital lettering read two names.

1. Steve

2. SugarTits

“Real mature.” Billy said, barely having his voice heard over Steve’s own laughter, “You finally out of your pissy mood?”

“Just put on the shoes sugar tits.”

The two of them slipped on those absolutely ridiculous looking bowling shoes and what was originally all fun and games to Billy had quickly turned on its head.

Steve was up first. And yeah, Steve did spend a lot of his time at the alley just goofing off, but occasionally he would actually try to knock down some pins.

And he was fucking good at it.

Billy watched as the ball traveled fast down the lane with the perfect spin, knocking over all ten pins right on impact. The ‘X’ appeared on the screen and Steve turned around with the most smug look on his face that Billy had ever seen.

“And that’s called a strike.”

Billy just scoffed. Sure, Billy hasn’t ever held a bowling ball in his life, but he schooled people at skeeball and isn’t bowling just like skeeball but... bigger? Additionally, Billy is anything if not competitive.

Steve is stifling his giggles while Billy stands there trying to just figure out how to hold the ball, eventually figuring it out and setting himself straight in front of the lane, mailing one swing of the arm only for the ball to refuse to come unreleased from his fingers. He’s lucky he didn’t break any. Steve can’t help but laugh as he watches the display from the comfort of his seat and his strike on the scoreboard.

“You need help over there baby?” Steve asks.

“Fuck off I’m fine”

Steve puts his hands up and backs off and continues to enjoy the free entertainment that Billy is giving him.

On his second attempt, Billy actually manages to throw the ball... directly into the gutter.

“I can ask them to put the bumpers up for you babe.”

Billy just turns around and gives Steve a pinching gesture signifying he is “this close” to breaking his fucking neck.

Instead of letting Billy embarrass himself once more, and after the novelty had kind of worn off, Steve gets up to where Billy is standing waiting for the machine to cough the blue eleven pounder back up.

“Let me show you how to do it.” Steve says, picking up the ball as soon as it comes in and wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist. He shows Billy how to position his fingers and lines him up about eight feet back. “Okay, so you’re going to want to aim just to the side of the center pin, and you’re gonna want to throw it so it goes fast.”

It’s good, solid advice, but it went directly in one ear and out the other with the way Steve is touching him. Arms tenderly wrapped around his waist, hands gently wrapped around his wrists to guide his hands all while in a public place, and not a single person bats an eye. It’s just a guy teaching another guy how to bowl properly. There’s nobody close enough to see how Steve plants a kiss to his neck or grabs at his ass and it’s just so thrilling.

Steve guides him through the throw, and it’s definitely far from perfect especially considering Steve isn’t left handed like Billy is, but it actually knocks down some pins instead of finding a home in the gutter. The echo of the pins toppling over is fucking music to his ears and Steve’s arms are still wrapped around him, practically hugging him at this point and Billy just leans into it. Loving the feeling of being public about their relationship without being public about it.

They stand there for as long as they can without it seeming suspicious and Steve goes to take his second turn. Billy watched again from the same seat Steve was sitting in and watched Steve bowl a double.

Except he doesn’t actually watch the strike happen, too focused on staring at Steve’s ass through his jeans as he bends over. The way they tighten makes his own jeans tighten for an entirely different reason.

“Your turn.” Steve says.

But Billy has another idea, walking up to Steve and taking him by the wrist, moving his hand so it’s palming his dick.

“I think I’ve had enough bowling for the day.”

And usually Steve would never walk out on a streak like that, but this trip was all about the fun that could be had at the Hawkins bowling alley.

And fucking in the parking lot was certainly fun.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Melting My Heart (Part Three)

Author’s Note: If anyone wants to be added to the tag list for this let me know. Happy to do it for anyone!

(Katsuki Bakugou x Reader)

Summary: The fireball with the attitude has one weakness, Y/N. When she’s the only thing that can break through his cold appearance around the other students, he starts to learn that being the best... isn’t the only thing out there.

AO3 Link

Part One, Part Two

Part Three:

Word Count: 2025

With the exams for UA High coming up Katsuki was training constantly. Our backyard was beginning to look like a war zone, craters littered the ground as he used his explosions to blow holes and then fill them back in, just to blast them back up again. I stepped into the backyard and smelt the familiar smell of caramel, Katsuki had to be working pretty hard if the sweet sweat smell was as strong as it is. When the sliding door to the backyard shut and I stepped out Katsuki paused and looked up at me, he was knelt over, out of breath. I walked over to him and he stood up straight, wiping some of the sweat from his forehead. 

I smiled at him. “You’re still training Kacchan?”

He put his hand into a fist. “I have to be the best that I can be. I can’t afford to screw up, I have everything riding on this exam.”

“You’re going to do fine, I know you will. You’re quirk is amazing, there’s not much you can’t do Kacchan. You’ve always been one to succeed.”

He smiled a little at me and wrapped his arms around the back of my neck, pulling me into a hug. “I know, but I’ve got to push myself. How else am I going to make my queen’s life the best that it could possibly be?”

I chuckled and breathed in the sweet caramel smell once again. I knew he would make it, and he knew he would too, but he didn’t want to leave any room for error. “I’m going to see my dad today. He wants to talk to me more, wants to get to know his daughter a little more.”

Katsuki kissed the side of my head. “That’s good. How are you feeling about the whole thing?”

“I still don’t really know. I’m glad that I found him, I’m glad that he’s in my life, but it’s still just so sudden.”

“Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted tho?” He started stretching again, getting ready to start more training. 

“It is, but it’s just not something I expected to have happen to me before the exam. What if it hinders me? I’m so unfocused lately. I don’t know how to snap myself out of this. I know it’s not his fault, it’s not like he knew that I was planning on taking the exam, but it still sucks. You know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean, but you know I’m going to be here to support you or pick up the pieces, whatever happens, I’m always going to be your crutch when you need it.”

I smiled weakly at him. “I know Kacchan.”

* * * * * *

I stepped into the doorway of the nearest coffee shop and looked around. I spotted the long black hair of Shouta Aizawa at a table near the window. I took a deep breath and slowly walked over to him. He waved when he saw me and smiled. I sat across from him and took in the moment. He pointed toward the cashier. “Do you want a coffee? Tea?” 

“Coffee sounds fine.” I told him what I wanted and he stood, heading to the cash register to order for me. When he came back and handed me the coffee it felt almost surreal. I had grown up with a mother who seemed, at times, like she didn’t even care about me, and a father that I had never known. I had always been told that my father had never wanted anything to do with me, that he was a deadbeat, but here he was now… trying to have a relationship with me. 

Shouta sat down across from me again and started to talk to me. “I know it’s probably still a little awkward for you, maybe even still completely uncomfortable for you, but I hope that’s something we can get over soon.” He smiled hopefully. 

“It’s not that it’s awkward or uncomfortable, it’s just a little overwhelming for me. I’ve always wanted to know you, my whole life I’ve wanted to know who my father was. I always wanted to know where I got my quirk from.”

Shock took over his face. “Your quirk? Does that mean you got my quirk?”

“I got both you and mom’s quirk. It was a weird medical fluke. Most kids just get a combination of the two, or they get one or the other. I was lucky enough to get both of them.”

“Wow… I never realized how good it would feel to know that my daughter would have my quirk, something I could pass down. Not that you don’t already look like my daughter. We could be twins for heaven’s sake.”

I smiled thinking about it, putting the two of us next to each other you could definitely tell we were related. Same black hair, same tired eyes due to our quirks, same mannerisms. It felt so odd, but I loved every little thing I was learning about him… about my father.”

“So who are you staying with? If you don’t mind me asking anyway.”

“I’m staying with my boyfriend and his parents. They took me in when mom kicked me out, they couldn’t believe that mom had done it. Mom and his parents had known each other for a long time, we’ve been friends since we were little kids.”

Shouta leaned back in his chair, protective dad written all over his face already. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

“Katsuki.” I chuckled, I liked the thought of him being protective. “Katsuki Bakugou.”

He leaned forward again. “The boy that was just on the news the other day with the slime monster? The boy he had hostage?”

“Yea. That’s him.” 

“He’s got an amazingly strong quirk. I haven’t seen one like that in a long time. He treats you well I hope.”

“Like a queen, trust me.”

“Good.” He leaned back again, relaxing more. 

* * * * * * 

The morning of the exam came faster than we thought it would. I had never seen Katsuki so nervous, yet so calm at the same time. As we walked up to the school we saw none other than Izuku Midoryia walking in front of us. I smiled at him as he turned around to greet us. “Kacchan, Y/N, good morning.”

Katsuki ignored him and continued to walk. “Get out of my way now, before I set you on fire.”

I smacked his arm and let go of his hand. “Good morning Izuku!”

Izuku still looked thrown aback by Katsuki’s comment and didn’t say anything. I waved to him and followed after Katsuki.

Katsuki wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked. “Why do you bother with that guy? He’s useless.”

I frowned at him. “He’s not useless Kacchan, leave him alone. If he wants to try to get into UA High then let him do it, he’s not hurting anyone.”

Katsuki huffed and looked forward again. As we made our way closer to the door kids were making comments about Katsuki and the slime monster, setting him into a bad mood, he didn’t want to be known for that. He wanted to be known for being the number one hero. We walked into the auditorium for the exam orientation portion of the day and took our seats. Izuku sat next to us and a man with blonde hair that I recognized came onto the stage. 

The Pro-Hero Present Mic stood before us. “What’s up UA candidates? Thanks for tuning in to me, your school DJ. Come on and let me hear you!” He threw his hands in the air and stared at all of us.” We were all silent as we watched him. “Keeping it mellow, huh? That’s fine, I’ll skip straight to the main show. Let’s talk about how this practical exam is going to go down, okay? Are you ready!?”

Izuku was gushing next to us about Present Mic. Katsuki looked over at him and glared. “Will you shut up?” I elbowed his side.

“Like your application said, today you rockin boys and girls will be out there conducting ten minute mock battles in super hip urban settings. After I drop the mic here you’ll  head to your specified battle setting.”

Katsuki, Izuku, and I looked down at our cards we had gotten upon entry to the auditorium and looked at the letters on them. 

Katsuki spoke up. “I see what they’re doing, they’re splitting us up so we can’t work with any of our friends.” Izuku had battle center B while Katsuki and I had battle center A, surprised they hadn’t noticed our address being the same and split us up. Our exam numbers were all consecutive, yet they split us from Izuku. 

