#I’m tired of y’all acting like what she’s done is just normal level bad

[jewishbarbies]

I love how I can literally post about anything as much as I want and no one gives a shit but the second I answer “too many” asks in a row about ts then I’m “spending so much time and energy” and it’s “obsessive”. at least y’all are consistent, i guess.

[izzy-b-hands]

Too Much Blues

Gotta be honest, no idea what this is. I wanted to write, I put on some music and did some jumping around Spotify, and now here this is. I’ve been writing for like three hours and it somehow got dark around me, idk when that happened. 

Not sure if this really qualifies as angst? It isn’t happy, but it isn’t like overwhelmingly sad for Eugene or Snafu either. Y’all will have to let me know I guess. 

Title is from the song by James Booker which I have linked there on his name because I recently discovered him, and he is absolutely wonderful, and deserves more people listening to his music. After you read this, give him a listen. He’s Freddie levels of amazing piano playing, and sings so strongly it transports you. I can’t believe I didn’t know of him until now, and I wish I had sooner. 

My love to all who read/like/reblog!

The taste of blood on his tongue wasn’t unfamiliar, but it was unwelcome. 

The alley he was laying in wasn’t cold, thanks to the August heat, but it was wet. Rain poured, sluicing off of the rooftops as fast as it could fall from the clouds. 

He wouldn’t admit that this had been a bad idea though. Not yet. It would have to get a lot worse for that. 

Eugene had thought it was a bad idea from the start. 

“You can’t win the money we need by gambling. The math doesn’t pan out-” 

“I’m lucky,” Snafu had told him, accompanying it with a kiss. “I can win us a thousand dollars, easy. Give me the weekend in New Orleans, let me hit up the old haunts, and I’ll have it. I promise.” 

“At least let me go with you,” Eugene had begged as he had watched him pack. “For safety’s sake.” 

“I used to live there, Gene. The city isn’t any more unsafe than anywhere else anyway. Besides what else are we gonna do?” 

Eugene hadn’t had an answer for that, and neither did Snafu for that matter. It was purely bad luck and bad timing, that two of the cats had needed the vet, that Eugene had busted his arm trying to help repair part of the roof after a particularly bad hailstorm fucked it all the way up, that another storm had hit after that and done such damage that they had to hire someone to come fix it up instead of trying to do it themselves, that the break in Eugene’s arm wasn’t healing well and required more visits to the doctor than previously expected. 

The first thousand they’d raised by selling off things from the house, one by one, first to the pawn shop in town, then by driving out of town to the pawn shops of neighboring towns until they had enough. Their house was slightly more bare (and missing some furniture) but it was worth it. Neither of them wanted to beg help from Eugene’s parents, or Sid and Mary. Not their debts, not their problem, was the agreed upon mantra. 

But the pawn shops didn’t want any more of their things, and to pay off the thousand now would drain their accounts. 

And Snafu had always enjoyed gambling. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t anticipated this. You could get jumped in any city in the country, for any reason, he figured. 

This time, however, he wasn’t sure what the reason was. He’d lost more than he’d won, and the few hundred he had on him was still all present and accounted for. They’d beaten him to a pulp, and run, and that was that.

“Just bad luck,” he mumbled as he stood and staggered out of the alley. 

People traipsed past him without a care, some drunk, others just deep in conversation with those they walked beside, or taking in the scenery. The city had never chewed them up and spat them back out like it had him. Maybe other cities had, and this was their safe place. 

It had been his, once. And he wanted to believe it still was. 

But it was difficult, bloody and bruised, the rain seemingly never-ending as he finally dropped to the curb and sat. And he was tired. It had been hours finding any game he could, in any place he could, trying to win as much as possible. No booze like he might have had normally, this was too important not to stay sharp. 

But even that hadn’t done it. It was nearly Sunday morning, and Eugene would be expecting him back by Sunday night. It didn’t seem enough time, not nearly enough time. 

“You need a rest,” the man who had stopped in front of him said it not as a question, but as a fact. He wore a sharp suit, and looked just as tired as Snafu. 

“Don’t we all?” 

The man nodded. “I know a restful place.” 

He let the man help him up, and tried not to slow him as they made their way down the road to the nearest bar. 

“Needs some cleaning up,” the man said to the bartender, who nodded and came out from behind the bar with a rag and a small first aid kit. 

“I can pay you,” Snafu said, even though it hurt to say. Any money gone was less to bring home to Eugene, and he already could barely bear how little he would be bringing. 

“Nah,” the man replied. “How about a story instead?” 

“What about?” 

“Anything,” the man replied, watching as the bartender cleaned the cuts on Snafu’s face. “Lotta rings on them, hm?” 

Snafu winced at the antiseptic, and nodded. “What little I got to see of them before...well.” 

“Got everything you had before they took you down?” 

“Yeah,” Snafu replied. “Thankfully.” 

“How long you been away?” 

Snafu sighed. “Too long, maybe. I live in Alabama now, with my hu-” 

It came so naturally to say back at home, where he knew he was mostly safe, but he bit his tongue now, and held his breath as he watched the man’s reaction. 

“Your husband,” the man finished. “Okay. And you came back to town because...” 

“We need money,” Snafu admitted. “I was gonna win it for us. Some cards, whatever else I could find, you know.” 

“Just see what’s going on for the night, what you start winning at,” the man agreed. “You win all you need?” 

Snafu scoffed, and nodded his thanks to the bartender as he finished up. “I wish. Six hundred and some I got, but I need a thousand. I’ve got the rest of tonight, and most of tomorrow to get the last four hundred.” 

“Son,” the man said. “It’s already four in the morning on Sunday. How much luck you think you’re gonna find before you have to head home?” 

“Not enough,” Snafu muttered. “I can’t go back to him with just this.” 

The man nodded. “How well can you play?” 

“Play what?”

“Piano. I can tell by your hands, those fingers.” 

Snafu shrugged. He had been given lessons as a child, but hadn’t made much effort to keep up with them the older he got. And war didn’t exactly lend itself well to piano practice, what with no drops of pianos on the islands in the Pacific. 

“I’ve got to run and play at church myself,” the man said. “But my grandmother is at home, too sick in bed to go. She wants nothing more than to hear some of the music I’d be playing. If you can do even a song or two, it would mean the world. And I’ll give you that last four hundred.” 

He smirked. “Four hundred dollars to play piano for someone I don’t know? Pull the other one.” 

“Not at all,” the man said. “I give you my word, and my name.” 

“Your name?” 

“Names are power,” the man replied. “Call me Jim. You?” 

“Snafu.” 

Jim grinned. “That ain’t your real name, but Jim ain’t my real name either, so fair enough. Come on then, and I’ll take you to her. Play for the next few hours, and the money is yours.” 

Jim led out of the bar with only a wave to the bartender, who seemed nonplussed by all of it, and called them a cab. It drove them from the Quarter to Metairie quickly, to a small white house with blue trim. 

Jim didn’t introduce him to the elderly woman who was tucked into the small twin bed in the living room, only said a few words to her, and gestured Snafu to the piano near it, then left. 

He settled onto the bench, and let his fingers rest uncertainly on the keys. 

“Can you play me something about losing?” the woman’s voice was soft, but scratched with the effort of being brought forth. 

“I know about losing,” Snafu murmured, and patted the wad of bills in his pocket before starting in on St. Jame’s Infirmary Blues. It was one of the few songs he could remember well, though it certainly didn’t fit the bill of a ‘church song.’ “Though you wanted something from your church though? That’s what Jim told me.” 

“Jim? Is that what he’s having you call him? Well, he is a sweetheart, but he doesn’t need to know what I have you play,” the woman replied. “I like this one.” 

It wasn’t a particularly long song, but he let his fingers play on the keys, adding into it, until she hummed discontentedly. 

“What else do you know?” 

“More blues?” Snafu winced. “Mostly remember what folks around here play, what I heard before I left, what I heard now walkin’ the streets. Think I could replicate some of it-” 

“Don’t talk it over till it falls apart,” the woman interrupted gently. “Just play. I trust you.” 

He searched his mind for the chords, the melodies, letting them fall into place, then playing about with them. He didn’t worry about perfectly matching what he could recall in his head; she hummed happily each time he did his own variations. 

There was a clock on the wall, but he paid it no mind, until Jim came back inside. 

He motioned for Snafu to continue playing, then stepped up to the bed, kneeling down to the woman. 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “She’s smiling. How she always wanted to go.” 

Snafu stopped short, and nearly tripped running out from behind the piano. “Is she-” 

“She kept telling us it would be today, and she’s not often wrong about anything,” Jim chuckled. “Thank you for your kindness, and your help. If I couldn’t be here, I’m glad you could be.” 

“You don’t know me,” Snafu couldn’t help but murmur. 

“You’re a son of the city, and I bet you had a grandmother sweet as mine that you once played for.” 

“Something like that,” Snafu said, and pushed the memories back down. 

“That’s enough. Don’t need to know everything about someone to be kind to them, to do the most basic human act of creating something to make them happy, to ease them in a time of suffering. And I knew you could and would do that for her.” 

Jim handed him a bundle of bills. “Count it if you like; I don’t blame you if you do. But it’s all there. Four hundred, plus an extra hundred in case you run into trouble on the way home.” 

Snafu took the bundle with shaking hands. “Thank you. Is there...” 

“You’ve done everything we needed you to,” Jim interrupted, a soft and sad smile on his face. “You get home to your husband, and take care of your debts. Be well. Maybe we’ll find each other again, should you come back. Bring your husband this time, and we’ll all share a drink.” 

“You sound so certain that I’ll be back,” Snafu said. 

“Because you will be,” Jim said matter-of-factly. “A visit to one home, from another. Because the city is always home to you, even if you forget that once you go. But places never forget the children that grew up in their streets. Their pain and their happiness and their sadness. She’ll remember this particular sadness, and the pain you met here this time. And be ready to comfort you to make up for it, the next time you come home.” 

He left the house, and found a cab waiting for him outside. The ride to the train station was a bit longer than the ride to the house had been, and he considered using it to count the bills Jim had given him. 

But he didn’t. Somehow, in his gut, he knew there was no need. 

He didn’t on the train ride back either. Instead, he slept, the most he had slept since getting to New Orleans. 

At the station, he called Eugene. 

“I’ve got enough. More than enough.” 

He hung up before Eugene could ask any questions, and settled onto a bench outside the station to wait for him. 

The taste of blood on his tongue, as he chewed at his lower lip anxiously, was not unfamiliar, or unwelcome. 

The iron tasted like life, whatever remained of his, of Eugene’s. 

He wondered if there would be music at the end, for them. 

[fluffyunicornofdanger]

Bad Reputation

A/n: Long time, no see. God, life has been a mess since the last fic I wrote. I know I don’t owe an explanation but I think I’ll give you guys one later because some shit that happened to me is shit that some of y’all need to hear. ANYWAY, I’m back now! Hopefully I’ll be more active on here. And yeah.

*~~~*~~~*

Masterlist

Axl Rose x Reader

Summary: Being  Broadway actress was all Y/n ever dreamed of. The lights and the thousands of eyes on her was a dream come true. But not all dreams are meant to be. Traveling the country to find her new dream, she stumbled upon the destructive leader singer of a rock band. She didn’t know it, but he had a lot to do with her knew dream. If only their reputations didn’t get in the way of it.

Word Count: 2.5 k

Warnings: None

The crowd cheered as the cast took their final bow. Flowers weren’t thrown on the stage like in the movies, everyone was tired. The night had been long and the audience wanted to venture back to their beds. As good as the show was, everyone wanted to be anywhere else. Before the cast could straighten, velvet red curtains danced across the stage, signaling the end of the show. 

  Y/n breathed a sigh of relief, brushing a loose curl out of her face. The corset that had been restricting her would finally come off and her hair would be able to flow freely. 

Normally, she never complained. No one else but herself forced her onto the stage. Everything, the lights, the costumes, the acting, the singing, that was all what she had been dreaming of. She was the one that worked her way to that point. To be standing in the middle of the stage with all eyes on her. It was a dream come true.

But dreams change…

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment in time when she wanted to start over, but it wasn’t hard for her to tell that her old dream was dead. There came a point when being on stage singing in ridiculous costumes made her feel like a fool. She no longer was the queen watching the jester dance. Instead, she was the jester dancing and singing for the queen. She no longer felt like the broadway star that everyone made her out to be. Y/n felt more and more like a puppet, doing what she was told to do. 

“What are you gonna do now that the shows over?” her costar, Cindy, asked as they stripped off their oversized dresses.

Y/n shrugged. “Beats me.”

Cindy shook her head. “Would’ve thought you’d already have another show planned out. I’m going to go to London for a couple of months, maybe try out for a show there.”

That sounded like a good plan. Once the idea had crossed Y/n’s mind to pick up and move to London. The shows there were just as grand as those on Broadway, if not bigger. The fame she would come across by doing that, oh Lord, it would be a dream. 

“I think I’m going to travel around a bit. See what feels right.”

“What about everything you have here? Your apartment, your stuff?” Cindy asked.

“Well,” she thought for a moment. “I think I’m gonna invest in a car, a fast one. I’m thinking red or black. And I’m going to sell all my furniture. What I wish to keep I’ll keep in storage. I’ll have to pick through my clothes. All my big fancy dresses will probably be sold. I’ll only keep what I can fit comfortably in the car and what I’ll wear.”

“What makes you think this is a good idea?”

Y/n shrugged, grabbing a towel to get the makeup off her face. “I don’t know.”

Cindy scoffed, “Don’t die because of you’re foolish idea, Y/n. That would be a horrible way to go.”

Y/n rolled her eyes as Cindy walked away.

It did seem foolish, she had to admit. Rash, unplanned and unprepared. But her gut was telling her that it was time to leave New York. The big city wasn’t the place for her, not anymore. She needed the open road and unexplored cities. She needed clean air and a different way of life. She needed everything that New York couldn’t offer her. Everything that she pretended to be when she stood on the stage. What Y/n needed was to find herself, not who everyone wanted her to be. 

She needed to find who her heart believed she was. 

*~~~*~~~*

It didn’t take long for Y/n to clear her apartment out and sell everything that needed to be gone. Everything was in good shape, almost brand new, as she was never home to use anything. It was hard for her to part with some of her dresses, but she knew better than to think that she would ever use them again. The life she once had was no more. 

All of her belongings consisted of a shoebox full of pictures, letters, and notebooks, a couple pairs of shoes, a suitcase packed full of shirts, pants, dresses, and whatever other clothing she decided she needed. Another suitcase had books and sheet music. The last thing Y/n packed into the black 1965 Mustang, that she’d bought off a horder in Buffalo, was her guitar. Cindy told her it wasn’t worth bringing, but it was hard to part with. That was what made her want to pursue theater. 

Throughout her childhood, Y/n had been told that music and theater weren’t worth pursuing. They were only hobbies to be enjoyed at home. Suzi Quatro and The Runaways proved to her that what she wanted was worth pursuing. No dream was too small with rock stars as role models. 

Y/n shut the trunk of the car and made her way to the driver’s seat, twirling the keys around her finger as she went. Sliding in she, smiled to herself at everything around her. This was her freedom. 

She started the car, feeling the roar of the engine under her fingers that landed on the steering wheel. Turning the radio on, “Black Betty” by Ram Jam filled the cab. Y/n couldn’t help but sit there for a minute. She knew this was what she was meant to do. This trip would change her for the better, she knew it. Or it would leave an everlasting impression on her. Either were what she was looking for. 

“Here we go.”

*~~~*~~~*

It had been a few months since Y/n had started her trip. Going up and down the east coast had been fun. She stopped in Flordia for a week and learned to surf. As much as she thought it would cure her fear of the ocean, it did no such thing. It didn’t help that everyone there went on and on about sharks in the area. She also stopped in North Carolina to watch NASCAR. That was an experience she wasn’t likely to forget.

Fast cars and the wind in her hair was a feeling she loved. It was an odd feeling of freedom that she hadn’t know to exist. 

Though the east coast was a delight, there was more to the U.S. than that. So, as manifest destiny allowed, she headed west. And that is how she ended up in Los Vegas.

It wasn’t her intent to go to Sin City, but that’s where she was forced to stop when her engine started acting up. She was told her car would take a few days to be repaired as a part had to be ordered. So, she was left to find some means of entertainment.

That is what lead to Y/n walking around the city with no set destination.

She window-shopped, sometimes going into stores to look at dress or shoes. Every once in a while she came across a bar and decided to get a taste for it. None of them were anything fancy. A haze of smoke obstructed her vision in each that she entered. The crowds in them were all different. Some had men in suits and ties, just looking for a place to kick back for a while. Others had half-naked women and men that looked rough around the edges. 

Y/n came across a shop that caught her eye. There was something about it, the rough exterior, that made her open the door and browse around. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, everything was ripped and ragged, but she’d find it. 

“Oh, now this is it,” she smiled and grabbed a leather jacket off a rack. 

Something about the item spoke to her and she had to have it. 

Y/n had decided along the Flordia-Georgia border that this trip was all about what felt right. If there wasn’t a good feeling behind doing it than it wasn’t meant to be done. Life does work in mysterious ways, she’d determined, with added effort, of course. So, what was meant to be would be. 

Three hours had passed since purchasing the jacket. It was now 7 o’clock at night and she still hadn’t found a place to stay, not that she was looking. Pulling out a pack of cigarette she’d bought earlier, she pulled one out of the pack and lite it. She put it to her lips and took a drag, watching the smoke flutter past her,  before spotting yet another bar. It didn’t look much better than any of the others she’d visited, but with nowhere to go, it really didn’t matter.

Y/n crossed the street, watching as people danced around her, all in their own little worlds. The only thing that had come out of being stuck in Los Vegas was that she learned that the world was full of people who were happy doing their own thing. 

Those were her people.

They didn’t seem to have a care in the world, any clock to worry about, as they walked around. That’s how Y/n had always wanted things to be. Calm and relaxing. But that wasn’t how her life had turned out. It dawned on her that it took money and zero stress to be at that level. 

She pulled the door open to be met by a cloud of smoke that hovered over everything. Everyone she saw had a cigarette in hand. It was good to know she wouldn’t have to put her’s out. Walking up to the bar, she slide onto a barstool and let her eyes wander. 

There was a group of three older men in a corner both that all looked like bikers. Their hair looked like the wind had got the better of it, tossing it around. A man and woman sat on the far end of the bar. Y/n didn’t have to look long to see there were hearts in their eyes. She didn’t get far in her observations before a loud ruckus pulled her attention away. Around a pool table, at the far end of the room, stood five men, by how they were acting some would call them boys. 

Y/n rolled her eyes. They looked ridiculous with their hair teased up and messy. And they wore all sorts of colors. Each one of them had a different array of colors, some clashed and some didn’t. But she couldn’t judge, she’d worn worse. 

Turning away from them, she caught the bartender’s attention and ordered a drink. Y/n had a feeling it was going to be a long night. 

*~~~*~~~*

She was a few drinks in, the world was only spinning slightly. It was a good thing that she stayed away from vodka. With that in her glass, she knew she would likely be on the floor. 

There were too many times, after shows, that she would order vodka and have no recollection as to what had happened the next morning. That only became a problem when she’d done a few things that ended up in the paper. Her manager didn’t want her to ruin her reputation, so vodka went out the window.

Y/n was just starting to wonder if it was a good time to leave. She was almost done with her drink and she knew if the bartender came back she would order another and that wasn’t what she wanted. Before she could move though, someone slide into the seat next to her. 

“What’s a girl like you doing here by yourself?” A rough voice asked her.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. A girl like herself? Like what? She didn’t look like any girl that was expected to be anywhere else. Y/n had stripped herself of what had held her to that standard. She was a nobody just like everybody else. 

There was no reputation to uphold where she was. 

Turning to face the person, she was shocked to see it was one of the men from the pool table. From this proximity, she saw how red his hair was and how it turned gold under the light. It was probably the liquor running through her blood, but for a second, the mess of a man looked like an angel. Shaking her head, the image went away. “0h, you know,” she drawled. “Just wishing life would work out for me,” she said dramatically. 

