#and this mornings conversation went like this 'has he (spanish student of my sisters that is my age and learning english from her

[mangoofthesea]

.

[crestomanci]

Synopsis

             “The Lost Princess” follows the story of Nick Sullivan, a girl that finds out, on her sixteenth birthday, that she is the daughter of a queen and is summoned to ascend to the throne as the princess of Combellmont island. She initiates, then, a difficult and dangerous journey that could put not only her life at risk as everyone’s she loves.

Chapter 1

           What do I know about my mom? What a tough question. Besides all the biological processes I’ve learned in school, like genetics and stuff, I only know some physical characteristics: she was tall, the prettiest lady my father has ever known, and she smelled like mint. And that’s all I know because whenever I talked about her, my father always was already drunk and I needed to help him out and take him from his armchair to his bed.

           I’ve never tried to pressure him in order to get information, though, since he always looked so ashamed of himself the next morning and I didn’t want to make him feel sad… Or make me sad. After all, the feelings I’ve grown towards my mom were migrating between sadness and anger. How could someone leave their child with some guy she’d only met once and then never tries to keep in touch? Okay, I was lucky enough that my dad was a cool guy and took me in, but this doesn’t make her less guilty at all.

           I wonder if she ever wanted to know where her daughter could be for these past 15 years. If she has ever asked herself if I was okay, if I went to school, if my dad treated me nicely… Nothing? Then, after a while, I started to believe that she never loved me. That I was a mistake she made during a U2 concert after tons of beer and that I didn’t matter to her.

I got up from my bed and decided not to think about her. The less I knew, the less it would hurt, and today I was supposed to be happy, right? Because it was my sixteenth birthday. “Happy Birthday, Nick”, I said to myself. My dad was surely still asleep and I would only see him at night.

           “Oh, crap!” twenty minutes late meant that I was late to school and this would be my third time this month. I ran as fast as I could and was able to catch the bus. Luckly, the driver was George and he always stopped for me, even when I was running late.

           “Andy again, Nick?” he asked.

           I nodded, not wanting to talk about it. Third delay of the month… This would make me stay in school after class and then I would be late for work at Tiffany&Thommy, which would not please Miss Picket. Will “I’m so so sorry, but today is my birthday and everything is nuts” work as an excuse? No. Everyone in town knew me and my dad, so it was known that whenever I was late it was because of him.

           George offered me a little red box with a white bow wrapping it around and a tiny card. “Hey, you didn’t think I'd forget, did you?”

           “George, you shouldn’t have! Thanks” I thanked and my cheeks turned red while I was getting the present, in a mist of hurry and happiness (after all, I was already late and he had taken his time to hand in the present despite knowing everyone was waiting to carry on the trip!).

           “That’s nothing, Nick. Tomorrow, tell me if you liked it. Have a great day and a happy birthday!”

           I thanked again while I started to look for a seat. The real bus to Abeley High School was deactivated because no one used it. Most of the students didn’t need to use public transportation since they had their own cars or chauffeurs, and so every single day I had to take the only bus that drove all the way to my school, when, in reality, it dropped me off two blocks away.  After spending a whole life in Abeley, I was already used to it, but I wished - as if I was about to blow my birthday cake candles - this year I’d get a car. Or that at least my dad would accept that I should start to study at the school he now works at.

I got up when we were getting closer to the stop and hurried up while going down the stairs, and ran to school.

Yeah, I was definitely late. And obviously I had to face Mr. William, after going to the principal’s office. I smiled bluntly, and then tried to sneak into his class.

“Oh, Nicolle! I can’t believe someone hasn’t given you a clock yet. I mean, we have been starting the classes at the same time since 1864, and yet…”

           I heard my entire class smothering a laughter as I gave Mr. William the piece of paper that allowed me to take his class, which was prior given to me by the principal, and, then, I went to my desk.

           Today’s history class was about smaller islands and countries all over the world. Internally, I kept telling myself that there was no use to learning all of that, once we lived in a small city closer to New York, so that subject should have been self-explanatory to us and, even though Abeley should be a school for rich people, the greatest part of us, including me, would never travel abroad. Like ever. Let alone stepping on a small island somewhere that was probably built to make money from tourists. Whatever. Mr. William had already had his moment of glory today and I didn’t need a lecture anyways, so I decided to loosen my hair and put on my earphones again, as I kept pretending that I was paying attention.

           Everyone’s goal in Abeley was to get into an Ivy League and, for the unlucky ones like me, the ultimate goal was to get a scholarship or a way out of this town. It felt weird not knowing what to do or what I’d like to become, but when people ask me about what I would like to be when I grow up, I used to lie and say I’d like to become a lawyer. Knowing my dad’s behavior, it would make total sense and that was enough to get me out of that subject during conversations, after being told that I should “hang in there” in order to become what I used to say.

           The truth was that it would be enough if I turned eighteen and convinced my father that we should leave this town or state. To build a new life in which we weren’t pity case or a subject to gossip spreaders.

           Tiffany&Thommy was a library and bookstore two blocks away from my school. It used to be owned by two brothers who have lived here since the city was founded, and I was a part-timer there. After Mr. Thommy Picket’s death, his sister needed help and I offered myself, as I needed money because my dad’s salary as a Spanish teacher was not something we could brag about.

           I apologized for being late to Miss Picket and she (with her always pleasing humor) told me to find my computer and sit down before her nephew could find the cash register and steal everything they’ve made so far, like he did last month,

           “Good evening, Nick. Are you early again?” I hear Rupert saying with his annoying British accent. He was sitting on my chair, staring at me with his weird brown eyes and dark hair.

           “Yes, Rupert. And thank you for keeping my seat warm. Now you can go.” The best solution with him was to use irony and sarcasm. After all, wanting or not, he was the future owner of that store and his aunt wasn’t looking that good anyway.

           “I don’t know why my aunt keeps you here. Or why did she hire you in the first place.”

           “Your aunt knows me since I was born, we live in the same neighborhood and she trusts me.” I was as rough as possible and then started to browse through the record book on the decrepit computer.

           He kept there, looking at what I was doing, as he was laying on the counter. I waited until he left for five minutes, but I was never known for my patience.

           “So? Do you want a book or something?” I asked, trying to smile.

           “Not really.” he replied and kept staring at me. Then, he nodded and left.

           I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, while I watched him leave.

           On my way home, I decided to open the present given by George when I was already on the bus. It was a little pendant shaped like a heart. Those in which you can put a picture on both sides. I loved it. I’m going to choose a picture of me and my dad, I thought as I got off the bus.

The weather was terrible as always and the fog made me put on my hood. When I was close to my building, I saw a man wearing a suit leaving and getting in a luxury black car that was parked on the other side of the street. I had no idea someone in town had something to do with the White House, I thought, trying not to laugh as I passed by the lobby.

The elevator was, once again, being fixed and it would take at least forty-eight hours return, so I went up the stairs hearing some of my neighbors complaining about the elevator like that would fix it faster.

After finding my keys, I saw my dad sitting on his armchair that, this time, was facing the door. He looked more tired and sadder than usual and was holding a letter.

“Dad?” I called, leaving my backpack in the hall and getting closer to him.

“Oh, Nick, you’re here” he answered and I could see that his eyes looked swollen and red. He has cried. I sighed and looked at the table, but I didn’t see any beer bottles there.

“What happened?”

“I need to talk to you. And I ordered pizza, so you don’t need to cook today. Change your clothes and take a bath, I know you must be tired.”

“That’s okay, dad. I’m fine” I claimed, feeling a little bit afraid.

He didn’t say anything else, just stood up and went to his room. I kept staring at him while he closed the door.