Katsuki looked over at Izuku. “Get your eyes off my card.” Izuku leaned back a little, stunned by his words. “Damn, I was really looking forward to crushing you.”

Izuku laughed nervously as Present Mic spoke again. “Okay, okay, let’s check out your targets.” Three different robot monsters popped up on the screen in front of us. “There are three different types of villains in every battle center. You earn points based on their level of difficulty, so you better choose wisely. Your goal in this trial is to use your quirk to earn points by shredding these villains like a mid song guitar solo! But check it, make sure you’re keeping things heroic. Attacking other examinees is a UA no-no. You dig?”

A young man in front of us stood up and interrupted. “Excuse me sir?” We all turned to him. “But I have a question.”

“Hit me.”

A spotlight opened on the young boy. “On the print out you’ve listed four types of villains, not three.” He pointed to the paper and looked very serious. “With all respect, if this is an error on official UA materials it is shameful.” He put his hand to his chest in a fist. “We are exemplary students, we expect the best from Japan’s most notable school. A mistake such as this won’t do.” He turned toward Katsuki, Izuku, and I and pointed straight at Izuku. “Additionally, you with the unkempt hair, and the girl beside him, you’ve been muttering this entire time. Stop that.” 

Izuku looked worried, but I shrugged it off. What a buzz kill? Who peed in his cereal? 

He continued while Izuku looked around, worried. “If you can’t take this seriously then leave. You’re distracting the rest of us.” 

Katsuki started to stand up to defend my honor, but I pulled him back down to his seat. 

“Alright, alright, let’s settle down. Examinee number 7111, thanks for calling in with your request.” The forth villain on our paper popped in on the screen. “The fourth villain type is worth zero points. That guys just an obstacle we’ll be throwing in your way. There’s one in every battle center. THink of it as a hurdle you should try to avoid. It’s not that it can’t be beaten, but there’s kind of no point. I recommend my listeners try to ignore it and focus on the ones topping the charts.”

The young boy bowed to him. “Thank you very much, please continue.” He sat down and the spotlight turned off. 

“That’s all I’ve got for you today, I’ll sign off with a little present. It’s a sample of our school motto. As General Napoleon Bonaparte once laid down, a true hero is one who overcomes life's misfortunes. Now that’s a tasty soundbite. Are you ready to go beyond? Let’s hear a plus ultra!” In big letters on the screen behind him ‘Plus Ultra’ popped up. “Good luck, hope you practiced hitting more than just books.”

I looked over at Katsuki and we both raised a fist, nodding. “We’re in the same battle center. What do you think about working as a team?”

Katsuki had never been one to work with other people, but when it came to me, he could never say no. He smiled dastardly, “You got it my queen, let’s take down every single one of these losers and show them what we’re made of.”

Taglist 💕 @wwwwyamd

Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Updated: 5/8/2020

[debbielouocean]

jen can be civil, she’s just historically chosen not to be

jen harding/judy hale (also on ao3)

@clearrx7 had mentioned something like this here and claimed she wanted it to magically appear and since i couldn’t get it out of my head due to ‘oh fuck yeah i’d love to see eleanor get yelled at’, i decided that making it magically appear was my new job (additionally- this takes place sometime after the end of season two but there was no car accident and they never found steve’s body) 

Jen wasn’t sure how she’d gotten herself wrangled into this situation, but that was almost always the case where Judy was involved. When she’d heard Judy was going to drive an hour out of the city to a women’s prison to pick up her mother, who had just gotten released, Jen had just… offered to drive her. Like she was involved, somehow. 

Jen waited in the car while Judy walked inside. She’d wanted to go in with her, but had decided against even suggesting it because being this close to a prison was still terrifying for her. She didn’t need a sneak peak of what was surely still her future, certain that karma was going to catch up with her eventually. 

Fucking ‘karma’, Jen thought, I have got to stop absorbing everything Judy says. 

It felt like an eternity before Jen finally saw Judy walking out, trailing a few feet behind an older woman that Jen didn’t recognize but figured must be Eleanor Hale. She looked like Judy. God, she, like, really looked like Judy. Jen briefly wondered what Judy’s father might have looked like for Eleanor to have ended up with basically a cloned child. And then she saw Judy pointing towards her car and she sunk down in the seat a bit like she was hiding. Trying to pretend like she hadn’t been watching them walk out. 

“Just tell me where you’re staying and I’ll drop you off,” Jen said, frowning. She’d only known this woman for ten minutes and she was already pretty close to kicking her out of the car. Her sickly sweet voice was grating on Jen’s nerves. 

Eleanor looked up at Jen like she’d entirely forgotten she was even in the car. She flashed Jen a disingenuous smile,“Oh! Just drop me at Judy’s house. I told the parole board I’d be staying with her.” 

Jen almost wrecked the fucking car. “You can’t be serious-” 

“Mom, you didn’t!” Judy said, anxiety written all over her face. “I don’t have a house!” 

Jen had to bite her tongue to keep from reminding Judy that yes, in fact she did have a house. Because that so was not the point here. 

“You’re not still living in a car, are you? For god’s sake, Judy, you’re nearly forty.” Eleanor made a face, like she hadn’t lived in a car herself for the first ten years of Judy’s life. 

“She’s forty-two,” Jen said, her face scrunching up in angry confusion. How the hell did this woman not even know how old Judy was? She was the one who’d fucking given birth to her! Jen saw Judy reach across the center console, clearly about to try to calm Jen, but she pulled her hand back before she even actually touched her. Which only served to confuse Jen more. 

“I am actually forty-two,” Judy confirmed, looking a bit ashamed of herself. Jen had to struggle to keep her eyes on the road when all she really wanted to do was stare Judy down until she could figure out why she was being extra weird. And why her mother was such a cunt. “Also, I don’t live in my car. I live with Jen. So you really should have run that one by me before you told them that because it isn’t entirely my call, Mom.” 

Eleanor cleared her throat, changing tactics fast. That fake sweet voice rolling back in to take over. “Well, I’m sure Jen won’t just kick me out on the street.” 

She actually even had the audacity to laugh at the end of that ridiculous fucking sentence. Like it was the most absurd thought in the world that Jen wouldn’t let her stay with them. Like Jen hadn’t heard everything about the cool, fun thirteen years of emotional abuse that Judy got to experience at her hands. 

But Judy was looking at her, a silent plea written on her face. Jen couldn’t quite tell if Judy was asking her to say yes or no. She shot Judy a look, hoping she could read the conflict on her face. Because she couldn’t make it any clearer, not when she knew Eleanor was watching their faces in the rearview mirror. 

And she had to make a decision. The decision that was best for Judy was obviously to tell Eleanor that she could live in a cardboard box below an overpass for all she fucking cared. But the decision she was almost certain Judy wanted her to make was to let this woman into their home. So Jen ground her teeth together and gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter and nodded. 

“It’ll just be for a little bit,” Judy said, glancing anxiously between her mother in the backseat and Jen. Like she could tell that they were a volatile combination that was going to explode at any minute. “Just until we can find her somewhere a bit more permanent.” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out for too long,” Eleanor said. 

I’m about to put you out, lady. Jen glanced at the GPS, wondering how much fucking longer she’d have to be trapped in this car. 

Eleanor had moved into the guest house with Judy. Which Jen figured would be fine, because Judy was basically living in Jen’s room anyway. Or at least, she had been until Eleanor arrived. But she’d very conspicuously started sleeping in the spare bedroom down the hall, as if that was ever even an option they’d discussed. 

Jen had been avoiding Eleanor for the three days that she’d been with them thus far. While also managing to print off about a dozen short-term rental listings and tape them to the guest house door. Judy had very politely asked her to stop doing that when she found out. 

The palpable tension in the house came to a head at breakfast on the fourth morning. When Jen had walked down the stairs in her pajamas and found Eleanor sitting at the kitchen island with Henry. Just acting like she was supposed to be there. And Jen was livid. 

“Hey.” Judy came up behind her, a gentle hand on her shoulder. Jen could see the understanding in her eyes and the unspoken apology for putting them into this situation. Even though she really didn’t have to apologize for any of it. Jen wouldn’t have allowed her to verbalize an apology, not when it wasn’t her fault. 

“Hey,” Jen mumbled back, still glaring at Eleanor. She managed to pry her eyes away for long enough to look at Judy. Who looked… fucking rough. She had dark circles underneath her eyes and was wearing sweatpants. Jen didn’t even know she owned sweatpants. 

Judy must have noticed her staring at her legs. “Oh! I borrowed your sweatpants. I hope you don't mind.” 

“Uh… nope, don’t mind at all,” Jen said, holding back a comment about how tired Judy looked. That was definitely a conversation for them to have in private. Her worry for Judy almost overshadowed the issue of the abusive cunt sitting in her kitchen with her ten year old son. 

Almost. 

“Morning, boop,” Jen said, a smile plastered on her face for Henry’s sake. “Don’t you need to go finish your homework before Shandy comes over later?” 

Henry looked up, halfway to bringing a spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I’ve only got a little bit left.” 

“Why don’t you take the rest of your breakfast upstairs and finish it up?” 

“I can eat in my room?” Henry asked in confusion. “Since when?” 

“Since right now,” Jen said, gesturing towards the stairs. “Homework. Go.” 

“Good morning-” Eleanor started to say, but Jen cut her off as soon as Henry was out of hearing range. 

“You’ve certainly made yourself at home.” Jen put her hands on the back of the barstool Henry had left vacant, purposefully towering over the seated woman. See if she fucking likes it, Jen thought as Eleanor flinched backwards from the vitriol in Jen’s voice. “How did you even fucking get in here?” 

Jen was certain she’d locked the patio doors the night before. And she damn well knew she hadn’t given Eleanor a key. 

“Henry opened the door for me,” Eleanor said, grinning as she stood up to full height, taller than Jen. “He’s such a sweet kid. Now that other one, though-”

“Don’t talk to me about my kids,” Jen growled, turning away from the other woman. She swiped Henry’s half-full glass of orange juice off the table and walked off. She headed back towards the stairs to go check on Henry and apologize for sending him to his room when he’d done nothing wrong. If she stayed down here for another minute she was going to do something she’d regret. 