Moments like that, when around complete strangers, Y/n found it fun to slip into characters. No one would know the difference. She could be anyone she wanted. She could be a seamstress from Paris, a duchess from England, a professor from Harvard. The world was whatever she made it as long as she had an audience. 

“Life’s not going your way?” The ginger laughed. “Not the only one.”

“I’m well aware. But the world is what you make it. It only sucks when you think it does.”

“Is that so?”

“I assume.”

The ginger nodded, looking around the bar. His friends, at least Y/n assumed so, had taken a seat at a booth and were too engrossed in conversation to pay him any mind. 

“What brought you over here?” Y/n asked, wondering why he left his friends to sit next to her. She didn’t look like the girl worth ditching friends for.

He shrugged, “Who wouldn’t want to sit next to a beautiful girl?”

Y/n couldn’t help but scoff. That line had been used on her countless times at the bars she’d go to after her shows. “Is that the best you’ve got?”

The man laughed, “ Oh, that certainly isn’t the best I’ve got. But I can’t give that away for free, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“I’m Axl,” he extended his hand out to her.

She grasped it, “Y/n.”

Axl smiled, “I like that name.” 

Y/n didn’t know why, but that there was something about Axl that made her want to sit next to him for hours and do nothing but talk. They hadn’t even exchanged many words so she wasn’t sure where the feeling came from. They were simply doing what strangers in bars do, try and make each other less lonely. 

As if fate were trying to prevent anything more, Y/n turned to see the clock on the wall. It was late, way too late for her to want to stay out any longer. There were a few places she wanted to visit before her car was fixed and if she woke up early there would be just enough hours in the day to do everything. Though she had no place to stay, there was a hotel around the corner that had to have at least one open room. 

“Oh, god. It’s late. I really should be going.” Y/n stood from the bar and placed enough cash on the table to cover her tab. “I’m sorry, Axl.”

He waved it off, almost like he expected an ending like this. “Do you think I’ll ever see you again?”

Y/n smiled, “ I think you just might.”

Before slipping out of the bar she waved back at the ginger, she had a gut feeling that Axl would cross her path again. If the cards worked out in her favor, she would at least see him one more time.

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

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[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (4)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. Chapters 1-3 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language and implied sexual situations. ALSO SOME KILLER FUCKING DIALOGUE; I LITERALLY HIGH-FIVED MYSELF A FEW TIMES (I looked like a goddamn seal). Lesson of the day: it’s important to notice your strengths and validate them.

Word count: 4.2k. Also, I tried some new formatting with the internal thoughts; honestly I was just too lazy to italicize them in the first three chapters but if y’all have a preference just lmk. I don’t think I love it but I’ll do what you want.

—————————————————————

“MS. MILTON. DO YOU KNOW WHAT I HEARD?” You wince at Jessica’s volume.

“Too early to be so loud Jess. We’re in 1st block and you’re at 3rd block volume.”

“I HEARD THAT YOU AND MR. URIE WERE MAKING OUT ON THE MARCHING BAND FIELD YESTERDAY.”

“That’s not true,” Caroline argues from across the room. “They kissed but they weren’t making out.”

“Well, I heard they hooked up.” You can’t tell who that is. Probably Eric.

Caroline comes to your defense. “No, you guys, they only kissed!”

“No, they definitely hooked up.” Brian smirks from the back row. “I saw it.”

You’re done with this. “Everyone.” They freeze at the tone of your voice. You never raise it; you don’t have to. “First, all of you are wrong. I brought him a water bottle. Second, consider your environment. This is a classroom and a place of learning. Respect it as such. Your current topic is inappropriate.” You’re calm and you look at everyone in their desks. “I don’t want to hear anything else about it, understood?”

“I’m just saying Ms. Milton, no one would judge you. He’s so sexy.”

“Jessica!” That’s Caroline. Bless her.

“I mean have you seen his face?” Anna is joining in now. “And his butt? Lord!”

“Anna!” Caroline is probably planning to become a teacher. Or a nun. You’re not sure which.

“He’s super hot Ms. Milton, you should get it.”

“Beth!”

“Ladies! What did I just say?” You’re annoyed now. They can tell. They turn back to face you, chagrin clear on their faces. “I’ll ask again. Am I understood when I say I don’t want to hear anything else about it?” The entire class nods. “Good. Moving on. We’re going back to Beowulf, Canto 11. Brian, you’re up first.” A groan from the back. “You had plenty to say about me, I want to hear what you have to say about Grendel in Canto 11. Don’t make me ask again.” Your voice is level but they can hear the restraint. Everyone, including Brian, knows better than to fuck with you right now.

The rest of class goes much more smoothly, and you feel your shoulders drop. The bell rings. Maybe second block won’t be so - ah, shit. “Ms. Milton, do you know what they’re saying about you and Mr. Urie?” Emily’s eyes are wild and she’s come flying into the room with Stacy and Josh, two other band kids, right behind her. You hold up both hands, hoping to cut her off but it’s no use. “They’re saying you KISSED.”

You laugh. “Oh, is that the worst you’ve heard?” Her jaw drops and you continue. “You three were there and you saw that nothing happened. Don’t let what other people say bother you. I’m fine.” You smile reassuringly and Stacy looks unsure. “Really.”

“Well. If anything did happen -” Stacy starts, and Josh cuts her off.

“The band leadership board supports it.” You act quickly and stifle your laughter. Maybe the worst is a twitch of your lips. Good to know you have their blessing. “After you left, Mr. Urie let us go home 15 minutes early. He’s never done that.” Josh looks impressed.

Hope he went home to take a cold shower after that eyefucking you gave him; you know you did, that white shirt plastered to his chest with sweat had you all - BRAIN. FUCK. Knock it off. “Well, thank you guys. That’s kind of you. I’m sure I had nothing to do with you getting to leave early; you probably earned that with your hard work.” The three of them look at each other and it’s clear they don’t believe you. “Anyway.” You make eye contact with each of them. “If the class isn’t quiet during SSR because they’re discussing this rumor, you three are going to shut it down, yes?” They all nod eagerly. “Good. Thank you.”

There’s some chatter, but the three of them and a few other band kids in your second block quell the gossip and you transition to Beowulf with more ease than first block. You have good students, all in all. The annoying ones don’t ruin it for everyone, and you count yourself lucky.

When the bell rings for third block, you snatch the print-out of the pop quiz you’re giving tomorrow and book it to the copier. You’re feeling lucky; today’s a good day; you’re only going to say nice things to the stupid fucki-...hardworking and tired machine. You round the corner and the juxtaposition of your emotions is harsh. On one hand, Brendon’s back is to you. On the other, he’s writing a sign that says “Out of Order” and taping it to the stupid fucking bitch machine. It’s like your heart went on Tower of Terror. Yanked up, then sent crashing down. Fuck.

“Nooooooo,” you moan, sliding to the floor. He turns, sees you, and smiles wanly.

“I’ve done my best and I can’t get it. I let Jess in the main office know, so hopefully we’ll get a repair guy out here later this afternoon.”

“In time for me to make copies of a pop quiz I’m giving tomorrow?” You look desperate. Copy machines in this school are on strike, if Brendon can’t get this one to work and the repair guy doesn’t come, you’re fucked. He shrugs and offers you a hand.

“Come with me.” You take it and let yourself be pulled to your feet.

“Brendon, cookies won’t fix this.” He grins and shakes his head.

“I have something better than cookies.” You gasp playfully but you follow him back to his office inside the band room. “I have this.” He points to the corner and you turn to him in awe. And then, you’re annoyed.

“You jerk!” You hit his chest lightly. “You’ve been hiding your own copy machine?” He grins and catches your wrist.

“I’ve been saving the public copy machine and saving you time by not making you walk all the way here to me.” You consider this. “It’s for all of the sheet music I have to print. The school didn’t want me holding people up by using teacher’s lounge copiers, so this was a gift from the Band Boosters. You’re welcome to it for as long as you need.”

“This walk isn’t bad. I’d walk a lot farther to get to you.” Fuck. That was out loud. You walk briskly to the machine and start running copies, your head down, praying the comment will go over his head.

He makes a thoughtful sound and says nothing else for a moment. Then, out of nowhere: “You’re wearing pants today.” You give him a weird look over your shoulder. “You can climb the tower this afternoon then. I mean,” you glance again when he pauses and he looks almost nervous. “If you don’t have anything better to do.”

You turn fully, leaning back against the machine. “It’s a Tuesday. What else could I possibly have to do?” He shrugs and you just want to go hug him, he’s blushing and he looks so insecure right now.

“I don’t know, I mean, maybe you’ve got plans with some-”

You cut him off. “I don’t have any plans. With anyone except for you now. I’ll be there.” He breaks out into a smile and the confidence is back. He eyes your outfit and tells you you look good. Your turn to blush. “It’s different. I mean, I am just so used to the skirts…” you trail off, running a finger over the pattern on your ankle pants.

He shrugs. “You look great all of the time. I mean...the students say so. Someone joked you’d win Best Dressed for the senior superlatives.” He grins. “And yeah, it’s a departure from your normal look, but it’s not a bad one by any means.” You’re not sure what to say.

“Thanks.” You collect the copies and look at him and the door. “Any other secret food-based missions we’re going on today?”

He shrugs. “Nothing on my calendar.” Your eyes meet and you blush again. Why are you like this? It’s never been weird before. Those stupid rumors.

“Have you heard th-”

He interrupts you. “The rumors that we kissed and/or made out and/or had sex on the marching field yesterday?” You feel your shoulders drop and you exhale. “Yeah I have.” He looks up at you and grins. “I’d like to think the two of us have a little more class than to go at it on the field.”

You laugh, and the tension is broken. “It’s like they don’t know us at all.”

He stands, stretching. “Exactly. Come on Milton, let’s go get a cookie.”

Turns out there’s a fridge in the student council room too, and you both audibly gasp with glee when you see the carton of 2% milk. You turn to him, looking conflicted, holding a ten dollar bill in your hands. “It’s only Tuesday. Debbie will notice before Friday that they’re running low, right?”

He nods seriously. “She comes in here every day during 4th block. We’ll be fine.” You tuck the ten under the coffee pot and look at him expectantly. He looks back. “Am I making the cookies?” He seems amused when you nod. “Y/n, you know they’re not really better because I dropped the hunks of frozen dough onto the hot surface, and you didn’t, right?”

You shrug, filling two mugs with milk. “But why risk it?” He laughs at your serious expression and gives in, dropping the dough and setting the timer.

“Alright Milton, spill.” You look dubiously from him to the mug of milk in your hands and he rolls his eyes. “Not what I meant. You know,” he nudges your hand with his mug lightly, “your story. It’s been a whole two weeks and I know your name, what you teach, your age, you’re single, and your favorite movie. And,” he grins, “sometimes you disappear on me. I look over and you’re just staring into space.”

You blush. Oh, I could tell you where I’m at, all you have to do is ask. Shut. Up. Brain. “I’m not great with giant vague topics. What do you want to know?”

“Well, I know this isn’t your first year teaching. Where were you before this? What brought you here?”

You look up at him through lowered lashes. “I killed a man.” You can tell from his eyes he doesn’t know whether to believe you or not and you burst out laughing. “Dang Urie, they did a background check on both of us to get hired, remember?” He nudges you again and you fold. “I taught in Texas for 5 years. I grew up there. My parents died when I was 10 and my grandma passed in early February two years ago. Couldn’t stand to be in the area so I moved from Austin to Amarillo. So when my ex from Austin showed up, I did what I do best.” You give him a rueful smile. “I ran.” He is looking at you so softly and you feel the need to comfort him. “I mean. He wasn’t abusive or anything like that. It was just a messy end and he wanted to get back together and I couldn’t - well, wouldn’t. I respect myself too much.” He gives you an encouraging smile. “But he didn’t like hearing ‘no,’ and kept showing up and I just got tired of it. So I called my best friend, she came from Austin, and we starting packing up my apartment. I gave my notice of not continuing my lease, declined to renew my contract, and I sent out my teaching resume, said I’d move really anywhere, and liked y’all the best. So here I am. New start.” He nods slowly, considering this. “What about you? How did Mr. Brendon Urie end up in glamorous Putnam, Connecticut? I know you’re not from here; Tracy in the English department knows everyone and everything from Putnam and she’s got nothing on you except you’ve been here for five years. Hermit.” You point at him playfully.

He shrugs. “I’m a west coast transplant too. Napa Valley, born and raised. Just got tired of it, I guess. Did the same thing as you; except I’ve done all five years here. Got my teaching license and sent out the resume nationally.”

You look at him in disbelief. “You got tired of Napa Valley, where the air smells like wine and the sun is shining almost all the time?” He shrugs again, meeting your gaze. He certainly doesn’t look like he’s got anything to hide. “Okay then.” You nod decisively.

He glances at his watch. “I don’t want to steal all of your planning period. Mine is really a break; we have band after this, so my prep work is minimal. You have to teach.” He looks cautious and you wave away his concerns.

“I’m an insomniac and I’m here when the building opens at 5. I’m super productive in the morning so this is also my break.” He relaxes a little.

“Next question.” He pauses. “I’m going back over the annoying ones your kids asked. Uh. Where do you get your clothes?” He grins. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like someone’s daydream from 1950. You know, the pencil skirts, the sheath dresses...”

You laugh. “That’s the best one I’ve heard yet. My best friend, the one who helped me pack, is a seamstress and she works for the performing arts center in Austin. We both have a very particular style, so she’s made all of my skirts and dresses. The tops and pants are from wherever.” He looks impressed.

“That’s really cool.” He thinks for a moment. “What music do you like?”

You consider. “I’ll really listen to anything. I like most everything, but give the choice, I’ll usually go with some form of alternative pop/rock. Oh, and showtunes. I’m a huge Broadway nerd. Being so much closer to the city is amazing. 3 hours in the car is nothing.”

He nods. “I love Broadway. Do you have a favorite show?”

You groan. “That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child.”

“Wait, do you have kids?”

“Nope. Unless you count the 73 I see on a daily basis.” You grin at him. “Favorite show...favorite show. Uhm. I relate so much to If/Then, but I also love Next to Normal. Fuck, I can’t choose. That creative team is so talented.” You must really look distressed because he places his hand over yours and you shiver at the contact.

“You don’t have to choose a favorite. I’ve seen both of those and they are incredible.” You return the question to him and he thinks for a moment. “Of the classics...probably RENT. Of the contemporaries...Maybe Book of Mormon?” You nod approvingly and he checks his watch again. “We’ve got time for one more if we want to sneak out between lunches. Speaking of lunch, what’s your favorite food?”

“Again, favorite child scenario. I love all food.” You grin and pop the last bite of cookie in your mouth. He laughs and stands up. “And yours?”

He smiles. “Same answer but I’m going to attempt partial credit and give you a restaurant suggestion. The Stomping Ground on Main Street if you haven’t been already. So fucking good.” He extends a hand and you take it, rising to your feet and you leave the room. You stealthily move from the front of the cafeteria to the back, though stealth might not be necessary since the cafeteria is empty except for staff, and you slip through the arts hall door. You pause at his room and he gives you that crooked smile that makes you warm all over.

“I’ll see you later Milton. Practice starts at 4:30 and we’re done at 7:30. Glad you wore pants so I can get you on my tower.” He gives you a quick wink and then he’s disappearing into the room. You’re certain you’re blushing. He knew what he was doing that time. He had to have known.

The fourth block gossip circuit isn’t as bad and yet, in some ways it’s worse. There aren’t any band kids in this class, so no one has even somewhat accurate stories by this point in the day. As a result, the stories are so outrageous, even the students repeating them don’t seem to believe it. They do seem to like Beowulf though.

The bell rings and it’s 3:35 and they’re flying out the door. You’ve officially got an hour til marching band practice starts and that might be just enough time when you factor in traffic.

You end up being exactly right; you’re pulling in beside what you assume is Brendon’s car and it’s, according to your car, 4:20. You open the door, muttering “blaze it” to yourself and grab the cooler from the backseat. You wore shoes with more traction this time so getting down the hill and dragging the cooler isn’t half as bad as yesterday.

He meets you at the base of the tower. “What’s all this?” He looks behind you at the cooler and back at you. “You look great by the way.”

You give him a weird look. “I literally haven’t changed since you saw me two and half hours ago…you on the other hand…” he’s changed into something similar to yesterday’s outfit and he shrugs, either not noticing or reacting to your appreciative glance.

“Thought you should hear it again. What’s in the cooler?”

You smile and bite your lip, feeling the blush creep up your face. His question finally processes. “Oh. I brought you water yesterday so I brought them water today. And snacks! For when they’re done for the day of course.” He looks so happy. It’s a small band, maybe fifty students tops, so this wasn’t a big deal - two packs of water, a bag of ice, and two variety packs of granola bars. You tell him this and he shakes his head.

“No, it is a big deal. I appreciate it. So much.” If you could capture the look on his face right now, you’d look at it every day for the rest of your life.

“It’s the least I can do since I’m hijacking your copier for the foreseeable future. The repair guy didn’t come today.”

He pretends to look annoyed. “Oh no, you’ll be coming to see me all the time and I’ll have to talk to you. Gross.”

You laugh. “I’m not coming for you, Urie,” fuck; phrasing, do better brain, and this time it’s a serious fuck-up because he smirked and raised one eyebrow - fuck fuck fuck. “I’m coming to see that copier of yours.”

“You’ve wounded me. I’ll never recover.” He looks around. Marissa is the only student even remotely nearby; everyone else is unpacking their instruments and talking to others. You can tell she’s waiting for instructions. “Marissa, please start the group warmups. I want the trumpets at least 20% louder, let them know, please. You can use your judgement with the others. Listen closely and remember what we talked about in identifying the ones who are sharp and who are flat. Now go get’em.” She nods eagerly and he sends her off with an encouraging smile. He turns to you. “She’s an excellent drum major and a very gifted flutist. She’s only a junior, so she’s got time, but she’s looking at Berklee in Boston, Juilliard, and Oberlin. I think she’s gonna get in at all of them but I’m biased.” He grins and shakes his head a little. “Sorry. I’m bragging. Let’s get up there. After you.”

You turn to give him a playful grin. “Trying to get a good view, Urie?” Oh, you are shameless.

“No!” He looks horrified. “Honestly, it’s a safety thing. I don’t want you to slip and fall without anyone to catch you.”

“Oh. Well thank you in advance for catching me. I’m accident-prone and I will fall.” You are sure you look embarrassed, not considering the safety of it and saying what you said out loud.

He smirks. “Well I’ll catch you as needed. Also the view thing might also be true, yeah.” You’re laughing as you climb the ladder and he scampers up behind you, sunglasses in place and an extra pair you hadn’t noticed before tucked in his shirt collar. “Here you go.” He hands the other pair to you. “It can get kind of bright when the sun starts to set, if that makes sense.” You nod and accept them gratefully. “Now Ms. Milton.” You look up at him and he looks very serious. “I’d like for you to listen to the trumpets and give me some feedback, and then I want your general opinion on the show.”

“I think I can do that.” Just as the words leave your mouth, the warmups start and as promised, Marissa has the trumpets louder. You smile appreciatively and nod as they run through their scales. “They have a lovely tone. You’ve got one or two who are sharp.” You both wait and Marissa, without hearing you, gives the same feedback. It isn’t long before the show is starting and you’re honestly blown away. You’re leaning slightly over the edge to watch, and your jaw is dropped. Eyes wide, you turn to him excitedly, hitting his arm repeatedly. “Did you see that?!” He grins and nods. The band transitioned seamlessly from interwoven triangles to a full company forward march and it was stunning - you’d never seen it done that well before. “Brendon, this music!” Your eyes are welling up. The show is called Heroes and Villains and what started with a jazzy Superman theme and a riff on The Incredibles has been a wild ride; you’ve just been transported from a full-band, raging interpretation of Dies Irae with something you can’t quite place before it to a soft, lone trumpet playing Taps. “This is gorgeous. Really.” He smiles softly.

“Do you really think so?” You look at him in surprise.