Ordering pizza on my birthday was almost a habit, but the conversation part… I started to bite my upper lip and picked up my backpack on the floor, but refused to take a bath. I felt nervous and anxious and waited to hear if his bedroom door would open so that I could leave mine.

When I left, he was in the living room. He had opened and served himself with a pizza slice and soda. He looked a little better as he smiled, so I sat down.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.” It was all he said, giving me a sad smile. We started to eat after that.

After I finished, I felt like something bad was about to happen and I realized he was looking at me, God knows for how long, and that the letter he was previously holding was still there, in his hand. I stopped and looked at him, wanting to know for how long he would stare without saying anything.

A couple minutes had passed, but it felt like an eternity to me. Then, he finally started:

“Nick, did I talk about your mom yesterday?”

I took a deep breath and felt a little bit relieved to realize that it wasn’t something that important after all. I was used to that kind of conversation, even though it made me sad, since he usually stood up for her in the end.

“Yes, dad, but just the usual, you know, blond, tall, smelled like mint” I remembered while I was taking my dish and got up.

“Nicolle, sit down, please” he stared at me with his blue eyes and it looked like it was an order.

I had no idea what was going on, but if it was serious enough for my dad to boss me around…

“Okay.” I agreed, sitting down again.

He looked like he was trying to control himself so that he could continue his speech.

“Nick, you know your mom handed you in when you were only six months, right?” he asked and I nodded, leaning on the couch. “Child, what I have to say is serious and I need you to handle it until the very end.”

He paused. The pizza I ate started to move around in my stomach, bothering me.

“Your mom didn’t leave you here because she wanted to, but because she needed to keep you away from the place she lived in. She had to leave you here, with me, so that I could take care of you and make you a good person. When I met her, we spent the whole week together. She told me about her world and I realized it wasn’t easy. Our story wasn’t just a concert and a single night, and I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. Actually, I’m sorry about everything I have to tell you today… You can’t imagine how much it hurts to tell everything like this. But the point is: she loved you, as much as I do love you. And last week, I discovered that unfortunately your mom has passed away.” He told me with every strength he had, even though he let some tears roll down his cheeks, which he cleaned fast. Then, he took a box from the table, one I haven’t seen before, opened it and showed me everything that was inside.

“I thought that it wasn't a good idea to tell you, dear. You always seemed hurt about your mom, but, then, today I received a message and now I have no other choice but to tell you the truth. The man that came here earlier wanted to wait for you, but I begged him to let me speak with you first. I needed to tell you the whole story. You’ve probably already studied about Europe and must know that there are a lot of small countries there. Your mom lived in one of those countries. Actually, your mom ruled one of them. When I met her, she had just received a convocation to claim the throne of Combellmont and, like any 18-year-old girl, she wanted… An adventure before her real life began. Like in the romances she used to read.

“We met when I went to live in New York. She came on a trip, running away from her hotel, and we met in the middle of Central Park. It was love at first sight and we had the best week in the world. Nine days, to be exact, but she always needed to go back and sleep at the hotel, so I left her on the street corner so that the guard that escorted her would be aware of me. Until the last day, when her sister saw and denounced us. She was grounded after that and I got beaten up by her guards. And well, I thought I’d never see her again, so needless to say it was a surprise when she came back, fifteen months later, knocking on my old Brooklyn apartment with you in her arms. She asked me to take care of you, keeping you safe and sound, away from her world. She asked me to give you a normal life until the day she would come back and explain everything. That she would do it once you turned 18… I wished she had time to do that…

“Ever since, I could only watch you grow and kept collecting everything that I saw about her. Her marriage with an ambassador that was twice her age, her coronation as queen, the birth to her first child for the media, the death of her husband and, most recently, her own death, not long after giving birth to her second child. Oh, Nick, I would have loved to tell you all of this at the right time, but it so happens that you need to know it now. This afternoon, your mom’s kingdom counselor came in and brought this letter to you. You see: with her death, it would be pleasing if her oldest royal child ascended to the throne, but she’s only a kid! And as you are, in fact, the oldest of them all… They demand you there for some kind of training. And, being crystal clear: you are obligated to do this, or they will appeal to judicial measures to make you do it anyway. They can even take you by force, Nick.”            After hearing all of that, I ran to the bathroom. My head was spinning, my face was wet with sweat and tears, and I wanted to throw up every slice of pizza I ate. My dad didn’t even dare to chase me, he just let me go.

I was overwhelmed, to say the least. My head was exploding with the wave of information I’ve received and I’ve never been so shocked in my entire life. I don’t know how long I’ve stayed there, hiding, puking, crying. I was hugging my knees against my chest, just hearing my heartbeats. How come my life turned upside down in less than one hour? My mom, a queen. Country, children, baby, my dad, kingdom… Those words were spinning in my head and making me dizzy. How come my father hid everything from me? How come my mom found it better that way? And, mainly, what was I supposed to do now? I had no clue how someone could actually obligate me to do something, after all, besides taking care of my father and the house, I’ve never had to lead, or been a leader.

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/romance/748079?utm_source=shared_web 

https://www.wattpad.com/story/274223573-the-lost-princess 

[nonsinejure]

School started last week and now that I’m busy I have been less mopey about having nothing to do. Which I dislike. Mostly because school work is just so.... I don’t love it anymore. I love my kids and interacting with them, especially my oldies whom I have seen grow up in the last four years and am so looking forward to them graduating high school, but I’m just so... tired. I need a new career, but I have no idea what to do. Well, I do. Somewhat. I’m just really chickenshit to do it :(

But things have been going okay so far this semester even though it has only been two weeks. Start of a brand new semester so I’m not really behind on too many things. It’s nice to see the kids again even though it’s all virtual. We are moving toward hybrid, though, which is a little terrifying because I can’t imagine working with two different audiences and I feel like my level of patience isn’t going to last. Ah well. Hopefully I’ll get vaccinated before they come in.

My one kid opened to me last week about their mental health last week. She was terrified of bringing it up to me and honestly if we were in person and there wasn’t a pandemic, I would have embraced her so tightly. I’m glad she brought it up and is getting the help she needed. She was worried about falling behind in AP, but of course I told her that there is no reason to. I’ll be here for her every step of the way. I was also glad that my teacher friend was also in the zoom call when that happened. We were catching up and we both had her last year, so... yeah.

I have also been learning Spanish lately via Duolingo. Spanish is fun. I don’t know why I avoided it for so long. I feel like I’m making strides. Still at the introduction level, but I am learning fast, I think. I told my one student that I’ve been learning and she was proud of me when I made a sentence, lol. I also learned how to say “I need money,” which I said to her too because it’s now my favorite. She laughed and said I have great pronunciation.

I’ve also realized since... breaking up with A that I feel less... needy for attention? During the last several months of our relationship I just felt so starved for positive attention and affection that I was going crazy - and I know I’m not the only person who felt that way. Pretty sure millions felt that same way too from being apart from their significant others, and I know for sure that he experienced the same... But like, there was no flirting, no little jokes, nothing affectionate in our conversations. During the few times we were able to meet (about 5 times from March through October), it was just... I don’t know. I wasn’t happy. When we talked everything would immediately turn sour and bitter and it was so difficult to hold a conversation without feeling so miserable. Now that it’s over I don’t feel as... sad anymore. He did reach out recently though asking if we could talk. I’ve been sick with strep all week so I wasn’t able to, but I guess I’ll have to talk to him soon. I don’t want to, but... :|

As for S... I’m not sure what’s going on. I’m not hopeful for a relationship or anything because I know there will never be one, but it’s interesting. Like, okay, I admit that he and I hooked up again last week, but there was just something so fucking exciting. It was really simple, but. Man. On New Year’s he asked if he could come see me. I would have fucking said yes if my sister hadn’t stayed over for the night, l o l. This was at 2 in the morning, but the fact that he could have easily come over was just really exciting. He lives less than 10 minutes away, so yeah, but like... I didn’t have to go pick him up. There were a lot of obstacles that could have easily been solved with A, but in nearly three years none of it was ever solved, nor was there any effort done on his part to make it happen, so S is just so refreshing.