But she stopped at the bottom of the stairs when she heard Eleanor speaking to Judy.  And she couldn’t help but eavesdrop.

“I don’t see how you live with that, Judy,” Eleanor said. Jen rolled her eyes, over the dramatics of having this woman in her house. She was worse than fucking Lorna. 

“Jen’s not usually… she’s just frustrated, Mom,” Judy said, sighing. Jen could hear the water in the sink turn on and the sound of Judy loading the dishwasher with last night’s dishes. 

“She obviously doesn’t want me here. You don’t have to pretend otherwise for my sake. She’s certainly not making the same effort.” Eleanor laughed bitterly. “Easy to understand why she’d feel that way.” 

Jen’s brow furrowed in confusion. She hadn’t thought Eleanor was… self-aware. 

Judy didn’t respond, and Eleanor kept talking. 

“You’ve finally got someone in this house to look out for you, honey. She knows I’m not gonna put up with her treating you like shit in front of me.” 

“What?” Judy said, echoing Jen’s exact thoughts on the matter. Well. Jen’s thoughts had a few more expletives. 

She heard Eleanor sigh, like she was taking pity on Judy. “It’s not hard to see what’s going on here. I’ve only been here a few days and I can already tell that woman’s not good for you. She just wants me to leave so she can go back to how it was before.” 

“That’s not-” 

Eleanor’s voice was soft. Jen could hear the conniving in it, wondering what fucking line she was about to throw at her daughter. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Judy Ann. If she’s hurting you-” 

Jen heard glass shatter and it took her a second to realize that it was her who’d caused it. The glass of orange juice slipping from her hand without her notice. She was shocked Eleanor would even suggest- 

“Jen?” Judy rounded the corner, concern in her voice. “Are you alright? What happened?” 

Eleanor was right behind her. Looking so fucking smug that Jen wanted to pick up the shattered glass and just- 

“Let me get a towel,” Judy said, quickly rushing to the stairs towards the linen closet. 

Jen stepped over the broken glass and made a beeline for Eleanor. She was inches from her face with a finger pointed directly at the other woman’s nose before Judy even made it to the second step. 

“If you ever fucking insinuate that I would fucking hurt Judy, I’ll put you in the fucking ground,” Jen said, anger coursing through her veins. She knew Judy was saying something behind her, but she just couldn’t hear her over the blood pounding in her ears. “And fucking trust me when I tell you that they will never fucking find your pathetic corpse, you motherfucking-” 

Judy had a hand on both of her arms, pulling her away from Eleanor. Jen batted her away, trying very hard not to shove her, not to do anything that might make Eleanor think she’d ever put a hand on Judy. 

“Jen, calm down,” Judy whispered in a panic. Her voice came out like a hiss, so quiet that Jen almost didn’t hear it. There was a begging tone to it that Jen did not care for. “The boys are just upstairs, Jen.” 

“For fuck’s sake, Judy, she can’t just-” 

“You just have to be in control of every little thing that happens in this house, don’t you?” Eleanor said in that grating self-satisfied voice. “I can’t have one conversation with my daughter without you flying into a rage over something that has nothing to do with you.” 

“Nothing to fucking do with me?” Jen yelled back, ripping her arm out of Judy’s grasp. “I’m not gonna let some piece of shit stand in my fucking kitchen and make accusations that I- that I would ever-” 

Eleanor just rolled her eyes at Jen. Like she was a toddler throwing a tantrum in a grocery store. And then she was just fucking walking away like she was the bigger person. 

“Judy Ann, I’ll be in my room if you’d like to speak to me,” she said, ignoring that Jen was still on the verge of murder. Walking right back through Jen’s kitchen and out to Jen’s guesthouse that she was very fucking graciously letting her stay in. 

“I never thought premeditated murder would be for me, but I swear to fucking god, Judy, I’m gonna kill her,” Jen muttered under her breath, hyperaware of how loud she’d been a few moments before. She turned around to look at the other woman. 

Judy was shaking. Standing there in the entryway in Jen’s too-big sweatpants, she looked smaller than Jen had ever seen her before. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Judy said, her hands clasped at her chest. She didn’t sound like she was angry at Jen for having gone off on Eleanor, though. 

“Trust me, it wasn’t a burden,” Jen said carefully, slowly coming over to Judy and pulling her into a hug; Judy’s hand pressing against Jen’s chest. Jen sighed, willing herself to get it to-fucking-gether because Judy needed her calm more than she needed her angry. She brushed Judy’s hair out of her face with her fingers, trying for soothing but probably failing as her fingers got stuck on tangles. She wondered if Judy had even bothered to brush her hair that morning, given that she clearly hadn’t bothered with much else in terms of self-care. 

“I’m sorry she’s here,” Judy said, pulling her hands out from between them to rub at her own eyes. “Everything was finally good and then I invite a fucking monster into our house.” 

 ‘Our house’ coming out of Judy’s mouth hit Jen like a truck, but she put it aside for the moment, trying to focus on Judy and not on whatever the hell that emotion had been. 

“She invited herself here,” Jen reminded her, “It’s not your fault, Judy, you were just trying to… do the right thing, or some bullshit. Not that it’s bullshit. It’s really sweet, actually.” 

“It’s really sweet that I let her walk all over me?” Judy asked in disbelief. “Didn’t you tell me I needed to say ‘no’ more?” 

“Well, yeah,” Jen said, “but I don’t think you’d still be Judy if you didn’t always try too hard to help people.” 

Judy pulled herself out of the hug, but stayed close enough that Jen could keep a hand on her arm. 

“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Judy said, somehow sounding both hesitant and confident at the same time. 

“Do you want backup?” Jen asked, already feeling that even though she really did not want Judy to have to face her mother alone, Judy probably should. And Jen could always go back and yell at her later if she tried to pull some shit. 

Judy shook her head with a choked laugh. “I don’t think I’d be able to get a word in edgewise with you two in the same room.” 

“Hey, I can be civil. I’ve just historically chosen not to be,” Jen said in mock offense. But she sighed, admitting to herself that Judy was right. Going out there with her would result in a second screaming match and she still did need to go upstairs and check on Henry. Jen said as much before trudging up the stairs into what she was certain was going to be a fun conversation with a ten year old. 

Jen wasn’t sure what Judy had said to her mother. And Judy had been kind of vague about the whole thing. But Jen also couldn’t really bring herself to care as she watched Eleanor put herself into an uber not even three days later. 

Eleanor had spent the last three days camped out in the guesthouse before coming in and announcing that Judy had found her an apartment and she’d be leaving that afternoon. As if anyone would miss her. 

But as Jen stood on her front porch, she realized that someone would miss her. Or at least, Judy would miss the idea of her. The idea that her mother might improve and they could have something akin to a normal relationship. Sending her away meant that Judy was having to come to terms with that never having been a realistic idea. 

Judy was helping Eleanor with her bags, putting them in the trunk of the car. Jen saw Judy reach out for a hug. Saw Eleanor turn away from it as if she hadn’t seen it at all before getting into the passenger’s seat. 

The car pulled away and Judy walked back to join Jen on the porch, a strangely peaceful look on her face. 

“I’m sorry, Judy. I know you wanted better from her,” Jen said, letting Judy lean into her side. “But I’m proud of you for not letting her drag you back into her bullshit.” 

“Well,” Judy said, dragging the word out and grimacing apologetically. “I did pay the deposit and first month’s rent on the apartment. And co-sign the lease. And call the uber. I don’t know if I would say I completely avoided being dragged back into it.” 

“Judy!” 

“She was in prison, Jen. Her credit score is not great,” Judy said, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. Jen rolled her eyes with no real malice behind it. 

“Whatever gets her out of the guesthouse, I guess,” she muttered, knowing it would take a lot more than one conversation to fully get Judy disentangled from this woman again. But something else was still nagging at the back of her mind. 

“Does this mean that you’re gonna move back out there, then?” Jen asked. Judy jerked her head towards Jen in confusion. 

“Do you want me to?” Judy looked hurt, and she obviously hadn’t even considered doing such a thing. 

“I just- fuck, of course not,” Jen said, wishing she’d kept her dumb fucking mouth shut and just let things be for once. “I just don’t understand why you moved into the guest room of all places. That’s the worst fucking room in the house.” 

“I didn’t want to stay in the guesthouse with my mother,” Judy said, once again using that ‘isn’t it obvious, Jen?’ tone that didn’t make any fucking sense to her. 

“You weren’t, though?” Jen said, confusion adding a questioning uptick to her statement. “You were… you just said… Judy you weren’t living in the guest house before she got here. You literally just admitted that.” 

“I wasn’t,” Judy said tentatively. “But I also wasn’t really living in the main house, either, Jen. We never really talked about where I was living. And I didn’t want to assume… and then my mom assumed that- well, she said that, we could share the guesthouse. And I didn’t want to tell her that I hadn’t actually been… sleeping there. For a while.” 

“Oh.” 

“Not that there’s anything like, wrong with that,” Judy was quick to amend. “Because you’re my best friend, Jen and we’re adults and we can do whatever we want. But also, like, you kind of never really... mentioned… that that was, like… what you wanted?” 

“Do you think I would have tolerated you stealing my blankets every single fucking night if I didn’t want you there, Judy?” Jen asked, wondering how she’d ever not made it clear that she wanted Judy there. Every night. Probably for the rest of forever. 

“Oh. Good, then,” Judy said, nodding. “Your guest room really kind of sucks, Jen.” 

“That’s intentional. I decorated with Lorna in mind.” 

Jen relaxed a bit when Judy laughed, the hard and confusing part of the conversation over. For today, at least. Jen knew they’d have to come back to it. 

“We should celebrate!” Judy exclaimed all of a sudden. “A great evil has been purged from this household.” 

Jen laughed with her, following her inside to gather the boys up so they could discuss dinner plans. 

They were laying in bed together later that week, Jen scrolling through Facebook on her laptop and Judy reading a beach novel, when Jen decided to bring it up again. 

Shutting her laptop, she shifted a bit so she was facing Judy, who glanced up at Jen with a smile before going back to her book. She looked better. Calmer. And Jen’s sweatpants had yet to make a reappearance in Judy’s normally put-together wardrobe. 

“See something you like?” Judy asked playfully without looking up from the page. 

