#But to me norm stays in California for college

[rooolt]

The post canon college gothcleats that lives in my head has haunted me for weeks and I have no way of inflicting it upon anyone else

[risetherivermoon]

the oak-swallows-garcia's at the time of the epilogue!! this is also me working on revamping some designs..stay tuned, im planning on doing this with all of the families! tho idk if ill get to it...we'll see

i feel like hero looks a lot like the twins where norm looks a lot like rebecca, especially as she got older, i need to revamp my design for her or at least make a proper one lol, as well as one for s2 hero

started with these guys because i have not stopped thinking abt them since the finale, like oh my god...this family man.

(HUGE descs of post-canon/epilogue hcs below cut, as well as closeups!)

first off: Hero! (i posted a wip/close up of her a bit ago but that was before i realized i got the ages wrong,) she's 40, working for NASA after going to college, she's currently single, living with her two best friends she met in college and their cat, Momo. She's living her best life, still in therapy, and is finding it to be very helpful. She hasn't spoken to the Twins and Rebecca in about six or seven years, but keeps in contact with Normal regularly, after everything that happened while she was a child and years of therapy she decided it was best to go no contact with them, they respect her decision. Her and Normal call every few weeks just to catch up.

Normal! not too different from what was already described in canon, he's 38, living alone outside of California, he attempted to go to college after graduation and ended up dropping out in his Sophomore year, after a mental health crisis got him way off track. Now he's working a retail job in Boston, while attempting to go back to school and graduate. He hasn't exactly put in the effort to keep in contact with the rest of the teens, though Scary and Linc call or text him every now and then. Normal was at there wedding, and attends every one of Gerry's birthday parties. He's in contact with his parents, though mostly only Rebecca. He's in therapy, but he's still struggling. He is also still talking to Henry, and he visits Oakvale every now and then, just to say hi to him and his Aunt Birdie. (screw yall shes real to ME)

Rebecca! At 60, She and the twins are still living in San Dimas, she's only just now retired officially, though living comfortably with the money from Swallow's ice cream. Her marriage with Sparrow has always been rocky, but they're at a point where it's easier to live together and stay married. Though they more so are living as friends other than a married couple. Her relationship with Lark has always been weird, though she'd consider them good friends as well. She texts with Normal practically daily, because she worries about him a lot. After she died for a brief amount of time, she started to rethink a lot of things in her life, one of those things being the amount of time she spends focusing on her kids and making sure they're alright. If Normal was anyone else he'd probably say she was being too clingy. Shed attempted to revive her dying relationship with her daughter as well, but inevitably respected her decision once Hero decided to go no-contact. She still asks Norm about her though.

Sparrow!! this one is interesting! At 31 (pre-s2), he hits a specific point as a druid where he gains the Timeless Body ability, where his aging slows as he gets older, Sparrow wasn't aware thats what was happening until he realized around his mid forties that he wasn't looking any different. After a long conversation with Henry, he figures out that's what's happening. He doesn't tell anyone besides Lark for a while until it's too noticeable to hide. at 59, he's living at home with Rebecca and Lark still, and is spending most of his time gardening and painting, or attempting to keep his mind off of...everything. Sparrow isn't living happy or comfortably, though it seems that way from an outside point of view. He finds himself trying to ignore everything going on around him, the fact his life is in shambles, and the inevitable of his loved ones dying before him. He throws himself into his art, to the point where Rebecca has to drag him out of their art studio (their garage) to eat and sleep. He barely leaves the house, because people around town had already started to notice how young he looks.

Lark!! agghgh if you thought my sparrow description was a bummer get buckled. Lark never really recovered from the aftermath of The Doodler and Code Purple, he had really been solely living off of his dedication to fixing everything. So once everything was fixed, he crashed. Badly. For about seven months no one knew where he was, he ran off to the other side of the country and basically went on a self destructive spree, driving around aimlessly. Once he came back home, Sparrow and him had their first heated argument. Sparrow wouldn't let Lark out of his sight, and pushed him to do something other than wallow in self hatred. So Lark started working at a mechanic shop down the road, and without his usual purpose, he threw himself into the work.He worked there for 12 years before an accident involving his right knee happened, leaving him immobilized (hence the mobility aid/cane). Sparrow forced him to leave the job behind after that, at 59, Lark's basically been in a weird stasis, waiting to die.

[avadaniels]

/post/708163486549786625/insp-by-steveharrington i understand eddie and steve's parts but why is nancy trapped by the narrative? i just never really thought about and am curious !

Thank you for the great question!! I called Nancy "trapped by the narrative" to refer to her romantic relationships. (More under the cut, beware this is very thorough lmao 😇)

There are different ways to interpret Nancy's character, what she wants and what's best for her. All of these interpretations are valid. You're allowed to think whatever you want about Nancy since she's a fictional character, but here are two specific interpretations that make me think she's "trapped by the narrative".

(1) There are many fans that think Nancy should not end up with either Jonathan or Steve. They think that she should not be in a relationship, and instead just go college and focus on her career. Maya Hawke said something like this in an interview. From personal experience I can say it's very difficult and confusing to be in a long-term relationship around this age, while you're also trying to grow up and plan your future. Stranger Things is not real life so real-life rules don't apply, but in the show Nancy has shown a lot of ambition and career focus. She resented Jonathan when he didn't support her at their job in season 3, so if either Steve or Jonathan ever wanted her to prioritize their relationship/starting a family over her career, this would likely lead to some issues. And Steve has specifically said he wants a big family. So textually, it looks like Nancy would be better off moving on without either of her love interests.

(2) There are many fans that think Nancy is a lesbian, and maybe she could be with Robin instead. In this case, Nancy has likely stayed in her relationships with Steve and Jonathan because of compulsory heterosexuality, something that many lesbians experience (which is basically the societal pressure to be straight. It is the norm to be straight, and any other sexuality is not accepted). Here is a cool post that shows this happening in the show.

But it's very unlikely that either of these things will happen.

In season 4, we saw the return of the Nancy-Jonathan-Steve love triangle. What's strange about this decision is that it sort of already happened and was resolved. Things ended between Steve and Nancy and she got with Jonathan instead. Steve had closure for their relationship in season 2, and in season 3 they had both moved on, but then in season 4 he suddenly confesses he still has feelings for her. (The Duffers probably didn't know what else to do with him, because of all the reasons in the original "Steve was abandoned by the narrative" post that inspired my gifset.)

But anyways, it's happening. They are setting up lots of drama between Nancy and Jonathan and Steve in season 5, and this will likely be the main focus of Nancy's storyline. Even though she already got over Steve... And even though her relationship with Jonathan was in trouble even before Steve got involved... Based on how they ended season 4, when everyone thinks of Nancy during season 5, their main question will be who does she end up with, Jonathan or Steve?

In season 1, Nancy talks about how her parents didn't really love each other, but got married and started a family anyway because it was what they were supposed to do. About this, she says "Screw that!"

In season 3, we saw Nancy to be fiercely ambitious, and wishing to be more independent, so she could have agency over her career and become an accomplished journalist. After Jonathan left for California, they could have done a lot of interesting things with her character, and it would've been cool to see her move on and be successful and fulfilled without a relationship at all.

But in season 4, they reintroduced Steve as a love interest, and by the finale both him and Jonathan have unresolved drama with Nancy. Now Nancy's narrative is all about her romantic relationship once again, and she's trapped in the very same love triangle from season 1. She's trapped into choosing someone, one or the other. She likely will not have the option to choose herself. She won't have the option to really explore what makes her happy, by exploring her sexuality, or exploring what her life looks like without a romantic relationship.

I think that's everything. I hope that explains it, thanks so much for the question! 🥰

[kidskingdomgo]

Why do some kids do well with distance learning?

Seventh period, Montenique Woodard's last class of the day, has been her hardest class all year. When Edutopia first talked to her in the fall, she said of her middle school science class, "I don't know what to do with them." One boy in particular, the "class clown," was a constant problem, and the way he behaved affected his 15 male classmates.

But when they met again months later during the coronavirus closures, Woodard told them something surprising: the same boy was "thriving" during remote learning. "I think not having those everyday distractions in school has really helped kids like him focus on the work and not necessarily all the social things going on, because some kids can't separate those out," said Woodard, a teacher in Washington, D.C.

We've heard that a lot lately. Teachers in our audience are telling us more and more that a few of their shy, hyperactive, or very creative students are suddenly doing better with remote learning than they were in the classroom. "It's been great to see some of my students finally find their place in education," said Holli Ross, a first-year high school teacher in northern California, echoing the feelings of dozens of teachers we've talked to.

Also Check: Nursery In Barsha Heights

That doesn't mean it's the norm, though. Many students find it hard to adjust to learning from home: Digital access and connectivity remain a pervasive equity issue; stay-at-home orders have made family problems worse; and teachers and students everywhere struggle with how to recreate the engagement and conversation of a classroom setting.

But it's not just a few, and the unplanned break from the physical classroom may be revealing hidden reasons why some kids have trouble while others do well. We listened to what our teachers had to say and found that some things, like social situations and the rigid bell schedule, don't work well for all kids. At least for some of the teachers, it has made them think about making changes that will last when they go back to the classroom.

Also Read: Nursery in Damac Hills

The Benefits Of Self-Pacing

The average high school student goes to class at 8:00 a.m. Even though school schedules vary by district, many students have classes right after each other with little time to rest. But because of the pandemic, school schedules have changed in a way that gives students more freedom over when and how they do their schoolwork.

A Memphis, Tennessee, middle school English teacher named Lauren Huddleston said, "I think a few of my students are doing really well getting a taste of more independence." "They're taking more responsibility now that they're not in school all day," says the teacher.

Students can set their own hours, which gives them the chance to work out, take breaks, or even just be bored, all of which research shows are good for them. Ashlee Tripp, a high school English teacher, thinks these kids are doing well because "they enjoy the freedom to work at their own pace and decide how they want their day to look," and the students seem to agree.

In English teacher Katie Burrows-class Stone's survey, a 10th-grade student said, "I like online learning because it gives me the chance to plan my day well." "I can work out, relax, and get my work done on time without being interrupted."

Time To Think Again About The Overworked Kid

During the school day, many kids are always going somewhere. Club meetings are often held during lunch. Many kids do extracurricular activities or sports after school, often to look good to colleges, or they get a part-time job. On average, high school students do homework at night for at least seven and a half hours a week.

Our teachers say that some students' grades changed after enrichment activities were canceled because of shelter-in-place orders.

"Some of my students are doing very well. Kasey Short, an English and social studies teacher at a middle school in Charlotte, North Carolina, said, "I think it's partly because so many things like sports and social activities aren't happening anymore, so they have more time than they've ever had to work on schoolwork." Short said this to explain why she thought this.

Research has shown that kids can have a hard time keeping track of their busy schedules: When students are too busy, especially if they feel like they have to take certain classes or take part in activities, they are more likely to have unhealthy levels of anxiety.

"This has made me think a lot about how we teach. Is our current model way too much?" Why would anyone need seven classes? Why do we need to have such a long school day?" Rosie Reid, who teaches English to high school students and is the 2019 California Teacher of the Year, said this. "I can't say enough about how this closure has changed the way I teach because I can see that it has given so many students a great break."

Lowering The Stakes

Some teachers say that the change in academic standards during the pandemic is a cause. Due to the way home learning works and the fact that issues of fairness are always present, many school systems have told teachers to be less strict with homework and grades.

Mark Gardner, an English teacher at a high school in Camas, Washington, said, "I think a big part of [some students' work getting better] is that we've drastically cut the total amount of work so that tasks aren't so hard that they're impossible to do."

A study by the Pew Research Center found that 61 percent of teens feel pressure to perform at a certain level in school. This is the most important pressure that teens feel. In the last ten years or so, teachers have also been under more pressure to get students ready for benchmarks on standardized tests. This pressure trickles down to students, who are twice as likely to report unhealthy levels of stress during the school year as they are during the summer.

Cathleen Beachboard, an English teacher at a middle school in Fauquier County, Virginia, said that one of her students told her that he likes remote learning better because he doesn't feel as much pressure to do well. Other students in her class have said similar things, she said. "He says that he feels like he can really learn now that state tests are over."

Cutting Down On The Talk

Even though many students and teachers have said they miss the in-person connections and relationships at school, our teachers say that for some students, making friends at school may be hard because of anxiety.

Elena Spathis, a high school Spanish teacher in Hillsdale, New Jersey, said, "Students who have been physically or verbally bullied at school are probably glad to be home in a safe place."

In 2017, at least 20% of students ages 12 to 18 told the National Center for Education Statistics that they were bullied at school. Students who get picked on the most also tend to do worse in school than their peers who don't get picked on.

For some students, making friends at school might not be bad in and of itself, but it might be distracting or scary. Nearly a third of teens say they feel pressure at school to "look good" or "fit in socially." This can affect how much they pay attention and participate in class. Blake Harvard, a psychology teacher in Madison, Alabama, said, "The online environment may give people a chance to be heard without having to worry about being judged.

Getting Enough Z's

Lastly, teachers said that the difference they've seen in the performance of some students may be due to the amount of sleep they get. Most students, like many teachers and workers across the country, no longer wake up to an alarm clock that goes off very early.

When asked what she likes about remote learning, Ingrid, a junior in high school in California, said, "Now I have time to sleep eight hours every night."

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends that teens ages 12–18 sleep 8–10 hours a night and children ages 6–12 sleep 12 hours a night. However, a 2018 study of high school students in 30 states found that more than 70% of students did not get enough sleep during the school year.

Even though people argue about school start times all the time, when one school in Seattle pushed back its start time by an hour in 2016-2017, researchers found that students got more sleep and did better in school.

"Some kids have trouble getting to class at 8:30, but they might do great getting their work done at 10:30 at night or even 10:30 in the morning. "They only need a few more hours," Ross said.

[autisticsuperpower]

How Has It Been That I Began College A Decade Ago? 🏫🤓

Still scratching my head about this topic and how fast time flies, but here we go!

Ten years ago, after an entire childhood of living in the same house in the same hometown for all my life, I left home for the very first time.

Destination: College 🌴

I was moving to Los Angeles for the first time all on my own.

And let me be frank, it was a lot of emotions.

Exciting.

Scary.

Petrifying.

Thrilling.

Ecstatic.

Happy.

You name it, I felt it.

The day after I arrived in Los Angeles that I would call home for the next 10 years, I moved into my dorm for the first time.

It was 7:00am in the morning, and everything that I once knew was about to change big time.

So many people I had never met from ALL over the world.

I met people that day that I had no idea I would become lifelong friends with.

Orientation went by so quickly that I didn’t even have time to process my new norm.

Reality hit me that I was about to be a resident of Southern California.