And we hooked up a few nights after. He came over and it was just so nice and it felt amazing. Sure, it was at 3 in the morning. Just based on how he was, I think he had hoped to stay over until like later in the morning or afternoon, but that was a no go considering things. He left at 6, though, after getting at least... half an hour or so of sleep? But aside from that, though.... It was great, and he was sweet and tender, and there were times when he wasn’t. I felt so c o n s u m e d by him and that was a feeling I haven’t really felt before even with A? but it was the things that he’d say that has me over analyzing things more than I should. One of the things he said was that he liked “making love” with me, but then he cut himself off. Why he said that I have no idea. He said it in a kind of dreamy tone, too, so... yeah, I don’t know. Even when he was asleep (I was wide awake because no way was I gonna fall asleep) and I turned to my side, he woke up immediately and followed me, held me close to him and went back to sleep. I thought that was interesting...

And we have sort of been talking more. He’s still consistent with his inconsistent texting, but he’s... there. Which is interesting.

Unfortunately, I did get sick with strep over the weekend. I told him about it when he asked me what was I up to. He was the first person I told when I had strep back in November and even then he was really nice with offering to get me things if I needed it. He offered to get me my medicine when I was disappointed that the pharmacy near my house was closed and I couldn’t pick up my antibiotics and stuff until the next morning. I didn’t get out of urgent care until way after the pharmacy was closed, so I missed it. He suggested the pharmacy that was closer to his house as it was open 24 hours, and if I wanted him to, he could get them for me. I asked if he was serious and he said yes. This was after midnight, by the way.

He got me my medicine and came by. He remembered my address ;_; He hugged me tight before he left, and just... ugh UGH. I don’t even know. I’m going to sound absolutely bitter and petty right now but not even A would do that for me, which is sad. I’m confused about S, honestly, but I know for sure there is no relationship for us and that’s what kind of makes me a little meh about this. Yet at the same time I’m totally okay with that? I’m not really looking for a relationship right now either way. The commitment is too much work for me right now and I don’t have my shit together -_-

[generallynerdy]

Normal (Peter Parker X F!Danvers!Reader)

Summary: Being a Danvers, your normal is something akin to a science fiction novel. But now that you and your older sister have moved to Earth permanently, it’s about time you got settled in. What you didn’t mention to your boyfriend was that this means going to his school.

Requested by Anon: I LOVE YOUR CAROL FICS SO MUCH!!!!! I LOVE HER!!!! Could you do a being carols little sister and dating peter??

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: that nickname for peter that flash has is used a few times so if it makes u uncomfortable heres ur warning friend Word Count: 1,793

Note: im love peter,,,also i cant help the gay im not sorry you’ll understand at the end

    “(Y/N) Danvers!” A voice shouted from the kitchen. “C’mon! This was your idea, don’t back out on me now!”

    You groaned and buried your head deeper into your pillow for a second. You could back out now and your older sister would go for it, but on the other hand, going to high school like a normal kid was kind of the whole point.

    “COMING!” You shouted back.

    No kid wanted to go to school-- except for you. Having travelled space your whole life with nothing but abnormality for a childhood, high school was a kind of normality you craved. So when Carol decided to move back to Earth, at least for a while, you begged her to let you go. You were surprised when she said yes.

    Of course, you couldn’t go to just any high school. You were going to Midtown High School, where Peter Parker, your boyfriend, was going. But you didn’t tell him that.

    “Remember what we talked about,” Carol said as she passed you a plate of pancakes. “If anyone puts their hands on you; tell them to stop, threaten them, and then--”

    “Then punch them,” you finished.

    She smiled. “That’s my girl. But do it in that order or else they can sue.”

    Glancing around at the Avengers Tower, your current residence, which was relatively full since the destruction of the Compound, you snorted. “I’d like to see them try.”

    “What are you guys doing up?”

    You looked over your shoulder to see Steve in his morning run gear, just about to head out so that he wouldn’t miss the sunrise.

    “This girl’s got her first day of high school,” Carol smiled, gesturing to you.

    Cap laughed. “Have fun with that. Tell Pete I said hi.”

    “Yessir.”

    You were still getting used to living in the tower with all these superheroes. For the longest time, it had just been you and Carol against the world-- with Marie and Monica every once in a while, not to mention Fury. In these last few months, your little family had extended by more than 30 people, including Peter.

    “Don’t make out in the middle of the hallway,” your big sister warned.

Her arm was comfortably around yours as the two of you walked from where she parked the car to the office. She had to check you in on your first day, but beyond that, you were on your own. You just hoped you could find your spider-boy before you got too far into the day.

“Carol--” You whined at her teasing.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, “I’ll stop. But seriously, you two, watch it. Dating in high school is a mess.”

You grinned and put your head on her shoulder for a good second. “We’ll be fine. We’re superheroes!”

    “That just makes it worse.”

    Inside the building, you marvelled at the chaos. Students were crossing hallways every which way, finding their classes and talking to friends. You didn’t expect high school to be anything like those chick flicks Marie had showed you, but they were looking kind of accurate right now.

    “Have fun,” Carol said as she went to leave once you were all set.

    You scoffed. “Yeah, okay. See you later.”

    You watched her walk away before taking a deep breath. You followed the crowds toward the cafeteria, which was apparently where students gathered in the morning. Just as you were about to go in, you spotted a familiar face in the hallway just outside.

    “Peter!” You said, waving as you made your way over there.

    When your boyfriend heard his name called, he kind of tilted his head and turned to face you, eyes going wide at the sight of you. You approached and gave him a gentle kiss as a sort of greeting. When you pulled back, you saw his brain short out as he tried to register that you were there.

    “(Y/N)?” He asked. “What are you-- what are you doing here?”

    “Wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” you joked. “I am officially a Midtown High student. And I have no idea where Spanish is.”

    Next to Peter stood Ned, who you recognised from everything Peter had told you about him. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed.

    “Hi!” You then greeted, turning to him. “I’m (Y/N).”

    “Peter talks about you all the time,” he stammered.

    Peter was red in the face at that, but you laughed. “He talks about you all the time, too. Ned, right?”

    “That’s me,” he nodded. “Your sister’s an alien, right? And you’ve been to space?”

    “Carol’s human, but she lived with aliens,” you corrected politely. “But yeah, we used to go from planet to planet every other week.”

    Ned gawked. “That’s so cool.”

    Just then, the bell rang above your heads, Peter’s best friend looking a little sad that the two of you didn’t have more time to talk. Meanwhile, Peter was beaming at the fact that both of you were getting along so well.

    “Here,” Peter said, taking your hand almost shyly. “I’ll help you find Spanish.”

    Your day went by relatively smoothly. High school was a horrible learning environment, as you quickly learned, but you supposed that was just how the system worked. Besides that, most of your teachers were nice and the kids weren’t awful.

    In your first class, kids in there stormed you like vultures, trying to get you to join them for lunch or let them take you to your next class. You just politely declined them for lunch, but accepted a few offers to classes you knew Peter wasn’t in. The ones who didn’t seem like they were checking you out were the only ones you actually attempted to befriend.

    By the time lunch rolled around, you were pretty exhausted, but not tired enough to stop being excited. It was so normal, but in a good way. It was a nice change of pace.