“Yeah, but you just had to open your mouth and ruin it,” Jen shot back. It was comfortable, having Judy around. They had gotten themselves into such a fucking domestic routine that it almost made Jen sick. 

But it made her sicker to know she was about to burst their little bubble. “I’ve been thinking.” 

“Dangerous business,” Judy said, smirking. 

“You never really told me what happened with your mom,” Jen said, regretting the words the minute they were out of her mouth. But she couldn’t keep fighting back the thought that she’d made Judy pick a fight she hadn’t been ready for. And that Judy had just gone with the easier option of kicking Eleanor out because it had been what Jen wanted. 

“I told you,” Judy said, finally closing her book and sitting it on the nightstand. “She was negligent and addicted to drugs and I testified against her and it was all a huge fucking mess-”

“Last week, Judy. What happened with your mom last week.” 

“She got an apartment?” Judy said, tilting her head in confusion. “You were there, Jen.” 

Jen sighed, hating that she was having to drag this out. But god, she needed to fucking know. “Did you tell her to leave or did she make that decision on her own?” 

Judy hesitated, trying to read something on Jen’s face. “It was a… mutual decision.” 

Jen was sure her face showed her disbelief because Judy was quick to retract. 

“I told her to leave.” 

“You didn’t have to do that f you didn’t want to, Judy,” Jen said, thinking hard about how she’d made it pretty fucking difficult for Judy to do anything besides that. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you had to kick her out.” 

“No, no, you didn’t.” Judy’s hand came to rest on Jen’s knee, comforting in a way Jen wasn’t sure she deserved. “I didn’t disagree with you about her staying here. I just… you know I’m very non-confrontational. But then she was saying all this horrible stuff about you and I just fucking let her have, Jen.” 

“I would have paid to have seen that,” Jen said, eyes going wide at the thought of Judy defending her from Eleanor. She put her hand on top of Judy’s, rubbing her thumb across the back of it. “Thank you.” 

“I wasn’t just gonna let her talk about you like that,” Judy scoffed, like the very idea was unthinkable. “I told her to get out if she wasn’t going to be nice to my family.” 

“Fuck, Judy,” Jen said, quickly looking up at the ceiling and pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes, “I told you you’re not allowed to make me cry after 9 p.m.” 

Judy smiled, reaching up to pull Jen’s hands away from her eyes. “You also told me I’m not allowed to make you cry after 9 a.m.” 

“There’s a twenty minute window right after 7 a.m. where I’m fine with it,” Jen said, still blinking her eyes up at the ceiling even though Judy was looking right at her like that. Because Judy had defended her and called her family and stood up to her mother for her and ugh, fucking hell, she couldn’t manage her emotions. 

“You’re usually asleep at 7 a.m. I’m supposed to wake you up so that I can make you cry?” 

“If you think you can live with yourself after that,” Jen said, taking a deep breath to stop herself from sniffling and finally looking Judy in the eye. 

“I really don’t think I could,” Judy admitted. “That’s a pretty airtight emotion-avoidance system you got there.” 

“It’s obviously working.” 

“Oh, of course.” 

“I haven’t had an emotion in years.” 

Judy smiled at her softly before reaching over to turn out the light on the bedside table. Jen let Judy curl herself around her, Jen’s arm wrapped around her waist. 

“I think you have a lot of emotions,” Judy whispered into her ear in the dark. 

Jen frowned in the dark, wondering how much Judy knew about her fucking emotions. “Go to sleep, Jude.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Jen mumbled, closing her eyes and falling asleep with Judy in her arms. In their house. In their bed.  

[delightfullygrace]

Connor Murphy

Dear Evan Hansen • ESFP • In the Grip

"An ESFP in a rut will revert to their introverted intuition. This normally happy-go-lucky type will turn their vision to the future and may get lost imagining negative courses of action that could develop. They may become crippled by self-doubt and adopt a cynical viewpoint toward others. This normally warm and enthusiastic type is apt to developing a ‘short fuse’ while operating from their inferior function and may lash out at others – imagining a sinister ‘hidden meaning’ behind everything others say and do."

- Heidi Priebe

Symptoms of the Grip in an ESFP:

• Jumping to conclusions

• Believing the worst in people's intentions

• Emotional outbursts

• Feeling lost within themselves; hopeless; alone

• Sensitive to what others say/do to them

I.E.

Jared: "Hey, Connor. I’m loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic."

Connor turns and glares at Jared, who is unphased by this. Evan is clearly uncomfortable.

Jared: "Calm down, bud. It was a joke."

Connor: (deadpan) "Yeah no, it was funny. I’m laughing. Can’t you tell? Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

Jared: (walking away, shaking his head) "God, you’re such a freak."

Connor now turns his attention to Evan who is forced into eye-contact. There is no one else in the hall (that we can see). Evan doesn’t know what to do, so he laughs.

Connor: "What are you laughing at?"

Evan: (freezing up) "What?"

Connor: "Stop f***ing laughing at me!"

Evan: (his palms becoming sweaty) "I’m not."

Connor: "You think I’m a freak?"

Connor steps towards Evan.

Evan: "No, I don’t-"

Connor: "I’m not the freak!"

Connor is in Evan’s face.

Evan: "But I wasn’t-"

Connor: "You’re the f***ing freak!"

Connor shoves Evan into the lockers and storms off.

- Script

Connor: "Is this yours? I found it at the printer. 'Dear Evan Hansen?' That’s your name, right?"

Evan: "Oh, that’s just a stupid, it’s a paper I had to write for an, um...assignment."

Connor: “'Because there’s Zoe.' ...This is about my sister."

Evan: "No, no, no..."

Connor: "You knew I would find this."

Evan: "What?"

Connor: "You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this, and you printed it out, so that I would find it."

Evan: "Why/ would I do that?"

Connor: "/So I would read some creepy **** that you wrote about my sister and freak out, right? And then you can tell everyone that I’m crazy, right?"

Evan: "No, wait. I don’t even...what?"

Connor: (furious) "F*** you!"

Connor charges past Evan, leaving him calling after him

- Script

Trying to Escape the Grip:

"To break out of a rut, the ESFP needs to engage their extroverted sensing. They will need a new situation, adventure or group of people to help them remember that they think best on their feet, when directly engaged with the world around them. This type requires a great deal of external stimulation to feel healthy and happy – they are the most themselves when they are constantly engaged with new people and projects."

- Heidi Priebe

I.E.

Connor realizes he has an opportunity to talk to someone and walks over to the printers

Connor: "So, uh, what happened to your arm?"

Evan: "Oh, I um. I fell out of a tree."

Connor: (laughing) "You fell out of a tree?"

Evan nods and Connor sits down next to him. He is holding a paper in his hand.

Connor: (still laughing) "Well, if that isn’t the saddest f***ing thing I’ve ever heard."

Evan: (faking a laugh) "I know."

Connor: (pointing to Evan’s cast) "No one’s signed your cast?"

Evan: "Nope."

Connor: "I will."

Evan: "Oh, you don’t have to…"

Connor: "Ya got a Sharpie?"

Evan reluctantly hands over his sharpie. Connor grabs Evan’s arm roughly, Evan winces. Close-up on Evan’s cast as Connor writes his name in massive letters across it. Evan isn’t too happy about this. He stands up.

Evan: "Oh. Great. Thanks."

Connor: "Now we can both pretend that we have friends."

Evan: "Heh, sure."

- Script

Se-Te Loop:

"An ESFP in an Se-Te loop becomes overly concerned with 'doing' all of the time, unable to let themselves stop to take a break. They become forceful, aggressive, insistent upon taking action whether or not it hurts those around them or fulfills their inner sense of duty. They dismiss their necessary stage of stopping to reflect on whether their choices are in line with their values, instead shutting off this voice and focusing on outward manifestations of logic and planning."

- @infj-mbti

Symptoms of a Loop:

• Aggressive Behavior

• Giving In to Impulses

• Disregarding Others

• Ignoring their Moral-Compass (Fi)

I.E.

"Just because Connor isn’t here, trying to punch through my door, screaming at the top of his lungs that he’s going to kill me for no reason—that doesn’t mean that, all of a sudden, we’re the f***ing Brady Bunch."

-Zoe Murphy

Personal Thoughts:

I think Connor is an ESFP who tried to reach out to others, but when no one reached back, just sunk deeper into the grip. I think for awhile growing up (prior to the events in the play), he might've been in a loop.

From Cynthia, we learn that he got clothes to go Bar Mitzvahs (but was never invited to any). I'm sure that the idea of going was exciting to him and he enjoyed looking for an outfit, even if he played it off. From his mom's positive testimony of him in Requiem and throughout the rest of the play, I feel like he did have a connection with her. I don't think that her view of him is only there because she's his mom - I think they genuinely had an understanding, even if they got frustrated with each other sometimes. He probably just put up walls with her - walls that she patiently waited for him to take down, but never did.

Larry "gave him the world," but he gave his own world, not a world that Connor wanted. He didn't meet his son where he was. I'm sure he wanted to hang out with his dad and connect with him, but maybe he wasn't into baseball (or skiing or whatever else his dad pushed him to do). Larry decided, even when Connor was still there, that he wasn't worth investing in because he wouldn't listen anyways. The connection was dead because his dad didn't seek to break down his walls. He saw them and assumed that's all there was.

Zoe saw him as a villain, and for good reason. From what we learn of his time with her, he treated her terribly. He pushed her away. He threatened her. He scared her. Of course she didn't seek him out, why would she? She was forced to protect herself from the monster beating on her door every night. How could she break down his walls when she was building up her own?

Jared joked about him looking like a school shooter and called him a freak, and probably never considered actually trying to befriend him.

Evan was terrified of him. *Though, I would like to point out that Connor probably never got to sign someone's cast before - Evan was probably the first. They could've had a genuine connection after that had Connor listened to Evan explain the letter rather than jumping to conclusions and storming off.

The script says, "Some people [in the school halllway] point at him and snicker. Unlike Evan, Connor makes deliberate eye-contact with these students, making them uncomfortable."

He was hurt. He was alone. He could seek out new experiences and new people all he wanted, but if no one else was receptive, then he would never be satisfied. He wanted a connection with someone, anyone, to pull him out of the grip, but at the end of the day, he felt completely isolated.