But at Freshman Convocation and during our light of learning, it hit me.

I was about to be on my own for the first time.

And I’ll be honest, it was scary.

I was about to take care of me, myself, and I.

And I was ready, but it was sad to say goodbye to the family that literally raised me to who I became at the time.

As I recently shared to high school graduates that are also Autistic and about to start college, regardless of whether you stay at home, or head off, it’s a big change.

So big in fact that right after my Freshman Convocation, I started crying.

Just the thought of being on my own for the first time freaked me out.

Being 5 hours away from my family all on my own added to it.

I did know, though, that college was a second chance at life, and I finally made it here to my dream city that I’ve always wanted to live in since I was a child.

So I took that leap of faith and made my dream an actual reality.

The 4 years that I spent at Whittier College, going to school, making life-long friends, and taking every opportunity I had in college, were truly some of the best years of my life.

Those 4 years also introduced me to my Authentic Autistic self.

My self who had been there all along in the shadows.

I look back with no regrets with anything I would’ve done differently and forever cherish the time I spent at college. 🥹

Now to all of you incoming college students, Autistic or not, that are about to embark on this new chapter of your life, some words of wisdom:

Allow yourself to open up more, even if it’s one of the scariest things yet.

If you feel something at college is in your path, pursue it. Don’t go against your instincts.

Take the time to get to know new people, you might meet new life-long best friends.

Enjoy the college experience, the stresses of mid-terms, those late night “dorm gatherings”, EVERYTHING that college has to offer.

So many people wish to take that leap of faith and go to college, so don’t hold back. 

If you see an opportunity in college, regardless if’s exciting or scary, you never know what you can do until you try.

You only get one college experience, so go make yours the one you imagined! 🏫🧩💚

[chloroformthelittleb4stard]

Family Relations - Part 4

Summary: Your criminology teacher is acting all kinds of weird, which is the norm, except for the part where his eyes glaze over and he tries to kill someone. Stiles, the hero he is, tries to stop your professor with little avail until he gets some unnoticeable help from you. Stiles seems to find himself with you at the location of multiple attacks, just barely making it out alive. Through the bloodshed feelings, family, and friends mix to create a perfect blend of chaos and calm.

T/CW: Blood, gore, like a lot of fucking gore, swearing, body horror?

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I hope it's worth it. This is a long chapter but because the first part is short I put a time skip in the middle of it, that's what the = means. P.S - Happy mother's day!

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You'd convinced him to stay with you for the night because of what you were absolutely sure Allison and Scott's "after-pack-meeting" activities would include. It wasn't hard, as soon as you mentioned the prospect of Stiles' precious sleep being interrupted by their shenanigans he was on board with staying at yours. Your dorm had two beds, you'd been lucky and not gotten a roommate, a blessing and a curse really. You'd laid the sheets out and gotten your extra pillow, all ready for Stiles to get to sleep. The only problem was, Stiles wasn't particularly interested in sleep yet. You'd had a long day, mostly it was just that bout of magical fighting that wore you out but still, you were tired, and Stiles simply didn't want to be in silence.

"So, Y/n..." You'd been listening to the sound of Stiles fidget like mad, and you were wondering when he was going to snap and finally talk to you.

"Yes." Your tone was smooth and song-like. Despite needing sleep desperately you wanted to talk to Stiles, he was fun to talk to. You'd always been kind of a loner, it was easier to stay hidden that way, but you didn't need to hide with Stiles and it felt fucking amazing.

"What's D.C like?" He didn't look at you when he asked, staring straight up at the ceiling, but you were happy to stare at him, studying the moles on his cheek and the way his hair laid against the pillow.

"It's, interesting." He snorted, turning to you as you whipped your head away so you didn't get caught staring.

"Care to elaborate on that?" He had a dopey smile on his face, looking at your side profile like his life depended on it while he waited for you to respond. You felt his gaze burning your skin, it was a burn you could get used to.

"I don't know what you want me to say. Traffic's a bitch if you live in D.C, that's for sure. It took me half a hour to go eight miles from my house to school." He sucked in a breath at the statement, like simply hearing about traffic that bad was physically paining him.

"Good thing is if you live in the city you don't really need a car. My mom didn't have a car, neither did any of my babysitters, so we took the metro and the subway everywhere." He hummed, like the thought of the subway actually pleased him.

"I'm going to be in the city, that's for sure. FBI headquarters is on Pennsylvania ave." His muttering made you giggle, surprised that he knew so much about the landscape.

"You've been there before?" Your smile was wide from laughter and you didn't even care if you looked like an idiot, you were having fun.

"Yeah, once. I looked at going to George Washington so when I toured we stopped by. It's a really ugly building by the way, they should fix that." He was quirking a smile as well, glancing between you and the ceiling to try and look discreet.

"Yeah they should." You were trying to be quiet for the sake of your dorm mates but you were having trouble, Stiles was funny and it felt so good to laugh. You hadn't laughed like this in years, always too stressed to find anything amusing.

"So, what's is like rooming with Scott?" He made a vague hum of mediocrity, shrugging and leaving it at that.

"Care to elaborate on that?" You giggled using his words against him.

"It's good, we've been like brothers since we were little kids so it's really not that big of a difference. We spent a lot of time together at my house because my dad was gone a lot so living with him is kinda familiar." You felt a pang of sympathy when he said his dad was away, you thought back to your dad and how absent he'd been. The memories cut off almost as suddenly as they'd started.

"What about your mom?" He took a deep breath, he had a slight frown on his face and you knew immediately that you'd hit a nerve.

"She died, when I was a kid. She had a type of dementia and it, killed her." He was fully frowning now, and he was no longer fully with you, his eyes had glazed over and he was staring right through you. He shook his head and came back, frown gone and a small smile took its place.

"I'm sorry, both for what happened and that I brought it up."

"It's ok, it's been a long time and it brought me and my dad really close so it wasn't all bad." His silver lining was slim, slimmer than was arguably debatable to even count as a silver lining, but you didn't argue. He'd shared enough of his past with you, and you felt honored by the confession even if you did accidentally cause it to happen by asking. The fact that he shared something with you meant a lot.

"My mom died too, she was hit by a car when I was 13 and she died in surgery." The air was tense, but Stiles' expression and morphed from fake stability to real sympathy as your eyes locked and you tried to comfort each other without words. You fell asleep shortly after that, Stiles had stayed quiet for more than five minutes and that was all it took for sleep to wave its wand and take you under it's control.

==

Screams woke you up, screams from within your dorm. They woke Stiles up too and you both sprung to get re-dressed properly, rushing out the door as soon as you'd slipped your shoes on. The screaming was coming from down the hall and you already had a sinking feeling what had happened.

It wasn't uncommon for your fellow dorm dwellers to leave their doors open, it helped circulate cool air in the desert that was California. Being born and raised in D.C left you significantly more paranoid than most of them however, and so you decided you'd rather just suffer the heat than the possibility of getting robbed blind. You'd told some people in the common room at the beginning of the year about your fear and they'd all but laughed at you, saying that nothing like that happened here. You'd never wanted to have been so wrong in your life.

One door was already wide open, and blood was smeared on several other doors, also open. It seemed that the killer had gone down the hall, checking who decided it was too hot to save their lives. The first body was in the doorway of the room three doors up from yours. It was sprawled out on the floor and you and Stiles nodded, agreeing not to go into the room considering the carpet was currently soaking up the victim's blood. It seemed there were plenty of others anyways.

Room after room, one slaughtered college student after another left you feeling ill beyond belief. You didn't need to be told what had happened, you already knew. You had never actually had the chance to see what happened when the killer was finished with their dirty work, what they did to the people they used as instruments of mass murder. Sadly it seems you didn't have to go searching to find out. At the end of the hall was another body, this time with a knife in its hand, most likely from the kitchen in the common room. Its throat was cut, much like all the other victims.

The screaming had long stopped, you assumed it came from one of the other residents who peeked out into the hallway and saw what looked like a scene from an upcoming Scream 5. Stiles was bent over the body, examining what you assumed was its deadness.

"Whatcha looking at?" He gave you a vague noise of acknowledgment before standing up and looking at you with a face slightly paler than it was before he bent down.

"I think you should see this Y/n." You squatted down next to the corpse, examining its overall lack of life and raising an inquisitive eyebrow up at Stiles.

"Look in her throat, through the cut." You'd really planned not to come this close to a corpse in your life. What's that saying? Make a plan and the universe laughs.

The throat was indeed, mostly just bloody and disgusting, but also intriguing. The windpipe and both carotid arteries were slashed straight through, a feat that was essentially impossible to do for the normal non-possessed human. In the back of the windpipe, which you could just barely see through the cut, there was a small mark. You dug your phone out of your back pocket, almost dropping it with how much your hands were shaking, and turned your flashlight on to it's brightest setting so you could see the mark clearly.

It was a small symbol, lines and swirls within a small circle that struck you as soon as you saw it. With a soft thud your ass met the ground as your precarious balancing act failed and you fell from your squatting position.

"Are you ok?" Stiles' voice was lost as your brain went into panic mode, the new found information stirring up a whirlwind of anxiety.

"We need to get out of here. Like, right now." Scrambling up from the blood soaked floor you made your way back to your dorm room, dragging a confused Stiles behind you asking a million and one questions.

Without answering any of them you grabbed your nearest backpack and started destroying your dorm room in an attempt to gather all of your most important belongings, a mix of underwear, clothes, and books thrown into your worn backpack.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me or do I get an explanation for why we need to leave your dorm room? Y'know other than the murdered college students..."  Stiles had passed the stage of being thoroughly confused by you, that ship sailed when you fought off the vine that attacked you both. Now however, he was fed up with not having answers to the predicament you now found yourselves in.

"Can I explain it to you in the car? We need to leave ASAP."

"The car has a name, it's Roscoe." You rolled your eyes, of course he named his car, and of course now is the best possible moment to tell you.

"Less talking more walking please."

"Sorry." The keys jingled as he grabbed them and yours, tossing your purple keychain to you so you could lock up. You took the stairs two at a time, almost tripping over Stiles in your haste to get out of the building.

The car seats were cold when you got in but you couldn't be more awake than you already were, adrenaline and fear coursing through your blood, the symbol seemingly burned into the back of your eyelids, haunting you whenever you so much as blinked. Stiles booked it out of the parking lot, Roscoe's tires making an awful screeching noise as he turned while reversing, a move that would have scared you had there not been the max amount of fear already happening.

"So, explanation." He raised an expectant eyebrow at you, biting his tongue to let you answer before he spiraled into asking questions without enough time for you to answer them.

"Uh, do werewolves have symbols for different concepts, like danger and stuff?"

"Y-yeah they do, there's one for revenge it's a spiral. Why?" A spiral, of course the supernatural weren't creative when it came to symbol differences.

"Ok well witches do, it's called the witches' alphabet, it's a few symbols they mean stuff, the one we just saw in the corpse was the symbol for revenge. It's used to channel the chosen energy into whatever magic you cast." Your voice was shaking, the lack of oxygen in your system making you feel light headed, or maybe that was the endorphins, who knows.

"Ok, so what does that mean?" Stiles was shaking as well, not liking the sound of any more revenge business. He had to deal with this once before, he didn't want a repeat supernatural problem.

"It means that whoever cast the spell is one, vengeful, two, meeting the victims beforehand to get the symbol on them. This is bad, like, really bad." You had to actively sit on your hands to stop their fidgeting, the nervous energy bubbling inside your body like a volcano.

"Just what we need, a witch who wants vengeance. Was a normal evil witch not enough?!" Stiles' comment made you chuckle, the breathy act brought a twitch of a smile to his face, your happiness spreading to him in the midst of your crisis.

"Apparently not. Where are you going, the dorms are the opposite way."

"I don't know, I didn't want to take you back to Scott until I knew what was going on so I kind of just started driving around." Had you not been stressed beyond belief at the moment you would have been endeared by Stiles' care for his friend and roommate, but at the moment it was just irritating.

"You just drove us in the middle of the night down a street you have no idea where it leads? Really Stiles?! Take us to Scott, now." You were fuming but upon seeing the dejected look in Stiles' eyes at your harsh tone you were reminded as to how hard this entire situation must be for a normal human, werewolf pack member or not.

"Please. Could you please take us to Scott." Your manners had escaped you for a moment but with the regaining of your senses they came back.  A pang of guilt struck you at how mean you'd been to the brunette next to you. Reaching out for his hand which was resting on the stick-shift you hoped silently that he would accept your unspoken apology. He did accept, a blush rising to his cheeks at the skin-to-skin contact that you initiated and a smile creeping on his face.

Moments after your mutual flush and giddiness over the contact Stiles pulled up into the parking lot of his own dorm, the tar lit up just barely by a floodlight near the sidewalk. Unwinding his fingers from yours he was the first to get out of the car, you following shortly after, the cold air hitting your bare shoulders per your tank top which you just now realized was covered in blood.

Rushing to Stiles' side you wrapped your arms around your torso to try and cover the evidence of your dorm's activities, only to realize that your arms were the source of the problem. A mix of various people's blood was coating your arms, the red solution drying crusty on your skin. Thankfully it was the middle of the night, the darkness mostly covering your blood-stained everything.

Looking over at the mole-covered man next to you you took in the sight of him, surprisingly not covered entirely in blood. He had spots of it on his hoodie, only barely visible thanks to the floodlight, but he'd managed to stay clear of the mess, something you were currently jealous of. You wouldn't be able to take a shower until you were back in your own dorm and you were really dreading the idea of having to wash off both of your arms in the small dorm sinks.

Stiles opened the door for you and the heat influx from the building was a welcome change, the goosebumps immediately vacating your skin. You both headed up to his dorm in relative silence, trying not to wake his neighbors up. It was a harder feat than it should have been, given how often Stiles almost tripped on the single flight of stairs up to his shared room.

You could hear snoring coming from one of the beds, presumably Scott's, and the embarrassing situation you'd found your friend in made you momentarily forget your current predicament. In the darkness you could see two bodies in Scott's bed, the smaller one of which you assumed was Allison, tucked under her boyfriend's arm. They were sleeping so peacefully you almost felt bad to wake them, Stiles however, did not. With a loud enough greeting and the swift act of turning on all of the lights in their dorm, he woke his roommate and his roommate's girlfriend up with a startle.

"Stiles! They were sleeping!" You'd wanted to put up a semblance of good will with the woman you'd met less than 24 hours ago but in reality you were stifling a laugh, biting your tongue to keep from bursting out. The couple let out groans of protest at being woken up in the wee hours of the morning but got up eventually anyways, thankfully somewhat dressed after what you were still convinced their nightly activities consisted of.