“Uh, yes! It’s amazing!” His smile gets a little bigger but he tries to contain it. It dawns on you. “Did you do this arrangement?” He just looks at you, beaming, and you poke him in the side. “Brendon I don’t know your middle name Urie, did you do this arrangement?” When he nods, you shriek. “Brendon! Damn you for being both so talented and attractive it’s not fair! This is truly incredible, really.”

He grins at you. “You said I’m attractive.” You roll your eyes and shove him lightly. You did say that. Fuck. You wave a hand in front of his face.

“Focus on what’s important here, Urie.” He nods and grabs his megaphone.

“Sounded great everyone. Pack up and enjoy your Tuesday night. Make good choices. Ms. Milton brought water bottles and snacks for you, so grab something on the way out.”

You and Marissa are both staring at him. “Mr. Urie it’s 4:50...we only warmed up and ran it once…” her voice is cautious like she wants her Tuesday night but also doesn’t want to risk her Superior ranking at State. Everyone else meanwhile is either packing up or already packed and flying up the hill.

He beams down at her and drops the megaphone. “And it sounded great. You did wonderfully. Now call that guy you like, Jason or Justin or whatever and let him know you’re free.” She’s gaping at him and he just grins and makes a shooing gesture. “Go on. Text him if you must but make contact. Go go go.” The teenage girl in Marissa’s brain takes over and she’s off the podium, stuffing things in her bag, and racing toward the parking lot. You turn to head down the ladder and he stops you with a grin. “I set them free, not you.” You shiver a little, enthralled. Okay. You’ll bite.

“Fair enough. Okay, first of all, that opening with Superman as a jazz rendition was so fucking cool and it blended into The Incred-what are you doing?” He’s got one hand on your waist and he’s drawing you closer, eyes blazing.

“Focusing on what’s important.” And his lips are on yours and you’re pretty sure this is real. You moan and arch into the kiss, reaching a hand up to get his hat off so you can run a hand through his hair, pulling gently. He gasps into your mouth and his teeth tug at your lower lip, the hand on your waist bringing you closer still.

“God, Urie,” you sigh against his lips and he pauses, using his other hand to cup your face.

“Yes, Milton?”

“Oh thank god. This is real.” You kiss him again, flicking your tongue out over his and when he responds eagerly, really exploring your mouth, you feel your knees start to buckle. You cling to his shirt and he tightens his hand on your waist, wrapping his arm around you now and holding you up and against him. “Told you I’d fall.” You whisper this and he smiles down at you.

“Told you I’d catch you.”

[feadae]

Yo

So I’m in the choir for a community production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame musical (my first community theater show, now that I think on it--!!!) and I’ve loved almost every second of it so far.

The only seconds I haven’t loved are the seconds when we rehearse (SPOILERS) Esmeralda’s death. 

For those of you who haven’t seen the show (live or bootleg - I also am poor and nowhere near the coasts; I don’t judge), Quasi’s just poured molten lead on the square at Notre-Dame and he comes back into the bell tower, where he laid Esmeralda after taking her away from her pyre, and he’s being his heartbreakingly adorable self and she has a short reprise of “Top of the World.” That finishes, and Quasi tells Esmeralda, “Can stay inside here forever!” Coughing, voice weakening, she replies, “I don’t think...forever. You’re such a good friend, Quasimodo.” He smiles and says, “Yes. Your friend.” And Esmeralda dies and it’s heartwrenching, but this is where I stop, because I’ve reached the part that bugs me.

Every time our Esmeralda says, “You’re such a good friend, Quasimodo,” at least one person (usually more) in the cast and/or choir says something scolding Esmeralda for “friendzoning” Quasi on her deathbed. They’re never serious; it’s clearly a joke, but it still bugs me and I’m having trouble articulating why it bugs me, so if you don’t mind I’m going to try to figure out words here.

First off, the whole concept of “friendzoning” as a bad thing bugs me, partly because of its association with Nice Guy culture, which--ew--but also because of its implication that friendship is inferior to romance and/or sex.

It’s not.

Especially for Quasimodo, y’all! Poor boy’s lived twenty whole years with only Frollo for human contact and only the gargoyles’ voices in his head for friends. He’s grown up loving Frollo like a father, but that love hasn’t been returned, and on some level, I think he can tell--his body language whenever Frollo’s onstage with him, as well as the fact that he addresses Frollo as “Master” (probably at Frollo’s instruction), are indicators that he’s afraid of/intimidated by Frollo, and I’m sorry, but if you’re afraid of your parental figure(s), then they’re not doing their job very well, and they’re certainly not your friend(s). And they probably don’t consider you theirs.

All that to say, Quasimodo hasn’t had a friend his whole life, nor has anyone ever told him anything positive about him, so for Esmeralda to tell him he’s a good friend to her is h u g e. She is affirming that he is a person, that he is a good person, and that she’s grateful for all that he’s done for her in the few weeks he’s known her.

I put up a mild protest when it happened today (it had to be quick and quiet, because y’know rehearsal, and I didn’t want to ruffle too many feathers--I’m really good at ruining jokes and bringing down the mood), and the person next to me--still with that joking demeanor, but defending the joke--said that Esmeralda “friendzoned” Quasi in that he loved her and made his love known and she rejected him, chose Phœbus instead, and called Quasi her friend on her deathbed (the person asserted that the “dying friendzone” was worse than a normal one, because there was no chance for Esmeralda to change her mind).

And, like, yeah, he loved her and made his love known--wouldn’t you, too, if you’d lived your whole life only experiencing half-assed, bare-bones “kindness” from an authority figure who constantly told you that you were a deformed, ugly monster, unfit to even leave the building you grew up in, and then when you do leave and your worst fears are realized and people scorn and abuse you for looking different, this person you admire not only tells everyone to stop hurting you, but also defends you, helps you, and apologizes for inadvertently starting the whole ordeal?

I’d probably fall in love on the spot, too.

I mean, I’ve been very lucky to grow up with a family who loves me and tells me so all the time, and I’ve had friendships come and go and come to stay, and still I very nearly fall in love all the time with people who are decent human beings to me. In this very show, when the cast lets me linger on the edge of their conversations and occasionally contribute, I get this thrill of “holy shit I’m one of the gang,” and if someone goes so far as to address me by name? ??? I short-circuit. They know my name! These people are so much cooler than I’ll ever be, and so much better at being functioning, social human beings, but they know my name and they use it and I’m a person! It sounds strange and made-up when I write it down, but it’s seriously what goes on in my head. When people I admire take the half-second it takes to say my name.

And I didn’t grow up isolated and abused in a bell tower.

Back to the other points the person made: Esmeralda chose to pursue a relationship with Phœbus, yes, but she didn’t outright reject Quasimodo. She looked out for him and remained his friend, telling him she’d help him when he needed it (remember, that’s why she gave him the amulet map to the Court of Miracles--as a thank-you for him helping her hide Phœbus, she gave Quasi the amulet and told him, “And if you ever need help, come find me in the Court of Miracles”). Even when he asked her to stay with him and hide in the crypts under Notre-Dame, she made sure that he understood that she wasn’t turning him down because she didn’t like him, she was turning him down to protect him and herself (“I can’t, Quasimodo. It would be too dangerous--not just for me, but for you, too.”).

And I don’t think she chose Phœbus because he’s conventionally pretty. I don’t remember who posted it, but I saw a post on here (it might have been a quote, for all I know/remember) that said something along the lines of “Frollo saw Esmeralda as a devil. Quasimodo saw her as an angel. Phœbus saw her as Esmeralda. So she chose Phœbus.” That says it better and more concisely than I can. Frollo was never an option for Esmeralda romantically, so we’re leaving him at the door. And Quasimodo is an absolute sweetheart and loyal and kind to the core, but because he grew up so isolated and maltreated, he idolized the first person to show him true kindness, which wouldn’t have ended well even if Esmeralda had survived and had chosen to pursue a romance with Quasi--putting people on pedestals isn’t healthy for either person involved; at some point, whether knowingly (I doubt it, in this case) or otherwise, Esmeralda would have failed Quasi in some way--not because she doesn’t care, but just because she’s human, and humans can’t be perfect--and it would have crushed him. It’s not good for Esmeralda, either--through no fault of his own (see again the twenty-year isolation point: he doesn’t know any better), Quasi is basically objectifying her. This isn’t to say he has bad intentions, or that his love isn’t real--he’s not objectifying Esmeralda the way Frollo does--it’s just to say that Esmeralda recognized that in the end, neither she nor Quasi would be happy in a romantic relationship with each other, but she saw that he desperately needed and deserved a friend, so she became his friend. Phœbus initially compares Esmeralda to an angel in “Rhythm of the Tambourine,” but if we’re being honest I think it was just for the sake of the contrast to Frollo’s line “She dances like the Devil himself” when Phœbus meets her and talks to her, he begins to fall in love with the real her, the one who is trading witty remarks with him and also fiercely defending herself, her principles, her people, and Quasimodo, whom she’s just met maybe fifteen minutes ago. And her curiosity about this soldier whom she senses is not an orders-following machine but has a strong moral compass and who really listens to what she has to say turns to love while she has time to think about it, and they both act on it in “Tavern Song,” when they have a witty conversation that masks their true feelings but they’re each testing the waters to see if the other feels the way they do and when each has confirmed it, they kiss and it’s actually great.

Esmeralda loves both Phœbus and Quasimodo--she loves Phœbus romantically, which is arguably what he needed (since I sense that his “Rest and Recreation” self was a bit of a front and he needed someone to see past that), and she loves Quasimodo platonically, which is certainly what he needed--and let’s be real, Esmeralda needed both. It’s established that she loses friends quickly, probably because of how determined she is to right the wrongs she sees, so for both Phœbus and Quasimodo to admire that trait and to admire her is wonderful, because it opens doors for Esmeralda that were probably closed for quite some time. (Which sounds opportunistic and calculating when I write it down, but I think it’s true, and I’m not using it to diminish the emotional value of these relationships--I’m just trying to figure things out.)

And we’ve already covered that the “friendzone” is a ridiculous concept, but the “dying friendzone”? When else was she going to tell Quasi that he was a good friend? She was just getting to know him for most of the show, and she was away from him for huge chunks of it, too--her last minutes, dying in Quasi’s arms, were her last chance to help Quasi understand that he wasn’t the monster he’d grown up being told he was (and I’d like to see you try to say more than six words when you’ve just been nearly burned at the stake and are dying from excessive smoke inhalation).

Please let me know if there’s anything you think I missed; there are several points here that I’m not 100% solid on, and I might have expressed any of this quite poorly, because I’m tired.

TL;DR: I’ve been stewing over a throwaway joke people made in Hunchback rehearsal for approximately Way Too Long and needed to put my thoughts down somewhere

[thoseofgreatambition]

ftb bonus

Warnings: anxiety, touch starvation

Wordcount: 5K

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

A/N; Hello! So as we’re moving on in this I’ve realized that I haven’t shown much of the readers past, which is on me. So I’m calling this a bonus chapter but it does stand on its own and could be called a prologue of sorts if you would like. I hope you enjoy! Also I tried a more ‘normal’ style of spacing, so please tell me if y’all like it!

LIAR {PT 1} | 1.9 K

ROSE COLORED {PT 2} | 2.6K

LIAR LIAR {PT 3} | 3.3K

DUTY {PT 4} | 5.3K

BONUS CHAPTER 1 BONUS CHAPTER 2

                       BONUS CHAPTER | FTB | FERRO

You hadn’t been allowed to see Fred and George for years. Well—your older sister Marie said it was only a week, but to you as a five year old, it felt like an eternity to not see your best friends. No amount of crying or pleading had been able to help, and your father had been all to ready to stay home with you instead of taking you to the burrow to follow through with yours and the twin’s punishments. “This is what you get Y/N—you’ve got to accept punishments when they come. You can’t just go around encouraging the twins like that and getting them into more mischief.” You’d sniffled, tiny hands balled into fists. Tantrums never worked—so you hadn’t bothered throwing one, but that didn’t change the fact that you were a child who wasn’t terribly good at handling emotions like this yet. “We didn’t mean to break anything.” “I know you didn’t.” he’d leant back in his chair and lifted you into his lap, bouncing you on his knee. The details on everything were still a bit fuzzy—but your parents, along with Arthur and Molly knew two things. One—you’d joined in with the twins on a prank, and had urged them on. Two—the Weasley’s garden had almost entirely caught on fire before any adults were able to put it out. So separation was deemed the most appropriate punishment. Apparently the twins were just as miserable as you were. “Sometimes you’re going to do something that winds up being very bad when you don’t mean it to be. When that happens you have to accept what comes, alright? That’s the grown up thing to do, to admit you did something wrong and learn from it. Alright?” That wasn’t something you understood just yet—but you’d nodded anyways. Wasn’t that what you did when your parents told you something new? “When can I see them?” “Tomorrow.” When you perked up your father laughed and pressed a kiss to your temple, “What are you going to do when you see them?” “Say sorry to Aunt Molly.” “And?” At that you paused, not sure how to respond before very tentatively—“No pranks?” “Atta girl.” Soon enough the next day came and went—you’d helped the twins clean out the garden some more, though between three five year olds that hadn’t done a lot of help. All seemed well though at the end of the day. You’d been able to build a fort out of blankets in their room with them, and worked through some of the biscuits that George had managed to knick for you three. Fred’s head wobbled as he tried to stay awake, before finally hugging his rabbit and dozing off. You were fairing a little better, though not by much. “’m tired, Georgie.” “Do you wanna go to sleep? I can get you my blankie.” You nodded and quickly George had crawled out of the fort before coming back in with a tattered baby blanket that you hugged close before lying down next to Fred, George squeezing himself in as well. “’s that better?” “Mmhmm. Thank you.” You grinned at him as he giggled sleepily, the edge of his blanket balled up in his fists while you hugged the other end. “G’night.” “G’night, Y/N.”

“Do you always have to get in trouble like this?” You frowned at your sister, who’d graced your family with her presence now that she’d graduated from Hogwarts and moved to America. Was it possible to think sarcastically? Somehow you’d managed it. After your mother had died your sister had been in Hogwarts already and decided to stay. Now you were onto your fourth year, she’d come back, and your brother was about to start his sixth. Not bad, but it was not fun getting chastised by someone who didn’t know what it was like in America. Your fingers felt cold as your gut began to boil, “Did I miss the point where you became head of the family overnight? They were being rude.” “You can’t get into duels! You’re not even in your fourth year yet! Do you know how hard this will be to sort out?” “Alex got into way more trouble—“ “You are not Alex! And Alex was punished too.” Your lip twitched as you looked up towards her. “He said I was a bitch.” “And he’s an asshole, but that’s not worth going to jail over. Or risking getting kicked out of school.” Your sister crouched down, so she was eye level with you in your chair, “There are ways to handle things like this. You don’t need magic, and you won’t get in trouble for it. But you need to learn to control your temper. No more getting into fights. No more picking arguments. People need to see you act good, you have to do it for the family and it’s going to make things easier for you when you’re older.” “I don’t think I’m very good though.” Your voice was soft, a bit afraid to admit this out loud. “I keep getting mad, Marie. People keep writing things about me and they don’t know me at all—“ your hands wrung themselves together, unable to put it all together. You felt so lonely all the time. You felt like a pretty set of china that was taken out to be used and then put back away. Your family kept talking about duty and being strong but how were you supposed to do either? You were the third in line. The odds of you becoming head of family depended on either your siblings dying or stepping out before having any children. Quite unlikely. Your sisters grip was firm on your hands, and though you’d felt so much resentment for her just a little while ago you couldn’t help but realize that there was no one else besides her and Alex who knew what you were going through. “This is a hard family. It’s going to ask a lot out of you. That’s why you’ve got me and Alex. But we can’t keep you safe from everything, okay? That’s why you need to start listening to us and learning as fast as you can. Do you understand?” You thought you did—you thought that this meant just learning to control your tongue and your wand. That seemed easy. That seemed alright. But it was more complicated than that. It always was.

Your aunt smiled at you as she held an arm around your waist and guided you through the party. “Now I want you to meet the boy I was telling you about.” Brow furrowing, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. “Auntie if I don’t like him—“ “That’s fine! If you don’t hit it off with him that’s okay.” She rubbed your arm a bit, before looking at you with bright eyes, “But you’re getting to be a young lady now. You’re in your fifth year. I just want you to get introduced to some nice young men so you know the kind of people who will get on well with your family.” Something about that didn’t settle right with you, though you couldn’t put your finger on why. Perhaps it was because of the redheaded boy back in England, where you’d spent your last summer. The way he’d passed on your blanket like when you were kids. How he’d seen how cold you were, and hadn’t made you stand up like you were a statue. How you didn’t need to hold your head all the time. George was in England though. He was in Hogwarts. You knew for a fact from Fred’s letter that he’d gone on a date last week. Why hold on? It was fine. You looked towards the young man that your Aunt pointed to, surprised to see someone from one of the French pureblood families you’d met a little whiles ago. He’d been rather kind—and you’d had a good time speaking to him. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad of a thing. Your lips pursed in thought as you felt you aunt rub your arm once more, “If you don’t want to do this it’s fine. I can bring you back to your sister.” At least she seemed to know the people you would get along with, you mused. “No. This is alright.”

“Y/N.” Alex stood at your bedroom door, leaning on the frame—looking at you with an odd amount of sadness that you couldn’t understand. “Are you alright Alex?” Your brow furrowed, as you looked up towards him,  this was not the upbeat brother you knew. This was not the man who managed to hold himself with poise no matter what the situation. “I’m going to step out of line. I don’t want to be in the running for head of family.” You blinked, feeling… well, you weren’t sure how to feel. “Alex you’re amazing at this stuff. We’ve been taking lessons for years—“ you’d been taught how to speak French. Taught how to play piano. Taught how to run a business. Taught how to run expenses. Lessons on how to read people and use that to your advantage. You’d spent your whole life being shaped into the perfect heir despite it being unlikely you would, and you knew the training was far more intensive for your brother. “Don’t you ever think about how it could be different, Y/N? About how you could live a normal life? You could hide away and not be photographed anywhere. You could do what you wanted in public. No one would care.” As you stared at him blankly, your brother recognized you didn’t understand him yet. How could you? You were just sixteen. Not yet graduated. The only times the media was intensive on you was during the summer and that was so easy to shield you from. “You’re going to understand it one day.” Your brow furrowed as you bristled, you were starting to get rather sick of hearing that.” “I don’t think I will, Alex.” “Then good for you. It bumps you up to next after Marie. You can get what you want then, and so will I.”

The first time it’d happened, you’d flinched. Fred had looked at you in concern, immediately withdrawing his hand from your head. “Are you alright? Did I tug on your hair?” Quickly he checked his hand. He didn’t think he did but he supposed there was a chance. “No I just wasn’t expecting it.” Fred blinked and stared at you. You’d come to visit after you’d graduated, and was staying at the flat with them above the shop. He and George were sharing his room and you were sleeping in George’s. You’d been telling him about the Quadpot player you’d just broken things off with and how you’d come to get a bit of a break for a month or so. He’d wanted to show he was there for you so instinctively he did what all Weasley’s did. He’d ruffled your hair. “Are you—are you alright?” thinking back on it, you’d gotten much less affectionate in the years since you were children. Long gone were the days where hugs were the norm and being close to people was extended beyond greetings. Even now, when you two were hanging around on a Saturday, you’d held yourself upright as if someone would whip out a camera at any moment. There was no relaxing you. Again, you stared at him blankly. “I’m alright. I feel quite normal.” “So you just don’t like being touched? Aside from your family or—“ well, now probably wasn’t a good time to bring up a boyfriend. What was with the questions? You didn’t get it. “It’s not that I don’t like it, but I don’t get it much. Don’t you just touch people when you’re saying hello or goodbye?” Dumbfounded, Fred shook his head. “Why wouldn’t you touch them more?” “It’s not…” you thought back to it, and after a few moments was able to verbalize things, “Well, if I’m out and someone sees me doing that with others, aside from my family it turns into an ordeal. They’ll think I’m with them. It doesn’t seem terribly worth it.” Fred’s first thought was that this explained why the media had dubbed you ‘An Ice Queen’. His second thought was that it was rather unkind to think of you that way. “I guess I just don’t get it—“ he laughed a bit, trying to make light of the situation. “You and I were raised pretty different, you know?” There was a small nod from you, you certainly didn’t understand. Affection was shown to you by action, not words. Not touches. You knew your family loved you because they were helping you become a healer. You knew that they could tell you felt the way by the hours you spent to help them with their own causes. To do otherwise felt oddly superfluous.