    Entering the cafeteria, you looked around, biting your lip. Peter and Ned were nowhere in sight, as far as you could tell, and you had no idea where they normally sat. You did spot a girl alone at a table and the thought crossed your mind that maybe she was MJ, who Peter had mentioned to you briefly once or twice before.

    You went to go talk to her, but someone got in your way.

    “Hi,” the boy who stepped in front of you said. “I’m Flash. You’re new, right?”

    You raised an eyebrow at him, recognising his name. So this was Flash, the kid who never stopped antagonising Peter. Oh, you had many words for him, but none of them were nice.

    “Yeah. (Y/N),” you introduced briefly.

    “Cool, cool,” he managed. “Why don’t you come sit with me and my friends? Promise they don’t bite.”

    You frowned. “Thanks, but I’m waiting for somebody, actually.”

    He opened his mouth to ask who, or at least you thought that was what he was going to say, but Peter appeared beside you. He didn’t quite realise who you were speaking to at that moment or maybe he just didn’t care.

    “Hey, (Y/N),” he said with a grin. “There you are.”

    You smiled and pecked his cheek fondly. “Thank god. I thought you and Ned abandoned me.”

    “Penis Parker?” Flash asked with a scoff, which drew both of your attention back to him. “Seriously?”

    Peter went red at that nickname and rubbed the back of his neck ashamedly. You just scowled and crossed your arms, looking this ‘Flash’ up and down. You’d faced aliens before; cruel dictators with nothing but bloodlust in their eyes, warriors who knew nothing but battle, even psychopaths who’d tried to kill you repeatedly. But nothing made you more angry than this boy going out of his way to humiliate your boyfriend.

    “Penis Parker?” You repeated, slightly louder than he had said it.

    A few kids at the surrounding tables turned their attention toward the three of you, whispering and muttering. The other parts of the cafeteria were still buzzing with activity and ignoring your conversation, but you had no doubt that whatever you were about to say would get around fast before the day was over.

    You scoffed at Flash. “At least he has one.” At that, you grabbed your boyfriend’s hand and squeezed it, giving him a quick signal.

    Peter pulled at your hand and dragged the two of you away, leaving Flash standing there with a slack jaw, looking stupid. Your boyfriend was almost giddy at what had just happened, sitting down across from Ned at a table with a laugh.

    “Did you see that?” He asked his best friend.

    Ned was in awe as you sat down. “That was amazing!”

    “Thanks,” you said with a grin, meeting Peter’s eye for a brief moment.

    A few seats down, the girl who you thought was MJ cleared her throat. “Hey, new kid,” she said. “That was ballsy.”

    “Please,” you laughed, “I can put up with that douchebag any day.”

    At your words, she smirked and scooted over closer to talk to you, reaching out a hand for you to shake. “MJ.”

    “(Y/N),” you said, shaking her hand firmly. “Peter’s told me about you, too-- all good things.”

    “Wouldn’t care either way,” she shrugged.

    You smiled at your boyfriend and his friends. “This place isn’t so bad. I think I could get used to this.”

    When school got out for the day, Peter offered to walk you home so that you didn’t have to go alone. Carol would’ve picked you up, but there was a last minute Avengers meeting that she forgot about.

    “Do you wanna come over for dinner?” Peter asked, his fingers intertwined firmly with yours. “Aunt May invited Tony, Pepper, Morgan, and Rhodey over. It’s gonna be a whole thing.”

    You grinned at that. “I’d love to! I think it’s about time I meet the whole family. Is Harley gonna be there?”

    “If he can make it,” Peter shrugged. “He’s been busy.”

    “Can I invite Carol, Marie, and Monica?” You asked hesitantly. “I mean, Carol will be at the meeting with Rhodey, but Marie and Monica are staying in the tower till we all find a place to live.”

    He was nodding ecstatically. “Man, your sister never shuts up about her girlfriend. I really wanna meet her.”

    “Between you and me,” you whispered, “I’m pretty sure Carol’s getting ready to propose.”

    “Took her 30 years,” Peter scoffed.

    You both shared a laugh and continued the walk home. You couldn’t help smiling to yourself. This was something you could get used to: school with Peter, family dinners with Aunt May, the Iron Family, and your sister’s girlfriend. It was normal, but with just enough weird that it felt like home.

Masterlist

[gl0wupdiaries]

Novena for the Month of May

My grandmother was born on the 25th of August 1937. She grew up with five other siblings (she is second to the eldest), all of which are female, to a Spanish mother and an Ilocano father. She lived a simple childhood in their town, and like any other typical Filipino child during her time, one of her earliest memories was when she managed to place her right hand over her left ear, which meant that she finally qualified for elementary school. There she would learn how to sew, knit, garden, manage poultry, and many more. 

A picture of a brusque lady, Norma is usually seen playing a competitive game of softball in the muddy fields of her hometown—wearing her bloomers, and is often picking fights with the boys in her class, like that one time when she punched an aviation officer’s son during recess for making fun of her elder sister. Leaving a reddish and swollen mark on his nose, my grandmother got called to the principal’s office, forced to explain herself in front of the aviation officer after her incident with his son. In a coy and mischievous manner, my grandmother, who was then 10 years old, explained that his son was simply wrong for assuming that he can make fun of anyone he likes just because his father is in position—and that the school doesn’t need students like him. Putting the aviation officer to shame, my grandmother was punished for her disrespectful act by receiving more homework and schoolwork than the rest of the kids for a week.  

She always looked forward to her math classes, enjoying the challenge that it gave her, and would often compete with her sisters at night to see who would finish their maths homework the fastest. Under the warm light of their lampara, they fought, laughed, and pestered each other as their mother watched them while waiting for their father to come home for dinner. Living most of her childhood years under the Japanese occupation, most nights for her and her family consisted of dimmed lights, quiet conversations, and tightly shut doors and windows, fearing that they might be seen and located by the Japanese soldiers. Her father, often wary and vigilant, slept near their house entrance, in case intruders try to come in.

She lived in a simple bungalow. The outside façade of their house was full of herbs, plants, and flowers that her mother grew, they had a basement containing pigs and poultry for their livelihood, and their main house consisted of two bedrooms for her parents and her sisters, a living room, and a kitchen. She would often recall the homeliest part of her childhood home: the kitchen. There, she spent most afternoons with her mother, who was frequently sick, learning about Kapampangan dishes, house chores, and life lessons. She distinctly remembers the short bamboo poles placed at a corner of their kitchen, where their glasses were placed for drying.  

Growing up, she looked up to her grandfather, Tatang Kiko, and would always visit him in his home after school. He is frequently seen riding his kalabaw with a wooden cart attached to its back, which they called gareta, containing fruits and vegetables that he harvested as a farmer and sells on the market located at the heart of their town, or bayan. He was kind to her, giving her apples, mangosteens, and even tomatoes to bring home for her sisters, taught her majority of what she knows about gardening today, and even showed her the proper way to ride a kalabaw. Almost every day, during her elementary and early high school days, she would visit her Tatang Kiko, and would enjoy his company and humor. She found a sense of comfort with his presence, a feeling that she had a difficult time finding in her own home, because of the tension within her family caused by her mother’s sickness and their poverty-stricken life. 

One hot summer in the month of March, when the camachile (Manila tamarind) trees were in full season and being picked by the local children of Floridablanca, my grandmother was on her way to visit her Tatang Kiko after a long day in school. Taking her usual route in the sandy roads of their baranggay, one of the local vendors of their market ran towards my grandmother, bringing with her devastating news. Her Tatang Kiko was on his way home from a kaningin session with his friend; he was seated at the trunk of his friend’s truck filled with sugarcane. As it passed by the rocky portion of the mountain, he fell out of the truck. His friend, still clueless, continued to drive his truck, not knowing that he ran over Tatang Kiko. 