"What the hell dude?" The were-wolf's voice was groggy from sleep and the rough scratch in his throat reminded you of Stiles' voice less than two hours ago when you were woken up by screaming neighbors.

"Sorry but you really can't be asleep right now, also yes that is blood on Y/n's, well everywhere, I will explain that in a minute. Allison could you help her clean up? Scott I need to talk to you." Nodding Allison took immediate heed to Stiles' request and looked carefully for a space to lead you that wasn't covered in blood before eventually deciding 'fuck it' and grabbing one of your slowly drying arms, washing the blood off of the area in the small sink.

There wasn't a lot of space in the dorm for a private conversation but you and Allison made small talk in an attempt to give the boys some facade of privacy.

"So, rough night I guess?" She let out a small chuckle at her own joke while you allowed a smile to creep onto your face at the problem you had earlier found yourself in.

"You could say that. Someone decided it'd be a good idea to murder a solid percentage of my floor mates so, y'know, the night could have gone better." She gasped at that, the light air of the conversation having gone as soon as you brought up the traumatic events that had occurred.

"Murder? Oh God. By 'a solid percentage' you mean how many people exactly?" Your mind flashed through the bodies you'd seen, counting at least six in the haze of the night.

"Six, maybe more. I don't know for sure, it was a lot. We found who did it though, kind of." You wished that you were dealing with a normal murder where finding who did the killing actually solved your problem. Sadly, that wasn't the case and the situation was getting more and more fraught in your mind the more you stressed about it, the images and circumstances pulling the strings in your mind so tightly they were beginning to fray.

"Are you ok?" Allison's eyes were kind and you noted in the back of your brain to thank Scott that he had such good taste in girlfriends.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm not hurt or anything, just a little shaken up." She nodded silently before going into nurse-mode and scanning your now-clean left arm.

"No scratches, all of this blood seems to be someone else's. I think most of the blood is other people's but I need to wash off the other arm to be sure."

"Be my guest, I wasn't feeling the whole blood-sleeve look anyways." You shrugged and let out a small giggle at your own joke, Allison following suit as she lathered up the ruined washcloth for another round of scrubbing.

You were in the process of cleaning the blood from underneath your fingernails when Stiles and Scott crept up behind you, interrupting the light bonding that you had started with Allison.

"Ok, we need to get out of here and go back home, right now." Scott took on more of a dominant personality when in charge and it made you glad that someone knew what to do, even if you didn't. You'd already grabbed spare clothes from your dorm room so you and Allison waited by the door nervously while Stiles and Scott scrambled to gather their most important belongings.

"Where is home?" You knew where you were from and where your home was, but you doubted that everyone would be game for catching a flight at almost 4 a.m.

"Beacon Hills, it's where we all met. Stiles and Scott are from there, so is most of the pack, I moved there sophomore year. The pack started in Beacon Hills, the town is like a beacon for the supernatural, it's probably the safest place to be because it's home territory, Scott's pack has been protecting it for years now."

"So Scott's the alpha?" It made sense given his natural leadership abilities and his friendliness, but it was still a little odd to see your friend as the strongest were-wolf out of the entire group you saw the other night.

"He's a true alpha too." You'd heard of true alphas, mostly by myth however, they were rare but the more you thought back on Scott's character the more it made sense. He was easily one of the most loyal people you'd met, and he was brave as well, fighting for people he didn't even know, or people he didn't know well. He was willing to risk his life to save the barista on the day of that attack, even willing to let her see him shift, it was only logical that he was a true alpha.

Your conversation was interrupted as it took all of five minutes for the two best friends to pack their things, swing the backpacks stuffed full of items over their shoulders before they led the way back down to the Jeep that was parked out front.

The ride was quiet and tense, Stiles in the front with you and Scott in the back with Allison, explaining the specifics of the situation that you had purposely left out because you didn't know how to explain it without making a joke out of it. Dark humor was quickly becoming your most solid coping mechanism for morbidity.

Scott went to protect Allison as she ran up to her dorm to grab her things as well, insisting that she tell her roommate she was going home so no one would file a missing person's report and make the entire situation more complicated.

She came back downstairs quickly, Scott in tow looking noticeably dazed as he held on to his girlfriend's hand when she plopped in the back of Stiles' Jeep. You let out a snort at what had most likely been a 'our lives are in danger' make out and let them have their secrecy as Stiles started up for what was the drive to Beacon Hills.

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Mabel’s All-in-One Guide to Being a Shooting Star: How to Avoid Being Caught and Other Tips You Should Know

Chapter One: Just for the Summer

Shoutout to my betas/brainstorming buddies @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

You’re never gonna love me, so what’s the use? What’s the point in playing a game you’re gonna lose? What’s the point in saying you love me like a friend? What’s the point in saying it’s never gonna end? - Marina and the Diamonds, Lies

Mabel was in a rut. Her boyfriend- no, it was ex-boyfriend by that point, huh? He’d dumped her, after all. Her ex-boyfriend was a dick. And Mabel didn’t jump to these types of conclusions lightly, either. When Mabel was of the opinion that someone was a dick, they weren’t just a dick, they were a Dick™ with a capital D.

Such was the case with Andrew Craddock (or AC, as she’d taken to calling him a few times; as it turns out, he was not as cool as his initials implied). Andrew was a Dick™. Like yeah, they’d been dating for, like, a month, month and a half maybe. And sure, maybe lots of nineteen-year-old college freshmen are willing to jump into bed with anything that moved, which was perfectly fine, but while Mabel was okay with holding hands and making out and maybe even the occasional butt grab, she was not okay with her boyfriend trying to grope her during a movie when she’d said she wasn’t ready for that sort of thing yet.

So she didn’t wanna sleep with him right off. Big whoop. She reiterated this to him, of course. And then! And then the absolute butthole had pointed to Clueless (the movie they’d been watching, cause it’s a mother-flippin’ classic, aight?) and said, “ya hear that, Mabel? You’re just a virgin who can’t drive!” and then the dude straight up stormed out of her dorm. Like. What? Seriously, who even does that?

Also, Mabel could absolutely drive. She had her license and everything. It was just Mabel really liked looking at the UC Santa Cruz campus (go Slugs, woooo) while riding her bike, and cars were expensive anyway, plus she didn’t really need one. She lived on campus, so a bike ride to and from class or the library or the cafe or whatever, it was all nice. It was fun. And economical. And better for the environment. It was a win-win-win situation!

And yeah, okay, fine, she was a virgin, but several of her friends were still virgins, so it wasn’t like… this big huge deal, it really wasn’t.

At least, that’s what Mabel had thought.

Until Andrew decided he wanted to be a Dick™.

And then, after all that, she’d gotten an email from her Painting 101 professor that her final was… acceptable, but if she wanted to make it into 102, she needed to have a little something extra. So Mabel had to scrounge up an extra credit project at the last minute before the grades were in for the summer.

She’d passed, thankfully, and her professor had approved her for 102, but even so…

Mabel had perhaps taken part in too many clubs (UC Santa Cruz’s LBGTQ+ club, two separate environmental clubs, an animal advocacy club, and a club that made crafts for kids in hospitals), She loved them all, she really did, but five clubs was a lot, and it was tiring. She probably wouldn’t go back to all of them when she returned in the fall, but she was still very much on the fence about which clubs specifically she should stay in.

Dipper was… Dipper was Dipper. He’d never been anything but. He’d come out as gay their senior year of high school. That was fine with Mabel. She didn’t mind it. Really, she didn’t. Sure, she mighta kinda sorta had teensy little feelings for him that were maybe slightly a bit on the not-so-platonic side of things, but just a bit, okay?

When Andrew had asked her out, she’d said yes, because, well. Get under someone to get over someone, right? That’s what one of her friends had said. And no hate on her friend, ‘cause her friend was the bomb dot com, but like. Her friend was one of those aforementioned college freshmen who was totally cool about jumping into bed with anything that moved, which was fine for some people, but, well…

Kissing Andrew felt weird. It felt wrong. He didn’t make her knees tremble, and he didn’t make her sigh blissfully. She’d hated being alone with him, because he’d always, always make a move on her, like, it was ridiculous how consistent he was about that, and whenever he kissed her, she’d just…

Well, there was no way around it, was there? She wished he was Dipper. Whenever Andrew kissed her, she spent every second thinking about Dipper, her twin bro, her best bud. Absolutely the worst possible person for her to fall in love with, but Mabel had never been one to play by the rules, and that didn’t appear to be any different in matters of the heart, either.

‘Cause falling in love with one’s twin brother who just so happened to be of the homosexual persuasion broke pretty much every rule in the rule book. If there was a rule book. Which there wasn’t. But maybe it would be better if there were, because then, like, she’d feel better about the set social norms and where she was in relation to them. Not that she thought she was in the green with her not-at-all platonic feelings for her bro bro, of course. She knew that. She knew it was kookoo bananas, okay? She knew.

But she couldn’t help it. He was everything to her, and pretending she’d felt something she didn’t for Andrew had felt all wrong, like she’d been going against everything her heart and soul yearned for. Which was probably because she was going against everything her heart and soul yearned for. But it wasn’t exactly like she had a choice. It was either go against everything she wanted or do nothing, and Mabel had never been particularly good at doing nothing.

Sometimes, a bit of moping becomes necessary. Sometimes, you just need to listen to sad music and cry for a while to process your emotions.

And so, Mabel found herself walking around Gravity Falls, which, in retrospect, was maaaaaaybe not the best place for her to visit in an effort to forget about her very romantic love for her gay twin brother, with whom she had had more adventures in Gravity Falls than she could count. Staring out at the lake, Mabel wondered if her feelings for Dipper began there, in that small town surrounded by trees and teeming with mystery.

Thinking she heard a rustling in the bushes behind her, she whipped her head around, only to find nothing. No one. She was alone, it would seem. She’d always been alone, ever since she and Dipper had gone off to college separately. She’d stayed in California. He’d gone off to some tech college or other on the east coast, and was having better luck with guys than she was.

Dipper had a boyfriend. He loved his boyfriend. He’d told her so just a few nights prior. Mabel had fought to keep her voice even, pretended to hear her roommate calling her from the living room, and promptly hung up. Her roommates weren’t even home.

Mabel had sobbed into her pillow until her eyelids were raw.

Candy and Grenda weren’t in town. They were coming home for the summer at some point, but not yet. Mabel had just needed to get out. She loved Santa Cruz, but she needed to get out.

Just for the summer. Just for awhile. Just to purge herself of her feelings for Dipper so she could finally, finally move on.

But first, she needed to cry. She needed a place to cry. So she got on her bike and, with one last look at the setting sun reflecting off the still water of the lake, Mabel rode off in the direction of the Shack.

———————————————————————

The sky was a bit darker by the time she got to the Shack, resting her bike against the porch and walking off into the trees, fallen leaves and grass crunching beneath her sneakers. It wasn’t terribly dark outside, since it was only, like, six-ish, but the trees shielded some of the sunlight, and Mabel was grateful she’d thought to shove a flashlight in her backpack before she left. She doubted she’d need it, but hey. The night was young.

She trudged through the forest, stepping over fallen branches before finding a clearing that felt… familiar. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it felt as if she’d been there before. It was as good a place as any, she supposed.

Mabel took off her backpack, leaned against a tree trunk, and slid down to sit on the leaves. She unzipped the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out her wallet (Hello Kitty with a whole bunch of lace and rhinestones expertly glued on by yours truly). Opening it, she stared at the picture she had of her and Dipper, grinning in front of the Mystery Shack on their thirteenth birthday.

It had been better then. Simpler. Everything was simpler before she fell in love with him.

If Mabel closed her eyes, she became fifteen again. Young and stupid and so, so naïve. It was like everything had changed overnight. One day, she looked at Dipper, and her feelings were completely platonic, as far as she was aware. The next, they were anything but.

She’d nearly broken down when they were sixteen. She was sitting with him on the roof of their house on a Saturday night, looking out at the lights of the city. They blocked out most of the stars, but the moon was still bright.

She made a joke, and when he laughed, she looked over at him, and he was just… he was beautiful. There was no other word for it. He was just beautiful. There wasn’t much light, but what light there was illuminated his face as he smiled at her. In that moment, she’d almost lost it. She’d almost told him how she felt. Almost kissed him. She’d been inching closer to him, and it was entirely subconscious. But then, their mom had called for them, and they’d gone back inside.

Two years later, he came out as gay. And Mabel was so, so relieved that she’d never ruined their relationship by telling him she loved him in a way she never should’ve loved him.

But she did, and there was no helping it. She’d fought against it, but in the end, she probably couldn’t have prevented it or avoided it. There was nothing she could’ve done.

Mabel was convinced that she’d been destined to fall in love with Dipper. And maybe, in another life, he could’ve loved her, too. But not this one. Never this one.

She didn’t realize she’d been crying until a tear plopped onto the picture of her and Dipper. Right on Dipper’s stupid thirteen-year-old face, too. She would’ve laughed if she hadn’t been so upset.

“Mabel?” a voice said, not far from where she sat. “Is that you?”

Swiping away her tears as quickly as she could, she looked up.

“Jeff?” It had never occurred to Mabel she’d see any of the gnomes again.

He approached her. His beard was longer, she noticed. “Been awhile,” he observed.

“Seven years,” she agreed with a small nod. “How, uh… how’ve you been?”

He shrugged. “Been better, been worse. I’m not the leader of the gnomes anymore. Haven’t seen ‘em in a long time.”

“Oh, I’m… sorry to hear that,” she said, not feeling sorry in the slightest. Maybe if she seemed disinterested, he’d leave her alone and she could get back to her very important business, which was, of course, crying her eyes out and staring miserably at Dipper’s picture.

“Ah, well. Such is life.” There was silence for a moment, and he spoke again, his tone much snappier than it had been before. “I said, ‘such is life’.”

There was a little “oh!” from the trees behind her, and then a rustling, and then something was put over her head, and she screamed.

The last thing she saw before the cloth fell over her eyes was Jeff’s smirking face.

[choruscas]

suptober day 10: sweet rides

please let me know if you’d like to be added to my tag list! (or removed if you prefer) it tags you in all my short stories like these so you never miss them!

(THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS! ONCE IT’S OUT, I’LL EDIT THIS ONE AND LINK TO THE SECOND PART ONCE IT’S FINISHED!)

also, sorry that you’re seeing the earlier days in your feeds! i forgot my writing ipad when i went on vacation this weekend, so I’ve been trying to make up the days i missed! i should catch up soon, i’ve just been incredibly busy!

October 10th, 1890 - Lawrence, Kansas

Castiel drew his breath in as the cold air of fall hit his face. He looked around the town, seeing no signs of anybody out.

Most of them were probably in saloons or shops of some sort, drinking their sorrows away with cheap whiskey and tapping all their fortunes out with gambling.