You’d come to England the moment the war was over. The moment you could get away from your family’s grasp. The second you’d gotten George’s letter you’d booked a flight for that night, the expenses be damned. You needed to be there. The burrow was quiet, at three in the morning, and when you apparated in you weren’t sure what else you expected. Your heart felt like it was in your throat and all you could think about were the horrible things you’d read. George’s ear had been cut off and you hadn’t known! Fred had almost been crushed by a wall. There had never been an issue with you being composed, you’d been taught so well to swallow down fear, anger and sadness to turn them into strength and righteous fury to harness power for gain that you’d never had to worry about it. But right now there was nothing to gain and you were painfully aware of how much you could have lost. You heard footsteps, and spun around to see a very worn out George in front of you. Pale and looking like he’d seen so many horrible things since you’d been away. Hands trembling as he stretched them out, a silent invitation that you gladly threw yourself into. Arms tight around him, threading through his hair. Quickly pressing kisses to his cheeks as he stumbled backwards to catch you both. “Are you okay? Georgie are you alright?” You hadn’t used that nickname for him in years, but it was the only one that would come to your lips right now. Your fingerpad traced over his scar where his ear was and you let out a small whimper—“Did that hurt? Does it still hurt? When did it happen?” “Months ago.” His voice was muffled as he pressed his face against your neck, breathing in your scent as he soaked in your presence. He’d been so focused on the war that he’d honestly forgotten about how he felt for a short while, but now it felt like he was going to crush underneath the weight of it all. Desperately, you traced your hands over him—he was shaking so much and you simply wanted to keep him warm. “Are you alright then? How’s Fred? Oh you’re shaking let’s get you to bed—“ “They said he’d be okay.” His grip on you didn’t lighten, and the way you were trying to keep him warm only fueled his ache. He’d been so happy to forget about you when he’d found out you were dating some heir to the Graves fortune. But now there was no forgetting. Really he ought to have been untangling himself from you but everything hurt so much and he was so scared and tired of constantly trying to act well for Fred. “I don’t want to go to bed yet. I want to stay like this for a little while longer.” “Okay.” Your voice was soft, as you returned to petting his hair, shocked by how soft it felt beneath your hands. “We’ll do anything you like, Georgie.” He rubbed circles on your back, soaking up all the warmth you were willing to give him. “Thank you.”

George watched you curiously. It’d been a few months since you’d come to England after the war, and you’d stayed longer to volunteer at St. Mungos and help those who’d been more seriously wounded than Fred. Honestly, he’d been so grateful to have you back. When Fred had gotten out of the hospital you’d visited almost constantly whenever you could to help nurse him back to health. It was wonderful to see you so much. He’d been surprised that your family was letting you be gone for so long but you’d simply laughed at that question. “Georgie—they’re your family too! We grew up together. You used to call my Mum and Dad ‘Aunt’ and ‘Uncle’. The Weasley’s are part of the Y/L/N clan—you ought to remember that.” It’d brought a smile to his face. This did not. He was used to the way you carried yourself. The way you stood up straight, the way you moved so gracefully that even your hands seemed that way. So it was quite odd to see you doing the same with someone who was dating you. Jack. George hadn’t wanted to like him. He’d expressed his distaste to Fred that he’d be coming over to visit you, but now he’d found himself getting along much better than he would have liked with the man. It was stunning really. Jack carried himself a lot like you did—spine straight, an easy but careful smile on his face. A remark that was crafted to make everyone laugh. Oddly though he still seemed quite genuine. He’d asked George for some funny stories about you as kids. He’d laughed heartily when George had said that you’d once set the garden on fire. He’d thanked Molly very dearly for the meal she’d invited him to and come with a bottle of wine and flowers as a thank you. Jack was a good man. George was a little annoyed by it to be honest, though that didn’t mean he wasn’t starting to consider Jack a friend. Which made him feel very guilty about the fact he was in love with you. Very guilty indeed. As a result he’d kept a fair distance, careful to only show you as much affection as Fred did. Fred wasn’t the one in love after all, and whatever amount he did would be fine. So when Jack left Fred and George’s flat that night, giving you a rather rote peck on the cheek goodbye before apparating away, George couldn’t help himself. “He’s a good guy— I’m glad you met him.” You’d smiled a bit at that, though it wasn’t very wide. Almost as if someone had told you the weather would be pleasant tomorrow. “I’m glad you two get along. My Aunt’s really happy that I’m with him.” “I can see why.” George grinned at you, as the record Fred had set up before going to bed played a slower song. “C’mon miss princess. Show me how to dance.” You’d laughed, and the smile on your face seemed easier and more genuine as you strode over to him and placed one hand on his shoulder and took his other up. “Shouldn’t you already know how to do this? You’re 21 years old.” “Mmm, not all of us go to balls all the time, you know.” You shook your head, smiling until George had asked what seemed like a rather innocent question. “So do you love him?” Was it wrong for him to ask that? George simply wanted to know if he ought to just give up and move on. He couldn’t say he didn’t understand if that was supposed to be the case. “My family loves him. We get on well. Agree on almost everything. I’ve gotten to be really close to him the past few months, and it’s gone smoothly even though we’ve been apart.” It’d been ideal actually, even being separated from Jack hadn’t been too much of a bother. The letters had been more than enough. George’s brow furrowed, “But do you love him?” “Isn’t that love?” He froze, your movements ceasing, “That’s not love… Love’s wanting to be near eachother, it’s kisses and saying kind words. You can’t just get along. I mean that’s really important it’s what that’s built on but—there’s got to be more, Y/N.” You stared up at him, unable to deny two things. One, that sounded more amazing than anything else you’d ever heard. Two, the person you wanted that from and felt that for was George. You swallowed thickly, more than a bit confused. “That doesn’t make for a good match though—“ you felt quite defensive about your choices right now, unsettled as the realization you were in love with George came crashing upon you. “Is making your family happy all that matters then?” that sounded terribly sad to George, and it made the ache in his chest double. “Do you not want that?” “Just because I want something doesn’t make it important. I mean I wanted to keep being a healer but when I’ll be done with that when I get back to America.” “Y/N—if you want love there’s plenty of people who’d be lucky to give it to you. You’re too wonderful not to get it if you want it.” He watched as your expression changed from confusion to dread and understanding as you figured out what his words meant. George was in love with you. Quickly you stepped back, and flattened out your clothes. Your calculating self quickly returned, and the warmth in the room began to fade. You would not lend him any more of your warmth. You were a lot of things. You were dignified. You were strong. You were determined. You were proud. You’d been called many different names. Princess. Birdie. Ice Queen. There’d been one scathing article after you’d performed what could only be described as a morally grey political move, a ‘Pit Viper’. However you were not a cheater. You were loyal. You knew the value of hanging to those close to you and what dedication truly meant. Sure you weren’t in love with Jack—but you’d be damned if you began to cling to someone else when you were dating him. “I’m going to leave now, George.” “Y/N I’m sorry—“ Your lip twitched, and you felt sadness that was becoming all too familiar to you well up in your throat. So much of your life had been spent scrounging for kindness and affection and making peace with the kind that your world allowed you. It’d been so nice, the couple of months you were here to get it so freely and frequently that you weren’t surprised by it anymore. That couldn’t be the case now though. The kind thing to do would be to tell George it was alright. That things were fine. However you were human, and you didn’t want to lie. Didn’t want to say it was fine when in less than three minutes he’d revealed just how happy you could be if things were different. He looked like he was waiting for you to give him that peace of mind, but you couldn’t. Couldn’t excuse him for this. With a silent nod, you apparated away, back to the Nest where you’d grown up and Jack was waiting for you.

Jack’s idea of love was the same was yours used to be. Someone who you could spend your life with amicably. Someone you got along with. Someone your family was pleased with. No surprises needed. Just someone who you could raise your own family with and be content. So this was confusing, you tapping your foot on the ground as you sat much closer to him than you usually did, aside from when you two had relations. That didn’t seem likely at the moment though. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” How was this happening? You’d been so fine with how things were before but now you kept aching for warmth. Stealing it from others wasn’t cutting it anymore. You wanted that easy affection that came when you were in England. Those friends of yours who showed how they cared through soft touches that were instinctual. “I’m not happy, Jack. I want to be in an affectionate relationship.” He stared at you blankly, as if you were speaking a foreign language to him. “Am I doing something wrong then?” He’d been loyal, he’d helped you when you asked for it. He’d taken you to nice places and did his best to bring you things randomly that you might like. That had always been affection to him. “No just—you’ve seen how other people are right? How they hold hands and kiss each other all the time.” He reached out and set his hand atop yours, not sure what all of this was about. It was warm, and soft, but he couldn’t really say he was getting much from it. “Like this then?” Jack was trying. You saw that. However you also saw that even if you continued on this route that it would never be what you wanted. It wouldn’t be the easy type of love that you hoped for. “No. Not like this.” You gently took your hand away and Jack realized that he no longer understood you.

The media had a field day when they’d found out you’d broken up with Jack. It had been a veritable circus. There’d been so much speculation that you didn’t want to go outside anymore. People wanted to know how the perfect power couple could break apart so suddenly and you didn’t want to admit it was because of you. Because you’d come to realize that you couldn’t be as happy as you thought your life could make you. So you’d come to England. Fled there really—written a short letter to George and Fred, they’d certainly already read about it but despite everything they were still your closest friends. Though things with Fred had gotten more tense than they were before. George couldn’t help himself from coming to visit as soon as you’d landed. He’d found you standing in the middle of your childhood home’s living room—surprisingly put together for someone who’d been on a twelve hour flight and had only had time to shower. He was fairly certain it was the way you held yourself, as if you were ready to give a proper speech in front of a waiting crowd. George stared at you with what you recognized as pity, though refused to acknowledge. “Do you know why my family always has at least two children, no matter what?" "Why?” his voice was soft as he stared at you– as you stood in the middle of your living room. White walled. White marble on the floor. Icy blue furniture. The moonlight sucking up what little warmth there would have been. “You’ve got the heir. And then you’ve got the spare." His brow furrowed, "You’re the third born." You shrugged, seemingly undisturbed by all of this– it was your life. It was your reality. You were going to make the best of it all. "Anything past the second is the worst case scenario." His hand twitched to reach out and hold you, but as you finally looked back at him he realized that it wasn’t the moon that had sucked up the warmth in the room, but you yourself. Without touch how were you to keep warm? "I’m not here to wallow. I didn’t leave for England because I was scared or because I wanted to run away. I came here for myself. I came to be more than the third born. I’ll make the best of things, and I won’t take pity, George." He toed a strange line between intimidated and inspired, and it was all George could do to nod. You were glowing. You were lit from a fire within. You’d told him once when you were little that your family’s motto once translated to English was ‘Fire and Iron’. Now he could see why. “About Jack—“ You’d let out a small snort of laughter, amused that he thought that was important right now. “Let the past be the past. I don’t know as much as I thought I did.” At that he took a step towards you, ready to defend you from yourself if need be. “You are plenty smart—“ The smile that came to your lips was impossible to contained, touched that he was still so keen to protect you even after all that had happened. It made you want to return the favor all the more. You weren’t ready for him yet, but that didn’t mean that you couldn’t start to be more careful and aware of how you were around him. George deserved someone like that. You thought back to the time you’d egged on the twins and wound up setting the garden on fire. To when your sister had chastised you for getting into a duel. To when your brother had resigned. You had never understood when those things had happened, had been confused when you realized you didn’t know what you thought you did. You didn’t want to keep being that person. You wanted to open yourself up to being wrong. Couldn’t you do that? Couldn’t you allow yourself to do something that people might not like? “Smart people are wrong all the time Georgie.”

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[elosnotebook]

PENETRATORS SQUAD IMAGINE (pt 8)

Imagine being the first and only girl in the Penetrator Russ bus. Author’s note: GUESS WHO! HAHAHA so i know y’all have been hella patient with me and this fucking story, so i decided to take my saturday to try to write about it. i have read that like 648 times and every time i found a new error and i am pretty sure that if i read it again i’ll find more so please just ignore them and enjoy the part 8. WARNING THERE’S SMUT AND FLUFF and i have NEVER written about smut before, i felt like i was sinning the whole fucking time so give me a break, i’ll get better with time. also don’t ask me about part 9 because it’ll take time since i’ll be able to focus on my stories only in december. but honesly, you guys are the best and thanks for understand. love y’all (btw feedback is great so i can be sure you guys don’t hate me hahahah)

Part 1. Part 7.

Part 9.

Masterlist ❁

-

I couldn’t stop looking myself at the mirror. I knew how confident I must look for everyone but honestly? There was those days where I just... Wasn’t. I just had left the shower when Chris called me saying he wanted to talk. Our first day together in school wasn’t exactly what I was expecting. At all.

-

It can’t be this hard.

I remember telling Chris in the shower, two days ago. I should’ve known by now that nothing is actually easy when that boy is involved, especially hiding something so big as a - honestly, I had no idea how to call whatever Chris and I were.

It was Monday afternoon, and Chris managed to almost ruin everything twice. I knew him way too well to be assure that every time he got nervous about something, he became completely stupid about it.

After the amazing breakfast he made me on Saturday, I went home to process everything that was happening, and by these days, I still can’t tell what the hell happened. We texted the whole Sunday, creating plans to escape the classes - his idea -, and thinking about spots that would fit for a hot and discreet make out sessions on breaks - this one was totally me.

So, after a whole day of plans to get this right, I wouldn’t expect to be so hard for him to actually do it, what he proved me wrong on Monday morning while having breakfast with our Russ crew.

I was sitting between Julian and Henrik, laughing about some crazy shit they did on Chris’ party. All the boys were being extremely and out of normal polite and soon I realized it was because of the Theo situation. They didn’t bring it up but all it took was a look around to see how dying they were to know my side of the story. William told me Theo had to study for his upcoming tests but both of us knew it was an excuse for him not to face me.

I lost the track of my thoughts when my secret sat in front of us. His alarm didn’t ring and by his face I could see how annoyed he was because of it.

“I thought I was late,” he sighed. I pressed my lips into a thin line as a way to repress a smile. His hair was messier than usual and his shirt was inside out.

“Schistad, you look like shit.” Julian stated, analyzing the boy in front of him.

“And yet, he is still looking better than you. How is that possible?” I joked, earning a nasty glance from Julian.

“Thanks, babe.” Chris said, laying his head on the table.

My reaction was fast. I cringed to the nickname, not only because it was being told in front of other Penetrators but also because I couldn’t understand how fast he decided to call me that. Plus, I wasn’t a ‘babe’ kind of girl. Definitely not.

Julian and Henrik was staring at me with their brows knitted. I had every kind of nickname since I got in the bus. They always loved to make fun of the boys I hooked up with and they basically named me after a particular boy every week. But they never go to the cute level, when they want to be fluffy, the most they have ever done is to call me Cap. Babe, princess, sweetheart was completely out of the table, and honestly I couldn’t care less.

“Ew. Please, don’t babe me.” I told him, trying to sound the most disgusted I could. Frankly, it wasn’t hard at all.

Chris sat straight quickly, as a suddenly realization of what he did. He was the opposite of discreet, I thought, while fighting against the urge to slap him. Sadly, I couldn’t hold a deep sigh.

“Sorry, it’s just…” he paused. Oh my God, he was so bad at improvising, I swear. “My alarm didn’t work. I’m tired.”

I looked away from him, as I was searching for someone in the crowd of students. Honestly, I was just finding my strength not to scream at him.

“Fine.” Julian said, while standing up. “I need to go to the library, I’ll see you guys later.” He leaned in to kiss my cheeks. “Bye babe.” He left.

“Oh no, you little piece of shit, you didn’t-” I turned to yell at him, but it was too late. He was nowhere to be seen.

I turned back to Chris, giving him a distasteful look. He raised his both hands in the air and mouthed a ‘I am sorry’. There was still boys in the table, so I let the subject go for now.

“I need to go to my locker. I’ll meet you in class.” I told Chris.

“I can go with you.” He rushed to grab all his things, but he forgot to zip his bag, which cause everything to fall on the ground.

I turned around the table and kissed his forehead.

“I’ll meet you in class.” I repeated, earning a not satisfied groan from him.

I blew a kiss for the rest of the table, but the boys wasn’t paying attention at me. There was a new girl in the school and they couldn’t stop arguing about who she would choose of them.

I walked straight for my locker, stopping in front of it. Even thought I put my password three times, it didn’t open. I was just giving up when the new girl came and stood by my side.

She was definitely an eyecandy, I couldn’t deny it. Her skin was like cinnamon and it also was glowing. I tried to lock my eyes into hers so I wouldn’t stare at her glorious curves.

“Can I help you?” I asked her, sounding way more polite than I normally would.

“Hi, my name is Julie. I’m new here,” she smiled, while resting her body to the lockers. She started to twist her hair on her fingers, a gesture I knew way too well, since I’m used to do it everytime I was preparing myself to make a move on someone, but that girl wasn’t there to flirt with me… Or was she?

“Welcome Julie. How these people are treating you so far?” I turned again to my locker, trying to open it one more time. Luckily, it opened.

“Very well. I heard everything about you and the Penetrators.”

“I don’t think so,” I smiled at her. “It’d take a lot more than a morning to hear everything about us.”

“So, why don’t you tell me over a coffee?” Her confidence was killing me. Of course I would have this kind of temptation on my first day as a monogamist.

“She doesn’t have time for it.” A voice behind me said. I chewed inside my mouth to keep me from turning and screaming at its owner.

I felt Chris’ hand on my waist, which cause the girl to raise her perfectly done eyebrows.

“Oh, I am sorry. I didn’t know you…” she hesitated. “You were off the market.”

I had absolutely no idea about what to answer, and my mind was having a lot of trouble to find something to say since it was filled with curses for Christoffer.

“I’m sorry.” The words seemed to be running from me. “He is just a possessive best friend.”

“So, can we have that coffee?” She asked again.

I sighed. “Maybe another time, I am just focusing on school these days. Sorry.”

I did everything in my power not to look at Chris. Knowing him as good as I did, he was probably thinking how fun this situation was.

“Okay.” Julie started to turn red, what made me feel a little bad about myself. I didn’t want to embarrass the girl. I would totally go out with her if it wasn’t for the jackass next to me. “See you around.”

I smiled at her and watched her go away. Chris’ cold fingers were playing with my shirt behind me. I wanted to slap him.

“Seriously, Chris. We literally talked about it two days ago. How can you possibly be on the full boyfriend mode?”

I had to admit I was a little mad, and scared. The only relationship I had was with William so truth being told, my experiences were based on a 13 years-old relationship that went wrong. Chris have dated more girls that I can count but he never lasted with none of them for more than three months. We both sucked at this.

The smirk on his face showed me he focused on the wrong part. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“Christoffer, I am serious!”

At least, he had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he said, still playing with my shirt. “I don’t know how to act around you anymore.”

“Chris.” I said, placing two fingers under his chin so he would face me. I had completely notion that there was a lot of people around, but they were all used to me and Chris looking like a couple. “It’s still us. The only difference is that now, we have a little big secret.”

He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry.”

I was just too tired to argue about it, so I decided to let it go. 

“I need to go to class. See you later.” I stated, kissing his cheeks and leaving in a hurry.

-

Now, in front of that giant mirror, I’ve never felt so small. It wasn’t because of Chris, or the fact he doesn’t know how to act around me anymore. But somehow, big changes were happening and I was so scared of them.

I try to focus on myself on the reflection. I had a towel wrapped on my body, but it was like my eyes were a x ray machine, looking for every single little thing I always hated on me. It’s ridiculous how I feel really bad when I saw a girl hating on herself but I don’t know how to do it either. How hypocritical of me.

I didn’t know how much time has passed. I was too busy loathing myself until I jumped when a voice came out of nowhere behind me.