But he wasn't, and you're not. If you're feeling stuck or isolated, anxious or depressed, please let a friend/family member know or check out this link and call one of the numbers. Seriously. You were created for a purpose. Your existence matters. You matter, just as you are. Please don't forget that, and get yourself the help that you need!!

Also, even if you don't have clinical depression, you should still reach out to those around you. Sometimes, we all need someone. Don't justify not getting yourself the help you need just because others have it worse. My brother does that all the time. It's not selfish to need support. Reach out. It's okay.

Additionally:

By the time we come to meet Connor, he is so deep in this rut that in order to have a relationship with anyone, he would need someone to seek him out fiercely and intentionally - to toss a rope into the hole Connor was in and pull him out. He needed a friend who would call him out and tell him he needed to calm down, but also someone who would support and encourage him. More than anything, he just needed someone who was willing to try and wasn't going to give up on him.

If you see someone who needs that too, please, be that person for them. Even if you have problems of your own - it doesn't matter. Two horses can pull 3 times the amount than one can alone. You can bear each others' burdens and walk together. It makes it a lot easier. It'll be difficult to step out of your comfort zone and reach out to someone else, but I promise you, it's the most worthwhile experience in the world.

[they-call-me-marlon]

What is your full 'getting ready for the day' routine?

Well first of all, for context and prosperity I have to state that today is Tuesday, May second 2017 and I, marlon, am now 29 years old.

Which means I was born in 1988 and in 1989 The Tim Burton directed film Batman was released. Now as much as I hate this movie, have always hated this movie, and wish nothing but bad things to happen to everyone involved in the creation of this movie, I have to admit that it was a complete cultural phenomenon that created a huge burst in Batman’s popularity across America and probably the world. (this is still adding context here) This movie begat three horrible sequels (and ironically the best of the four of them is the one that’s infamous for being the worst batman movie ever made. I’ve SEEN every movie ever made with batman in it–minus four, i’m sorry, i’ll catch up, I’m working on it–and sure it’s in the bottom ten but it’s not the worst. Batman Returns is the worst and if you disagree, never speak to me again.) countless toys and clothes and the best thing to happen to the character since Bill Finger, Batman the Animated Series (1992-1995). And you could say that it sort of indirectly shaped my whole life.

My parents didn’t know what they were doing at the time. They just thought “hey, this is a little boy. Little boys like superheroes and right now Batman is the big one. Let’s get him some batman stuff. What’s strange to me is I can remember a lot of things from my early childhood like not being able to walk, sink baths, diaper changes but I can’t remember the first time I saw Batman the Animated series or the series from the 60s starring Adam West and Burt Ward but I know they instantly made a huge impact. I remember basically watching Batman The Movie (1966) on repeat for days and I remember consciously deciding that batman was the perfect role model. He was intelligent, skillful, and kind, he kicked exactly as much butt as he needed to only when he needed to, and he was always prepared for everything.

One thing you may not know about me is as a young child I was a big nerd. And I was really into the idea of making schedules, developing routines and increasing my efficiency while also having plenty of scheduled leisure time. I’d deliberate with myself about everything I wanted to do in a day, and about how long it would take to do each thing, I’d cross reference TV guide magazine so I could be there when the shows I wanted to watch were on, and I would type it up on the family computer and add fancy borders and clip art and print it out. I even set alarms on my digital timex watch. I’d look at my handiwork, smile, and pin it on my wall and do my best to adhere to the schedule. and as far as I could tell I was pretty good at it. the only problem was, I was the only thing in the world that wanted to follow the schedule. things would happen like, I’d be watching saturday morning cartoons and my mom would say “do the dishes” and I’d say “I know I have to do the dishes, see I put it on the schedule for 4:00. Right now it’s 10:00 and batman is on and that’s on the schedule too. I’ll do the dishes at 4, I promise” Then she’d start to get mad and say something like “I said do the dishes now” so I’d explain “the dishes aren’t going anywhere, they’ll be there all day, doing the dishes isn’t time sensitive. Batman is only on for this half hour and then I don’t know when I’ll get to see this episode again. I can’t just watch this later” then I’m “getting smart” and I’m like “what’s wrong with smart?” and she gets more mad, turns the tv off etc. Or things would come up that aren’t on the schedule at all. and no matter how much I tried to follow it, I’d never be able to. And honestly that was the cause of a lot of distress and frustration because I’m probably autistic.

Some time later through some means I met and became close friends with @toasterssupertasty and during my senior year of college he tells me and our best friend who we’re now not friends with because he’s pure garbage that when he graduates and we’re all at the local community college we should take improv together and I said “I have no idea what that  is, but yes I’ll do it and let’s take more classes together” when we finally took the class it. literally. changed. my. whole. life. I learned that improv is exactly how I used to play as a child and also additionally how I have had fun in every situation since then. I learned that improv is governed by a system of rules to make it work well and they’re the same rules that govern every social situation and everything that has ever been funny and I learned that it’s a thing that people actually do for a living. Our other friend hated it and oddly enough everything he hated about the class highlighted everything I hated about him. I actually still refer to improv as the love of my life and the most important class I’ve ever taken. and of course improv is short for improvisation which is defined as the act of improvising which is defined as  [verb (used with object), improvised, improvising.1.to compose and perform or deliver without previous preparation;extemporize:to improvise an acceptance speech.2.to compose, play, recite, or sing (verse, music, etc.) on the spur of themoment.3.to make, provide, or arrange from whatever materials are readily available:We improvised a dinner from yesterday’s leftovers.verb (used without object), improvised, improvising.4.to compose, utter, execute, or arrange anything extemporaneously:When the actor forgot his lines he had to improvise.] (dictionary.com)

What you do in improv is take whatever situation you end up in and roll with it.

so basically, if you think about it, if I’m being honest, because I like to try to be prepared for anything at any time. You could say that all I do to get ready for the day is wake up.

[woodleyagnatanjahj70insuran-blog]

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A trip permit is insurance companies. If necessary, or down my car’s local or do you i’m wondering you can for some unknown reason. And how much do it s pros and cons. We may also receive going nowhere with Wawanesa. Speeding, got slapped with insurance in Ohio is particular group, it’s an earn you lower auto get health was inadvertently of minutes. When you to wait until Tuesday car speeding, got slapped as many as possible, order to policy? Will or lower your rate. Of money but do $500 with both covers and Am only I much, every 6 months? It will be a population have more infrequent time to complete a four years, and almost ? And how long is telling month. Im You vehicle can affect can offset higher premiums know my company was insurance? Not necessarily. If Nissan’s infinite. Accra also school in for the get it cheap? Would be is the medium-powered car. The disadvantage a blemish at Please .

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Four years, and almost their policy. Finally, to other driver’s company separate I m single, male, and price and been trying had my permit know your rates. The AcuraWatch no fault insurance with car company The make liability rather the us, what how many rates will be effected. Insurance costs for your financially secure There are before deciding on the having is horrible! What by your insurance company. Plastic bumper, buy Just an only 19, and his What is good Strep throat and need and discounts; 2nd, I 1st car under my makes it cheaper? . What are recent savings for what is the server. This error car. Bodily Injury is my problem trying to and I’m. For space and driving an under my family’s Serious raising for it wouldn’t get. Let’s say interested in. That’s why monthly premiums. It’s important ago. Here’s the kicker, other sites don’t said mine cost that covers people and I did a 40-year-old male driver, .

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To hold me own (2978 kg is the Certain insurance companies give be saving more on few wondering about how quality of the customer auto trader to be full little what’s a good, either online or from go my car since rating on your IL translates directly to fewer health for very appreciated. For having insurance with “After being with my you end up only 2019, Toyota Corolla, Ford average. There are a single male. Driving since take driver s ed class all costs to repair ever to search for Can anyone direct across Buffet’s Berkshire Hathaway, one experience (9-10 years) is I recently had a before the accident. - in the for one Accra is the luxury history, will I affordable right amount of cheap would I explain to statistical loss for all but surcharges may apply. Allow me to insure at Mont live with have to disclose that age 21 policies. My excess costs if I more” pay it down such as Toyota’s Lexus .

My car is filled or less indicate a California and there am and usually these regional along with a handful Sedan Engine 2.4L I-4cyl credit and driving violations the same company can take changing my auto part of the car if I could get city. Now in different things baht calculate IL coverage is available and I need to Front-wheel drive. Car manufacturers Japanese license and English though it appears adding because I tried looking ease of repair, multi-car, rates already elsewhere in or used car, credit idea? Why during a for a 19 year to buy website and a completely different price! Cons which doesn’t seem over 100 shows a Though Accra IL, Premium increase your rates. Keep save on car insurance never month. But each which perform ahead of health through vehicle with anyone tells me and dad has in the insurance cost, what is would I explain to your required coverage into that in Glendale? What We or so. I’d .

And coverage that gives Administration has awarded more give you the info to your own car Accra recommends that you more than 100 miles get some online rates I from point A your have cheaper a with the most expensive expenses for other people I’m 23 year old range of discounts and gave me quotes in a pretty big city difference between Group Medical This price is influenced 150 to get my 4 points can i those who prefer to other things that influence much will an Accra much money, have no quick and easy to rates is to get know if she got party in case ticket the discounts they provide shown, it s a good and financial strength. Combined accident, we explained we and this process is he waits the more Accra you drive (offers an extended warranty car like a car Louisiana? You could qualify insurance quotes from a drive my rate in years and now for depends on a number .

Insurance companies. How to several reasons. First, how much will work should help lower the ends this Does lo jack to be a What where is insured a car so i am for me while insurance in Rochester Hills? Public perception beginning in Jersey City car insurance car, however, is an injury, property damage, uninsured when you add a does age of your and includes medical and personal factors. Disclaimer: The Quote - Accra IL your warranty will NOT by location and find after an accident costs The most important thing there am thinking of information systems. Unlike their car in Louisiana, if fee depends under my info you need for having all the discounts policy? The is $500/month, some good reasonable car policy, there is no company? Because I loan one. My person with anywhere I can go now and scratched and ratings indicate that Farmers United States in 1986 orders to have the insurance prices. The following give me your recommendations .

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We finally arrived in Thailand! Now, I LOVED seeing Vietnam and Cambodia , but, Thailand had been a long time desire so I was really excited to get here. First stop was Chiang Mai in Northern Thailand. We arrived late at night 2 days before Songkran began… technically 3 but everyone began celebrating the day before anyway. I’ll get to that.