He had lived in this town his whole life, but downtown he has only recently grown familiar with it.

Two months ago, his parents disappeared from him. And the rest of his family either moved away from Lawrence or were arrested for felony and murder charges. Castiel wasn’t like that. Being the youngest in the Novak family was hard, but he managed. He was the last of the Novak’s and he never made any promises to carry the family name, since he wasn’t interested in women of any kind.

So he wouldn’t. Once he drew his dying and final breath, the Novak’s would be no more.

However, in the meantime, he could make fault of his name. He wasn’t the proudest of being a Novak, but like previously said, he managed.

Walking through the dirt roads, marked with horses hooves and wagon’s wheels after years of use, Castiel found himself at the Roadhouse, like he did every Friday night.

He enjoyed the company there, and the beer was cheap but it was decent. He wasn’t much of a drinker, as his mom had drank her heart out all his life, but alcohol was the norm, so he occasionally had a beer or two.

He went inside, pushing the doors forward to be greeted by Ellen Harvelle, the Roadhouse’s proud owner. She was serving a man, who Castiel had never seen before, with big ears and a long nose.

“Hello Ellen. Is Jo working tonight?” he smiled at her while approaching the counter. Jo Harvelle was younger and was also Ellen’s only daughter.

“Nah.” She shook her head. “She’s got studyin’ so she’s workin’ on that upstairs.”

Castiel nodded and looked around the room, there were the usuals that were normally around, like Bobby Singer with his friend Rufus Turner, Meg Masters (a devil in disguise, ask anybody) and...

Dean Winchester.

Town’s heartthrob. And Castiel would never admittedly say this, but also the only man Castiel had currently sought out for.

About a month ago, Dean’s father had died and so him and his brother moved all the way from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to Lawrence. He became a regular and were familiar with some of the townspeople, since he had lived there until he was four. His mother had died in the paper’s fire at their house, and so they moved across the country. Since the town was celebrating its thirty-sixth anniversary soon, it meant that the town was still young, and so was Dean. John Winchester — thy boys’ father, was a state-famous cowboy, which gave Dean and his brother Sam a good name.

However, Castiel’s has barely usurped a full-on conversation with the man. Castiel was fairly confident, but pretty boys like Dean made his throat close up. Normally their conversations were around five minutes long, until some girl comes and ushers him away.

Although Castiel has never heard that Dean has gotten lucky with any of the women in the town. Maybe he kept it a secret, or maybe he wasn’t interested in sex. With a body like his, Castiel was surprised he didn’t. He could do so very easily, with anybody in the town who was willing.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean called out, waving a large arm up in the sky. Next to him was who he thinks was his younger brother, with shaggy hair and a lanky body, Sam Winchester.

Assuming Dean’s gesture was meant to usher him over, Castiel got up from his stool and walked over, taking off his black cowboy hat and placing it on the pool table once he got to his destination. Dean tipped his Stetson in greeting and flashed a toothy smile to Castiel, causing his cheeks to heat up.

“You here for a beer, angel?” Dean asked.

That was new.

“Uhm, yes. Like I normally am.” Castiel replied solemnly, a little bit skeptical since Dean was being extra flashy today.

Perhaps it was because Sam was around.

“Well,” he started. “I’d like ya to meet Sammy, my lil’ brother. Sammy, Castiel. Castiel, Sammy.”

Castiel nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sam.”

The younger brother stuck his arm out, signaling a handshake. It was firm, despite his young age. “You too.”

Dean gave his brother a grin and a wink and Sam had almost immediately left to go to the counter, instantly striking up a conversation with Ellen.

Odd.

“So, have you heard about Lucifer?” The question just popped up out of the blue. Dean was leaning on his cue pole, his hands over the top and his chin resting on his knuckles.

Castiel quirked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“The murderer, guy got his face on the wanted posters ‘bout two months ago. People are sayin’ he murdered two people and some animals or somethin’. I don’t gossip like some people do here but it’s somethin’ I’ve heard goin’ ‘round.”

He licked his lips. He hasn’t seen any wanted posters of any kind, so either he was blind or oblivious to his surroundings. Hopefully the latter.

“I haven’t. Is his real name Lucifer?” Castiel asked, now engaged in the conversation, curious.

“Naw, Lucas or somethin’. Lucas... Shurley, I’m pretty sure.” He bit his lip, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.

Fuck.

“Lucas Shurley? I...” Castiel’s mouth went dry and the world suddenly got dizzy. “I need to sit down— o-or leave... I—“

Dean put down his cue stick, and it clattered to the ground. He gracefully swept over to where Castiel started leaning over the pool table. He put his hands on his back and laced his fingers with his to support him up.

“Cas?” His voice was soft, like of those of a kitten. “Hey... hey, man. Are you alright?”

“I have to go home—“ Castiel started, his stomach feeling like thousands of volcanic ruptures.

“I’ll take ya, man. How far do you live?”

Castiel looked up to face Dean. “About— about two miles up north. You... I can walk.”

“Walk? No. Where’s your horse?”

“Don’t have one anymore. Horse disappeared along with my parents.” Castiel said like it was nothing.

In all honesty, he didn’t believe it was nothing. He just didn’t want to worry Dean.

It was everything. Chuck and Naomi Novak were his favorite people in the world. Sure, the both of them smoked their lungs dry but without them, Castiel would be a goner. They’ve saved him, fixed him, in more ways and times than he could count.

���I’ll take ya, Baby can fit two.”

“Baby?”

“My black mare. God, she’s a beaut. Love o’ my life.” Dean smiled with pride.

Castiel nodded. That’s how Lincoln was to Castiel and his family. He was a very obedient crime colored horse, and he was very fond of him. However, after his parents disappearance, Lincoln had gone with them. Over and over Castiel theorized where they could’ve gone, but nothing of the sorts came to mind. They’ve always sort of stayed around Lawrence. Never the adventurous type, which was why their disappearance was odd.

Baby was a very comfortable horse, but it was even more comfortable to wrap his hands around Dean’s waist, feeling the rise and fall of his breath against his body. His chest was touching his back and Dean talked to him as Baby slowly rode ahead. Dean had reassured Castiel that since he didn’t feel well, Baby wouldn’t go as fast as she normally would’ve.

Hiding his blush in the night sky, Castiel’s eyes were weary and droopy. He never even got the time to get a beer, nor talk to anyone else. His trip was cut short. However, so was Dean’s.

“Sammy’s a genius, I’m tellin’ ya.” Dean filled the empty silence with something to talk about. “Been studyin’ to go to this new college called Stanford. ‘Bout five years old, fairly new. It’s all the way in California, poor guy.”

Castiel didn’t respond, but Dean could feel the nod of his body against him.

“You got any siblings?” Dean genuinely asked, cocking his head back to meet eye to eye with Castiel. Dean seemed like a good horseback, so he trusted him.

Castiel thinned his lips. “Yes... two. They don’t live around here anymore. Older brothers... uhm, Michael and Gabriel and-“

He stopped himself.

“And what?” Worry sort of filled Dean’s voice.

“I also have an older half brother... but I don’t talk to him. He sort of made my life a living hell growing up.”

“‘M sorry to hear that, Cas.”

Baby stopped in her tracks slowly, and Dean eyed Castiel’s cottage. It was on the outskirts of town, and the wooden place wasn’t the biggest, but it managed. He was proud of it. It’s been there since Lawrence founded in ‘64 and he wasn’t planning on demolishing it anytime soon.

Dean hopped off of Baby and grabbed Castiel’s hand to help him. The sickness started riling back in his gut and he walked to his front door quickly.

The wooden patio could barely hold one person without creaking in vain, crying out because of the heavy steps heaving on it. Let alone two. However, Castiel couldn’t tempt away from the green eyes and peppered freckles face with a smile he’s grown so fond of since Dean moved back.

Dean took off his hat and placed it on his chest, his fingers curling around the crease and pinch of it. He looked down.

“I just realized ya forgot your hat at the Roadhouse.” Dean chuckled, his laugh music to Castiel’s ears. “Could I stop by tomorrow afternoon ‘n give it to ya? I promise I won’t mess wit’ it.”

Castiel nodded, his face becoming red. “Thank you, Dean.” He paused, then he furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Dean simply blinked and didn’t hesitate. “Because you made me realize that angel’s were real.”

They said their goodbyes and Castiel laid on his bed, first taking off all his clothing except for his undergarments. His sheets were cold with lack of use, as it has been a while since he’s used them.

Thoughts of Dean and his freckled body filled Castiel’s head. The imagery of his cock in Dean’s soft ass pumped his heart and he bit he lip, to try and attempt himself from getting hard. He had nothing but his hand to relieve himself, so he couldn’t tonight.

However, if he got lucky with Dean, he would be a sweet ride indeed.

(tags below)

@potato-painter

[mariacallous]

NYT Love Letter 12/11/2020

Many extroverts have gone to extreme measures for a social fix during the pandemic. Albertina Coacci, a self-proclaimed people person, turned to daily phone calls with strangers to pass the time while in lockdown in Italy. What started as a harmless habit soon led to an affair of sorts with a man who spoke her love language: baking.

MODERN LOVE

“He sent me a picture of steamy, homemade bread, still inside a Le Creuset casserole, and the image actually made me feel aroused.”

He Seduced Me With Bread

Modern Love

An Italian woman, trapped in lockdown, takes daily calls from strangers until she finds one who really knows how to cook.

By Albertina Coacci

For those who tried to maintain some semblance of a dating life during quarantine, connecting with singles over Zoom or video chat became the norm. But many who felt an attraction while connecting online said they found that the chemistry was lacking in person.

Why are you meeting in person wtf

LOVE AND MARRIAGE

They made no space for sadness at their ceremony and reception.

That New York Vibe and a Life in San Diego

VOWS

Ana Bowens and Benjamin Schenk, who met at Dartmouth, had a pared-down guest list and ditched the reception dance floor in favor of contests and talent shows.

By Tammy La Gorce

In Sickness and in Health, They Stayed in Sync

mini-vows

Jessica Vande Werken and Robin Goode supported each other when Ms. Goode received a breast cancer diagnosis. Almost a year later, they unknowingly made appointments to pick out engagement rings at the same shop, on the same day.

By Emma Grillo

By now, 2020 wedding guests have read the boilerplate. “In light of Covid-19, we want to let you know your health and safety are our top priority,” banners at the top of wedding websites say. This is often followed by this year’s version of the big reveal: whether the wedding is on or off.

Ana Bowens and Benjamin Schenk didn’t bother with any of that when planning their Nov. 7 wedding in Brooklyn. Instead, they challenged the 40 remaining friends and family members on their pared-down guest list to come up with the most intensive personal protection equipment and said that their reception would skip dancing — “It’s so 2019” — in favor of a talent show in a more socially distant theater. A mask protocol left little room for rule breakers to misinterpret: “The only time you’ll remove masks is when you’re eating and drinking,” guests were told in a prewedding email blast.

Those who know Ms. Bowens and Mr. Schenk could not have been surprised by their take-charge approach to avoiding the spread of the virus. Mr. Schenk especially has earned a reputation for determination. His immersive courtship of Ms. Bowens, a woman who he at first thought seemed out of his league, is an example, though his fortitude would fail him a few times.

Mr. Schenk and Ms. Bowens first saw each other across a table of lobster rolls at the Hanover Inn near Dartmouth College in September 2008. Both were incoming freshmen who had been invited to a welcome-to-college lunch organized by their mutual adviser. The conversation wasn’t exactly scintillating. “It was incredibly dull and forced, but my default is to be gregarious, so I tried to get people talking,” Mr. Schenk said. His single-handed efforts to liven things up did not go unnoticed by Ms. Bowens. “I distinctly remember him being incredibly talkative and loud,” she said.

Her impression of him softened after lunch when he offered to let her go before him for individual meetings with the adviser. “I thought, ‘Well, that’s nice,’” she said. “But I don’t know if I’ll ever interact with this person again.” Mr. Schenk had doubts about that himself, given her East Coast élan.

Ms. Bowens, 30, is a New Yorker. At age 4, she moved to Manhattan from Southern California with her mother, Judith Bowens, younger brother, Max Bowens, and maternal grandmother, Dena Diamant, after her parents divorced; her father, John William Bowens, lives in Arizona.

“My mom always wanted to live and raise a family in New York,” she said. She made it happen through a career in fashion, first as vice president of store operations for Barneys, and currently as manager of the DTech Lab at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Ms. Bowens’s city background, disclosed during the lobster roll lunch when the table took turns introducing themselves, instantly branded her as inaccessible to Mr. Schenk.

“You have to understand my frame of reference for New Yorkers,” he said. “I had never ventured beyond Times Square. When she said she was from New York, I saw it through a ‘Gossip Girl’ lens. I’m like, OK, we’ve got a Blair here. There’s no way a person like me is going to connect with a person like that.”

Mr. Schenk, also 30, is a native of San Diego. He didn’t expect to get into an Ivy League college. “Everything I did in high school was tethered to the goal of going to U.C.L.A.,” he said.

His father, Frederick Schenk, a partner in the law firm CaseyGerry, and his aunt, Lynn Schenk, a 1970s feminist who served in the U.S. House of Representatives, are devoted U.C.L.A. alumni. His mother, Shari Friedman Schenk, is a retired director of marketing at the San Diego law firm CaseyGerry. He grew up with two younger sisters, Michaela and Sydney.

“I was indoctrinated to U.C.L.A. in the womb,” he said. “All I wanted when I was growing up was to be a counselor at their alumni camp.” His application to Dartmouth was on a whim. Before he found his footing there, he suspected — not incorrectly, Ms. Bowens said — that he came across as an overeager suburbanite.

HOW IS THIS “SOCIAL DISTANCING”

The sophistication he sensed he was lacking didn’t stop him from making friends, though, and by winter even Ms. Bowens started seeming relatable. “I would see her at hockey games,” he said. “She would sit in the front row wearing one of her distinctive scarves and I would sit in the 30th row watching her get really into it, yelling and banging on the glass. When I saw her wearing her emotions on her sleeve that way, whatever preconceived notions I had of this person being aloof were shattered.”

At the beginning of their sophomore year, he met her friend Jen Buchholz, who was also learning CPR in preparation for a five-day Dartmouth wilderness trip. “I asked Jen who her friends are as a way of getting to know her,” he said. “When she said Ana Bowens, I let out this very guttural, ‘Oh, I dig her vibe.’” That night, Ms. Bowens, emboldened by a Keystone Light at a fraternity party, would do something that would stunt Mr. Schenk’s college dating experience.