“Don’t.”

I turned to see Chris next to the door. 

“Chris!”

“Your mom let me in.” He justified himself.

I took a deep breath and turn myself to the mirror again, trying to put on my confident mask, but something on the reflection of his face told me he wasn’t buying it.

“Cap...” He hugged me behind, strongly. I leaned into his touch. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Doing what?” My voice sounded weak, and I hated the fact he was seeing this part of me.

“You were looking at the mirror with such hatred eyes, and I can’t understand how.” He kissed my neck. 

When he realized I wasn’t going to say anything, not because I didn’t want to, but because I was scared I would start crying as soon as I opened my mouth, he continued.

“You’re by far the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“When we met, I wore braces.” I heard myself saying.

His laugh filled the room, and I felt my body relaxing a little bit.

“Still, only you could look that good wearing braces.” He touched my hand, which was holding the towel. “Drop it.” He whispered.

I closed my eyes and did what he said. It didn’t take much until I felt his fingertips dancing on my naked skin. It was like he wanted to touch every single piece of my body. His hands stopped on my waist.

“You are like a masterpiece.” He said, while giving me gently light kisses on my shoulders.

He slowy turned me to face him. 

“Open your eyes, Cap.” He mumbled.

I did. He was staring at me deeply. There was so much love in his eyes that I started to feel the tears forming. He quickly wiped them away. 

“I don’t need to say the number of girls I have made out with, you know it pretty well. What you don’t know, is that I have never, and by never I mean, NEVER, found one remotely amazing as you are. You can make my darkest days go away just by the fact you are pure light, Cap.” 

He paused so he could breathe, “and your body?” His hands squeezed my waist harder. “This body is just a wonderful shell for your incredible soul. You are not perfect, but nobody is. I am not, and you know it. So accepting your flaws doesn’t make you weak, Cap, makes you human. It can take some time so you can accept them, but I’ll be here through the whole way, to make you love them, as much as I do.” He was looking tenderly into my eyes now, and I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

It hit me. It hit me like a train and I felt like I could break down at any moment. The only response to that was kissing him the most passionate that I could. I wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso while he pulled me the closer that he could.

He walked me to the bed before placing myself down. He tugged off his shirt, reavealing his toned body before tossing it to the side carelessly. His fingers brushed against my bare thights, leaving an eletrifying lingering on my skin. His touches always set me on fire... Then, he stopped.

I searched for his eyes, looking for an answer.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I grabbed the belt of his pants and took it off, throwing it aside, with a grin on my face. I kissed his stomach and found my way to his mouth, placing light kisses.  Our eyes met and our heated moment suddenly turned tender, the tension I was feeling was already slowly leaving my body.  

“I’ve never wanted someone so bad as I want you, right now.” As I said the words, I realized they were one hundred percent true.

He gave in. Chris didn’t waste any time and he ducked his head down to suck my nipples, his fingers disappearing into my hair. Pressing my lips together, I managed to strangle a loud moan before it slipped out. I rested my palms on his broad chest, before letting them slip down his chest to the hem of black skinny jeans. He bit me harder, and this time, a moan came out of my throat, and suddenly my boyfriend became whiter than he already was.

“Your mom!” He whispered, in completely despair and suddenly realization. 

“Don’t worry, I already told you, I am a quiet person.” I stated, pulling him closer again, without success.

“You literally just moaned loud.” He stated.

“It won’t happen again.” I kissed my pinky as I was making him a promise, but he wasn’t convinced.

Chris desperately ran his fingers through his steamy hair, gasping for air but failing at the attempt. “What if she opens the door?”

“Are you serious? Have you never had sex with a girl with her parents home?”

He rolled his eyes, a habit he had copied from me. “Of course I did, but I have never had sex with a girl I actually want to be together with her parents downstairs.”

I smiled. “Are you afraid of what my mom would say if she finds out that we are together together?

“I guess it depends of how she will find out. Her daughter screaming wouldn’t be a great way to do this.”

I looked at the ceiling.

“I told you I’m a quiet person.”

“You wouldn’t be with me.”

“Well, we don’t know about that. You know how we can find out? Doing it.”

“Cap...” He dropped himself on my bed, copying my position of stare at the ceilling.

I got up, and locked the door. Before he could protest about it, I sat on his lap, grinding against the thin material of his underwear. My hand trailed down from his stomach to his croach. Slowly, I unbutton his jeans and let them slip down  the fabric beneath my fingers, and tossed them out.

“Let’s see how quiet you can be, Christoffer Schistad.”

“Cap..”

I took his length on my hand, and he stopped talking. He was concentrate as much as he could, but something was telling me it wouldn’t last so long. 

I softly ran my warm and wet tongue over the head of his dick and he gasped. I started to lick it, while pumping his shaft along with it. He groaned and slid his finger through my hair. His mouth was gaping wide open and his bottom lip trembling enough for me to notice, it was red of how hard he was bitting it.

I placed a hand on his thigh to keep him steady, my nails going roughly into his skin to relive some of my sexual frustration, so I wouldn’t explode right this second, right before I wrapped my lips around the head and started to suck it. He cursed lowered as I began to put him more in my mouth. 

I pulled him out of my mouth, earning an sigh from him. Before he said anything, I traced his dick with my tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the top, tracing all of his veins. His hands grabbed the sheets so hard and they ended up turning red. 

After a few minutes of a mixture of sucking and pumping, I slid more of him inside of my mouth. I felt the tip touch the back of my throat. 

“Fuck.” He let escape. “Cap, I’m going to...”

I felt his warm liquid inside my mouth. I quickly swallowed it, what made him even more chocked. His breath was uneven, and I had never been so satisfied in my life.

“I...” He started, but he clearly couldn’t focus at anything. 

I leaned in to kiss him. My hands slipped behind his neck and disappeared into his thick, messy hair so I could push his welcoming lips closer to mine. “You’re welcome.”

“It’s your ti-”

“No.” I interrupted him. “Not today. For now, I will just appreciate the fact that I made you melt inside my mouth.”

“I’ll make it up to you at some point.” He said, pulling me closer. There was a giant grin on his face, and I couldn’t help but smile either. 

I rest my head on his chest, and licked my lips, cleaning the remains of him off my face. “Oh sweetie, I’m counting on it.” I said, giggling.

After a few minutes of silence, I got up to find anything to dress. My pink Penetrator hoodie was the first thing I laid my eyes on and I quickly put it on. Chris’ chest was moving fast, although his eyes were shut. His entire body was shaking and his lips quivering more than I had ever seen them do before.

“Chris?” I muttered to make sure he wasn’t sleeping already.

“Hm?” Almost.

“I’m sorry about my confidence issues.” I whispered, while picking up his underwear and throwing it at him.

He put it on with his eyes closed, and I couldn’t hold a smile, thinking of how much practice he must have. “It’s ok, Cap. You can hand all your issues to me, and I’ll continue to love you as usual.”

My heart went from 200 to 0 real quickly when I realized he said the “L” word. He didn’t seem to notice it, or if he did, he was doing an excellent job to keep his calm. His body tensed up a bit, so I guess he was trying to hide it. Little does he know I was trying to do the same. 

Oh. My. God. Christoffer Schistad loves me.

[katrinapavela]

Is  Rowan Trying to Bring Olivia Back to the Light, or Irrevocably Shutter Her in Darkness? #Scandal

Let me start by saying that I have a well-known history of not seeing it for Rowan, since 301. I didn’t even wanna write this because it seems boringly obvious to me (and other folks who see through this man’s behaviour), and I just want it to be over. I’m tired, even more than Olivia seems to be. I never bought into the idea back then that this man was trying to help save his daughter from destruction and danger brought about by Fitz. That he was going to extraordinary lengths, and showing “tough love” like a strong, black father. 

The short version: Rowan is an abusive person. He has been an abusive person since we met him through Jake. Abusers always need the abused more than the abused need them. Without an object to play games with, the abuser doesn’t really exist. His “games” have gotten more and more intense over the seasons, switching tactics and acts like the shapeshifter he is. Rowan is trying to complete the process of eliminating Olivia’s chewy centre (her soul, her humanity) by eradicating ties to those for whom she has the greatest vulnerability. Except him. Fitz and Quinn have been used tactically this way. The ultimate point is for Olivia to have nothing and no one but Rowan (”You never choose one of them over me” (407); “If I have to choose between [my father] and you [Fitz]; you will lose” (611). Rowan sees Olivia as his only connection to humanity. Jake is just another “son” he created. Olivia is “[his], [his] child, the thing [he] made” (310). Everyone needs someone. Rowan’s soul is lost. He can’t have a genuine relationship with anyone. So he’s compelling Olivia, through control, manipulation and domination, to be that someone instead of working for it. 

The reasoned version:

Y’all want me to believe that Rowan is simply a stern father who sees Olivia’s potential, and is practicing ‘tough love’, so that she can be the “championed” he raised? That Rowan has been transformed by his encounters with Ponytail and Peus? That Rowan is the old, feeble, victim now?

Y’all can forever and a day miss me with that messed up psychology. I have too many receipts listing the ways in which that kind of thinking is fucked up. The moment Rowan became an active presence (seen or unseen) in Olivia’s life, the level of death, destruction and alienation has increased, not decreased. I cannot think of a single thing Rowan has done for his daughter that did not require she give him something in return. That’s the definition of transactional, not family. Anyway, let me get to it. 

HELL NO ROWAN IS NOT TRYING TO SAVE OLIVIA!

It makes no sense. Every single time Rowan has intervened in Olivia’s life, it has been to his primary benefit, which he manipulates her into thinking is also to her benefit (hold on to that because it’s relevant). Think about it. Can you name a single parental, altruistic thing he’s done for her? Even paying her goddamn student loans, before she knew he was Command, required her to report for weekly Sunday dinners in exchange (302). 

Rowan: “People are predictable. Unchanging. Monotonous. They use the same language. They offer the same excuses. They make the same mistakes. People are endlessly disappointing because you hope they won’t be…” (413, “No More Blood”)

There is no way on god’s green earth that Shonda could write anything that would justify the levels of abuse Rowan has  perpetrated directly upon Olivia himself, and through his prostitutes, Jake and Russell. I’m not gonna bother to list them all because it’s too great. Plus, Olivia, in her 707 monologue to Rowan, already alluded to the ways in which he has destroyed her life so that she is almost unrecognizable to herself.

But what is it that Rowan ultimately wants from Olivia? Why does he keep doing this?

Olivia actually said it best herself, in 409:

Olivia: “You’re not leaving. You’re never leaving. You can never leave me alone because you have no place to go. The only life you have is the sad, twisted one you built here. The one where you lurk in the shadows, pull puppet strings and pretend the world couldn’t exist without you. You can’t disappear, become a normal person because, dad: you are not normal. You’re a sick, lonely man who only knows how to lie and call it love.” 

Maybe that hot truth she spat reaffirmed to him why he needed to let the kidnapping happen to her. 

Because every word above is true. In fact, we can say Olivia has inhabited some of that ow, too. Change is a verb. I haven’t seen Rowan change anything, except the act he puts on in order to manipulate, people. Case in point: the dialogue @Jarmstrong05 on Twitter dug up.

Rowan did that because he wanted Olivia to run B6-13. Why the fuck would Rowan want Fitz’s soft ass heart to run B6-13? That was just another manipulation of Olitz love, just as Rowan’s trip to Vermont. Rowan started cultivating Fitz as an asset the moment he was on house arrest in the White House, in 6B. Rowan knows that if he went about convincing Olivia to be Command directly, Olivia would run back to Zanzibar. Just like he knew not to directly suggest she take on Mellie’s campaign, but instead created the circumstances to point Olivia in that direction. 

/Pause for the cause:

(I am seriously wondering if he promised Mellie that Olivia would make her president in exchange for Mellie letting Tom out of prison, too (506). Because what incentive would she have to let Tom out? Mellie is thirsty for domination, short-sighted, and is too busy wanting to be the mammoth who gets the glory, so that she doesn’t see the stronger mastodon running circles around her)

pause for the cause\

But why wouldn’t Rowan just want to run B6-13 himself? Is he just trying to take it back from her? 

Rowan switched up his tactics when Olivia was with Fitz in S5. He started cultivating her as daddy’s girl, instead of the usual “against me, you will lose” adversarial rhetoric he used with her in S3-4. Allow her to think you are both on the same side, and you get what you want from her more quickly. In fact, Olivia has been making the transformation to Rowena after 509. It is in 510 that we see the colour red premier (rowan means red). 

If he tried to run B6-13 as Command Olivia would make it her mission as CoS to fighting him. Low key, Rowan has already been running B6-13 indirectly, by using Jake to undermine Liv’s decisions and go behind her back. Jake is a tin man with no brain of his own. He needs orders from someone, a mission. Like, I’m sure Olivia doesn’t know Lucy is B6-13. Rowan has basically allowed Olivia to borrow power (that’s the real ‘something borrowed’), and think that she was controlling the world. It’s easier than fighting her. If Rowan took back direct control, against Olivia’s wishes, she would dedicate Mellie’s whole administration to fighting him, which is tiresome for us and Olivia, but not Rowan:

Huck:“I never considered it before. But, yeah, you were made. Just like us. By him. Why wouldn't you have a guy? ... No. You don't have a guy. You don't need one. You have your father. He is your guy, and he is always out. And you really do need him, because as long as he is by your side, nothing you do seems bad in comparison. Your guy is always out, and he is the biggest, hungriest monster on the loosest leash in the world. ... A monster does not change. A monster is always hungry. Do you not understand that when the monster gets hungry, he will turn around and eat you?”

What I think Rowan has been doing this season, is cementing Olivia as both his replacement, and his permanent companion, until he dies. Rowan is trying to eat Olivia this season. His consumption of her keeps him alive. It’s either she dies or he dies. You already know the option for which I have advocated for 4 seasons now. 

Rowan: “You are like looking into the window of my past. You are me. No matter how much I tried, all I could create was me. There is a reckoning coming for you, Olivia. You think you have it under control. You think you have all the power buttoned up inside you behind your eyes, lighting you up. But one day you'll glance into a mirror, and you will discover that some of that power is missing. The lights are going out. Then? You'll have some difficult decisions to make. Do I want that power back? Who am I willing to hurt to get it? Now I can say this because I know You cannot have it all, Olivia.” (701, “Watch Me”)

Rowan doesn’t make predictions. He engineers them. Of course she never had it under control because with him around, she will never be in command of her life. As long as she thinks life is defined in the parameters her father as given her. Of course she can’t have it all, because he never did. 

Wait, so why did he try to get Fitz to save her?

lmaoo, Rowan doesn’t give a good goddamn about Olivia’s soul. He’s been trying to make it as black as his. The performance Rowan gives depends on his audience. He told us (and Jake) as much in 406. He needed Fitz to come back to DC in order to test Olivia’s chewy centre. Referring to Fitz as “son” (703, 704) and instructing him on how to “lure her into a cage” (704) all indicate Rowan’s cultivation of Fitz as a deputized B6-13 prostitute. That tactic would never work because Fitz has a genuine connection with Olivia and doesn’t need B6-13 tools. In any case, Olivia eventually passed the test and sent Fitz packing. (I can now see in her own way that she wanted him gone so he wouldn’t be used against her, and so that she can keep up her bad bitch facade. It’s harder around people who actually see you as a person, not just what you can do for them)

When Olivia tried to punish Rowan by taking away his livelihood, something he genuinely enjoyed (his BONES!!!!!!!), he was done playing. You don’t take Rowan’s things. He has a transactional relationship with everyone. Olivia took Annie, so Quinn now gets taken. A person like that is not tethered to reality (which is why Maya laughed incredulously when Olivia told her what Rowan did). Rowan doesn’t need to actually kill Quinn to achieve his goals. He needed to test Olivia's centre. From Olivia’s reaction to those gun shots, her time as Command is dead, to me. When QPA connect’s Quinn’s abduction (I know there are a lot of parallels with her and Olivia, but that’s another post), Olivia’s relationship with them is as good as done (Rowan hopes). Fitz and QPA are the last real connections Olivia has, even though she’s treated them shittily since becoming CoS and Command. 

Lessons from the Alternate Universe episode (610)

(does anything I’ve written above make sense?)

Rowan’s influence goes back to the Defiance decision. The AU showed us the contrast in Olivia’s life when her father  was not in it (and, by extension, Jake). She had more agency. She smiled. She loved her work AND her friends. She actually stayed and tried in her relationship with Fitz. She was in Command of her life, it wasn’t in command of her. So, in what world would the man who brought darkness into this girl’s life be the one to save her? Change is a verb, and I have seen no action from Rowan. And I need to seem some action from Olivia in the opposite direction. Otherwise, she will be eaten alive by the monster under her nose. 

Some of this might be

So y’all tell me. 

What do you guys think is going on?

[ashiftingworkshop]

The Smaller Assistant

I’m not dead woooo!! Just. Very bogged down with school work at the moment. So there’s that... but nonetheless, I figured I’d treat y’all to some more Little Assistant, so I hope you enjoy, and apologizes for any errors! I hope I can get back to my art soon lmao

Have you ever had a day where you felt so over-worked that you thought you could just fall over and collapse?

Shop was having one of those days, but her problems were about to get…bigger. She’s a size shifter, and one would think she would take advantage of this fact in her endeavors working for Dark, but she knew better. She knew that if Dark ever found out about her ability, he would use it against her. Somehow. She was cautious that way, only shifting in small increments when she was sure she was alone, which didn’t happen very often under Dark’s watchful eye.

Today was utterly exhausting for Shop, and Dark seemed to enjoy every bit of it, per the norm. On top of normal chores she did, which would include cleaning, dish washing, and other menial tasks of the sort, he also decided to, quite literally, dump other tasks on her, namely washing Wilford’s clothes, which that day seemed to be absolutely drenched in blood. Shop, of course, was fueled by her spite towards Dark and was determined to complete every task to her fullest extent, but all her burst of energy did was work to make her even more tired when she was finally able to call it quits for the night.

In the that time however, Shop had little control over how much her size shifted, adjusting itself in an attempt to make her more feel refreshed when morning finally rolled around.

Dark, of course, woke up first, ready to start his day as he was reminded by the quiet buzz of his phone on the bedside table of a meeting later that morning. He growled at the thought of having to deal with all the other egos for an extended period of time, but straightened himself out as he reminded himself of Shop, whom he used during long meetings as a distraction from the other’s bickering. He sat on the edge of his bed overlooking Shop’s, noticing that he couldn’t see her at all under her blanket. He stood with a grunt, deciding to change before he woke her. He was cold, but he’d like to think he wasn’t THAT bad towards his little friend, although Shop would be quick to disagree on most days.

Dark came back around towards Shop’s bed and knelt down, grabbing her comforter with a solid grip before lifting it up, letting himself be surprised when she wasn’t under the thick blanket, and even more surprised when he felt something move in his grip. He slowly turned his hand over and unfolded the blanket, his brows furrowing in confusion at the sight before him. It was Shop, he was sure of that much, but he didn’t remember her being so…small. At least, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand without much trouble. She still wore her black hoodie and shorts she often fell asleep in, and Dark could tell she was at least half her original height as he slid her still sleeping form out of the blanket, depositing it on her bed as he stood back up.

Shop had been asleep through the ordeal of Dark finding her, only waking up when she felt water hitting her face, to which she quickly realized she was not in her bed and jolted up in a panic to find that Dark had been dripping water onto her to wake her up. She wondered why he was looking upon her in, what she could only describe as a mix of intrigue and worry, which was something she was not used to seeing on Dark’s face as he spoke, his voice rattling her tired frame with it’s ringing and unchecked volume. “Well, I see SOMEONE’S decided to wake up, would you kindly explain how you came to be smaller and weaker than ever before?”

“D-dark?” Shop groaned and laid back down, still tired from the day before. “Could you tone it down? I’m like, half asleep here.”

Dark rolled his eyes with a growl as he lowered his voice, along with the ringing that accompanied him. “Yes, you also seem to be over half your already diminutive state…” He walked back out into his room, sitting on his bed as he looked his now tiny assistant over.