My grandmother, crying, dropped all her stuff on the ground and ran as fast as she could to her Tatang Kiko. Not once did she stop to catch her breath; she kept running until her heels and ankles developed calluses. She reached the mountain, and there, she was faced with his dead body, his white shirt covered in blood and his lifeless eyes staring at nowhere. Holding her Tatang Kiko with her bloodied hands, my grandmother lost one of the most important people in her life within an instant. Screaming for help, not once did she let go of her grandfather, crying in his arms. She went home without any fruits and vegetables that day.

In the early 1950s’, my grandmother met my grandfather, who was then a Liberal Arts major, and my grandmother a fourth-year high school student. She met my grandfather while he was on vacation in her hometown at his brother’s house. My grandfather courted my grandmother for about a year. Within those days, they enjoyed their afternoons together, picking camachiles, mangoes, and whatever is in season, and had those for their merienda. Sometimes my grandfather would let my grandmother sit at the back of his bicycle as they explored the town, going to places such as the palakol river, this place called “Riverside”, and many more. At the end of the day, my grandfather would escort my grandmother home, oftentimes receiving stern looks from my great grandfather, something that my grandmother laughs a lot about now. 

My grandfather lived in a large house together with his three other siblings: the eldest brother a priest, his second brother a pre-med student, and his youngest sister an elementary student, who will later on become a nun. My grandmother always talks about the big foyer in my grandfather’s childhood home, and how beautiful it was; it had huge black and white marble tiles, large windows, tall white walls, and beautiful antique furniture. There, my grandfather would often play the violin, accompanied by his second to the eldest brother who plays the piano. My grandfather’s family was influential during that time, because his brother was a priest, which was deemed as a high status and position back then. 

My grandmother wasn’t able to go to college because her parents couldn’t afford then, and so she went to beauty school, which proved more affordable. After she and my grandfather finished their studies, they got married and had four children. They lived a simple life, moving from town to town, until they finally settled down in a small city by the bay. There, they bought a big empty lot in a small barangay for 10,000 pesos and built their home there. Throughout the years, they both worked hard--my grandmother as a government employee, and my grandfather as a Base employee--in order to sustain their four children. Soon enough, all of their four children graduated college and started their own lives.

When I was born, I lived in my grandparents’ house until I was five. Back when I was two, my grandfather died because of gastric cancer, and left my grandmother devastated and depressed. During those years, I spent most of my days with my grandmother, because my mother had to work. She wasn’t loving, nor was she sweet and soft spoken, she was short-tempered, and would often shout at me and my cousins whenever we’re playing at her garden, saying that if we ruin any of her flowers, she’ll spank us and send us home. I used to not like her because of how different she was from my mother who was gentle and nurturing. As a kid, I often dreaded it when I had to visit her, because all she did was scold me and my mother. But as I got older, I started to understand her more, over and beyond her harsh external. 

She is very religious, as most of our grandparents are, and goes to church every morning, much less nowadays due to her weakening health. Sometimes she gets a bit vocal, especially to our housekeeper and other people serving us. She has the habit of insulting them—her intentions are good, but she has a harsh way of showing it. She cooks a lot of kapampangan dishes too, that’s why I never leave the house with an empty stomach. One time, I asked her why she makes such a big fuss about what meals are going to be prepared for the day, and her answer was simple and short: “I don’t want my family eating bad food, because it’s bad for the soul.” Despite us two not getting along most of the time, there are times where she makes me realize things too.  

One evening in May, as I was reading a novel in our living room; my grandmother approached me and asked “Marunong ka ba mag basa ng Tagalog?” (Do you know how to read Tagalog?) And I told her that I can. I asked her why, she walked towards me and said “basahin mo yan,” (read that,) as she placed a small booklet on our coffee table. When she left the room, I took a look at what she placed on the table; it says: Novena ng Santa Rita (Novena of Saint Rita). She is a devotee, and even offered her house once as a place for the almost five foot tall Santa Rita relic. It made me laugh at first, but then I realized that I’ve read lots of books, but I have never really taken the time to read anything about my religion, regardless if I believe it or not.

A few weeks after that evening, my grandmother was sent to the hospital because of a major blood infection. She was straddling life and death, and the doctors weren’t sure if she’d survive. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry and that I’m ready to listen to and bond with her. And as I recall that short-lived connection that we had in the living room, I felt regret; I should have asked her what that novena was about, why she’s so attached to our religion, what she feels whenever she prays—all these questions that I never bothered to ask because of my closed mind.

She survived that hurdle and is enjoying her life at 83 now. Though she isn’t as sharp as she used to be, she is still the strong woman that she was when she punched that boy in her class. This is the story of how I got to know my grandmother, not only as the person that I see in the kitchen, but as the strong figure that keeps our family together, and a role model that I will forever look up to. 

Nowadays, I talk to her about stories from when she was young—the stories that I have written here—and spend as much time with her as I can. Sometimes, I would join her in the kitchen and help her with her work. And I stayed, no matter how harsh her criticisms may be. And on rare occasions, I join her in her praying rituals too, without sulking. 

[purplesurveys]

745

Do you support freedom of speech? Of course, as long as that freedom is not used to advocate homophobia, racism, or sexism, or any form of oppression towards marginalized groups.

Are you ever told you are too opinionated? Yeah. My family loooves to use this word as their main adjective for me as I’ve always been the most vocal, unapologetic and rather radical one in my stances. All my relatives are more conservative and traditional so when it comes to like talking to their peers about me, my being opinionated is always the main thing they take pride in, as in “Robyn isn’t afraid to say her thoughts” or “Robyn has always been very honest” lmao. 

There’ll be times I will have an opinion that vastly clashes from theirs, usually politics, and they’ll do something I’ve always found hilarious in that they’ll talk about me behind my back to my mom and tell my mom to monitor my posts more. So ok, I guess it’s nice to have a niece who’s unafraid to speak her mind but when it’s different from how they think, they’ll do whatever it takes to silence me haha.

Do you hold grudges for long? I hold grudges for life.

What's in your garden/backyard? We don’t really have a garden. We just have a couple of large trees and several potted plants to decorate the front of the house but that’s it. For the backyard, I dunno the name for this particular type of flooring but ours is basically composed of stones embedded onto the ground so it’s not very child-friendly. We do have a portion with more plants there and a basketball hoop for my dad to play/exercise with every morning.

Do you own a purple pillow? I don’t think so. My sister probably does as she loves pillows and stuffed toys and loves collecting either.

Do you have a brown blanket? I don’t.

Do you think diamonds, stars or hearts are prettier? I don’t really like any of these as designs.

Is Pink attractive on a man? This conversation died a long time ago lol. Anything can be attractive on anyone as long as they’re comfortable with it lol.

Do you watch political shows? We don’t have those here as politics here are mostly emotionally-charged and regular debates won’t work, coupled with the fact that we have a number of politicians who are merely celebrities or athletes and will be absolutely useless on such shows. News programs are enough politics for us.

When was the last time you visited the bathroom? I dropped off my dog at the shower five minutes ago as my mom had plans to give him a bath.

Do you like flying? When was the last time you were on a plane? Yepppp I really like riding planes. For me it’s always been the biggest indicator that I’m travelling and it gets me all excited. The last time was March last year when we went to Bicol for a short vacation.

Have you ever overflown a bath? No.

Do you appreciate brutal honesty? I know it’s always best to hear it but sometimes it’ll still sting.

Do you know what Runes are? No, I’ve never heard of it.