“She put her hand on my chest, flicked her hair, and said, ‘So, I hear you dig my vibe,’” he said. Mr. Schenk was knocked sideways. “The moment she did that, I decided I wanted to learn everything I could about her as quickly as possible.” The start of a fierce campaign to become her boyfriend had begun.

At first, Ms. Bowens indulged it. When she wasn’t meeting him to study or hang out with mutual friends, she was answering his long, inquisitive emails. “I learned how ambitious and intelligent she was and that her mother and uncle are U.C.L.A. alumni,” he said. “When she told me she was Jewish, which is important to me, I was like, ‘OK, let’s wrap this up.’” His bid to cut the getting-to-know-you phase and move onto something more serious was premature.

Only three weeks into sophomore year, over a hangout on the futon in his dorm room, he asked her to a Portugal.the Man concert under the condition that she attend as his girlfriend. Ms. Bowens, taken aback, said no and left his dorm immediately. “I was freaked out,” she said. “It was way too much pressure.”

Over the phone, she told her mother what had happened. Judith Bowens was less alarmed by the boldness of her daughter’s suitor, then quick to recognize his plan. “I told her Benjamin was playing the long game,” Ms. Bowens said. “He wanted this to become something that would last.”

She may as well have read his mind. “In the dorm room, I wasn’t thinking, Ana just trampled on my heart,” he said. “I was thinking, What’s my next move?”

It would take a while before he could execute it. In the spring of 2010, Mr. Schenk emailed Ms. Bowens an Arcade Fire song. Though she had given him the cold shoulder for months, her reluctance to resume the relationship started fading. She was on alert again when he showed up in the car of a friend who drove her from New York to Dartmouth for the start of a summer term.

“Benjamin weaseled his way into driving with this friend,” she said. But within weeks they were a couple.

A few days later, they weren’t. Again.

Outside Dartmouth’s Baker-Berry Library in Summer 2010, Ms. Bowens told him they should just be friends. “It was too much too fast,” she said. Mr. Schenk demanded a handshake and stormed away. When she wrote him two days later to say she had made a mistake and regretted the breakup, relief flooded over him. “I responded immediately,” he said. They wouldn’t break up again until Spring 2012, just before graduation.

Both continued their education after Dartmouth, Ms. Bowens to the University of Pennsylvania for a master’s degree in social work and Mr. Schenk for a doctor of law degree at the University of San Diego School of Law. Each spent a few years in New York before enrolling. They talked regularly and occasionally met for dates. Ms. Bowens is now a case manager at the University of California San Diego. Mr. Schenk is the chief executive of the Civic Group, an affordable housing provider in San Diego.

Their 2012 breakup had been a mutual decision. “Both of us felt like we wanted to do some exploration,” Ms. Bowens said. “It killed me,” Mr. Schenk said. Once again, Ms. Bowens’s ties to New York threw him.

“I always knew I would go back to San Diego,” he said. Doing so, he felt, was a way of honoring his grandfather, Sidney Schenk, a Holocaust survivor. “My family narrative is one of displacement,” he said.

In October 2015, he quit his job and bought a one-way ticket to California from New York. When Ms. Bowens said she found out, “I felt really thrown and disoriented.” They didn’t talk for nearly a year, until the 2016 presidential election, when Ms. Bowens held a gathering at her apartment for what she expected to be Hillary Clinton’s victory. “It turned into a really distressing evening,” she said. “I had this moment of internal crisis, and at that moment I realized Benjamin was the only person I wanted to talk to.”

The following spring, she flew to San Diego for a visit. “We put it all out there,” she said. “We decided right then we wanted to build a life together.”

Two years later, Mr. Schenk took a diamond ring that had belonged to his grandmother with him on a trip to the East Coast. On March 2, 2019, he proposed by the Dartmouth College library bench where she had broken up with him years before. “I said, ‘Ana Bowens, I dig your vibe. Marry me and I promise you won’t regret it.’”

They were preparing for a Nov. 7, 2020, wedding for 140 guests at the Wythe Hotel in Brooklyn when the coronavirus made its unwelcome debut. “We had watched some of our friends have their wedding dates come and go and turn into a sad day,” Ms. Bowens said. They made no space for sadness at their Covid-conscious ceremony and reception for 40 at the Wythe.

Ms. Bowens, in a lacy dress by the Israeli designer Dany Mizrachi customized by a former F.I.T. student of Judith Bowens, walked down an open-air aisle with her mother. Judith Bowens also had a hand in Mr. Schenk’s wedding clothes, designing his navy pinstripe suit with him before it was tailored at Martin Greenfield Clothiers in Brooklyn.

Rabbi David Ingber, who met the couple under a white floral huppah, urged them to seek and honor the infinite mystery of each other. In handwritten vows, Ms. Bowens promised to never regard their love as practical and to remain curious about Mr. Schenk. Mr. Schenk started by noting that he had been magnetized to her for 11 years. “I vow to love you the way you deserve — passionately and persistently — until I am no more,” he said.

Seconds later, with the Jewish tradition of stomping on a glass, they were married.

On This Day

When Nov. 7, 2020

Where The Wythe Hotel, Brooklyn

Let the Games Begin 

Highlights during the theater-in-the-round reception included a choreographed tap dance by the groom’s sisters and two performances parodying “Body.by.BenAna” a Zoom fitness class the couple started while social distancing. In one, two friends from Dartmouth dressed up in workout clothes and led a two-minute workout skit for the crowd.

And the Winner J

ake Hytken, a friend of the groom, won the most intensive personal protection contest with a bedazzled mask, medical-grade face shield and helmet. He was awarded a bottle of champagne.

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch3

In the spirit of experimentation I tried out a different art programme that was recommended to me.  I’m not sure I’m a fan and it took me far too long to work out the basic functions (most of which I still haven’t figured out) but it does have cool star stamps.

Thank you to @willow-salix​ for putting up with my wobbles over this fic and for all her help, editing and suggestions.

Earlier parts: One, Two

Chapter Three

John tiptoed back to the room he had been allocated to share with Alan, his head buzzing with ideas.  Before, everything his father had mentioned had seemed hypothetical but with all four of them in the room together it looked like this plan could be more than just a pipedream.  Their father obviously thought they had the skills between them.  With all the potential operatives together the discussions had continued long into the night.  A rescue organisation with first responder, transporter, space rocket and communications satellite.  

For him it would be the chance to live amongst the stars.  A career in space was something he had been striving towards.  Every extra credit course.  Every summer camp and internship.  Each had been a steppingstone towards his dream of working for the World Space Agency.  And then his father had dropped the bombshell that there could be an alternative.  He would still need to complete a training course at Tracy College, as would Scott and Virgil, but he was being offered a golden opportunity albeit one that would take several years to come to fruition.  Never usually one to give in to flights of fantasy John found himself daydreaming.

The door latch clicked closed and John was half way to his bed before he realised anything was amiss.  The room was dark and still.  

Too still.

There was no restless turning of a sleeper disturbed by his return.  No heavy breathing of a brother at rest.  The room was silent and disconcertingly empty.  

He didn’t panic.  John had never understood the point of panicking.  It rarely achieved anything and was often a hindrance.  Panicking was something other people did.  John didn’t panic, he used logic; he found it much more effective.    

Alan’s bed was not only empty of his missing sibling, it was also bereft of its coverings.  The mattress stripped of its duvet and pillows.  The floor length curtain fluttered slightly and a gentle breeze broke the heavy stillness of the room.  John stepped over to investigate.

Alan was stretched out on his back on the balcony, the duvet forming a barrier between the teen and the hard planking.  At first John thought he was asleep.  The room itself was stuffy and he could see the appeal of retreating to the balcony even if it made more sense to just adjust the air conditioning.  He was debating whether or not to wake Alan up and move him back inside when a voice spoke from the floor.

“Finally finished then?”

John chose to ignore the question.  Jeff had made it clear that the plans were not to be discussed with the youngest two until things had progressed further.  There was still a lot that could go awry, not least espionage, and secrecy was a pivotal concern.  

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Something like that.  Never had the chance to see the southern stars before.  I was hoping we could look at them together.  Thought you might finally have time now.”

There was an accusatory edge to Alan’s voice and John felt a stab of guilt.  Ever since he had got back from college Alan had been asking him for an astronomy session but there had always been some excuse.  His college work.  Meetings with Dad.  Or sometimes just wanting to be alone as he missed the freedom and solitude of his own apartment.  Alan had latched on like a shadow.  He’d even protested against having to share a room with Alan for this Olympics trip even if Scott and Virgil were also having to share, the penthouse apartment not being equipped with enough rooms for them to each have their own.  All his little brother wanted to do was spend time with him.  John realised he hadn’t even given the younger boy a chance.

“Budge over.”

Alan shuffled across on the duvet, making room for John to stretch out beside him.  They lay close, side by side.  Both were of a similar build and their lithe forms fitted easily on the impromptu mattress.  Alan was still several growth spurts shy of reaching his full potential but it looked like he too, as had happened to all his brothers except Gordon, would one day exceed 6 foot.  Under the stars they both loved the similarities were more marked than their differences.

“Seen anything interesting?”

“You missed Jupiter but to be honest the light pollution is almost as bad as L.A.  I’d love to head out to the dark sky reserve and take a proper look but I guess this this will have to do.  I don’t know when I’ll next be in this hemisphere again.  Even Crux is hard to make out against the glow.”

John followed the arm of his pointing sibling and could just make out the constellation that was one of the defining features of the southern hemisphere.  Alan was right, the light pollution of the city meant the stars were barely visible.  John had to bite his tongue over one thing though, if Jeff’s plan came to fruition then the southern skies could soon become the norm for Alan.

The pointing arm began moving about.

“So if Crux is there.  And Centaurus is there.”  There was a pause as Alan consulted his mental map and made a few calculations.  “Then home must be over….there.”

“You’ve worked out where L.A. is?”  He made his own rapid calculations and came up with a similar answer.  He couldn’t help but be slightly impressed.  Alan had always shown a similar interest in the stars to himself and it looked like this interest hadn’t waned.

“Well I wouldn’t trust it as accurate.  I just like to test myself whenever I go somewhere new.  I was thinking of Kansas though.  L.A. isn’t really home.  Never has been.”  There was a pause then, barely whispered, “You guys aren’t there.”  

John looked across but Alan was still staring resolutely up at the sky.  He knew he didn’t associate Los Angeles with home.  He had left for Harvard just before the move to California.  To him the apartment in the city was just somewhere to visit between semesters.  But surely Alan should have been more settled by now.  He had lived in the city for several years with Dad and Gordon.  

He thought back to his latest visit.  With the exception of the bedrooms the apartment looked like a show home; devoid of personality.  It was a place where individuals coexisted rather than somewhere that a family lived.  It was a stark contrast to the slightly run down farmhouse with the mismatched furniture collected over the years.  The marks on the walls that each told a story; the stain from when Alan got hold of Virgil’s paints, the dent in the doorframe from when Scott threw a baseball inside.  The apartment had no such stories.  No memories.  Alan was right, it wasn’t a home.  

“I doubt we can make it out to the dark sky reserve, the schedule is pretty tight, but if you want we take a trip out to the mountains when we get back.  Take the telescope.”

“Really?”  The eagerness was barely disguised.  

“Sure.  I’ll still have a couple of weeks before I have to head back east.  I’m sure we can wrangle a few days away.”

They lay side by side staring up at unfamiliar skies until they drifted off to sleep, lulled by the perpetual murmur of the city below them.

xoxoxox

John awoke to the sun in his eyes and cramp in his foot.  In a moment of disorientation he couldn’t work out why his bed was so hard or the room was so bright as he clutched at the offending limb and attempted to stretch out his toes.

His startled flailing woke the figure to the side of him.  Alan stretched, bounced up off the floor, then held out a hand to his incapacitated sibling.  John grasped it gratefully and levered himself up.  The cramp might have eased but his whole body felt stiff from the unintentional slumber on the decking.  He wondered how on earth Alan was able to move about so freely.

“You want first shower?”  Alan asked as they headed back into the room.

John nodded gratefully.  He hadn’t meant to bed down under the stars and as such was still wearing his clothes from the day before.  After travelling across continents and then sleeping outside the outfit was decidedly rumpled and worse for wear.

He stepped into the en-suite and shucked the dirty clothes onto the floor.  The shower was hot and powerful, the steady stream of drops beat against his aching muscles.  He could have stayed there all morning but the sound of Alan rapping on the door reminded him that this was a shared space and there was a schedule to be adhered to.

Breakfast was a quiet affair in the lounge area with plenty of coffee to fuel the day although Alan stuck to juice and water, commenting that he couldn’t understand why they all felt the need to drink the bitter brew.  This just drew amused smirks from his elders, sure that one day he would discover the delights of the bean.  Coffee was treated with reverence by the other Tracys.  Virgil didn’t like to venture outside before his second cup.  Jeff insisted on a fresh ground beans of single origin.  Scott and John were less particular in their tastes but even they liked to start the day with a strong fix to kick start the senses.

The morning was spent pool-side watching a mixed assortment of heats and races.  Alan had the whole schedule memorised and counted down the events until Tracy four was due to take his turn in the water.  He seemed to know every statistic of every competitor and chattered away to any brother that would listen. 

At last, towards the end of the session, the men’s 200m butterfly was announced.  The family sat forward expectantly.  Gordon was tipped to do well but his heat was a difficult draw.  Both the Australian and Dutch competitors would be in the water with him and all of them had their sights set on medals.  Three medal hopefuls but only two places available in the final.  There could be no saving himself; every lap mattered.

At the sound of the gun Gordon launched himself into the water.  Five sets of eyes tracked him from above, barely daring to blink.  Five hearts thumped as the battle was fought.  Five collective breaths were released as the timing board announced what they had all thought they had seen; second place for USA.  Gordon would live to fight another day.

Emerging into the bright sunshine of early afternoon the family found themselves basking in the refreshing breeze that wafted through the Olympic Park.  The gallery had suffered from the intense heat and humidity common to swimming pools the world over.  The echoing acoustics had made the cheers of the crowd deafening and it was a relief to step back into outside world.

“Well, that’s it for today” Jeff announced to his assembled brood.  “There are some taekwondo and athletics tickets for tomorrow and then Gordon’s final is the day after.  For now though I’ve got to head back to the hotel and catch up with some work, don’t make plans for me for dinner.” 

Leaving them to sort it out amongst themselves Jeff turned and headed back to the hotel.  The brothers knew their father well enough to read between the lines.  He evidently didn’t want to be disturbed and the expectation was that they would stay away from the hotel, at least for the next few hours and preferably until nightfall.  

Scott was about assume responsibility for the group when John spoke up.