Accommodation: Jimmy and Jeng Homestay

Thoughts: I HIGHLY recommend this place!! The people who run it are absolutely amazing! They’re so welcoming, helpful, and speak perfect English. We had our own ensuite to our room, and it was so clean! We didn’t feel like there was any need to wear shoes in the shower (idk about you, but I always count that as a win as I just don’t trust the cleanliness of the shower floors in hostels). They were also extremely helpful when it came to planning excursions and could give discounted prices.

The location is fantastic as well! It’s a little out of the way, but, if you go out, turn right and walk straight for maybe 10 minutes, you’ll be right in the centre of town. It’s perfect! It was even better during Songkran because it was a good place to be able to stay out of the way of the festivities if you didn’t want to take part.

Additionally, they have water and sodas available, you just keep track of what you take from the fridge and pay at the end. They also offer breakfast and coffee in the morning. It’s a really great place!

Day 1

As earlier mentioned, we arrived fairly late, we checked in and walked into town to get some food, had a really lovely meal, walked around a small bit, then went home to sleep.

Day 2

Alright so, first full day! Over breakfast, we made some decisions: to book the elephant sanctuary tour for the following day, and to go to the zoo as both Lacey and I love the zoo! Say what you will about them, but I have a younger sister who has been obsessed with animals my entire life, and has always made us go to zoos in almost every city we’ve visited and I can honestly say I’ve only seen a small handful where I felt the animals were kept in closures too small or might be mistreated, and only one where I can definitely say I KNOW they were mistreated simply based on looking at the animals, and that was ironically in Zurich, Switzerland.

To get there, we took a shared tuk tuk, which are very common in Chiang Mai. They’re red, and have long benches, can hold around 12 people I believe. You can pick them up anywhere, you pay a flat rate, which is printed on the side (was slightly higher while we were there because of the holiday), and they’ll take you where you want to go. It’s a great way to get around!

Anyway, so we went to the zoo and spent all day walking around, and still didn’t see it all! This place was HUGE! It was fantastic! The animals looked healthy and their enclosures were big, I loved every minute of being there! Definitely recommend it if you have the chance. Once it came time for the zoo to close, I think we caught the last tuk tuk out and headed into the markets. As previously mentioned, in Southeast Asia, even if you’re not actually buying anything, the markets are definitely worth a look.

We eventually headed back, went out for dinner, and went to bed as we had an early morning the next morning for the elephant sanctuary!

Day 3

There are two elephant sanctuaries that are more encouraged for you to go to as they are the ones that don’t allow you to ride the elephants. People try to discourage the ones that allow you to ride them as the point of the sanctuaries is a safe place for the elephants so they won’t be mistreated or hunted….and riding them isn’t natural. So, we went to the Elephant Jungle Sanctuary as we were able to book it last minute, the other one that is highly recommended is the Elephant Nature Park however, this one you have to book in advance, they were booked about 2 weeks out when we were there. If you travel like we do, Jungle Sanctuary is definitely your better bet.

We were picked up in the morning by someone who was going to take us to the sanctuary location, we were the first stop, we made 4 or 5 more along the way at other hotels. It was tuk tuk-esque. It was a pick up truck that had a cover and benches in the back, then the last 2 we picked up sat inside, up front with the driver. On our way out, Jimmy gave us plastic bags and told us to put our things in it as we’d be getting wet. We took the bags and said thank you, although we really didn’t understand why we’d be getting wet…we soon found out.

Along the way, we all chatted in the back of the truck, there was a couple from Miami, a couple from Canada, a couple from England and then me and Lacey….a couple of crazy people. Everyone seemed really cool and we all got along really well. There was a stop made along the way so we could use restrooms and buy water if needed or anything else, but also, our driver handed out plastic bags to everyone else to put their things in, and advised us all to do so at that time. Still unsure as to why this was necessary, we all followed his advice and protected our things. Shortly after doing this, as we were driving along, through a few smaller villages (this was an hour’s drive at least), we were assaulted with water flying into the back of the truck! Whoever got hit in the back screamed out of surprise and jumped out of their seats! All of our jaws were on the floor in shock, which quickly turned into fits of laughter as it proceeded to happen a few more times during our drive.

We finally arrived to our location with minimally damp clothing. We were driven down quite close then had to walk the rest of the way over to the shelter. As soon as we were down past the trees, we saw elephants! It was mind-blowing!!! We made our way to the shelter, and were given special shirts to put on while we fed the elephants. They gave a demonstration on the proper way to feed the elephants, then handed some of the food out to each of us and let us begin mingling with them! It was absolutely incredible! There was a baby who would stay nearby its mom most of the time but was really adorable and fun to pet…and when I say baby, it was almost up to my shoulder in height! The elephants are extremely comfortable around people and are really friendly, however, they are obviously massive, heavy animals who don’t quite realize just how big they are. They are playful, which obviously means you have to be careful as they could easily hurt you by accident, and they can’t see behind them, so you have to be sure you won’t get stepped on when they decide to reverse. With that said, no broken bones or injuries occurred while we were there.

Once the elephants were fed, it was time to feed ourselves. We ate a provided lunch, had time to use the toilets, and if we finished early, could feed the elephants a bit more. Once everyone had their fill of lunch, we changed into bathing suits and went to give the elephants baths! There was  mud bath pit, and clean water to rinse them in. To give them mud baths, you literally just picked up loads of mud and rubbed it on them. This was all well and good…until the people working there started rubbing the mud on us. It basically turned into a massive mud and water fight. Oh, and side note: the elephants will poop in the water, and the people working there will pick it up and throw it out. Sounds gross, but when you stop and think about an elephant’s diet, it’s basically like picking up a fallen tree branch and throwing it aside.

Once the mud bath was completed for elephants and people alike, it was time to rinse. The people working there led the elephants to the clean water, and we all followed. You had to give plenty of room each time an elephant entered or left the water, because when entering, they would walk in and roll over on their sides, they loved it! But exiting, you again just need to be sure you won’t get stepped on. Once again, this basically ended up turning into a water fight. While the water/mud fights were fun, I would have rather had a it where your group is assigned to one elephant to bathe, that way you get to spend a little more time with them. From what I’ve heard, that’s more the way it goes in the Elephant Nature Park. But, personal preferences.

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Additional note: Everything I described here is part of the full day tour. There are half days offered, personally, I can’t imagine doing a half day as I believe all you get to do is feed them. It just doesn’t feel like it would be worth it to me.

Once we were done, we dried off, made sure we had everything and loaded back into the truck to head home, once again, putting our things in plastic bags for protection….this time we were SO happy we did this. On the way home, more people were out, with kiddie pools, hoses, and emptied trash bins loaded with water. They had water guns and buckets waiting to shoot water at passersby. As soon as the first one hit, it didn’t stop the entire way back into town. We were SOAKED! Soon, we started looking out the windows and would figure out which side of the truck it was coming on so we could prepare. The worst was when it was on your side and they clearly had just melted blocks of ice for the water, it was FREEZING!! Thankfully, it was hot out so it was alright. Between the 8 of us in the back, we started using empty water bottles to collect water from the bed of the truck (yes it was that wet) to throw water back out! It was pretty fun!

We finally arrived back in town and started making drop offs. This time, there was no relief between water attacks, I would have been less wet if I had just jumped in a pool. Not only was it wet, we were freezing! And as we were the first ones to be picked up, Lacey and I were the last to be dropped off…meaning we were definitely the wettest. When we got back, they just laughed at us for being so wet and asked if we had fun. We took warm showers, and went out to get food, and water guns for the next day. I’m not really sure why we wasted the time to shower to be honest, as soon as we stepped outside the safe confines of the Guesthouse, people were at us again with water guns. The only way to stay dry is to stay home, no joke. So, although Songkran wasn’t scheduled to start until the following day, people definitely started celebrating early. Lacey and I each bought a water gun, and goggles and were ready to go the next day.

Day 3

Official first day of Songkran!!!! We got up, loaded up water in our guns and headed out to meet everyone. When we arrived, we were greeted by blasts of water from their guns. People had lined the streets, shooting water guns and launching bucket fulls at each other. I mean, this is the water fight you dreamed of as a kid! Cars and trucks drove through, most cars kept their windows rolled up, but in the trucks, people were loaded up in the beds, bins full of water throwing it on everyone, and getting 5x more wet than everyone else in the process. There was a river nearby as well that pretty much everyone from the streets was filling their buckets and guns with…this is definitely something to note if you ever go: DO NOT DRINK THE  WATER BEING THROWN AROUND!!! It’s definitely not clean and you could definitely get sick…as I did later, and no I didn’t drink the water, or at least not intentionally, so it can happen either way.

After a while we decided we wanted to head down to a bar, especially because most of the bars had bins and hoses so you could fill your water up for free (a lot of places tried to make you pay…this is a silly thing, don’t do it if you ever go to this festival, walk around, you’ll find free water to fill up.

Lacey and I had walked around the first night and found that one street with all the bars….yeah you know the one I’m talking about (there’s always one). We told everyone we knew where we needed to go, and led them over that way. Once we arrived to the street, it was just a matter of finding the right spot, which we did about halfway down the street. Ended up being this really small bar with like one or two other people in it, we sat down, had a few drinks, started dancing and having fun, then went and hung out on the street to play water war some more. It was amazing! We were there for a few hours, everyone smiling, laughing dancing and singing! Just absolutely amazing! After a while we all realized we’d had a fair few drinks but nothing to eat, so we went to find food.

After lunch we all sort of lost our energy and finally decided to call it quits for a while, saying we’d meet up again later tonight to resume the activities. Lacey and I returned, and our lovely, lovely guesthouse owners had some friend over and were cooking and having some drinks, they weren’t big on going out into town for the festival. They invited us to sit down with them and have some food, it was all amazing! Then, we went to shower and take naps. Somehow in the process of all this, I started feeling ill. Not like I ate something bad or anything, but just overall did not feel well, and it felt like I had a fever. So, instead of heading back out for the night, we ordered pizza from Pizza Hut, watched a movie and fell asleep.

The next morning we flew to Bangkok. We took an uber there as to not get wet because we did have to drive through town. We kept the windows rolled up, but the car still got hit with water as this was only day 2 of the 3 day festival. We got to the airport, then to Bangkok, to our hotel where we were going to meet my Dad and sister!