Do you play any Fantasy/Roleslaying Games? What? No. Fantasy is my least favorite genre of anything.

Do you like salami? Not really. Processed meats have never really sat well with me. < Oh my goodness same. I never liked how they taste or feel like. If someone ordered a pepperoni pizza I’ll always have to put some extra effort to remove the pepperoni on mine, usually to the horror of my friends lmao.

When was the last time you ate meat? We had binagoongan for dinner an hour ago and that mainly consists of pork.

What was the last hot drink you drank? I heated water to make coffee but I usually leave it untouched for half an hour or so for it to cool down, as I hate drinking hot coffee in the summer.

Have your parents met your boyfriend/exes? They have met my girlfriend, but not as my girlfriend.

How about your boyfriend’s parents? Met them? Yes, I’ve met my girlfriend’s parents. They’re a delight, and they’ve been very nice to me from the very beginning.

Do you feel uncomfortable easily? Not really. There are just particular scenarios I don’t like being in, like if I’m running late or if I’m in a class with a prof notorious for screaming at or embarrassing their students.

Is there a girls/boys name you can't stand? Why? Name all you dislike: I don’t actively hate any names but I do have a predisposition to chuckle when I hear names like Karen, Becky, Susan, and Chad because they’re now memes on the Internet hahahaha.

Do you know how to say I love you in at least 4 languages? Sure. I know how to say it in Spanish, English, Filipino, Korean, and French.

What age will you be when you times your current age by two? 44.

Do you find the sound of a cats purr relaxing? It’s cute but I don’t find it relaxing for the most part. I just get the sensation of being scratched or hissed at because cats don’t seem to like me.

Are you in a simple or complex mood? Right now it’s a bit complex. There’s a lot of things going on in my head right now and only surveys can calm me down for the meantime.

Do you know your Mum's first pets name? I’m not sure if it was their first but my mom occasionally talks about their family dog Collar.

Do you like car racing? No, but I have a number of friends who do. JM in particular is super passionate about it and has a lot of F1 stories to tell, and even though I don’t understand most of it or don’t recognize most of the people he talks about, it’s always nice to have someone spill their interests onto you so I listen anyway. :) He once gave each of us a piece of tire that he got from the racetracks when he watched the Singapore Grand Prix last year, it was adorable.

Do you fall asleep with the TV/radio on? I put Netflix on. I used to put YouTube on but its autoplay will go on until I wake up and is a huge battery drainer. Netflix will only play a couple of episodes and stops the show completely when you fail to respond haha.

What is your closest uncle/aunt called? My mom’s cousins. They’re all several years younger than her so they’re a lot hipper than my mom, were actually cool in their youth lmao, and are more understanding and accepting and open-minded about current issues. They’re the first relatives (that aren’t my sister or closest cousin) I came out to, and I appreciate them keeping the secret to this day.

Do you wear underwear to bed? Yep.

Who hugs you the most often? It’s a tie between Gab and Laurice.

Who was the last person you led astray? Uhhhh this sounds awful lol. I’d hate to have this kind of impact on someone.

Who was the last person who led you astray? No one’s done this to me as far as I know.

Would you ever want to be famous? If so, for what? Sure but I wouldn’t exert so much effort just to be famous, like joining a million auditions or contests. It’d be nice if, say, I just had a vlog and it was one of the lucky ones to hit the jackpot and end up having a decent following. I’ve always liked journaling my life and I feel like vlogging is the only method I haven’t dabbled with yet.

Is your phone a pay as go/talk or contract? It’s prepaid, which sounds like pay-as-go anyway. I put in a certain amount of money on my sim card to use for call and text, not the other way around.

What colour is your bedroom carpet? I don’t have one in my room cause my dog would much likely pee on it.

Do you get angry, depressed or nervous more? Nervous.

What is something obvious about you that everyone notices? Probably my teeth, and that my front ones aren’t straight.

Would you ever get a heart tattoo or your back? No.

Do you like Sapphires? The gemstones? Not really. They’re fine, but I wouldn’t go looking for them.

Do you own a torch? I don’t.

Marshmellow - Yum or Yuck? Yuck, in any way they’re incorporated into food. I really dislike the chewy texture and I find them too sweet as well.

What fruit can't you stand? All of them, but the ones I’ve tasted and particularly hated are mango and pineapple.

Is there any smell that turns you on? What? Not really. My girlfriend’s scent sometimes would, but it wouldn’t turn me on every single time I have a whiff of it lmao.

Do you wear more white or black? Black, but I’ve tried to lessen it recently because I feel like I wore black throughout college. I’m glad I at least got to experiment with yellow, olive green, maroon, pink, etc before they cut off the school year.

What age are most your friends? They were mostly born within the years 1997 through 1999.

Do you know anyone autistic? No, not personally.

How about someone bi-polar? Yes.

Are you judgmental? I definitely try not to be, but I’m sure I am. I try to at least check myself when I have judgmental thoughts. <  This. I can also be unapologetically judgmental but this is reserved for people who have behaved shittily in public, like if a white person yells at and/or mocks an Asian person on public transport, or if a Karen-type mistreats fast food workers.

What was the last thing you borrowed from someone? My sister’s eyeglasses cleaner.

I give you a kitty - what do you name it? Cinnamon was the first name that came to mind.

Why do you think your enemies don't like you? I don’t have any enemies.

What about you do you think your friends dislike? I get super cranky about other people sometimes and complain excessively about them if they’re not doing their job right.

What do you consider private to you? I’m not private about anything as long as someone asks but I will be most reserved if I have to talk about my depression from Grade 6. Partly because I’ve forgotten a lot of it, partly because it’s simply not worth it to go retracing the bits that I do remember.

[wadefm-blog]

           ⋆ ╰  another  year  at  hollingsworth  ,  another  year  of  the  big  six  rivalry  .  i  hear  that  AURIELLA  WADE  is  ensuring  KAPPA  KAPPA  DELTA  gets  a  solid  pledge  class  and  stays  at  the  top  of  the  ranks  . oh  ,  you’re  not  familiar  with  HER  ?  AURI  is  the  ZENDAYA   look  alike  from  PACES  ,   ATLANTA  ,  GEORGIA .  apart  of  PC  ‘16  ,  she  is  majoring  in  COMMUNICATIONS and  has  plans  to  WORK  IN  PUBLIC  RELATIONS  DEPARTMENT  AT  SEPHORA  after  undergrad  .  it  makes  sense  they  pledged  their  house  ,  their  SCINTILLATING  &  BEWITCHING attributes  make  them  perfect  matches  .  however  ,  their  INDELICATE  &  VAINGLORIOUS attributes  keep  their  name  alive  on  greek  rank .  if  you  don’t  catch  them  dancing  to  BEEF  FLOMIX  -  FLO  MILLI  at  a  fraternity  band  party  this  year  ,  you’ll  be  sure  to  catch  them  nursing  their  morning  hangover  at  THE  KAPPA  HOUSE . cheers to  another  wild  semester  !