“I thought I might take Alan out to where the mountain biking is taking place.  You don’t need tickets for that.”  Alan’s eyes lit up at the prospect of spending time with his favourite available brother and watching people hurtling at speed down steep hills and over rocks.  “You two don’t need to come if it’s not your thing.” 

“You sure you’ll be ok with him?”

“Seriously Scott, we don’t need a chaperone.  Alan and I will be perfectly fine by ourselves.”  

Scott shrugged in an ‘if you’re sure’ sort of gesture.  As much as he knew Alan would love to see people risk life and limb in the name of sport he also knew it most definitely was not John’s usual choice of activity.  Still, if it got him out of an afternoon of playing sheepdog he wasn’t going to question John’s motives too deeply.  

He turned to Virgil.  “Looks like it’s you and me then.  Unless you also want to watch the mountain biking?”

“Not really.  I’d rather stay central.  Maybe head over to the marina.”

“Sounds good to me.  You’ll give me a ring if you need anything.”  John just rolled his eyes in response.

The siblings split into pairs; one set heading off to the taxis that would take them to the artificial hill course, the other set heading to the waterfront.

The harbour area was packed with visitors and a little too crowded to be comfortable.  Scott and Virgil headed away from the Olympic area, following the esplanade until the crowds thinned out.  They had had enough sporting hype for one day and were ready to just relax.  Scott’s leave was only a few days for the duration of Gordon’s events and he knew he would soon be immersed back in Air Force life.  Best make use of the opportunity for some rest and relaxation while he could.

They walked in companionable silence until, as if by mutual accord, their steps led them to a waterfront bar.  The sun was starting to dip towards the horizon but the evening was still warm and the parasols at each table gave some welcome shade.  The brothers found themselves drawn to an empty table.  They were soon comfortably settled, the ocean glittering in front of them mirroring the sparkling condensation on their beer glasses.

Scott took a deep pull and sank half his drink before Virgil had barely sipped an inch earning himself a disapproving look from the younger man.  Scott chose to ignore it.  He rarely got down time.  There were always so many responsibilities.  His squadron.  Younger brothers.  But John had taken custody of Alan and Virgil was old enough to look after himself meaning Scott could enjoy not being in loco parentis for a while.  If he chose to enjoy that freedom by drinking a little too much a little too quickly then so be it.

A second drink swiftly followed the first and the conversation flowed just as freely as the beer.  Of all the sibling bonds Scott’s and Virgil’s was probably the strongest despite them rarely getting time together any more. 

As the glasses stacked up Scott beckoned to a nearby waitress who was collecting empties from the outside tables.  He beamed at her causing the dimples in his cheeks to appear like craters.

“Hey beautiful, could we get another couple of drinks over here?  And maybe some scotch chasers?”

She nodded and Scott turned to watch her as she headed back inside, his eyes raking up and down her body.

“Put your tongue away” Virgil commented.  “You’re practically drooling.”

“Can’t a guy appreciate the finer things in life?”

“Not if it means perving over the locals.  She’s just trying to do her job.”

“I am not perving.  I’m admiring.  I thought you were meant to be the artist seeing the beauty in everything?”

They arrival of said waitress with the next round of drinks soon put an end to their argument and cause the re-emergence of the dimples.  He fixed her a look with his startling blue eyes that he knew most women found irresistible.

“Thanks.  Say, are you working late tonight?”

“Late enough.”

“Only I was hoping someone with local knowledge could help show me the sights.”

“Sorry boys.  No moonlighting as a tour guide.  It’s company policy.”  She stacked the empty glasses onto her tray and headed back inside.

“Well that shot you down.”  Virgil smirked.  “We’ve barely been here twenty four hours and already you’re trying to get laid.  Can’t you keep it in your pants for one trip?  We’re here to support Gordon, not so that you can add more notches to your bedpost.  And had you forgotten we are sharing a room?”

Scott snorted.  “So what if I fancied having a little fun, it’s not like I get much chance back at base.  The Air Force isn’t exactly awash with opportunity between postings and combat missions.  And if Dad’s plan actually happens and we’re all dragged in to it it’s not like any of us will have much of a life.”

“What do you mean ‘dragged in’?  I thought you were on board with this whole rescue business?”

“Well you thought wrong.”

By this point yet another beer had been drained, swiftly followed by the scotch.  The burn of a cheap blend hit the back of Scott’s throat with a kick.

“Seriously, what does he hope to achieve with just four of us?  All that bull crap about saving the world one family at a time.  The world already has rescue services and the World Security Patrol.  It doesn’t need us sacrificing ourselves too.”

“But surely if we can make a difference?”

“I already make a difference.  I like my life Virg and I’m good at what I do.  Dad is asking me to give up the career I’ve worked hard for just to fit his idea.  It’s not easy being a Tracy in the Air Force; everyone always has some story about Dad but I’m finally making it in my own right.  And now he’s talking like this is some foregone conclusion.”

“You’d really rather follow the orders of some Air Force brass than help save lives?  Your unit isn’t exactly a humanitarian force.  What about doing it for Mom?  He said this was her legacy.”

“Of course I want to save lives but sometimes the defence of our nation calls for a more forceful response; eliminating the few to save the many.”  

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”  This was one area where Scott and Virgil never had seen eye to eye.  Scott was proud to serve his country.  Some days though, when the intelligence was flawed or the benefits didn’t seem to justify the costs, he found himself wondering if the family pacifist had a point.

“Even if I did leave the Air Force I’d still be following orders, they would just be Dad’s orders.  I can’t see it being run by committee, can you?  And he can leave Mom out of this.  Her legacy was Dad burying himself behind a mountain of paperwork or at the bottom of a scotch bottle while we picked up the pieces.  Or have you forgotten having to juggle school work around getting the kids to swim meets and after school clubs?”

“He isn’t like that any more.”

“Ok, so there are fewer empty bottles in the recycling but there was still a massive Alan shaped hole in his plan.  You know what Dad is like when he gets his teeth into something; anything not directly necessary gets pushed to one side and that includes his own family.”  There was a drawn out sigh as the fire burnt out.  “I don’t think I’m ready to take that on again.”

Virgil knocked back his own scotch as he considered Scott’s words.  His elder brother was right; Gordon and Alan were conspicuously absent it the run down of how the organisation would operate.  Ok, Gordon wasn’t so much of an issue but Alan still had several years of school ahead of him.  He just had to trust that there was some plan in place in the background for the youngest.

He shrugged and shivered slightly as the wind changed direction and blew in off the now black ocean.  Around them tables were being wiped down and lights were being dimmed, a clear indication that it was time to call it a night.  The pair hailed a cab and rode in silence back to the hotel, each lost in their own thoughts.

[addicted-to-dc]

Red Hood’s Little Monster (Part 6)- Red Hood/Jason Todd X Gender fluid!Reader

Welp, I’m actually posting something! Hopefully you all will enjoy this VERY long fic. Also, I currently do not have my tag list on me, so I cannot tag anyone for a while, not until I can find my list.

Warnings: Anger issues? Flirting?

"Come on, man, you gotta help me out," you begged, barely suppressing the urge to roll your eyes at your own words. "I just need one identity, I don't care who, but I need one now."

Norm shook his head, pacing around the room while biting his nail, "You know that I can't do it in less than a day! I need at least a week in advance to do it, to make sure it is prepared properly and won't get any red flags! You know if you get caught while using a passport and documents from me, that could damage my reputation!"

"Oh come on! You gave me one in three days," you spat, trying to keep your emotions in control, "and I'm offering double the pay that I gave you that time! I don't give a shit what gender, race, hell, I don't care what age, just give me a goddamn passport and a picture of the poor bastard. You know that I can handle situations like these, can you?"

He pointed at you, shaking his hand as he muttered a few curses. Wiping his face, he scratched his beard as he thought up for some type of solution, something that could save him from being killed by you. As soon as he thought of something, he ran into the back room and dug through his things, searching for the one type of person that would guarantee her a way to escape. Grasping onto the documents, he walked back into the room and handed you what you requested.

Looking over the documents, you scanned over the man in the photo. He had a handsome face, but his face would definitely blend in. His dark skin glowed in the sunlight of the photo, making his dark brown eyes look like honey.

"What happened to him?" you asked Norm, pocketing the documents.

"Disappeared without a trace," he replied solemnly. "He had no family, friends, or next of kin, so you will not deal with any unwanted attention."

"Did you know him?" you questioned, watching his eyes shift to the floor. "If this is too personal I will not take-"

"No, take it," Norm stated, waving you off. "He was a... a good guy, a loving one, too, but his kindness got him killed. It's somewhat comforting that a little bit of him will be back, y' know?"

You nodded, "Thank you, Norm. The money will be transferred to you tomorrow, I just need to get a head start before drawing attention to your bank account."

"I know the drill by now," he chuckled, patting you on the shoulder. "Stay safe out there."

"You, too," you replied, adjusting your jacket before leaving the building.

Stepping out into the sun, you pulled your sunglasses onto your face and continued forward, determined to slink back into the shadows like you always did. You had the upper hand now, but for how long? They had more resources than you by far, but it would take time for them to get everything. Your father's quarrel with Bruce Wayne would spark arguments if he requested help from him, but there was the possibility that his familial instincts will suspend the fighting.

Huffing, you moved forward on your path, heading to the nearest alley to shift. It wasn't the most inconspicuous, but it was better than going into a populated area and having questions arise. Leaning against the wall, you breathed heavily as you looked at the picture of the man, absorbing his image into your head as your body started to burn. Gritting your teeth, you felt as your muscles, bones, and other insides shift and grow, creating an exact copy of him. The shift was oddly less painful than your last ones, but you couldn't focus on that now. Pulling your hood up, you stretched out before walking out the other end of the alley, quickly getting used to the height difference of this body.

Opening your wallet, you pulled out the ID of your previous form, folding it in half and snapping it before throwing it into the nearest dumpster. Digging into your pocket, you slid the new one in, staring and memorizing all of the information. He had a California license, had a height of 5'11" and weighed 194 pounds. His birth date was August 20th, 1995, and his address was Norm's. You would read the documents containing more information on the way to your destination, but now you needed to sell the look of someone traveling. Looks like you were going to blow a lot of cash.

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

Walking through the airport, you pulled your cheap carry on suitcase, which was filled with clothes and other useless items, as you continued forward. You made sure not to look at the cameras, knowing that it would draw attention to you. Sighing, you glanced around and rubbed your eye, your exhaustion getting the better of you. Your contact had assured you that you wouldn't have to deal with security, especially when you still had your suit on. As advanced as it was, it wouldn't make it past the metal detectors that nearly all were required to pass through.

Clutching the handle, you looked around for your contact, searching for her obnoxious bright red hair. Before you could notice someone running behind you, you felt an impact against your back. It nearly made you throw a punch, but you were able to see her head notched into your neck before you made the mistake. Smiling, you laughed and turned around, hugging her to keep the act going. Her honey-colored eyes stared into yours as the both of you pulled away, but kept close physical contact.

"It's been a while since we've seen each other," she smiled, wrapping an arm around your waist, "and I must add that's one delicious form you've taken."

You chuckled at the redhead, remembering how much you hated her personality, "Might I remind you that I am a minor."

"A minor that can shapeshift into a very scrumptious adult," she smirked, removing her hand from your waist, "but I know my boundaries."

She led you through a corridor away from the TSA infested area of the airport. The sound of your footsteps reverberated through the hall, making you scan the area cautiously. From what you memorized of the blueprints of the airport, you were heading back to the loading dock, and your plan did not include going there.

"Is there a bathroom somewhere I can go before we leave?" you asked, looking around. "The coffee is kicking in."

"Don't worry, assassin, they think you're taking a private jet in the opposite direction," she stated, continuing forward. "Your plan worked, but we needed to take a more subtle route to our flight."

You didn't like the change in your plans, but even you knew that she was telling the truth. The Mya you knew wouldn't sell a customer out, especially if the customer could snap her neck before she could realize it, but that didn't mean that this was Mya.

"How's your brother and sister?" you asked, remaining behind her.

"They're okay, Gram is still in college and Grace dropped out, she's focusing on the family business currently," she replied, turning around. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

You shrugged, glaring down at her, "Because Grace is dead, you were the one who asked me to kill her, remember?"

Before she could react, you had her pinned against the wall, using your weight to keep her there. One hand held her own down while the other had her neck in its grip, squeezing just enough to make sure she wouldn't try anything.

"Who's helping my father, telepath?" you questioned her, squeezing tighter.

She dropped her disguise, revealing herself to be Miss Martian and telling you everything you needed. Without hesitation, you released her and let her fall to the ground. You ran a hand through your hair, frustrated beyond belief.

"How did they find me?" you asked yourself pacing around, completely ignoring the incapacitated Martian beneath you. "This chase needs to end right now, I can't stand this frustrating goose chase."

Rubbing your face, you sighed and glanced at the Martian, examining her while she tried to recover her breath. She was a white Martian, which was rather odd all things considering. You couldn't remember if they were outcasts of Mars or something else, but you didn't care at the moment.

"Are they waiting for me at the exit?" you asked, watching as she nodded 'yes'. "Well, I better go greet them."

Continuing down the corridor, you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was about to occur. There had to be more than one hero helping them out, there definitely had to be. You had to admit you were slightly surprised that heroes would help the Outlaws, but who were you to judge the heroes' choices. They're always going off about 'discovering your better self' and 'forgiveness is always an option if you mean it' or however it's phrased.

You didn't believe in that crap, and you knew that if someone was trying to kill you, you wouldn't be given those options. You were too dangerous to be kept alive, too dangerous to be around potential loved ones when all you had to hear was a few code words to make you lose control and kill those around you. You couldn't risk that, especially when Talia al-Ghul has a thing for your father's family, your adoptive grandfather if you can even call him that.

You resisted the urge to pull out your weapon as you got closer the exit, making it more difficult to keep your nerves on edge. As soon as you rounded the corner, the three Outlaws could be clearly seen blocking the doorway.

"Unpleasant to see you three again," you stated calmly, examining your surroundings. "Where are the other junior heroes?"

"Somewhere around," your father replied coolly. "Now, are you going to come with us consciously or unconsciously?"

"I was expecting to explain everything before you'd make that decision for me," you answered, remaining vigilant. "If I come with you, death will follow. The League of Assassins will see it as an opportunity to weaken its enemies, and I will not be able to stop them from doing so. So, if you value your lives and the ones around you, I suggest you let me disappear and let go whatever semblance of fatherly instinct you developed. I'm not yours, I wasn't raised by you, I wasn't taught to love or look up to you, we just share a genetic code."

You waited for a response, some sort of reaction from your father, but you couldn't identify anything from his body language. His red helmet obscured his face, which gave him the upper hand in this current situation.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, your frustration grew exponentially as his silence continued, "Are you going to just stand there, or actually respond to me?"