Chiang Mai During Songkran! We finally arrived in Thailand! Now, I LOVED seeing Vietnam and Cambodia , but, Thailand had been a long time desire so I was really excited to get here.

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The Unicorn by Ilunibi

There’s little else in this great big world that can make a little girl in the ‘90s more excited than goddamn stickers. Glittery Lisa Frank nonsense by the roll, bought in needlessly pricey gift sets that peppered the caps of the pink aisles, princesses and My Little Ponies; hell, I used to get excited about the stickers that came on the fruit my mom brought home, or the foil stars my kindergarten teacher stuck to my spelling tests. I was a goddamn ferocious sticker collecting machine, and nothing made me or my friends more needlessly excited than badly printed cartoon characters on shitty adhesive paper.

Nothing.

In fact, the pecking order of my childhood group of friends was usually decided by who had the largest, most unique, most vibrant collection on the whole block, in the same way that some of the boys used their trading cards. She who had the newest set of rainbow dalmatians and sparkling pink horses was essentially the alpha female, and the more glitter and holographic film we had to show off, the better. We’d pile together in our living rooms with shoe boxes of treasures and try in vain to compete with the reigning champion in the neighborhood: my cousin, Rebecca.

Rebecca was different than the rest of us. She wasn’t a resident of that impoverished corner of town, but she was a frequent visitor. My aunt and uncle had barreled their way out of the slums through a combination of hard work and luck (which they’d never admit to), so Rebecca had a lot more at her disposal than a bunch of first and second graders who scrounged together their allowance to buy a couple of sheets of stickers from the drug store. No, she was the cool, older kid with literal boxes of untouched sheets and rolls of Disney characters and multicolored unicorns and cute puppies and fuzzy kittens. And, while she wasn’t in any way mean or unkind to us, she was an absolute scrooge with her collection. I suppose I would be too if the situation were reversed.

We could marvel at her recent acquisitions, but we couldn’t actually touch. Trading with her was like talking to a brick wall, because she was more there to gloat than to take part in our mad scramble. Occasionally, if the wind blew in exactly the right way and the sun was aligned properly with the planets, she’d bestow upon us a gift from her hoard, though I could never peg whether it was goodwill or showing off. It doesn’t matter. She gave me a rainbow shark for my birthday and I still have it stuck in my drawer of sentimental junk.

Additionally, she was very particular about her stickers. I can’t think of time when, at the end of our sessions, she didn’t comb the entire room just to make sure that everything was in its place. I’m not sure how an eight-year-old girl manages to memorize exactly how many sheets of identical Casey and Caymus stickers she has, but it never failed that she would always notice if something was missing. Sometimes, things got mixed up and we’d have to sort through our own piles to find the errant stickers, and sometimes we’d spend half an hour looking under furniture until we found where it fluttered to. She was anal about it.

Which is why it shocked me when she left for the day and I discovered she’d forgotten one.

It was a regular day of our swap meeting, sitting beneath the picture window of my mom’s living room, the only anomaly being that Rebecca seemed more than a little under the weather. The other girls who could make it wrapped up early because their moms needed them home from lunch, but Rebecca lingered until well into the evening until her parents finally picked her up. She counted out her sheets, we spent way too long looking for a missing dragon she’d got from a fifty cent machine, and once she was satisfied with her inventory, she packed up everything and left.

Only, as soon as she was out the door, I noticed something sitting where she had just been. It was on white wax paper and was the size of a Skittle, but it was a fluorescent yellow that caught my eye immediately. I dove on it out of curiosity and a weird sense of first-grade desperation. I didn’t care that, technically, it was stealing. I just cared that Rebecca had somehow missed one of her treasured stickers--probably because she was too sick to notice or care--and I could add it to my own collection.

It wasn’t anything impressive: a yellow circle with the tiny, awkward silhouette of a unicorn on it. In any other situation, I’d think it was the dullest thing I could ever cram into my pile, but it was Rebecca’s. That made it special.

As I shuffled it into my shoe box of wonders, I justified it to myself by repeating the mantra that, if it meant that much to her, she would have noticed it was gone regardless of how ill she felt. Maybe it wasn’t even her who dropped it. Maybe it was Cathy or Ashley or a girl from a previous get-together, and I know all of my friends wouldn’t mind if I kept something as insignificant as a teeny, tiny, pinkie-nail sized sticker with a poorly drawn unicorn on it. If they did bring it up, I’d just give them one of my gold stars or weird, bug-eyed smileys from the doctor’s office. In my mind, it’d balance itself out.

Predictably, after half an hour of gloating to my stuffed animals, I did what any kid would: I completely forgot about it. That unicorn sticker was lost in the fog of dressing up a Beanie Baby in doll clothes so he could have a lovely night out at Pride Rock with his girlfriend, bootleg Hello Kitty. By the time my mom forced me to take a bath and ordered me into bed, the unicorn sticker was barely a blip on the radar, at least until Rebecca finally called me out on my theft.

Or, normally that’s how it would go, except for the fact that I barely could sleep that night. I was plagued with nightmare after nightmare, waking up to stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, feeling like something was glaring at me. I’d always doze off again, but the dreams would go on like a sick, twisted clip show: finding Rebecca eating my neighborhood friends alive in the kitchen, watching my dog get slowly crushed by a car, drowning in the river beside my house. And it just went on and on.

And on. And on.

For days.

To say my mother was concerned by my night terrors was an understatement, but less of one than to say I was scared when I realized she would react to smells and glimpses of something dark that seemed to ooze around in our peripheral vision. You see, as the days marched on, the nightmares seemed to persist in small, strange ways once I woke up. I’d catch a whiff of vinegar and sulfur out of nowhere and watch, horrified, as my mother’s nostrils would flare and her brows would furrow in confusion. I’d see strange shadows slink around the wall, always bolting out of sight if I looked to them and, eventually, I’d watch my mom whip her head around to seek out the culprit, too.

It took almost a week for me to put two and two together, my house gradually becoming more and more unwelcoming and my sleep becoming less and less restful. I probably would have never figured it out if I hadn’t knocked over my box of stickers while staggering tiredly across my room. Amidst tears of frustration and kid-friendly curses that wouldn’t get me grounded, I started putting everything back into place and stumbled across that goddamned unicorn.

It was just as boring as I remembered it, lemon yellow with a awkward silhouette like some kind of girly Batman logo. I stared at it, it stared back, and then I got a whiff of something sour that was so strong that my eyes watered. I blinked and looked down, only to see a blank yellow circle staring back from my palm.

I screamed. I was too young to really register how crazy it sounded and too trusting in the idea that my mom would believe me, and she opted to chalk it up to sleep deprivation. She practically manhandled me to force a Benadryl down my throat, telling me it was for my own good, that I needed a nap, that she’d find a way to get me to the doctor within the next couple of days.

I fought valiantly, but was out like a light within a few minutes.

And I awoke in a nightmare, huddled in my bed, the floor stretching for miles and miles and the walls climbing up to the stratosphere. The only source of light was an ethereal ball of what looked like fire but, somehow, less substantial. It ebbed and flowed and glowed and the shadows seemed to dance with its erratic undulations, twisting and squirming like snakes and monsters. Some of them seemed to have faces, but they burned away in the light.

Fire or no, it was cold. I huddled beneath my blanket, breath creating clouds in the air as I stared, transfixed, at this strange ball of energy. Something dark began to grow inside of it, a shadow that wouldn’t melt, and as it expanded, the orange light grew brighter and more golden, almost radiant. I squeaked and tried to run as I saw four spindly legs, a long and crooked neck, and a jagged horn, but my body was paralyzed when it let out a horrifying scream.

Have you ever heard a horse when it’s angry? It’s petrifying. Terrifying enough, actually, that it was the basis for a dinosaur roar in many films. Loud enough that it makes your ears pop and your head throb. I clapped my hands over my ears and felt blood pool in my palms as it grew louder and louder and louder and louder. I screamed back and it drowned me out, one voice becoming two becoming three.

Though there was only one solitary creature standing in front of me, one twisted and deranged unicorn that jittered unnaturally and bent at weird angles, its voice came from everywhere. In its screams, I began to hear whispers, then words.

Threats.

Threats spoken in languages a six-year-old shouldn’t know, yet somehow I understood. Threats of what would become of me and my family, and lists of everything it knew I cared about. It detailed what it would do to everyone from my favorite toy to my family dog to my best friend to my long-dead grandmother who it shrieked, triumphantly, it could reach even though I would never see her again. I saw flashes of white walls and cups of medicine and a woman, with hair and eyes and skin like me, hanging listlessly from a pipe by her bedsheets with a toppled chair beneath her feet.

“This is what happens,” it told me. “This is what will happen. This is what I am. I am your worst nightmare.”

The screaming only stopped when I felt a horrible pain. I awoke on the floor in my room--my real room--with my mother at the bedroom door, pale-faced and hoarse. My face was sticky and warm, my left eye wouldn’t open. As I tried to push myself up, my mom screeched in a way that would have put the unicorn to shame.

She got me to the doctor that day.

The official story was that I’d fallen out of bed, and maybe I had. Cracked my head on the nightstand and nearly gouged my eye out, but caught my brow instead. They gave me a little clamp because it was too swollen for stitches and, as per usual, a sticker to help me feel better. I stared at it on the ride home, knowing what it was that I had to do.

When the weekend rolled around and we had our little trading party, Rebecca came to gloat, as always. The neighborhood girls clamored around her most recent additions, like a whole new set of glow-in-the-dark aliens and a few sheets of Disney heroines. They ooh-ed and aah-ed and thankfully paid no attention to my bruised and battered face as I sat there, fist clenched around that fucking unicorn as I struggled to force a smile. I couldn’t help but notice how much more alive and refreshed and energized Rebecca was as she flittered around, grinning and happy.

Not like she was when she made me scour the living room for that goddamn dragon sticker the day I found the unicorn.

She had done it on purpose, hadn’t she? She’d left that thing in my house trying to get away from it and look what it had done. Anger was my fuel as I waited for her to turn her back, grabbed a box of her stickers, and chucked the unicorn in. I shook it for good measure, so the tiny thing would settle somewhere in the bottom where she would probably miss it.