Shop was confused by what he was saying until her tired eyes finally woke up with the rest of her body, realizing where exactly she was. Shop mentally cursed herself for letting her power slip out of her control, but as she dared to look up at Dark’s face, she could tell he didn’t think that she could have done this to herself, and decided to count her blessings as Dark continued. “I swear if this is some kind of practical joke Wilford, or anyone else has done to you I’ll…” Shop gasped as his fingers began to curl around her body, his grip slowly but surely beginning to strengthen until she started gasping for air.

“D-Dark!! T-t-too tight!!” She managed out with a squeak, maybe this isn’t gonna be so nice Shop thought as the gray grasp loosened a bit. She didn’t want to end up his stress ball, especially at her current height. But, at the same time, Shop thought, she couldn’t just grow her way out of this situation, lest she wanted Dark to pressure her later. Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it until tonight-

Shop’s planning was interrupted when she felt the hand around her tighten once more as she was lifted up to eye level with Dark, his cold, steely eyes shooting daggers through her tiny body, sending a serious chill up her spine. She had grown used to his imposing nature, but in this smaller state, his face filled her vision, which only worked to scare her more, though she dared not show it.

“And what were you thinking about there little one…?” Dark knew his whispering worked to unsettle Shop further when he felt her shrunken form shiver in his grasp.

“N-nothing, just trying to think about how I got like…this,” Shop lied. She let out a silent sigh of relief when Dark nodded, seemingly pleased with her response as he stood.

“Perfect. Don’t think that this…predication has saved you from your job however. I’m sure there are still MANY jobs you can excel at~”

“Oh come on Dark, really?” Shop tried to stretch in his hand in an attempt to shake off her tiredness. “You work me to the bone, let me get like, what? 5 hours of sleep, then except me to bounce right back when I’m suddenly half my size?!” She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “That’s just cruel man.”

Dark sneered at Shop, he always hated when she talked back, and hated it even more when she proved a valid point. Dark of course, already knew what he was doing was ‘cruel’, as Shop had said, despite his deal with her, which entailed that he would act more kind towards Shop to keep her happy, and thus, allow her to work more efficiently as his assistant.

He wouldn’t admit it, but he had begun to grow fond of her snarky attitude and quirky antics, which often added a new bit of commentary to his days. His favorite quirk of hers, however, were the comments she often would mutter under her breath when she thought no one was listening; those were always the ones that would catch Dark off guard, and offered him a chance to chuckle at something else besides another’s misery.

Dark sighed as he opened his palm flat for Shop. “Well, I suppose you are correct there dear. But I cannot allow you to neglect all your duties today on account of your…condition. There is an important board meeting today that I simply will not be able to get through without your help, dear assistant.”

He watched as Shop shifted her weight in his hand, obviously uncomfortable with her current predicament as she weighed her options. Which weren’t very many.

“Welp, guess I don’t really have much of a say, do I?”

“That you do not dear.” Shop sighed.

“Alright, well, I hope you don’t expect me to wear my ‘uniform’ today then.”

“No, I suppose not little one, I believe I can allow you a… lazy day, as it were, until we manage to get you back in proper working order. Besides, your hoodie makes it much easier for me to lift you in a pinch~” Before Shop could question him, Dark took hold of her hood between his thumb and index finger, pinching it tightly as he let her dangle in front of him, silently reveling in her panicked cry.

“D-DARK!!! DON’T DO THIS IT AIN’T FUNNY!!!” Shop cried out as she felt Dark’s hand slip out from underneath her. She quickly moved her hands to her collar, so she could breathe as she dangled helplessly in front of the monochromatic man.

“Wait a minute.” Dark could practically see the gears turning in Shop’s itty-bitty head. “Did you… did you just make a pun?...”

Dark chuckled as he brought Shop to his shoulder, dropping her off as he started down the stairs. “Who knows. Just try not to draw attention to yourself while we walk to the board room. I don’t need one of the others trying to steal my little assistant when she is so vulnerable.” Shop huffed as she sat, readjusting her jacket.

“Sure thing boss, but if you don’t want folks seeing me, why not just stuff me into a pocket instead?”

“Perhaps because I don’t want to have to dig around to pull you out in the middle of the meeting and cause a distraction from the subject at hand. Or perhaps it’s because you could use the fresh air to wake up a bit quicker.” Dark noted as Shop yawned again.

“Well maybe if I was rooming with someone who let me sleep I wouldn’t be so tired hm?”

“Don’t push your luck Shop.”

[graphicallysam]

Para: The Jones-Evans Inquisition

Who: The Jones and Evans Families

When: Afternoon, 25 Dec 2017

Where: Jones Home

What: Presents, Food, and an Intervention

Mercedes had been up since about 4AM.  She had enlisted the help of Stevie to get Sam’s jeep keys so she could get in to install all his Deadpool themed gear she had gotten for him for Christmas.  Red and black seat covers with Deadpool floor mats, steering wheel and tire covers.  Red was his favorite color and Deadpool was his fave Marvel character, so hopefully he’d really like it all.  She still had two more presents for him at the house, but this was the big one.  

Since the families were so close, they always had a Christmas day lunch were they got together and exchanged gifts and had a nice meal.  Usually they all ended up in the den laughing as they played either Uno or some other game.  It was a great time and Mercedes had always looked forward to it.  This would be the first time in awhile she and Sam had both been able to be here at the same time.  She was sure she’d be able to stay on her best friend behavior since their parents would be right there, and the last thing she wanted to do was give any of them ideas.  Having Royce circling around waiting for her to slip was bad enough!

Today had been one of the best Christmases Sam had had in a long time. He hadn’t been home to Lima in almost two years.  So spending time with his family had been amazing, but he’d also gotten to spend a lot of time with Mercedes, and even though he thought this every single time they were around each other recently, he was just so happy to have her back in his life. It was almost weird how he’d seen and talked to Royce a lot in the time since they’d broken up to the point where the two were the best of friends, but he’d managed to avoid her in all of that time. There had been no overlap until recently, and a part of Sam wondered what would’ve happened if they hadn’t gone on that road trip over the summer and how lucky he was that he had gotten over his pride and decided to go.

Now, however, his parents had sent Stacy and Stevie to watch a movie in a different room, and even though that was normal, he had a sudden feeling of dread tugging at him. He looked to Royce first who was kind of shooting Mrs. Jones a weird look. Then he looked at Mercedes, but she seemed just as lost as he was. So he had no idea what was going on, but he didn’t think he was going to like it.

Something was definitely up, and Mercedes was not liking the change in the vibe of the room.  The parents were all looking some kind of way, and it made her chest feel tight.  She shot Sam a concerned look, hoping they weren’t about to receive some horrible news.  When her father cleared his throat she knew for sure she wasn’t going to like whatever came next.

“Sam and Mercedes, we’re concerned about the behavior we’re seeing from the two of you.” Anthony Jones began. “For several months now you two have been seeing each other pretty frequently, but we’re supposed to believe that its 100 percent platonic.”

Royce’s mouth fell slack.  He made sure to stay as quiet as possible, or he knew he’d get banned from this conversation, and he was not about to miss this for anything.  He looked over at Sam, waiting for his buddy’s face to turn red from either embarrassment or anger.  His sister was looking at dad like he had lost his mind.

“I didn’t realize reconnecting with one of my closest friends needed parental approval,” Mercedes said in disbelief.  She knew her dad was still a little salty about the non-wedding, but this was a whole new level of too much.

Sam was honestly shocked that they were bringing this up. He’d been certain that he was going to hear bad news, but this? This was annoying, and he slouched in his seat, sighing in annoyance until his mom shot him a look for being disrespectful. He forced himself to sit up straight and cleared his throat. “We expect you to believe it because it’s true. Why would we lie about that? Even though we’re both adults that don’t live at home…” He couldn’t resist adding that last part in petulantly.

Amberley Evans held up her hand, sensing that this might turn ugly fast with her oldest on the defensive, she shook her head. “Yes, you are adults, and that is perhaps why this is even more concerning. We raised both of you with more common sense than you seem to be using currently. You can’t pull the wool over our eyes. We’re your parents. We’ve known you since the day you were born, and I and your father, Sam, have noticed very similar patterns in your behavior recently. Now look me in the eye and tell me nothing, but innocent, wholesome fun has been going on between the two of you since you got back from that road trip.” She paused to study her son’s face because she knew he wouldn’t be able to meet her gaze. And when he didn’t, she nodded. “Exactly as I thought.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t look his mother in the eye and lie. He never had been able to, and right now, even with everyone’s eyes on him, he couldn’t do it. He crossed his arms over his stomach and glanced at his dad for help, but none came. “Even if it’s not 100% wholesome fun, that doesn’t mean we’re not still just friends.”

“No, what it means is you two are trying to fool everybody and yourselves.” Lori Jones had a calm voice as she addressed the duo.  “That is not going to lead either of you down a good road.  If you want to be together, then be together. But don’t walk around here acting like you two are only best friends when you’re acting exactly like you did when you were a couple in high school.”

Mercedes put her hands inside the front pocket of the Titans hoodie she was wearing, balling them up into fists as she bit on her lower lip to keep herself from going off.  “So this little get together is about what Sam and I, two grown people, do?  Y’all seriously had a parents only meeting to discuss what was going on between us?  And then you decided that we needed to be sat down and scolded like kids?  And here I thought that since I pay my own bills and make my own money that how I spent my very limited down time, and who I spent it with was really no one else’s concern.”

Lori raised her eyebrow at the tone in her daughter’s voice and the look she received made it very clear that she needed to take the sass right out of it.

Royce was discreetly checking his pockets to make sure he had his car keys on him, because at the rate this was going he was going to have to whisk one of them out of there real quick.  Sam and Mercedes had always been those friends that would get mad if someone messed with the other for any reason.  Mercedes almost went out on the football field during a game once because a player got in a cheap shot on Sam.  And right now, they were both going into defense mode.

Sam had opened his mouth to agree with Mercedes, but he saw the look on her mother’s face, and he bit his tongue. “Well, is that it? You got us together to tell us we act like a couple or whatever?What exactly was the plan after that?”

“Now son…” Dwight Evans began. “You say you’re an adult, and you want to be seen as an adult, but you’re acting like a hot-headed teenager because we’re sitting you down and having an adult conversation with you. And I think you’re partly so defensive because you know there’s some truth to what we’re saying. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to the people who love you and only want what’s best for you both. And we’re saying that you both need to sit down and have a conversation with each other about your intentions with one another because we all know that things cannot continue on as they are without a whole world of hurtin falling on you too. And we’re trying to spare y’all that.”

Ugh.  Why did Mr. Evans have to have the kind of voice that made everything sound right?  Why did they all want to mess everything up between her and Sam?  They weren’t hurting anyone, except themselves somewhere down the line, but part of her was willing to endure all of it because being with him made her so happy.  Why would they want to take that from her?  Why are they asking them to have a talk that they already know the outcome of, they didn’t need to have the talk, they’d had it years ago.

Right now all Mercedes wanted to do was get as far away from Lima as possible.  This had been a horrible idea and she was wishing she hadn’t come at all.  And yes, that was a childish way to think, but since they thought she was acting like one anyway she might as well go all in.  “Okay, so do we need to update y’all when we have this talk? Or should we just post it on Instagram? I mean, that’s why this is all happening anyway, right?  Because I went to Nashville to visit Sam? We certainly don’t want to leave you guys out of the loop on our non-existent relationship.”

“Young lady, you need to check yourself.” Tony leaned forward and looked at her sternly.  “Five months ago you damn near married some other boy from the neighborhood, now you’re out here flying to Tennessee everytime I turn around. You look like you’re chasing after a boy, and we raised you better than that.”

Even Royce winced at his dad’s words and when he saw Mercedes’ face, he knew it was done.  She was about to do an angry cry, and Sam did not react well to Mercedes tears.  “Hey guys, I think you’ve gotten your point across and these two need to go and have that talk.  I’m going to drive them around in the truck for a bit.” He needed to get Sam out of there before he saw Mercedes’ face.

Lori saw her husband was about to protest, but she looked at him and shook her head.  She didn’t want anyone saying something else in the heat of the moment that couldn’t be taken back, and he’d already said the wrong thing to Cedes, in front of Sam.

Sam winced when he heard Mr. Jones’ words. They weren’t right. He shouldn’t say stuff like that to her. He opened his mouth to protest how the older man had just spoken to the girl he loved. He scratched at his chin when Royce offered to drive them around. He was itching to leave, but he didn’t want to go anywhere with Mercedes and talk about anything. There wasn’t anything to talk about no matter what his dad said.

“Fresh air’ll probably do everyone some good,” his mom added, nodding. She sat back in her seat and ran her hands over her legs. “You kids go for a ride, and have your talk. We will trust you to handle things like the adults you are...I don’t think we need to keep talking about it unless you two feel so inclined. You know where we stand on this issue, and I think that’s really all that needs to be said.”

Mercedes didn’t say another word to anyone as she got up from her chair and left the room to go get her heavy coat and gloves.  She’d rather walk in the cold than have that talk with Sam. She wasn’t having that talk with him no matter what their parents wanted. It was pointless.  They had no idea what was going on!  The Evanses knew what their son wanted in the girl he wanted to date, and they should know that she wasn’t it.  There was nothing wrong with spending time with someone else until his future wife came along, and the fact that someone was her should’ve put their mind at ease, but apparently not.

Royce tilted his head to Sam so he’d get up and follow him.  Mercedes would be halfway down the block if she was doing her mad at the world power walking.  “C’mon, fresh air and non-Christmas music on the best car music system in town awaits.”

Sam stopped for a second. He really wanted to say something about how they’d spoken to her, but he didn’t want to be disrespectful. “Look.” He forced his gaze to her father’s. “I’m not gonna say nothin rude and disrespect you in your house, but Mercedes isn’t just ‘chasing some boy.’ What happened with her and Puck really ate at her soul. It’s not like she just did it on a whim. She’s been hurting, and I’m not saying y’all are wrong, but there’s no reason to hurt her more by treating her like she’s got a train of men coming in and out of her place. I’m just saying.” He didn’t wait for him to reply. He just walked out behind Royce because he was pretty sure that her father would lay into him.

Lori crossed her arms and looked at her husband angrily once Royce and Sam were out of the room.  “You deserved that, and you better be glad Amberley and Dwight raised that boy the way they did or it could’ve been worse.”

“You gonna be alright?” Royce asked him as they headed to the garage.  “If I had known this was what they were going to spring on you I would’ve given you a heads up or something.  At least you and Cedes could’ve prepared a united front.  Granted, you were still outnumbered, but damn, I didn’t expect Dad to go there with Cedes.”  

Sam was usually pretty slow to anger unless it came to those people he cared the most about, and Mercedes was pretty high on that list. He paced back and forth for a moment, counting to ten under his breath. “Yeah well, if he wasn’t your dad, I’d probably have clocked him for saying stuff like that to her. She’s...the last person that needs to hear that kind of speech. She’s hardly out there slutting it up, and even if she was...she’s an adult, and it’s her body.”

“I know. He knows that too, Mercedes has never been one to chase guys. He said something stupid, and believe me, he’s regretting it already I’m sure.” He pushed the button and started his car.  “You wanna ride with me or are you wanting to stoke your anger alone like Cedes is doing?  I’m going to go get her because she’s walking in the cold, probably crying looking pitiful.  And I know the two of you don’t want to talk about what they want you to, but she’s your best girl and I know you don’t want her to catch the pneumonia.”

Royce was damn smooth, Sam had to give him that. He used to be amused whenever a girl would fall for his friend’s charms because he’d known she didn’t actually stand a chance. Sam was no girl, but he sure did know how to get Sam to do what he wanted. He opened the door and climbed inside without a word. He definitely wanted to help Royce find his sister.

He smiled as he got in his truck and headed out of the garage.  “She can walk really fast for having short little legs.”  His sister didn’t get this upset often, she was usually the one calming other people down when they got riled up.  She was a pro at getting Santana to chill, and that was not an easy feat.  “You got an idea on which way she’d go?” He asked Sam.

Sam paused for a moment, running his hand over his chin thoughtfully. “Um...there’s a park around here, right?” He was pretty sure that she liked to go there when they were in high school, but he had no idea if that was still true. He was kind of just taking a stab in the dark with his guess.

“Oh yeah, the dog park.” He nodded his head and began to drive in that direction.  “She probably still wants a dog, but she wants a big one, not those pocket pups she’d have to get living in NYC.” Sure enough, he could see her purple coat in the distance.  “Look at you, still got the Cedes GPS.” He chuckled.

Mercedes was sitting indian style on a bench that faced the dog park.  No one had their dogs here today, so it was very quiet.  She was mentally figuring out how she could avoid her father for the remainder of the holiday.  If it wasn’t for Santana’s New Years party she’d probably get an earlier flight back home.  Especially since she knew anytime she came over to the Evanses they’d wonder if she and Sam had talked. Maybe she just shouldn’t go over there anymore.  Sam didn’t need to deal with that anymore than she wanted to deal with her own parents judgement.

Rolling his eyes, Sam laughed a little. “Hey, give me a second,” he said as he reached or the door handle so that he could get out. He shot Royce a look and closed the door, walking over to where Mercedes sat. “Hey, I heard you like big dogs and cannot lie,” he joked, taking a seat next to her. He glanced at her face then away, taking a deep breath.

Royce gave him a nod of understanding. He’d stay in the truck.  He hated that both parents had dealt the duo the reality blow they hadn’t asked for. He was not a romantic guy, but he would be the first to say his sister and Sam were the epitome of being perfect for each other.  And yes, he could be obnoxious and annoying as hell when it came to them spending so much time together, but it truly came from a place of love and wanting them to actually BE together again.  How could two people love each other that much but refuse to actually admit it to each other? They confused him, a lot, but he still wanted his baby sister to be with the goofy dude that made her so happy that she had cried when he became her boyfriend.

She wanted to laugh, but she couldn’t make it come out of her mouth. “I’d go stay with Santana if she wasn’t staying at Finn’s.” She said softly, her voice sounding rough to her own ears.  “Having a dog would be awesome right now.  He’d keep me company while I’m actively avoiding my parents.”

“I’d offer to let you stay at my house, but my parents would just keep...looking at us.” He shook his head and glanced at her again. “Hey, are you okay? They don’t know what they’re talking about. We’re adults, and the law says we can keep doing what we want. It’s not like they can ground us,” he joked lightly, hoping to make her smile.

She sighed softly, nodding her head. “Are you happy?” She asked him, turning so she could see his face.  There were questions she had kept herself from asking because she didn’t want to know the answers, but this was important.  Sam’s happiness meant more to her than all the love she had for him.  His happiness is what made her keep her selfishness in check, but what if he wasn’t happy?  What if his parents felt the same way her dad did?  She would be absolutely mortified if that were true.  She hated how her father could make her doubt things about herself, and it wasn’t that he was intentionally being a mean and horrible person, but he had a lot of pride in his family and sometimes he put the image he wanted portrayed over more important things. A son that’s a lawyer was something to be proud of in spades.  A daughter that hadn’t graduated college yet, was trying to be a singer, and had canceled a wedding? Not so much.

He hadn’t expected the questions, and Sam blinked slowly, just kind of staring at her a moment. “Um...like happy in general? Or…?” It was important for him to understand what exactly she was asking because he definitely did not want to just go spilling his guts to her about his feelings. Weren’t they supposed to not have this conversation?

“In general,” she clarified.  They were definitely not having a conversation about each other on that level. Once that door was open it couldn’t be closed and she wasn’t ready to hear all the reasons they couldn’t be anything other than what they were now.  She didn’t want there to be another series of years where they conveniently didn’t speak or see each other.  She had her best friend back, and she’d fight to keep him in her life, even at the cost of her own heart.  “You’d tell me if I was getting on your nerves or you didn’t want me to come visit and stuff, right?”

“Ohmygod...Cedes, I...what are you talking about? Of course, I’m happy. I got a good job. I have my own place. I got my best girl back finally. What else do I need?” He reached out and put his arm around her shoulder. “You’re one of my most favorite people in the entire world. I’m happy. I’m having fun. Aren’t you? I mean...I thought we both were. Are you feeling...not happy?”