          *  insert  feral  screeching  here  *  hello  angels  and  babes  !  my  name’s  ares ,  i  prefer  the  pronouns  she / they  and  i’m  from  the  eastern  tz  !  i’m  so ,  so  excited  to  be  here  and  i’m  EXTRA  excited  to  be  playing  my  actual  queen  miss  zendaya  !  with  that  being  said , don’t  ask  me  a  single  thing  about  euphoria  because  i  haven’t  watched  it  yet  (  since  i  have  the  brain  capacity  of  a  two  brain  cell  bitch  )  but  it’ll  happen  ....  *  spongebob  narrator  vc *  eventually .  with  that  being  said ,  i  can’t  wait  to  talk  to  and  plot  with  everyone  because  i’m  already  obsessed  !  my  discord  is  𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡𝐨𝐟_𝖊𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘#6936  if  that  makes  it  easier  for  the  plotting  process ,  but  without  further  ado ,  here’s  my  baby  auri  !

full name. auriella kyla wade. nicknames. auri. birthday / age. december 25th, 1996 / 22. zodiac. capricorn. gender. cisfemale. pronouns. she/her/hers. sexual orientation. bisexual. romantic orientation. biromantic. height. five foot ten inches ( 5′10″ ). hometown. paces, atlanta, georgia ( click ). current location. savannah, georgia. nationality. american. ethnicity. scottish, german, and african american. languages. english, conversational german and spanish.

          whitney young and tristan wade were high school sweethearts, meeting each other when they were a sophomore and junior, respectively. the couple was madly in love and remained that way, even though tristan was the talk of the town since he was the best quarterback their high school had seen in years. most expected for the couple to run into cheating and mishaps, but tristan was madly in love with whitney, so much so that he proposed to her with a small ring that he promised to replace once he made it to the nfl. whitney followed tristan to berkeley, one of the hardest schools to get into, but also one of the hardest schools to get scouted for. 

          tristan made it through to his senior year and was the #1 draft pick of 1992, and signed with the dallas cowboys. after his first year in the nfl, he proposed to whitney with the bigger ring as promised and even though tristan played for the cowboys, the couple lived in atlanta due in part to whitney getting her dream job at cnn. at that time, the job was still a bit on the entry-level side, but she was happy to have had her foot in the door.

          four years later, after the couple married in a beautiful reception in miami, whitney and tristan welcomed their daughter auriella kyla into the world. born on christmas day, auriella was considered to be their little christmas miracle. in short, whitney and tristan were the aisha and steph of the 90s, but in football instead of basketball. the couple were envied due to their success, and were even featured on an episode of mtv cribs during the first season. 

          growing up, auriella was mainly raised between atlanta and texas. she went to school and lived in atlanta, but her parents also had a home in texas that was used during the football season. auriella attended the most elite schools that money and atlanta could give her, so she grew up surrounded with people who had immense wealth and influence. by the time she reached high school, she had become a girl who knew exactly what she wanted and how she was going to get it, no matter who she had to step on in order to get it. she wanted to be student body president ? she’d bribe the voters. wanted a specific superlative in the yearbook ? be fake friends with the yearbook staff. when it came to her grades, though, auriella worked hard for those and dared anyone to challenge her on that.

          come her senior year at north atlanta high school, auriella was named prom queen and most likely to be successful, two things that she made sure to have from the moment she stepped foot into the building. auriella had applied to and been accepted into a few schools, including her parents’ alma mater uc berkeley, but it was the university of hollingsworth that called her name after taking a tour of the campus. she loved that she wasn’t too far from the beach, and she even clicked with a few people she came in contact with during the tour.

          so, auriella packed her bags and decided to major in communications at #hworth. during rush week, no one had expected for her to rush kappa, considering auriella’s air of superiority, but in a way -- it worked best for her. even though she had the cushion of her parents’ wealth, auriella wasn’t dumb by any means and she knew how to get exactly what she wanted -- was the bribing again ? probably, but she’ll never tell. and, it didn’t help that her mother was a legacy of kappa at their berkeley chapter.

          she has plans of working at sephora following graduation due in part to the fact that she did an internship with colorpop over the summer and wants to be a part of the publicity of a brand as big as sephora. it helps that she’s done various brand sponsorships over the last couple of years, and immediately fell in love with sephora after she worked with them a few times. 

          as for her personality, in regard to her positive traits scintillating and bewitching,  auriella is remarkably clever and ridiculously charismatic. she knows how to get her sisters out of sticky situations no matter the issue and she knows how to get past any issues that someone might encounter while she works as social chair with the sorority ( if that hasn’t been taken ! ) 99.9% of the time, auriella is working at her desk whether it be getting kappa’s social events prepared to also getting her own assignments done. she’s pretty much known around campus due to her crisp white tesla and the sound of her heels clicking on the sidewalk. when she’s like that, she means business. 

          as for her negative traits, auriella is indelicate and vainglorious. meaning that she shows a lack of sensitive understanding and excessively proud of oneself or one’s achievements. in short, when she wants something to be done and it doesn’t get completed, she doesn’t accept excuses and whenever she doesn’t get exactly what she wants, she uses her accomplishments in order to fix things. for instance, when she received a lower grade on her assignment when she thought she deserved higher, her immediate response was ‘ i haven’t been on the dean’s list since freshman year to get a B+, margaret. ’

          since we haven’t talked about her parents in a while, just know that whitney had her own show with cnn in new york city while tristan has since retired from football after winning four super bowls with various teams and has become a sports commentator with espn as well as an businessman/entrepreneur ( something like shaq ). with that being said, during the summers, auriella has free reign of their house in paces since her parents have made new york their permanent home for now.

          some minor things about auriella is that whenever she doesn’t have classes, she often is at the kappa house or maybe somewhere on campus. i think she’s the type to be a part of various clubs, and probably is the president of them, so she’s a busy gal. when she’s not in class though, nine times out of ten she’s wearing a face mask and walking around the kappa house in a massively over-sized shirt that she nabbed from one of her .... ~ahem, conquests. she is never seen on campus in anything less than heels with her favorite bag of the moment, which at this time is a soft pink hermes kelly bag. 

          as for connections ( and then i’ll promise to shut up because i always talk too fucking much ), i would love to have anything ! ex friends, friends to enemies, hateship, bad/good influence, childhood friends, confidants, fake friends, enemies to friends, frenemies, squad, childhood friends, exes on good/bad terms, flirtationship, one night stand(s), exes without closure ... literally anything ! if you see auri fitting in in any connections that you may have open, please let me know i’m literally down for anything !

[clarketomylexa]

Halley’s Comet and Other Extenuating Circumstances

“Halley’s comet,” Lexa finishes her train of thought with red cheeks. “I wish I didn’t have to wait,” she admits. “I want to go camping. Somewhere like Nevada. I want to see it properly.”

“Nevada?” Clarke whistles. “You’d miss calculus.”

“It’s chance I’m willing to take.”

“Skipping class?” Clarke says, appalled, “what would your perfect attendance record say about that?”

“It’s an extenuating circumstance,” Lexa maintains.

Clarke nods conspiratorially and leans over the table. “I believe you.”

read on ao3

The town stops for game day.

The post office closes early, which may or may not be a federal offence and the football players—rowdy and egging each other on with their letterman jackets slung around their shoulders—are excused from last period early. But perhaps the worst casualty of game day fever is the library which closes early on Friday afternoon because Mrs. Rodriguez's grandson plays wide-receiver on the team and she hasn’t missed a game of his since he was eight-years-old.

It leaves Lexa with precious few places where she can revise Spanish conjugations without being interrupted by people decked out in green, white and yellow and frankly, it’s stupid. For a phenomenon that occurs every week, it’s hardly worth the fuss it entails, especially when Lexa’s proposal to the city-council for a town-wide blackout in preparation for Halley’s Comet in forty years’ time was turned down as quickly as she submitted it.

“Did you know that it reflects 4% of the sunlight it receives,” she says, carefully writing out the present participles of the words listed in the assigned page of her textbook. Technically the pages aren’t due until Tuesday—her Spanish teacher is lenient with homework at best and in the habit of forgetting he set it at worst—but has AP History to study for on Sunday and Anya is dragging her out on Saturday for some ‘sister bonding’ under a guise of a house party Lexa doesn’t want to go to.