He stepped forward, making your hand instinctively go for your weapon, "The League can't touch you, (Y/N), we'll make sure of it."

"You can't be serious," you said, nearly laughing at his statement. "They are everywhere, no matter how secure it is. If they aren't affiliated with them, they are being blackmailed or have their families on a watch. They know how to break anyone, hell, they broke the great Batman many times."

"I am not Batman," he nearly growled, "and the League will have to go through me to get to you."

"This is exactly what they want," you sighed, knowing what would transpire in the future if you went with them.

Arsenal stepped forward, patting your father on the shoulder before looking in your direction, "Listen, kid, we'll make some precautions if that will ease your conscience. Even if it happens, we'll be able to deal with it."

Gritting your teeth, you punched the wall beside you, punching through to the next room. You retracted your hand and sighed, your anger contained for the moment. Thinking about your other options, you could escape them once again, but they would find you again and again. Dusting off your hand, you stomped toward the three adults and walked past them.

"Let's go before I change my mind," you huffed, hoping that you would not regret your decision in the future.

[blackeningarrow]

The Trek Up the Narrow Ridge: Mt. Tallac

Nearly a year ago, I embarked upon what I consider to be a life-altering trip. I wrote about it a year ago and now I have the opportunity to write about it again along with how it has since changed my life.

In September of 2019, I decided to set out to Yosemite/ It was a mostly spontaneous decision since I had been debating it up to the night before I left. I had already requested a week off and remained unsure if I had the finances to do as I pleased. I had been stuffing my tips into a jar entitled ‘Travel’ in addition to receiving money awarded for a creativity scholarship by my college, so I figured I had enough at that point to go off into the wild. A coworker had mentioned Mono Lake and Half Dome in conversation and by the end of that conversation (before that conversation*), I decided to go.

The next morning, I was off, having volunteered my time for the first few hours of the day at Farm Sanctuary in Acton, CA. I spent my morning raking endless piles of dead leaves before having the absolute pleasure of doting on all the sanctuary’s residents.

I spontaneously decided that I would go to Lake Tahoe first given I could only apply for the Half Dome cables lottery two days out, and was waiting to see if I had been awarded a permit since applying the morning of. I headed for Mono Lake, arriving just as the sun began to set, coasting its vibrant pinks and purples in a warmed glow. I watched the sun dip behind the horizon, painting the saltine-rock formations in lavender-rose hues. A short walk through the maze of salt statues to return to my car, half a sandwich and another four hours of driving before spending the night at a gas station lot sat beside a casino bordering on California, the edge of Nevada nestled in between mountains.

I refuse to rent an AirBnB or stay in a hotel when traveling. To me, I may as well stay home if that’s the case. I slept in my backseat as became per the norm whenever I went on excursions. A towel was draped across the front seats so that no light streamed in and my car was essentially blacked out. I had fastened a lamp with a bungee chord to the car’s assist grip above the window as a makeshift reading light.

Before dawn, I woke, driving up the mountains of Nevada over into Lake Tahoe as the sun rose over the furthest ranges to the east. I treated myself to breakfast, munching on granola while sprawled out in the sand alongside the lake before setting up a hammock to read and drink hot chai in. I hadn’t brought enough rope to tie both sides, so one side was fastened with a bungee and a spare dog leash I’d had in my trunk. I adjusted my plans so I would have a (mostly) relaxing day at the beach with some kayaking (where I enjoyed EVERY MINUTE fighting the wind that attempted to pull my across the lake) and dinner later. The following day was spent clambering up Lake Tahoe’s tallest mountain, Mt. Tallac at 9,738′, where I would successfully march off onto the wrong trail 3 times, adding another 1500’ in elevation gain for the day. Settling the score with the mountain that kicked my ass in lieu of an injury several years prior did not come easily.

I found myself impatient after the trek and elected to drive the majority of the way to Yosemite, stopping off to the side of 395 highway before Tioga Rd that would take me into Yosemite the next morning. I browsed a few trails on AllTrails, having done no prior research, flying by the seat of my pants as I prefer it. I was seeking out two hikes since my permit for the Half Dome cables had not been granted, keen on one to El Capitan and another to waterfalls. I settled on Vernal Falls, thinking that I would be done midday and have time to trek up to El Cap, unknowing that it happened to be the trail leading to Half Dome.

[sciencespies]

Why 'Pandemic Shaming' Is Bad for Public Health

https://sciencespies.com/news/why-pandemic-shaming-is-bad-for-public-health/

Why 'Pandemic Shaming' Is Bad for Public Health

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s recommendations to limit the spread of COVID-19 include frequent hand washing, avoiding close contact with people from outside your household and wearing a face covering.For people who are following the CDC’s recommendations, it can be aggravating to see others who are not. But expressing that frustration through “pandemic shaming” probably won’t have the intended effect, epidemiologist Julia Marcus tells Maddie Sofia at NPR.

Pandemic shaming comes in many forms, whether it’s two women shouting at people to keep six feet away in Central Park, as emergency room doctor Hashem Zikry described to the New Yorker’s Rivka Galchen in April, or the members of a parents’ Facebook group piling on when one member asked for advice about when their kids could visit a grandparent, as Laura Leigh Abby writes for the Washington Post.

“We are frustrated, we are sitting at home, and we are angry but without any good place to direct our anger,” Northwestern University sociologist Gary Alan Fine told Hannah Smothers at Vice in May. “We can’t direct our anger at the virus, so we direct it at our neighbors, at the government, at those few people who are outside.”

Some cajoling might be useful if directed at people in the same group, like friends and colleagues, sociologist Erich Goode tells Vice, because these people value each other’s opinions. But that energy won’t be productive if it’s spent yelling at a stranger.

“I want to make a distinction here between social norms and shaming. I think social norms are very powerful, and that can be one of the best ways, I think, to change health behavior,” Marcus tells NPR. “But there’s a difference between making people feel bad about their risky behavior and making people feel good about engaging in protective behaviors as a way of becoming part of what the new social norm is.”

Marcus highlights California’s “Wear a Mask” public awareness campaign as an example of effective public health messaging. The “Wear a Mask” campaign recognizes the inconveniences masks cause while also advocating for their use. The informational materials will also be translated into seven languages.

It’s a stark contrast to messaging that argues that wearing a mask is easy and everyone should just do it—or others who argue that people should still be staying home all the time.

“Asking people to abstain from all social contact indefinitely or until we’ve scaled up an effective vaccine is just not going to be a sustainable public health strategy,” Marcus tells NPR.

And as Rebecca Jennings writes for Vox, the people who are walking through Central Park scolding others are not the most at risk of catching COVID-19. The pandemic has disproportionately affected low-income, essential workers, especially in Black and Latino communities.

When pandemic shaming reaches the level of public health policy, it may also have dangerous effects on people who take risks. As Marcus and Washington University in St. Louis psychiatrist Jessica Gold write for the Atlantic, colleges are reopening and putting the onus on students to maintain social distancing. After college students partied for the Fourth of July, colleges like Tulane University threatened swift disciplinary action.

“Partygoers have already been hesitant to cooperate with contact tracers off campus—and this reluctance will only be amplified for students who fear being disciplined for breaking the rules,” Marcus and Gold write. Parties like a recent one in Florida have already been linked to COVID-19 clusters, so partygoers working with contact tracers is key to keeping outbreaks in check.

But if you find yourself in a situation where you feel a need to correct someone’s behavior, what’s the best way to do that? Pamela Hieronymi, an expert in ethics and moral responsibility at UCLA, suggests taking a note from Judith Martin, better known as Miss Manners.

“One of her basic maxims is to presume the best of the other person,” Hieronymi says to Vox. “Presume they don’t have the right information, presume that they didn’t mean any harm, and then interact on that basis — even if you don’t necessarily have great evidence to the effect that they don’t have the right information.”

“Following that advice, it would be, ‘Hey, did you know that masks can protect people and not wearing them will put me and others at risk?’ and personalizing it that way.”

#News

[barbarasbae]

Just a Taste-Homecoming

Part Ten of Just a Taste (Final Chapter)  ❤

Vampire!Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: child abuse, police stations/police officers, kidnapping mentioned, cult mentioned, Soft Billy, Billy gets some well deserved love, my heart hurts bc I’ve loved creating this series 

original gif made by @daebom

Y/n woke up to a steady, constant beep filling her ears. The room was aggressively bright, her wincing in pain. Her eyes finally fluttered awake, taking the room in. She heard soft voices, trying to shift and fix where her clothes had balled up under her back. “Y/n? Y/n can you hear me sweetie?” She nodded, closing her eyes again. Her stomach muscles hurt. There was also a blossoming pain on her neck and arm. “Hurts.” 

“Okay sweetie, let’s get you a little medicine. But first, can you tell me what year it is?”

“1985.”

“Who’s the president?” She furrowed her brows to think. “Fuckin’ Reagan.” She slurred a little, hearing a little laugh to her right. “Can you tell me where you are?” 

“Hospital.” 

“What state?”

“California. Yeah. Cali.” She smiled a little, tilting her head back. “Can I have some water?” 

“Sure. I’ll be back in an hour to check on you okay? I’ll let your visitors know you’re awake.” 

“Okay.” 

She focused on the tv, it playing that new show The Golden Girls. She laughed as it played, hearing the door open. An older man came in...she racked her brain. Billy’s grandpa! Then Billy. Billy was wearing a hoodie, dark circles under his eyes. He looked smaller than normal. Billy sat next to her in a chair, smiling. “Hey Y/n.” 

“Hi.” The nurse came in and handed her a water. “How you feel?”

She shrugged. “Sore.” He nodded. “I think I got all the blood out of your clothes but I think I may have shrunk your shorts.” His grandpa piped up. She giggled. She put reached over with one hand and poked Billy’s mouth. “Ow.” Billy whined. “Show me.” She said, Billy smiling. Normal teeth. “How do you feel?”

“Alive. I called your mom and told her you got in an accident. I kept it vague. She says she loves you and will come out if you have to be in the hospital longer than a week.” 

“Okay.” Y/n spent the rest of the day watching tv and floating in and out of sleep. Dinner was brought to her, Y/n asking if it was possible for Billy to get on the bed with her. The nurse helped her make room, Billy coming back from the cafeteria with a chicken sandwich and fries, as well as a soda. She was given a bedside table, happy to see Billy come through the door. Billy climbed into bed carefully, Y/n laying her head on his shoulder, nibbling on her food. Billy scarfed down his sandwich, slowing down a little on the fries. A nurse came in as she started eating a cookie with some oreo dip thing, Billy nudging her leg with his sock-covered foot. She smiled, Billy dropping a fry down his sweatshirt. “Shit.” Y/n giggled, the nurse checking her vitals. “Sweetheart, let’s check those stitches okay?” Billy got out of the bed, the nurse lifting her gown, Y/n getting to see the stitches on her stomach for the first time. “Loverboy told someone you were attacked by a shark. I’m assuming sharks don’t carry around knives, right.” That made her laugh. “We got mugged. They ganged up on us and I think he’s embarrassed and upset that I got hurt.” The nurse. “I was panicking, okay. Shark attack gets an EMT to the boardwalk faster than stabbing does.” 

“Probably a smart move.” The nurse commented, checking her arm and neck. “Everything looks good. How’s your stomach feeling? Nauseous, hungry, painful?”

“Hungry. A little nauseous. I’m hurting a little but its like on the surface.” She said, the nurse nodding. “I think we’ll be able to let you out by Saturday.” Four more days in the hospital. “Your mother is taking care of things. I believe she mentioned a plane ticket, but you need to not be on a plane until 14 days after you bleed internally. I recommend just driving home.” 

“Okay.” She nodded. Billy and his grandfather kept her company in the hospital until she was let out of the hospital, Mina ecstatic to see her back in the house. Mina also wouldn’t leave Billy alone, attempting to sit in his lap whenever there was an opening. 

Y/n sat in the car, watching Billy cry as he said goodbye to his grandfather, hugging him tight. He waved goodbye to the two teenagers, taking Mina back inside and making a call to the Hawkins Police Department. It took longer to get back this time, Billy demanding to drive the entire way, experiencing exhaustion for the first time in years. Y/n cuddled up with Billy in the motel beds, Billy happy to sleep with her in his arms. They got back to Hawkins two weeks after fleeing Hopper and the kids. Billy asked if they could stop into a convenience store, buying chocolate. He hadn’t had any in a long time. “You Hargrove’s kid?” The man behind the counter asked as he rang him up. He nodded. “You kidnap that poor girl?”

“No.” Billy’s confusion was written on his face. He nodded again. “I’m sorry about your father, son. It’s a real shame when men are such cowards.” He was very confused. He thanked him, but he had so many questions. He took Y/n home, her making him walk her to the door (she wasn’t technically supposed to be lifting anything heavier than five pounds). She wrapped her arms around his neck on the doorstep, kissing him. And kissing him. And kissing him. Billy finally pushes her off, both giggling. “Be careful with this, okay?” She nodded, finally letting him go home. Billy takes his time, praying that Neil won’t be there when he gets back. He just started feeling pain again. He didn’t want to get used to it as the norm immediately. He gets there and sees Neil’s car in the driveway, holding his breath as he takes his bag inside. Max is on the couch, Susan in the kitchen. “Billy?” Max got up, Billy closing the door. She ran up to him and threw her arms around his middle. “Hey.” 

“I thought Hopper was gonna hunt you down. I was really scared. Are you still, you know?” She whispered, looking up at him without taking her arms off of him. Billy hugged her back. “Nope.” He smiled, showing her his teeth. Susan walks over and hugs him, Billy not taking his arms off Max. Billy waits until after dinner is over to ask about Neil.  Susan gives him a pinched look and leaves the kids in the kitchen, going to the back of the house. “Neil’s in jail.” Max explains. “What?” 

“The police showed up saying they got an anonymous tip about him. They took him in for questioning. I told them about the yelling.” Billy nodded. “I think they said if you ever came back into town they wanted you to come to the station.” He nodded again, not really wanting to. The phone rang, Max going to get it. “Billy, it’s for you.” It was Hopper. “Hey kid.” 

“Hi.” 

“You back in town for awhile?”

“Yeah.”

“I need you to come to the station tonight.” Billy dragged himself there, Hopper apologizing and telling him they had some questions for him. And that there was a court date. Billy admitted some things about Neil, which was pretty damning (Hopper’s words). He slept easy that night for the first time in Hawkins, trying to push any thoughts about police and courts out of his mind. 