“I was amazing until about an hour ago,” she pouted as she laid her head on his shoulder.  “I always feel like I’m not measuring up to my dad’s standards anyway, but I just felt like that times ten with all the parents there.  It just sucks and I don’t like it.  We enjoy each other’s company, and we’re grown ass adults, let us live.”  

Sam took a deep breath and hugged her to his side. “I don’t think he meant it like that. He didn’t use great words, but to him, you’re still like how Royce sees you. Like a little girl he has to protect...and guys are dicks most of the time. They use girls a lot. So he’s probably just worried. He’s worried that I’m taking advantage of you in your vulnerable state. He probably just didn’t want to say that because my parents were there.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he hoped it was. “Plus, you’re right. We are adults, and if you wanna come visit me in Nashville, I’m not gonna say no. The sex is like...the best sex ever. If I wasn’t so selfish, I’d say I feel bad for all of the guys that haven’t experienced it.”

“He would never say that because he knows better. You’re not that type of guy. If I was still trying to figure myself out like I was after the wedding, you’d still be there for me because that’s the kind of man you are.”  She said confidently.  “They have to let me grow up though, and trust in my ability to handle things as I see fit.  It may not be the way my dad wants, but they’re my choices and my happiness.”  She leaned back and gave him an amused look. “Seriously?  I’m pretty sure folks figuring out we’ve been having sex is what got us into this whole parent intervention.  Apparently we’re not as lowkey as we thought.  Wow, that means we’ve lost our ninja skills, Sammy.”  Because back in the day, they had been sneaky as bandits, and that was when they were being watched more closely because they were teenagers!

“I think it’s just hard. I know it’ hard for me to not think of my sister as a little kid even though she’s like a teenager now. She wears makeup and talks about boys...I’m like ‘no, but you’re six!’ But like I get that she’s not. I just don’t want her to grow up.” He sighed. “You are beautiful and smart. Don’t let him make you feel less than that.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We’re not as sneaky because we don’t need to be sneaky cause we’re grown.” He laughed. “I’m not scared for people to know I’m hooking up with the hottest girl on the planet.”

“She’s still got some years left for you to enjoy.  The one you need to be worrying about is your fast little brother.” She laughed softly. “His girlfriend is absolutely adorable and sweet as can be though, so even if he acts like Royce sometimes, he picks better girls.”  She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close. “Hmm, coming from the most handsome, sexy, and lovable man in the universe? I’ll take it.”

Royce was in his toasty warm truck just grinning like a fool at the two ridiculous people sitting outside.  He understood where the parents were coming from in the sense that if you love someone you should just be with them and stop lying to yourselves.  And maybe it was because he was younger, but he also saw Sam and Mercedes reasoning, even though he thought it was bullshit.  She was already making time for him, and yes, it may not be as much as either of them wanted, but that would change in time if he was willing to stick it out.  He was tempted to roll down the windows and start blasting “All My Life” by K-Ci and JoJo, but he figured he’d leave them alone after the horrendous day they’d had so far.

Sam smiled, feeling like maybe Mercedes was starting to feel better. “Yeah, but I’m going to miss her being small in a weird way. Stevie, on the other hand, is...I don’t know where he gets all of that from. I’m gonna blame Royce even though I can’t prove it.” He glanced back at the older man, wondering what the heck he might be doing in the car. It was the feeling of Mercedes’ arms around him that drew his attention back to her. “I don’t think I’m all that, but if you think that, then I’m feeling myself.”

“He’s already got the Evans looks and from what I’ve seen, heard, and experienced, Evans men know how to woo a lady.” She wrinkled her nose slightly, even though she couldn’t really feel it because of the cold.  “Trust me, most women always do a double take when you’re around, you’re super fine.”  And she meant that too, because she had been witness to all the looks whenever they ventured out of his apartment.  Sam was usually oblivious, but he could be living that Royce kind of life if he wanted to, with different girls every week.  She knew that wasn’t really his style, but the man had options if he ever did decide to see how the other half lived.

“He may have the Evans look, but he refined it the Jones way,” Sam teased, shaking his head. “Your brother is a bad influence on my brother.” He cuddled her even closer and shoved his hand into his pocket. “They can look all they want. I’m probably just looking at you.” He smiled at her, wondering if she knew just how many guys looked at her. He felt really honored to be the one she allowed to be with her.

“My brother is a bad influence on everybody,” she laughed. “But he is a good big brother, when he isn’t driving me crazy.”  She looked up at him and she felt that feeling in her chest.  The one where she wanted to stay in his arms as much as possible.  She kissed his chin, mainly because that’s as far as she could reach without standing on her tiptoes.  “C’mon, we should get in the truck before Royce starts doing something embarrassing, he’s been quiet for way too long.”

With a laugh, Sam glanced over at Royce again before he pulled Mercedes into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. “True, but I just wanna make sure we’re both good with just ignoring our parents and doing what we want?” He grinned down at her and winked. He’d be okay if she wanted to cool it, but it wasn’t his first choice. Still, he was going to leave it up to her.

“We’ve already got some cool time coming, I’m already sad that January is going to be a Sam-less month, but my grown ass self has a lot of school to get ahead on and then there will be show rehearsals for the tour.”  She gave him a slight smirk.  “But that is only going to make your birthday all the better.” She wiggled her eyebrows playfully. “We’re good, Sammy.  Our parents will deal, we’re smart and responsible adults.”

“Sweet honey biscuits, would you two kiss already and put me out of my misery?”  Royce called from the truck.  “Stevie just texted me that they’re about to start playing UNO, and our moms are straight gangstas and kick our dads asses and I want to witness it.”

“You do know it’s weird that you wanna watch me and your sister kiss, right?” Sam didn’t give Royce a chance to think about it before his lips found Mercedes’ in a heated kiss as he bent her backwards. He took his time kissing her and then pulled back with a laugh. “Now we can go.”

Royce let out a loud whistle, a wide, goofy grin on his face. “This is the only time you get a pass, Evans.  Do it again and I’ll make you pay.” He was completely teasing, he liked Sam, plus he made his sister happy.

It took Mercedes a second to get her bearings after that kiss because she wasn’t expecting it. “You do realize that he is enjoying this far too much, right?” She laughed as she tugged him towards the truck. “Let’s go and enjoy the rest of our Christmas.”

[bamboozle-floozle-shiznit]

First of all:

It’s interesting, this life we live. Isn’t it? Its like a movie and you’re the main character and no one gives you a script, but you feel like everyone else is reading from one and you need to improvise lines to deal with them. Here’s the mindfuck: they’re also the main character to themselves and believe they’re improvising as they go along.

“What’s my point?” I hear you say

My point is no one really knows what they’re doing here!

Most of us are just moving along, making it up as we go. Few of us have our lives planned out and even then life hits them HARD. I learnt a lot while in University, and maybe if I was a more active blogger at the time I’d have built a decent following and made use of that to push some ideas I’ve had laying dormant. No regrets though. Making a mountain out of a mole hill was my middle name in my teens. I was almost always planning, paranoid and anxious about something. I had a good way of hiding it: Preoccupying myself with other people’s problems and having a smoke or a drink with my guys in the evenings. It was very effective, numbing the anxiety and my worries but didn’t take them away. Sometimes it added more but on most days I just sat back, relaxed and enjoyed my time with people who were like me.

Now that I’m through with my philosophical musings:

WELCOME TO THE B-SIDE OF CRAB: THE DOUBLE LP by TOSAN

Hey guys! I promised a double post this weekend right? Here it is. I hope you’re happy. Bother. I deserve an accolade, blogging is a bitch to do, I love it but still.

So this post will have two topics in it:

My NYSC Experience

A life lesson I wish to share for my readers

The two will be interwoven because they’re relevant to each other, but it will be obvious when I am talking about one over the other.

In my final year of University I was extremely pressured to make it to a 2:1. In the previous post I told y’all I got out with a 3.56 but didn’t tell you how. It was a long push from my 300 level when I realized if I kept slacking I’d finish “badly”. So, I went hard and studied and was so anxious that I’d fail but I ended up getting to it. It felt really good because people knew I was on a 3.49 all the way to the end of my first semester of 400. I was on a 3.49 for a year!

It was after my finals that I got to 3.56 and it felt really good. The congratulations, the look on my mom’s face, my statement of result was lit so if I had to go for job interviews I’d look good.

I remember how hard I worked and how scared I was. I should’ve realized that all I needed to really do was work hard, pray and live life, be happy. I stressed till I graduated. I can’t even remember some things because of it.

Fast forward to NYSC registration and all that. I got the second batch, low-key I was stressing the registration because of placement and I wanted to serve quickly and keep it moving but it didn’t go the way I wanted because I didn’t get the first batch. I was sad but it ended up for good because I was able to graduate, celebrate my birthday and buy materials and learn from others mistakes because I went with the second batch. Also I was able to pick my certificate in peace. Some of my mates don’t have it yet cause they’re in other states. See why you shouldn’t stress?

Camp was quite the experience. I was at Lagos camp, some of you will hiss and say just Iyana Ipaja, it was sha still camp and if you don’t think it was worth it because it was close, that’s your cuppa tea.

So let’s develop a system before I start narrating the experience. I’ll divide it into weeks so I can summaries and I remember that I promised we won’t have a repeat of my month recap in the previous post.

You know what, fuck that. Take it how I type it.

So my first week was interesting. I was still trying to get used to it all. The bugle, the meals, the morning parade and all. I was in boarding school for my Junior Secondary Years so it was not that hard.

This was a typical day at camp, NOT ACCURATE, just a loose replication

4:45 : Morning Parade

7am: Breakfast

9am: Lectures

12:30: SAED

2PM: LUNCH

4PM: Man O War/Drills

6:30PM: Dinner

8:30pm: Socials (or for some of us Mami Flexing)

10:30PM: Lights out

So, as you can see it was a regimented life. Except Sundays.

Ordinary first day o, I got to the gate and this gate man saw matches abi was it lighter and was disturbing my life about if I smoke, telling me he will not do anything, bla bla me I was looking at him like

I acted all innocent. In the end he let me go.

God. Registration. REGISTRATION.

SEE, THIS LIFE, OBSERVE YOUR SURROUNDINGS.

Over 1000 smelly Nigerians gathered at the door of a hall and we were all tired. I had no idea I could’ve waited till the next day. Took it so seriously, put it on my head like a hawker and stayed there for hours. It wasn’t that bad though. I got in pretty early and registered did it all. I got Platoon 1.

Wait. I need to do this:

PLATOON1!!!! ACTION!!!!!

PLATOON WAAAAANNN!!!! ACTION!!!!

Okay I’m done.

So I got Platoon 1. S/O to Aunty Chioma, Poppin lady. She was awesome. We were the best platoon btw, I’m not hyping, we had the most 1sts and had the Overall best Corp member. Our Platoon leader Mr. Maleghemi Joseph aka Mr. Macho aka RJ aka baddest rapper, and inspirational leader.

After getting my platoon, I went in to get a room. See that my room ehn, we started very well but then I started to have issues with some of them because they made me welfare officer and some guy was being difficult. I digress. I went back to finish registration after getting settled in my room and got my kit . Please if your father works at NYSC, slap him for me, if it’s the two parents, slap them and then slap yourself. These people made us fill our sizes in the online registration and then we got there and almost everyone got random sizes. I was actually lucky and I got a goo jacket and crested vest. The rest were OP: OFF POINT.

I took the kit and chose not to slim them in camp because I wasn’t going to get bled dry just to look good, I found a way to look presentable for the Swearing in Ceremony.

The days went by and I applied for OBS. For those who don’t know, OBS is Orientation Broadcasting Service, the coordinators were from an older batch. S/O to Femi, Yetunde, TTuoyo, Ifeanyi and DJ Fingaz! I was advised to join OBS by my brother who was also in OBS and loved it. So I went for the interview and turns out I was good enough, they even made me Head of Editorial, that is the part of OBS that handles announcements and programmes. The engineering side handles Sound and Setup for Programmes. I was happy, not knowing that was the beginning of my problems in camp. 😦

Some fun activities I engaged in include:

Man o War Obstacle Course

Drilling (Marching Drills)

Drama (Qualifiers)

Dance (1st)

Talent hunt (3rd)

Kitchen duty (yeah, it was fun somehow)

OBS duties.

Other activities included:

Football (disqualified 😂)

Table tennis(QF)

Volleyball(1st)

Miss Petite (3rd)

Big, bold and Beautiful (Qualifiers)

SAED presentation ( 1st)

Lions den(3rd)

Debate (Quarter finals)

Cooking competition (2nd)

I engaged in some more than others and some “took my blood. Man O War literally got me slightly injured when I went the second time. (I went twice don’t ask how) I didn’t engage in drills past the first week because it clashed with other things I was doing. Dance I didn’t engage in fully, just some rehearsals. I did engage fully in drama but we didn’t get past the first stage. No regrets though it was fun. Our drama was about a village with Lassa fever and two corp members who came to the village to start a health center and a stubborn dibia (my humble self) who wouldn’t accommodate them. He ended up getting the disease too and was treated..

BUT

  We were robbed of the second round in that play. It’s my blog let me vent. A young nigga like me, I wrote the script, and my lovely friend and someone who I admire from the depths of my heart, Faith, was stage manager and director. S/O to Ekene, Precious, Tobi, Uche, Jennifer, Vicky, , Make-up, Emmanuel, Stage hands, The guards, Extras,David (Director also but he was always busy drumming for dancers) and anyone I forgot.

We were the second platoon to present a play and the drama was spread across three days. We got the loudest applause for our day and even had to do an impromptu closing that we didn’t plan for and the crowd LOVED IT. So how, you ask, did we not qualify. Turns out on the final day another God forsaken platoon , platoon 9, did the same thing but executed it better. When we watched the second round, I wondered how some of the other platoons with a horrible play qualified over us. Some said it was because they forgot us since no one from our day qualified. Uh, Bullshit. Whatever. I still hold a grudge against them. I lost my voice over that play.

Dance group was amazing. They were first position. I’m glad I was able to famz their rehearsals and be on the group chat.

We also won Mr. Macho thanks to Joseph.

For the talent hunt i was reluctant to audition but Faith egged me on and when I did the judges said I gave the best performance of the day.

I perform like Josh Norman, I ain’t normal, nigga

Unfortunately, i couldn’t replicate it in the finals.

  How? Well, we were third in the Talent Hunt, also thanks to Joe and I performed but apparently my mic wasn’t working I was told. Dunno why the judges didn’t stop me and tell me.

We were first in volleyball, that was for babes.

OBS was crazy. It was fun but we didn’t take advantage of our opportunities to be remembered because we were all not serious. I even chased one dead guy from the thing sef. I fell sick from the stress at a point.

We also had a camp carnival and a special night when Small Doctor, KENNYBLAQ, Ruggedman, 9ice and ahost of other scame through.

OOO, Tobi Bakre from Big Brother came and most of the girls lost their shit:

Some girls were like:

  One weirdo in particular did this

HAHA YOU THOUGHT.

The food was… Food. I ate it sometimes but mostly patronized Mami.

All in all it was quite the experience

Tips for prospective corp members

Carry money at least 20k

Make friends but good with everyone

Try to enter your room first when they’re allocating so you can pick a good spot.

Don’t charge you phone at Mami if you can help it. People’s panels got destroyed because so many phone were charging.

Use the laundry if you can’t wash. There’s never really time. Laundry’s cheap.

Balance the days you eat at Mami.

Befriend your platoon inspectors.

Be active in camp, it’s a stepping stone to success.

Over rules

Come a day early or a day late. Not on the main day.

Carry your credentials. All of them. Especially certificate and statement of result and an ID card

Join an SDG group.

Don’t dodge morning parade if you can, Information is  passed and Man O War chants are really fun

Be humble, do not engage soldiers when they order you because they’re just following orders. They will miss you when you are gone.

Take a leadership role in camp at least once. It builds character and patience

Carry a Sweater, preferably white, for Cold days and Shades for Hot days

One fulfilling moment in camp was when I was recognized by the Camp commandant. We had a bad start because he came to chase us from rehearsals when it was coinciding with drill and I threw a fit. He saw it and was pissed and I legit stared him down till my platoon mates pushed my head to look down as a sign of submission. Then I apologized. In the final night of camp I came to drop asun and drinks for my OBS colleagues assigned to the staff party, he called me and reminded me of the altercation and said I changed his mind about me because I was really active for my platoon all over camp and he also saw me Emceeing the Camp Carnival. I was blushing like a fool because he is known to be very difficult. His nickname is delete because he chased a couple corp members from camp, yeah, he de-camped them and so he threatened others with the term. His favourite quote “I will delete you!” .

The man ended up being most popular camp official. See why you should not fuck with anyone, just be a badass and people will love you. This was me

It felt good to be recognized and I learnt that people are always watching and admiring from afar when you do good or bad, you end up building a reputation for something. So don’t look for recognition just enjoy when it comes to you and do good in any endeavor you’re in.

Now to the life lessons I learned

Don’t take yourself too seriously: in camp I fell sick because I was stressed by someof the activities I was involved in. OBS was tasking because of a certain man who keppt threateningly us cause we were pretty lazy tbh and I’m ashamed about that. I took things on my head and rarely asked for help

Ask for help: people around you are ready to do things if you ask nielg. Even as a leader delegate wok and remind them that you trust them and need them. Don’t boss them around. It’s hard to remember in the eat of the moment of.but if you do you’ll make a great leader

Challenge yourself and Do it: if you feel like doing anything, do it. Don’t be shy or scared because fear is an illusion. Even if it is something you have never done, challenge yourself. If you feel nervous tell yourself you’re excited and your body is gearing up to shock the world. It works!

Have a support system: every other day I’d go to Mami with pals and drink and gist. Having a support system to take care of you when you’re stressed and need to vent helps you get over things. I appreciate my friends I made in camp and they’re all headed for greatness.

Be disciplined: I watched my friend Joseph in camp and noticed that the he was highly disciplined. Probably from his man o War days. Admired that. He was also platoon leader ad when he became most outstanding corp member. I was screaming in elation because he desred it.

Celebrate yourself and others: I know I said I had a grudge with the drama thing but really it’s no biggie. Learn to celebrate others victories and also be kind to yourself when. You lose. I learnt that from Faith who I told I’m always hard on myself that it won’t do me any good. I learnt to take it easy and always be kind to myself. So I’m leaving that with y’all!

DANCE: God I danced well in that case. Dancing is a joyous activity. You don’t need to know all the latest steps just have fun at the party. Or even if it’s not a party, play some music and dance. Take someone else along to dance with you, especially if you are the shy type. You’ll be happier for it

Ignore naysayers and Don’t be a naysayer: Ignore people who tell you you can’t do it. In the words of Kanye West. “Any pessimist I don’t talk to them, plus I ain’t have no phone in my apartment. ” Also don’t be a naysayer. Be a cheerleader!

Be grateful: gratitude goes a long way. Be grateful to God, to your neighbour, to the air, and everything around. When you can remember to just say thank you to think air. It sounds like some mystic weird zen shit but it works either way

Everything works out for good: While trying to crate this post I typed on my phone and my laptop but I did not have the full draft on PC, so when I got to work this evening, I did not see the full draft. I tried to connect my phone to the work Wi-Fi and it was misbehaving. I panicked a bit but in the end  I called the neighboring hotel that is under the company and got it reset and voila! Do not sweat the small stuff, the extra time I got helped me refine the post for your reading pleasure and  I got an idea I will share at the bottom of the post!

So, that’s that!

Here are some pictures from camp!

      Sometimes I will do reviews of the songs of the week courtesy Wax Poetic. I will also do movie reviews and opinion polls.

Next week’s topic will be about the candidates running for the office of President. I will do an expose on them. Also, its payday! Yaay, so i will be doing my first giveaway. So check in on my next post next weekend!

If you want me to review your album or track or want me to do something on this blog or a collaboration with you, hit me up here. I won’t review my upcoming project because it’s unethical.

See y’all next week

  Give some love to a stranger today

BYE

CRAB: THE B SIDE First of all: It's interesting, this life we live. Isn't it? Its like a movie and you're the main character and no one gives you a script, but you feel like everyone else is reading from one and you need to improvise lines to deal with them.