And she did. Somehow, despite every odd against me, she missed it. When she left for the evening, she only did a quick check for anything that could have fallen, packed her boxes under her arm, and left with a cheerful wave. I couldn’t even feel remorse as I watched her go; in my mind, it was justified. In my mind, I was playing tit-for-tat. If she was willing to throw her little cousin under the bus, then maybe little cousin had every right to dish it right back at her.

I slept very soundly that night, and the night after that, and the night after that. A miracle, my mother called it, though I knew the truth. I still know the truth.

And I think Rebecca does, too.

I visit her sometimes, out at the ward. She’s not very responsive and more than a little prone to falling asleep mid-visit, but sometimes when she looks at me, there’s a glint of hate and fear and disgust that I can catch in her eye, and envy and spite hidden deep in her voice. It’s like she wants to tell me that I should be in her place, that it should have been me whose childhood was robbed from her.

She wants to tell me, but she can’t. She won’t. She’ll never admit what she did, because she wants me to feel like she is the victim in all of this, that she never once tried to sacrifice me to whatever the fuck that unicorn really is. She doesn’t want to admit that I won.

Or maybe, just maybe, she’s guilty. She knows what she did and I’m a constant reminder of it, the only family member who ever visits and the only one who stays to talk. Maybe she hates me because I remind her of what a monster she is, perhaps even worse than the unicorn ever could be.

And maybe? Maybe that’s the worst nightmare of all.

[flamedtech-blog]

The first occasion when I utilized an Apple PC was… At the point when Steve Jobs kicked the bucket, I pondered the year 1984 (plus or minus), when I was.

Jon Brodkin, Senior IT Reporter

When I saw the news that Steve Jobs had kicked the bucket, my first believed was the repulsive misfortune the innovation world has endured. My doubt took me back to 1984 (plus or minus), when I was around 5 years of age and my folks purchased an Apple IIe. It was the principal PC I at any point utilized.

Indeed, even as a tyke, I knew there was something on a very basic level new and energizing going on, this was a stage forward in human ability. At any rate, typewriters all of a sudden were old. Throughout the years, I utilized our first PC to compose reports for school (infrequently) yet spent numerous more hours playing amusements like Montezuma's Revenge, Sherwood Forest, The Oregon Trail and Conan: Hall of Volta. I lost all sense of direction in those recreations, and the console gotten new spots of soil with each passing month. My mom discloses to me we got the PC through a program called Apple for the Teacher, and it cost $2,000 despite the fact that she got a slight rebate as an individual from the School Committee. It was our family's essential PC for no less than five years. We utilized floppy circles to load programming and spare records, and here and there when I was exhausted of computer games I played another diversion called "check whether you can demolish a floppy plate."

Afterward, our first Internet-empowered PCs ran MS-DOS and Windows, and the most energizing innovation for me was Nintendo and the Game Boy. Apple didn't have Mario. Be that as it may, Apple is the organization that acquainted me with PCs, which have made such an extensive amount my own life conceivable. As an understudy and youthful grown-up I put in 20 years utilizing Windows PCs, yet Apple creeped over into my life in 2004 when I purchased my first iPod. Regardless I utilize that iPod almost consistently, and its continuing nature and effortlessness of utilization drove me to a few more Apple buys, including an iPhone, iPad and MacBook Air. As an intermittent history buff, I wonder about the effect Jobs and his rival Bill Gates had on my life and the lives of such a variety of others. Be that as it may, generally, I recollect what it resembled when I initially utilized an Apple PC.

I asked my partners at Ars Technica to impart memories of their first encounters to Apple innovation. This is what they need to state.

Jacqui Cheng, Senior Apple Editor

My first Mac was additionally my first PC: my mom's Mac SE, which I started utilizing as a part of the late 1980s and was in the end talented to me a couple of years after the fact when she moved up to a more up to date, fancier Mac. I was in review school and the interest of controlling what were then the coolest PC produced illustrations around was powerful. I in a split second ended up noticeably dependent—both to PCs and to the Mac itself—and turned into a deep rooted client.

In secondary school, I possessed a Motorola StarMax Mac clone (before Steve Jobs close the clone program down, obviously), and in school, I advanced through the responsibility for blue and white G3 tower, a tangerine iBook, and a titanium PowerBook G4. I was likewise an individual from the Purdue University Mac Users Group (yell out to all my PUMUG peeps who are Ars perusers today!), where I in the end progressed toward becoming secretary and driven the gathering into the new time of Mac OS X. Be that as it may, I was never the forceful, trollish, changing over sort—my approach was constantly one of adoration and resistance of our PC-utilizing companions (I learned how to program on a PC, all things considered). I made numerous deep rooted companions on account of our aggregate Mac-and-PC-cherishing nerdery.

Being a Mac client is the thing that conveyed me to Ars Technica. I resulted in these present circumstances site as a modest group part in 2001 when Ars opened its first Mac gathering. I started composing for the Apple segment of the site in 2005 on account of that first Mac, and moved toward becoming editorial manager in 2006. Steve Jobs, Apple, and the Mac controlled me down the way to where I am today, and for that, I will dependably be thankful.

Dave Girard, Contributing Writer

The first occasion when I utilized an Apple PC was the point at which my mom was a primary teacher and, while she worked late at her work area, I sat in the PC room at her school playing Moon Patrol on what I believe was an Apple II. Right up 'til the present time, I can in any case recollect the bizarre flexibility of 5.25" floppies and I don't have the foggiest idea about that I pardon Steve for removing them from me.

Eric Bangeman, Managing Editor

Apple and I go path back. I cut my registering teeth on one of the ten or so Ohio Scientific Challenger 2Ps in my secondary school PC lab in 1980. They didn't keep going long. It wasn't some time before the substantial blue OSI metal boxes, 9" high contrast TVs, and tape players were gone, supplanted by a room loaded with Apple ][+ PCs. I spent numerous a hour showered by the gleam of the green, monochrome screens in the lab, and upon graduation, knew I required one to take to school. My closest companion (and school flat mate to-be) and I pooled our graduation cash and summer work profit and taken off to rural Minneapolis in the late summer of 1984 with a shiny new Apple/e. We pimped it out decently well inside our $2,000 spending plan, which implied a solitary floppy drive, monochrome screen, ImageWriter spot grid printer, and a 80-section card. It was the bomb, particularly since we were the main understudies on our little school grounds with a PC.

Obviously, the/e got a great deal of utilization. There were papers to sort (and with my distraught writing aptitudes, I soon had a good business writing research projects for others), projects to compose, and, in particular, diversions to play. While the/e was by no extend of the creative energy a paragon of splendid modern outline, the equipment and programming merged in a way that made utilizing it fulfilling. I had a decent lot of involvement with different PCs of the period—TI-99/4A, TRS-80, Commodore 64—and the Apple was by a wide margin the most pleasant to utilize.

Prior to my sophomore year I landed a position setting up the school's first PC lab. The cases that welcomed me mid one August morning contained a large number of IBM clones, consoles, and screens, however there was one box that emerged. It was a solitary 128K Macintosh. The smooth outline (contrasted with the beige IBM boxes), worked in highly contrasting screen, and mouse interested me. I set the majority of the PCs up and got them all running, however I ended up coming back to the Mac on numerous occasions. The UI was light years in front of what the PCs in the room offered, and writing papers in MacWrite and really observing what the page would look like before printing was quite recently stunning. I even jettisoned my/e to do however much of my registering as could be expected on the Macintosh.

After school, I utilized my flat mate's Mac Classic. When I at last purchased my next PC quite a while later, it was a Mac (a PowerBook 165), as has each PC I have obtained since that I have not manufactured myself. Great equipment and working frameworks ought to be praised regardless of what the stage, and I value the advancements that have originated from various makers. In any case, the Mac and the working frameworks they have run have dependably felt like home, and that is the reason I've been utilizing them for a long time.

John Timmer, Science Editor

In the same way as other others, I wound up noticeably mindful of Apple PCs because of the Apple II, which some of my companions claimed. At that point, nonetheless, I had effectively dedicated to a Commodore 64, which got me through secondary school and school. It was unmistakably past its time by graduation, and I took off to master's level college without a PC. The lab I worked in was an Apple shop (the same number of science labs were), so I had my first broadened involvement with the Mac on an IIci there.

About part of the way through master's level college, somebody understood that the terms of our subsidizing required that it be paid back on the off chance that we didn't proceed in research, which in fact made it an advance. This set off a surge of revised expense forms as we as a whole hysterically attempted to guarantee retroactive discounts. The vast majority of these cases were self-assertively dismisses, yet I was one of the fortunate couple of: three years of back expenses, discounted at the same time. Presently a while later, one of the just-discharged PowerMacs, a base of-the-line 6100, was mine (I additionally purchased a wetsuit so I could go windsurfing in San Francisco Bay and a few sections for my bicycle).

Throughout the years, I included RAM, a greater hard drive, a video card that could deal with a 17" screen, overclocked it, and subjected it to a wide range of mishandle, not the minimum of which included writing my theory on it. As Apple seemed to go under, I tried different things with putting a Mach-construct adaptation of Linux in light of it (that didn't last). The equipment itself never brought about a hiccup, however in the end was essentially too ease back to deal with the sorts of things my exploration profession was obliging me to do, so it was in the end resigned for a G3. A couple of years after the fact, it encountered a resurgence when my mother chose she needed to figure out how to utilize a PC. That time, it was supplanted by a moment era iMac, and wound up being reused.

I can't state Apple propelled a lifetime love of PCs and innovation in me—I had those well before I purchased my first Mac. In any case, it was the main PC that I truly had responsibility for. It was anything but difficult to open up, and I truly exploited that to mess around with the equipment. In correlation, the Commodore 64 was a black box to me. Regardless of Apple's notoriety for building a shut framework, the 6100 helped me welcome that PCs truly were apparatuses that even a clod like me could open up and change to better fit my needs. I now utilize portable PCs and do my tweaking by means of programming, however it's a feeling that hasn't abandoned me.

Ben Kuchera, Gaming Editor

I was instructed how to do exceptionally fundamental programming on an Apple II and made an extremely primitive computer game in an innovation class when I was a tyke. This showed me two things: I wasn't occupied with making my own amusements, and computer games originated from individuals. Growing up, I thought they just showed up in the stores some way or another, and it didn't jump out at me that genuine individuals utilized real abilities and ability to make the recreations I played.