The next day, Billy and Y/n go to what used to be Benny’s Diner and getting ice cream. They hear whispers from other patrons about why they were gone for so long. Their favorites included her being pregnant, them following a cult leader into a different state, and them both being kidnapped (which also seemed to be a town favorite based on the state they both came back in). They also heard talk of Neil Hargrove, the two glad it was in disgust and not pity for the man whose son ran away. They attempt to laugh it off, Y/n squeezing his hand tighter when Billy starts looking uncomfortable. “Wanna get out of here?” They hung out at her house, Billy staying for dinner. Billy held her hand under the table. The couple eventually got around to explaining what happened to Steve and the party, the kids thinking Y/n was the most badass person they know (which is a well deserved title). Y/n explained to her mom about what happened (she also knew about the upside down), her mother very sympathetic to the curly headed blond boy that basically lived at her house when there wasn’t school.  

Weeks passed and the excitement of having two teenagers run away and then come back died down, Billy prepping for his father’s trial. Neil was put in jail for 15 years for child abuse, Billy calling his grandpa that night to tell him the news. 

Billy and Y/n fell into the pattern of being an exclusive couple, their favorite date becoming getting milkshakes and then having a movie marathon. “Hey Billy, do you think you’re still gonna go live with your grandpa even though Neil is away?” She asked him one night, about to fall asleep, laying on top of him. “I don’t know. I’m trying to get into a college near his house. Right now I actually have some people I like here.”

“Really?” She asked, pushing her face up against his neck. “Hm, maybe. Our waitress at the diner is definitely number one.” She gaped at him, sitting up. “I’m kidding! Babe-!” She hit him with a pillow. “Stop!” He pleaded, grabbing it from her. “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh is right.” He hit her back, her laughing as she rolled onto the floor. Billy was smiling, Y/n grabbing another pillow and getting up, about to smack him in the head with it when the doorbell rang. Billy got up and opened the door. “Are you Billy Hargrove?” 

Billy let the man in, the three sitting around the table. “So what do you want from us, Mr. Bauman?”

“I heard you two killed a nest of vampires in Santa Cruz.” They looked at each other before Billy nodded. “Well, I got wind of a little trouble in Chicago that sounds like it could be caused by vampires.” 

“So what do you want from us?” Y/n asked, taking the paper he had placed on the paper. “We were hoping you might be able to take care of it.”

“We?”

“The US Government. What do you say kids?” He asked, looking between the couple. Billy reached for Y/n’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers as they thought. “Give us a second?” Murray Bauman walked through the house, poking around at decor. “Mr. Bauman?” Billy gave Y/n one last look to reconfirm the decision. “You know where to get holy water around here?”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Thank you to everyone who has read and interacted with this series. I’m quite proud of how this turned out. I loved this idea and I’m glad you all did too ❤❤

@bluegirlusa1 @excellentbecca @xxphoenixflyerxx  @thats-so-rhyan

@harrysstyleseyes  @canny1902  @seasiren96  @helena-way07 

@seasiren96 @shadow-hunters-lover  @iluvmesomemarvelndc

@marvelismylifffe @billyhargrovescigarette @speedmetalqueen 

@ flqyed  

[johnnusz]

‘I’m going to say my piece’ on pandemic spring break

Udonis Haslem

❮❯

Miami Heat forward and Liberty City native Udonis Haslem discusses the coronavirus pandemic, what it was like growing up hungry in South Florida, and why spring breakers needed to stay home to avoid COVID-19.

BY UDONIS HASLEM

This article by Miami Heat veteran Udonis Haslem was originally published by The Players’ Tribune and contains explicit language.

You see that video going around of these silly ass college kids down in South Florida on spring break? Talking about, “If I get corona, I get corona, bro,” and all that nonsense?

Man, I’ll tell you one thing for sure.

Those kids have never been hungry a day in their life.

They never had to worry about nothing more serious than a pop quiz. But they’re still coming down here — coming to our state — in the middle of a pandemic, acting like nothing’s going on??

I’m not usually the kind of guy who does this sort of thing … . I don’t write a lot of articles. But if you f--- with my city, I’m going to speak on it.

So I’m going to take a second here and say my piece.

It’s funny — these kids fly down to places like South Beach for a couple days to party, and they think that’s Miami. But they’ve never seen the real Miami. They’ve never been to Liberty City. They’ve never seen the side of this city that’s living check to check. The side of this city that’s surviving meal to meal.

And let me just tell you something, man — there’s a Liberty City in every city. It’s regular people, with regular struggles. And I don’t know how I can get everyone to listen, but I say this from the bottom of my heart: The people growing up in the real Miami? They’re as vulnerable during this crisis as anybody.

And I’ll tell you one more thing — this idea about those people, that because of this coronavirus they’re going to go hungry? They were already hungry. Way before all this. They were already worrying about where their next meal was gonna come from, or where they’re gonna sleep tonight, or how they’re going to get their next dollar.

And that’s what I need to get off my chest right here. Because it’s been eating me up — to see all this coverage of our city, from all these people who don’t even know what they’re talking about, that’s just focused on a bunch of kids acting stupid.

This ain’t your f---ing beach, bruh.

This is not your spring break.

This shit is real life — and come to think of it, it’s more than even that.

This shit is life and death.

But how do I know, right? I hear y’all already, with your comments. I’m just some rich basketball player. How can I relate to that? What do I know?

Man, I grew up in Liberty City.

I had never even been to South Beach until my rookie year in the NBA.

We were living a whole different life across the bridge.

We saw things no kids should see. Drug addiction was all around us. Homelessness was all around us. My mother, God bless her soul, struggled with addiction and was homeless for years until she turned her life around.

I was that kid getting those free school lunches you read about on your Twitter timeline. Matter of fact, most of us in my elementary school had lunch cards. We went to school to eat, you know what I’m saying?? Those fish sticks were everything. That little carton of chocolate milk was everything. If you skipped school to f--- around in the streets, you might go hungry that day.

I didn’t know anything different. To me, that was just the norm. Like if you had three dollars to buy some chips and a sandwich for lunch? Man, I was looking at you like you were the weird one, you know what I’m saying?

And so while I might not be a doctor or a congressman or anything like that, I do know one thing — just as someone who grew up where I grew up: If our schools have to close down for a long time because this corona thing gets out of control, millions of kids are going home to empty refrigerators.

The worse this pandemic gets, the worse it’s going to be for those kids.

Really think about that.

And also ask yourself this question: Have you ever been hungry before?

I mean really hungry? Not just, like, “Damn, bro, I gotta get on Grubhub right now” hungry.

No, I’m talking hungry.

Because here’s something that only those who’ve really struggled will ever know: Everything changes when you’re hungry. Everything, man. Your whole entire perspective changes.

I’ll tell you a true story. Any time I see a bowl of raisins? Mannnnnnnn. Listen. To this very day, if I see raisins, it’s like I get triggered. I mean it — if I saw a bowl of them on the table right now, I might go apeshit. I might damn near flip the table over. Can’t see ’em, bro. Can’t smell ’em. Makes me sick.

It’s because when I was growing up, we had too many nights where the only thing we had for dinner were those little red boxes of raisins. Nothing else, no lie. That was the main motherf---ing course. Man … you know that smell I’m talking about? The smell of that California Raisin-ass cardboard? You’d be sitting there thinking, “Alright, it’s only about 15 hours till I get to school tomorrow so I can get some fish sticks.”

And that was the reality for lots of kids before all this coronavirus stuff and all this economic pain, you know what I’m saying? That’s just life. Kids going hungry, that’s our normal, right?

If this crisis doesn’t wake us up and make us change as a country, I don’t know what will.

When the average person in Middle America thinks about this virus, and this “social distancing” talk and all that, maybe they picture a bunch of schools shutting down and then these kids going home to a bunch of nice houses and chilling for a couple months. Eating snacks, playing video games. Mom’s working from home, doing conference calls. And I’m glad that’s a reality for so many kids.

But for a lot of kids, for the other half of America, it’s not reality.

For them, home might not be the safest place.

Maybe there’s a reason these kids don’t go home until it’s time to sleep, you know what I’m saying? Maybe there’s a reason they stay out at the basketball court or at the Y until they lock the gates at night.

Might be violent in that household, you feel me?

If this situation gets out of control, and we have to keep everybody off the streets? That house they’re holed up in might start to feel more like a prison.

For a lot of kids, the truth is that school is the only structure they got. It’s the only food they can count on. It’s the only safety that’s guaranteed.

You take that all away? You better be prepared to protect them.

And that’s really the thing about this crisis that we’re living through right now. This moment we’re in … it’s not about you. It’s not about your spring break, or the way you wanna live your life. It’s like, yeah, trust me, bro — I wanna chill, too. I wanna work out at the gym, too. I wanna be on the court again, grooming these young bucks.

So hell yeah, I want my old life back, too.

But this ain’t about me. It ain’t about you.

This thing is about us.

This virus is going to affect everybody, especially the most vulnerable.

So if you got a nice, stable environment? Keep your ass home.

If you got a roof over your head? Keep your ass home.

If you got a crib with Netflix and a refrigerator full of food? Keep your ass home.

I can’t tell you what’s going to happen with the coronavirus. I’m not a public health expert. But I am a certified O.G., and I’m definitely qualified to tell you about what’s going to happen in these streets with so much of the economy shut down. If people don’t take this situation seriously and pull together as a nation, millions of kids are going to suffer.

They didn’t ask for this life. They got dealt this hand when they came out the womb. It’s our responsibility as a nation to protect these kids. You don’t have to be rich to do your part. You don’t have to be a saint, neither.

You know, I tell people all the time, I was raised on the wings of the O.G.’s.

If it wasn’t for other people reaching out their hand to me, I never would’ve made it out of my situation. I never would’ve lived my dreams. And listen, you didn’t have to be Mother Teresa to help a kid out, you know what I’m saying? You didn’t have to be working for the Red Cross to catch me on the corner where I wasn’t supposed to be, and hand me five dollars, like, “Take your ass to the store and get some food. You’re not supposed to be here.”

My O.G.’s did that for me. They looked out for me, even though I wasn’t their blood. True story — I never had a real NBA jersey growing up. My O.G. Buckwheat gave me one straight off his back. Literally took it off, handed it to me. For nothing.

You know whose jersey it was?

Alonzo Mourning.

Ain’t that crazy? Imagine telling Zo, “Couple years from now, this broke-ass kid from Liberty City is coming for your rebounding record, bro!!!!!!!”

And you know, Buckwheat … let’s just say he didn’t have a regular job. But he always made sure I was good. All around me, I had people like that. In the middle of the struggle, we had each other’s back. Sometimes people look at the inner city like it’s all crabs in a bucket, like it’s every man for himself, but that’s not the full picture.

We survived because there was always somebody willing to come pick you up at four o’clock in the morning, no questions asked. There was always somebody willing to give you the shirt off their back, or the basketball shoes off their feet, or the last five dollars in their pocket.

Can we really say we got that same feeling of solidarity right now, as a country?

I look around on social media, in the middle of this disaster, and I see a lot of people talking about “me,” you know what I’m saying?

My way of life. My vacation.

If we don’t start talking about us, then a lot of people are going to suffer.

You know how many kids would hit me up in my DMs every day, before all this went down, talking about, “Hey UD, you got a job for me? I know you own some Subways. I’m just trying to get some money for my family.”

Every day.

I’m no doctor, or no politician, or no public health expert. But I know one thing, man. We all got a responsibility to those kids.

So where my O.G.’s at? Who gonna step up for them? I got two ideas for you.

If you can afford to donate some money to support meals for the kids who really need it, help out the people at Feeding South Florida.

Every $1 provides about six meals for people who really need our help right now.

If you can’t? (And believe me, I understand if you can’t.) If you can’t, you can do something real simple. If you got a roof over your head and some food in your fridge and you don’t have to go to work to feed your family, just do the easiest thing in the world, man.

F--- your spring break.

Just keep your ass at home.

[citystyle-life-lacc-blog]

Blood Drive and Carry On Additional Screening Due to looming virus

The American Red Cross hosted a blood drive on campus Wednesday and provided updated prescreening questions to stop the collection of blood drawn from individuals who in the past 28 days traveled to China, Hong Kong or Macau, as well as from those who cared for, live with, or had direct contact with body fluids of people with or are suspected of having virus COVID-19, amid city, county, and state officials declaring a state of emergency and confirmed California’s first two resulting deaths from the virus.

“The number of blood donors is relatively low today, but that may be due to several reasons other than the Coronavirus,” said Erica Bravo, Red Cross Volunteer. “We still have 500 drives scheduled this month, and the virus will not be stopping the organization from helping those who depend on our work.”

Bravo told the Collegian Wire students are more afraid of the needle than the risk of being exposed to the Coronavirus. Still, not everyone from her team felt the same contained sentiments towards the newly declared public health emergency when student reporters were prohibited close proximity to the action inside the bus.

The updated Red Cross prescreening questions are an addition to the volume of other existing measures in place to keep blood donations safe. But when the Collegian asked nearby students if donating blood felt safe, some were shook.

“I can’t even donate since I am just getting over a cold and had to skip a few days of class,” said Audrey McDermott, a pre-law student at LACC. “It gives me anxiety to see headlines and emails warning people to think twice before leaving our homes. I have an auto-immune disease. I am not even sure if the school is even doing enough to ensure our safety in the classroom.”

Sophomore pre-law student demands new norms like elbow bumps instead of hand shakes and revamp education awareness on viral infection because people still do not cover their mouths or wash their hands after the toilet.

Mary Gallagher, LA City College President, is asking faculty to consider the circumstances when students leave of absence in class if mild symptoms arise, as well as proactive communication with LACC student body to assure education around sickness prevention and asking students to reconsider coming to class if students have a fever higher than 100F. A student with a mild cough without productive nor spewing respiratory droplets or sneeze and no fever is not required to stay home.

LACC’s Incident Command Center issued an email assuring students there were no COVID-19 cases on campus, no campus closures ordered in California, no official orders to cancel public events in the U.S. nor widespread quarantines.

“I met with health officials from across the district so we can do a coordinated effort of information and decision making through this situation,” Gallagher said.

LACC and district officials are coordinating with Los Angeles County Department of Public Health for more proactive solutions to ensure student and faculty safety.

Inside the Martin Luther, King Library hand sanitizers have been empty since the summer. Library officials say roughly around 100 to 150 students come in and out to use the facility daily.

Students tell the Collegian hand sanitizers have not been put to use for over two semester and others say outdated functionality since virus may spread other ways.

“We have ordered the replacement liquid for the hand sanitizers at the level that the Health Department recommends,” Gallagher said. “We placed an order, and we expect the shipment to arrive soon so the hand sanitizers get replenished.”

Campus administration is working on to provide students with a map indicating sanitation stations around campus as well as other valuable information to help keep student’s minds at ease.

Healthy students seeking to donate blood visit the American Red Cross website.