[burndownthehousetonight]

((I just finished up an RP with @wolvesbotsetc! It’s kind of short, but for something that was finished in about a day, it was pretty lengthy! All y’all go check his blog out, he’s a cool dude! ❤))

It was almost too perfect. No, not the junior police officers who just had to chase after some suspected thief and be the hero of the day, but where he ended up. A long-abandoned city townhouse with the only back entrance being the broken fire escape? It was too crazy to think someone would jump onto something that broken, yet alone in this kind of pouring rain. Especially not some fresh-off-the-press officers with the combined abilities of a termite. The clutter from his cheap backpack was thankfully inaudible over the pounding storm. The sound of the officers' footsteps fading away from the building was replaced by the sound of rain echoing through the building. It was strangely soothing, given how violent the rain itself was. And it looked like some old furniture was left in this mess dating back for decades. It was definitely robbed of anything of value long before, but maybe it would be a fun place to snoop around. As the hedgehog walked around, he would hear a small buzzing behind a door, something… mechanical. No breathing could be heard, just… buzzing. As he walked forward, a small light could be seen under the door. Was someone actually here? Or was it just some strange valuable that stayed on this whole time? Impossible. This place must have been left to rot in the nineties, there's no way anything from then would still be running. He waited and watched. The same buzz and glow. The echoes made it hard to concentrate, but he was sure he didn't hear any breathing. Maybe someone left something in here? A flashlight, probably. He technically wasn't wrong. There was an electronic left in the building. But it wasn't a flashlight, or anything he might have expected or even thought of. He didn't expect an entire robot with eyes that appeared to be the guts of flashlights repurposed into the voids of the face, like some strange Frankenstein's monster of engineering. Its cold eyes and segmented tail reminiscent of a spine would have been terrifying normally, except... was it cold? It was covered in water and appeared to be shivering. For as unnatural as it looked, it acted strangely natural. Not just natural, but vulnerable. "Uh... Are you alright?" Rob looked up before letting a few sparks fly, apparently the source of the buzzing. “Who are you,” it said in a low, blunt voice. “I can’t imagine you own these shambles.” He said, trying to get up before sparking and falling. “Error: Water levels too high for movement function, rust levels 60%,” before going back to it’s regular voice. “Great… can’t move til I dry now… probably shouldn’t have let it all seep in…” he said to himself. Manic had heard his brother speak tall tales of fighting a robot version of himself. He dismissed it as garbage. Now he realized that these kinds of robots might not have been as impossible as he thought. He looked around, but there was nothing like a towel or rag in the area. All he had was an athletic backpack and... "Uh, here, dude, would this help?" He put his backpack down on the ground and took off his vest. It was slightly damp - Manic had thankfully gotten out of the rain barely after it started. There was a moment of hesitation before he stepped forward, and placed it over the robot's chest like it was a towel. "You are- You're a real robot. I'm not seeing things or anything, right?" But the rust felt real enough, and the arms were far too thin for this to be some intricate costume. Somehow, this wasn't fake. The bot looked at him, grimacing. “Oh yes, I’m a big ball of flesh and fur underneath a big hunk of metal. That’s why I’m shooting sparks, and why I’m repeating error messages I’m forced to report whenever I’m waterlogged. Totally a mobian,” he replied, jerking the towel away from him and wiping himself off. "Alright, I gave you my vest so you WOULDN'T be sparking and making error messages." Manic fired back. "Now are you gonna drop the sass and let me help you out, or do you want me to jet and leave you to rust in this dump?" A completely hollow threat, but Manic didn't ever want to put up with this kind of sarcasm. He stood up, and looked around, still in disbelief. "If you're done being salty, I'm gonna check the other rooms for bedsheets or whatever." He hurried out into the other rooms, scanning around and eventually stumbling across a tired and weathered old bedsheet. It was full of holes, but it was the best they had for the situation. That situation being absolutely bizarre, of course. What the hell had he just stumbled across? The bot watched him as he got back. “Why are you here anyways, huh? You have to be hiding from someone. And considering I’ll be here, and you’re seeming to make yourself at home, I assume you’ll be here too. So spill.” "No one likes a snoop, buddy." Manic said. "I'm helping you out here, ain't I?" He knelt down next to him, half wanting to slap his metal face and wholly wanting him to stop bugging him. The sheets weren't comfortable to the touch, but they absorbed water just fine. Not that it mattered much, given how rusty he was. He kept giving Manic that glare. "Alright, you want an answer? I'm a thief." He lifted the robot's arm, and started patting it with the sheet. "But I ain't robbing anyone randomly. Some dude was being a dick to me, so I was a dick and took some random crap from him. You happy?" The cat nodded, “I see…” he said, looking off as he dried himself as best he could, before handing the rest of the blanket to the hedgehog. “You want something to listen to?” He asked from out of nowhere, looking at the other. Manic looked out through the hole where a window once sat. The rain was coming down just as hard, and it seemed like this guy wasn't going to be able to leave any time soon. Besides, he didn't want to get drenched, either. "Uh- let's try this again, dude." He sighed out, still slightly bitter. "I'm Manic. I mean, if you wanna listen to something, go ahead, but how-" This was the first time he really noticed the two antennaes he had instead of ears. He tuned through the variety of stations, a mix of sup-par popular music stations and more decent variety shows. "Wait, dude, uh-" He didn't want to say anything TOO stupid. "You ever tune in to the really low frequency stations? There're some really good music stations down there, and some reeeeeeally bad ones." The cat gave him a slightly odd look, but nodded, going lower, tuning into a few number stations, amateur kids trying to do radio, before finally settling on a hard rock station, turning it to a low volume and letting the music play through speakers buried in his chest. “Rob,” he said, holding out his hand. “Not a fan of my name, but it’s what the creator wanted so… apparently he likes puns.” Manic gave an approving nod and returned the handshake in a way he would call casual and cool, but anyone else would call lazy. "Please tell me your full name ain't robot," he said, visibly cringing at the thought. "That'd be like naming your kid 'spawn' or 'offspring', wouldn't it?" No, he didn't want to insult his name any more. "I mean, you've got good taste in music, but I thought you'd WANT to be all sassy?" Manic joked. He kept staring at his acquaintance, and the strangely natural ways his body moved and folded as he moved. "I'm sorry, dude, I ain't ever met a robot before, this is a lot to take in." He noticed a plug on the back of his neck. He hadn't seen this kind of socket on any modern equipment. Combined with the rust, he was clearly older than he was designed to look. "Who are you? Like, aside from just a sassy robot, I mean." He let out a soft sigh. “You’d be half wrong. Full name is Ro-bert. It sucks in every aspect of the word,” he scoffed, before answering the hedgehog. “I was made… 42 years ago. I was meant to be a butler of the future… look how well that turned out.” He sighed. “I think I was deactivated…. 10 years after I was actually made." "Deactivated?" It caught Manic off-guard. "You were in some kind of statis, or whatever?" There were probably times when any of this rust could have been removed or prevented, but that was clearly no longer the case. He must have simply reactivated one day with new newfound decay. "Woah... That's some heavy stuff." He never wanted to be heavy. His brother was Sonic, of course he liked being goofy and excited. As he looked at Rob and started desperately hoping that Rob wasn't going to think of it as creepy, he noticed how plain his metal was. Not that it was ugly, but there wasn't any branding or anything of the sort. "I mean, dude, you don't have Rob printed on you or anything. Hell, even if it was, it must've rotted away by now. You can choose a name for yourself, people do it all the time." He made a grin that, even to a robot, said that there was something mischievous rattling around his brain. "Maybe 'Salty'? Or 'Smarmy Boy'?" The robot looked at him. “You will call me nothing of the sort. And I have no name I like more, I hate them all. I don’t understand why names are even used, it could just be numbers or something of the sort.” "Okay, I'm gonna sound real nancy for saying this," Manic said, already laughing at his doubtless ridiculous response. "But my sis? She's got a kid, and she says it's all about 'having a WISH for your CHILD!'" He enunciated everything in that overly snobby tone her husband used. "Like Sonia? It means wisdom, I think. You name your kid Sonic; It means fast, so you want him to be fast. You name your kid Manic; It's a kind of depression, so he's gonna get diagnosed with depression." Given his chuckle, he clearly wasn't broken up about that fact. "Hold on, I like giving people nicknames, gimme a second." He looked at rob as he was drying. Of course, a bunch of very silly ideas came to mind, although maybe calling him 'killbot seventeen' or 'Yog Sothoth's Automaton of Ultimate Death' would have been insensitive. But hell, his only experience with robots was bad horror and sci-fi movies, and this dude was just basically a normal guy who couldn't handle the rain. ...Right, he forgot about the rain. "Uh, dude, you feeling any better? You think you can move now? The robot tried to get up, wincing at the thought of falling down and repeating damn error messages. Remarkably though, he was fine. “Seems most things have dried up,” he replied back, giving a small smirk. “Thank you, Manic,” he said, before sitting back down. “Though it’s not much help if I can’t leave but… at least I can walk.” "Whaddya mean, not much help?" Manic scoffed. "You've got walking legs and like, three empty, decrepit awful rooms in some crappy building to explore. That's more than two rooms! You telling me you can't stay entertained with all of the option you have?" "Hey, speaking of entertaining," Manic said, "If you wanna be smarmy, remember when I said there's weird stuff on low frequency stations? I found this one channel, and- I think some dude just got a transmitter, and he's trying to do his own show? It's just the dumbest conspiracy theories, like, all day. If we're stuck here, might as well riff on something that ain't my face, you know? Wanna check it out?" As joking and silly as Manic was, he clearly wasn't stuck here. But Rob sure was. And even if he did have stolen goods on hand, he still wasn't gonna get caught in somewhere like this. The robian tuned in, before looking over. "So why are you still here?” He asked, looking over “You aren’t stuck here, and it’s been silent outside for ages now” "Eeeh, more than before." It was still raining, but the pop-up shower had let up to a more moderate rainfall, rather than the buckets earlier. "I mean, you're still stuck here 'til the rain's over, right? You shouldn't just sit around in some dump alone for a while. Especially if you're gonna need maintenance like that, or whatever. Suffering's better with someone else, you know?" Manic didn't seem to get how thoughtful his sentiment was. He just sat where he was near Rob, listening to the radio station he tuned in. Odd, he wasn't mocking it or anything. The robot let out a sigh, looking down. “I don’t really need maintenance, and I've been a loner for most of my reactivation time… it’s not that terrible to be alone in my opinion…” he said, trailing off into thought. He couldn't see any kind of controls for the radio, they must have all been internal. Still, as Rob trailed off into thought, so did the volume until it was just a murmur. "I mean, yeah, I get that, dude." Manic finally responded with. "But I mean, company don't hurt, either." Still, they had gotten off on the wrong foot. Maybe he wasn't over Manic's sass yet. "Do you want me to go, dude?" The robot shook his head. “I don’t mind either way. I'd probably leave too if it weren't for the rain…” he said, before his right pupil light flickered off. “Shitty bulbs…” That was just sad. The rust and earlier errors were enough to make Manic sympathize, but one of his eyes blowing out? It looked like he was just falling apart in front of Manic. He should have found meeting an anthropomorphic robot cool. But he was very far past his prime, and if his creators abandoned him, he was likely far away from anyone who knew how to repair him. Manic opened his backpack. All of the things he'd taken from that guy who used to live a few apartments down from Manic were just meaningless trinkets, none of which had any kind of bulbs attached. "Alright, if I'm not wrong, I think there's an electronics shop like two blocks away? You know what bulb that is? If you're fine waiting, I could pop out and get you a new one." He couldn't help being a sentimental person. He couldn't leave someone alone in this state! “I need no fixing,” he stated. “I’m a shamble already, nothing can fix that. I’m better off falling apart until I’m a mangle of machinery and rusted metal. Just like the living things of this earth. I've served my purpose, apparently poorly at that,” he said, “don’t waste your time.” "Because you're a lost cause at this point," Manic said, almost sounding annoyed or moching. "You had potential, but you failed to serve it, and don't have any more potential, so you have to make due, and all that shit." Manic looked almost angry at this point. Some switch inside him had been flipped. "What, you think you're the first person to think these thoughts? Tons of us have had to live with self loathing. I know what you're gonna say, so don't insult yourself, mate. You're a sentient robot built on antiquated tech, you know how incredible that is? You know how incredible you could be with a few modern upgrades? You know how much you could do if you DON'T give up and let yourself rot away." He was standing now, almost shouting his words at him. "You're NOT a waste of space, and don't give me that 'wasted purpose' bullshit." He squatted down, getting on eye level with him. "Now, you're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “You aren’t doing shit for me. You aren’t my creator, you aren’t my owner, you're just some thief who happened upon me. And I don’t want to be upgraded. I don’t want to have to be shut down yet again just for someone to put me in some new material or do some stupid shit for me just so it can degrade and rust again, and again, and again. If I am turned off again, I want to stay off, so I never have to stand on the planet and wonder what my purpose is as everything around me gets replaced. People, plants, buildings, planets, everything that lives gets replaced by something better, and they want everything they have to be replaced by better and better things. I want to stay the same, damnit. I’m not replacing this bulb, and you aren’t about to fix me.” Manic listened. He listened to every word, and absorbed every meaning. "Like I said, you think you're the first person to have these thoughts?" He said quietly. "Everyone's looking for a purpose, a meaning, whatever. And yeah, watching the world and all this crap get replaced is shitty. But you ain't the fashion or phones or whatever that change overnight, you've got a consciousness. Even if it's old 70s hardware, you're a person. A robotic, metal person, but you're still a damn person. And conciousness doesn't just change in a night." He squatted in front of Rob as he spoke. "If you want to stay the same and enjoy what you've got, good. That's what every other Mobian's living with. But you clearly don't wanna rust. Yeah, you say you hate yourself, and you say you wanna rot, but what about when you get waterlogged, hm? What about when you're rusting to death in some pile of rubble? You snatched my vest immediately, don't act like you hesitated. You don't want this to happen, and you know it. And even if you still wanna die for some reason, I'm watching you have a good time those last few days, got it?" He spoke strangely severely. "You ain't dying miserably on my watch. And again," he said as he pointed and waved his finger at Rob, "You're dropping the loathing bullshit, and you're telling me what kinda bulb that is, and you're letting me help you clean up. Got it?" “I don’t say I want to die, I say if I die I don’t want to wake up again. The void is nice. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to do. what pains me is when I have to be powered back on by some flesh person, I have to have every single idea, every single memory, every single movement pushed back into my soul, as I start up. Imagine if when you woke up from your “sleep” and had every single memory, good, bad, or indifferent, shoved back into your mind, and you have to watch them flood back in. Imagine suddenly having to relearn every single thing your body does in the blink of an eye, from the legs up. It’s utter hell, not to mention if someones crammed an upgrade into you, or a new outer casing, or some other shitty thing that’ll break down in 5 years, you have to have all that memory shoved into you too.” He said, staring at the hedgehog with a piercing, 1 eyed one voided gaze. “You wouldn’t want to sleep ever again, would you?” Manic stared back, racing for something to say. But there was nothing he could say. It was such an extreme case, he couldn't relate himself to anything that was coming out of his mouth. It did sound like torture, Manic couldn't argue anything he said. He just had to take every word he said. "I guess I've got no idea what you're going through, dude." He spoke gently. "I really do wanna help, dude, but I guess I've got normal Mobian problems. I think I'd say the same things." He sighed. "But people can still help you, dude, without turning you off. If you don't feel pain, you could get like, patchwork metal attached if you want that. I guess if you don't ever want to have to start up, then don't let yourself turn off. But you already know that." The moment was uncomfortable, and the damp air didn't help. "Are you gonna be alright? Like, mentally?" He sighed. “I wasn’t built to have sanity, so there’s no point in asking that…” he said, laying down and looking up. “40 watt bulb, as long as it’s a screw in it should work,” he finally muttered, sighing. “Be quick.” Manic hesitated for a moment, before giving him a pat on the shoulder and bolting out of the building. He'd walked in worst rain storms than this. It was just water, he'd be fine. He thought over every word Rob had said time and time again, trying to come up with something he could say that might have helped. Something silly, or serious, just something that wouldn't make him feel worse than Manic likely already made him feel. He was gone and back in maybe ten minutes tops. "Alright, they had the same brand at this place, so you're in luck." Manic sat down next to Rob, hesitating fiddling with his eyes. "Uh, this isn't gonna hurt, is it?" But the replacement was easy, simply removing one appliance bulb and putting in another. Although from as little time as they'd spent together, Rob knew that smug, mischievous grin meant he probably had another dumb joke in mind. "Hey, you won't beleive what they had." Manic reached into the bag, and pulled out- was that just a metal box? "I think it's supposed to be something you put circuitry in, or something? I mean, it looks pretty close to these curves on your arm," he explained, indicating a hole rusted into his arm. "I've got a soldering iron back in my van, we could probably cut it to shape and get that baby covered up." The cat shook his head. “I don’t need it, I work fine without any metal there,” he said, sighing as the light flickered back into existence. “But thank you…” he said, looking over. “So… after this… what next? You just gonna go steal more stuff?” Manic laughed and smiled. "The days when I needed to steal to get by are loooong gone, dude. I've got other jobs and hobbies and crap!" He smiled, and looked away. "Actually, I do a lot of music stuff. I'm a singer and a drummer. Sometimes guitar, but my playing's kinda... Meh?" He wiggled his hand and grimaced as he spoke. "I was just gonna head home and get tuned up, but I've got a show tonight. There's this pizza place near that Honey Clothing store, 'Meltdown', that I play at weekly. Every Thursday at eight." He smirked, and looked over at him. Despite what he said next, he said it like any other joke, sticking his tongue out and making a stupid grin. "So, you wanna come and watch? The self-loathing brigade needs to stick together, after all." The cat shrugged. “Maybe if the rain lets up before that… not like I have anything else to do that is,” he said, shrugging. "Don't get too excited," Manic sassed. He quickly regained his normal happy tone, reaching under his vest. "Hey, I always have some of my CDs with me." He rummaged through a hidden pocket, pulling out a CD with a surprisingly 80s styles label. "I dunno if you've got a player, but if you do... Want a taste before you see it live? Or wanna experience the real deal?" The cat looked at him, shaking his head. “No cd player that I know of, and i know everything about my body… so…” "Come on, you're a futuristic robot! Just cram it in your mouth, chomp it down! That probably wouldn't kill you dead!" Manic was back to his goofy ways. "Well, whatever, dude, guess you're hearing it all live. Don't worry, it ain't screamo or anything. Come on, have a good time, just distract yourself from your bad thoughts and have some fun!" As much as he joked and messed around, he was still somewhat taken aback by everything Rob shouted at him. "Hey, uh, do you have a phone or anything?" He said, reaching back into his vest and pulling out his own. "I know what that stuff's like. If you ever want to just hang out on a bad day or rant it out or whatever, you can hit me up, alright? You want my number?" The cat nodded, as he pulled out a phone from an inner storage area on his leg. “Only text though, phones don’t pick up my voice,” he said. "Really? That's kinda wicked," Manic admitted. He started pressing Rob's number into his phone. "But seriously, dude, I know you don't think much of yourself, and I know you don't think you're programmed for sanity, but don't let those kinds of thoughts run you, alright? People don't just wanna watch each other suffer, they wanna see each other thrive. People are good, dude." "...Even if they're just street thieves with bad hair." Maybe he wasn't the laughing type, but he was still starting to enjoy the time they spent together. And hell, maybe if he chose the right songs, he could get some genuine smiles out of him at the show later. "The rain's starting to clear up, I think. You mind if I head out, dude? I gotta get ready for the show." The robot nodded, heading off to the fire escape to look out and check, soon confirming that the rain had stopped. He stepped out, before looking at the hedgehog. “See you there”. With that, he walked off. Manic watched him walk away for a moment... and then turned around to grab his bag. He had a lot to do. He had to put on clothes that didn't smell like a decayed building, he had to get ready for his set... ...and he had to put together the perfect set list to make sure he'd get a smile out of him.