“What does?”

“The comet.”

Disgruntled, a heavy-set man emerges from beneath the counter of the diner, oil-stained rag tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Gus was swoon worthy in his day her mother would tell her over the dinner table while her father dropped his jaw, positively appalled. He was the quarterback for the championship winning team in 1986—the year Lexa could swear the town is stuck in—and was on a football scholarship to Ohio State until an injury put a kibosh on his NFL career and he was forced to return home with his tail between his legs and a bad disposition. The years of frowning have aged him and taken a toll on his hairline but his hatred for anything resembling football means he has become Lexa’s Friday night company and unlike her classmates, he has never once complained about her ‘fun facts’.

Anya says they deserve each other.

“‘S that right?” He grunts, wiping his hands on the rag and assessing his handiwork.

Lexa nods. “It only shines bright when it’s close enough to the sun for its dust and vapours to be burnt off.” She watches Jack frown at the still-leaking sink and leans on her elbows to peer over the counter. “Do you want me to take a look?”

“What ‘re you going to advanced Spanish the leak out of it?”

Lexa rolls her eyes but, point taken, she concedes.

Manual labour is not her strong point.

He resolves that he will have to call in the plumber on Monday and makes a note for himself to stick above the decrepit coffee machine that is still hanging onto life. Whenever she works the morning shift, she dreads the moment someone will ask for a cup of coffee because she is sure that today is the day it will give out on her completely and leave her with a mob of un-caffeinated townspeople on her hands.

“Can I get you another milkshake?”

She nods and slides a neat five-dollar bill over the counter.

More fool him for perpetuating her sugar addiction.

They both look to the door as the bell rings obnoxiously to signal the entrance of five girls clad in the green, white and yellow of the high schools cheerleading uniform and instinctively, Lexa goes to pull her belongings closer to her, resting her elbows on the counter and pulling herself inwards as they walk by and claim the booth by the window. If Gus sees the way her cheeks flush miserably, he has the good grace not to mention it.

He takes their order and sets Lexa’s second milkshake down next to her Spanish notebook before serving the girls their diet root-beer floats in five tall glasses and returning to the counter. Lexa stares at him as she listens to the mindless chatter—one of them has found a bar in town that doesn’t card, another got sent to the councillors office for a lecture on ‘appropriate behaviour on school grounds’ after she got busted making out with her boyfriend behind the gym. It makes Lexa want to pound her head in and by the look on Gus’s face, the diner owner feels the same.

She has always found it hard to connect with people.

It’s something that she seems come so naturally to her peers but whenever she went up to someone at recess in elementary school the ‘hi my name is’ and ‘can I play with you’ felt forced and awkward and ultimately would find her chickening out of a conversation she had initiated. Her father told her she was just ‘wired differently’ after she came to him in the third grade after a weekend researching into antisocial personality disorder. And although, admittedly, she was relieved to find out she wasn’t a psychopath, she couldn't help but think how unfair it was that out of a family of philanthropists, doctors and cheer captains, she had to be the one person who was average.

She tried her best not to be average—student government, debate team, six AP classes and two advanced ones—but so far, all it has done is entrench her further in a type of anonymity that she can’t seem to shake.

And she does want to shake it.

“Hi, Lexa.”

Wide eyed and calming the throbbing tattoo of her heart, Lexa slaps a hand over her notebook before turning to the voice. November is waning and Clarke is wearing the long-sleeved uniform top prescribed for cold weather—she knows it because of the number of times she has had to pick it up off of the floor of the laundry after Anya comes home from practice. But paired with the usual pleated mini skirt that Anya, as captain, petitioned to make shorter purely for ‘stunting reasons’ and not the glee of seeing her little sister spontaneously combust at the sight of her crush, it makes her sip of shake grow solid lodge itself in her throat like non-Newtonian fluid.

She swallows.

“Hi, Clarke.”

“You’re not coming to the game?”

Lexa knows she is being polite.

She hasn’t gone to a game since she was twelve-years-old.

“Spanish homework,” she shakes her head. “You?”

Clarke piques a brow and it takes Lexa moment before she realises her mistake. She tugs at the neck of her sweater, suddenly feeling hot beneath the knit of her turtleneck. “Sorry,” she blanches.

Clarke waves her hand as if to say ‘don’t worry about it’ and on the contrary, Lexa knows it will be weighing on her mind for the next week—for all the time she spends sitting in the bleachers staring at Clarke in uniform as she waits for Anya during practice, you’d think she’d remember what it stands for.

She drums her nails delicately on the counter even after Gus has given her change for the fifty she used to cover her table and Lexa tries not to think she is stuck on something—stuck on her maybe.  She blew her chance with Clarke when she chewed Anya out in front of the entire squad for bringing twenty-four girls home floor a sleepover without telling her in Pikachu pyjama pants and her middle school track and field t-shirt.

“If you ever did want to go to a game I’d be happy to give you a ride,” Clarke posits when Lexa has all but given up on her saying anything at all. “I know Anya can take you, but if you’re ever at a loose end.”

“Football isn’t really my scene,” Lexa smiles apologetically.

Clarke laughs. “I gathered.”

She hovers for a moment longer.

“The offer stands,” she says.

Her friends call her from the door and she disappears down the steps, car-keys swinging from her fingers before Lexa can reply and she sits on her barstool feeling shell shocked. Her cheeks are ruddy and she digs her chin into the lip of her sweater as if she can retreat behind the protection it provides and Gus has the good grace to allow her a moment of quiet contemplation before wiping the counter down with a dish towel.

“You don’t have to stay on my account,” he says as nonchalantly as he knows how. “If you want to go, then go.”

“I don’t,” she mumbles miserably.

He presses his lips in the silence and she juts her chin to fix him with an intent stare, unblinking from behind round glasses.

“I don’t.”

He sighs a long-suffering sigh and slings the dish-towel over his shoulder.

“Have it your way.”

The next Friday Lexa is working a shift and she is grateful because waiting tables and keeping Gus from throwing the panini press out of the window, cord and all, takes her mind away from the fact that Clarke hasn’t come in for a pre-game diet root beer float. The last week wasn’t the first time she had come in on a Friday—Lexa has spent more than she can count watching the gaggle of cheerleaders in the window booth push missing the time Anya insists they be at the stadium to warm up by—but it was the first time Clarke made a point to talk to her and the change in routine is unsettling. Especially since, in the space of the week, she had talked herself into saying yes should Clarke as if she wanted a ride again.

The four o’clock crown wanes to a lone man in a tartan scarf, furiously avoiding the football stats in the Tribune like the plague—a kindred spirit Lexa thinks—and Lexa busies herself with the calculus revision she sets up behind the counter. Gus comes past to wipe down the counter and she moves to let him through. He follows her and she moves back.

“You stare at that book any longer you’ll become a differential equation,” he grumbles.

“I’m surprised you know what that is.”

“Don’t take your anger out on me just because your girlfriend missed your date,” he holds his hands up in surrender and

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” Lexa says too quickly.

Gus mutters something that sounds like ‘damn teenagers’ under his breath as he takes a basket of French fries to the table in the corner and Lexa pretends not to hear.

When the diner is empty Gus lets her buy a burger and fries with a twenty from the till.

It comes with a lukewarm Cherry Coke that was miss-poured earlier and she sips it as she moves from calculus to AP English and her essay on the characters and themes of Shakespeare’s ‘Hamlet’. An hour later, she is on the second paragraph. She is in the middle of writing about how ‘Hamlet, in essence, is a detailed dialogue on appearance versus reality’ when the bell rings and she tempers her annoyance at being interrupted to paste a customer service smile on but when she looks up, Clarke is standing in the doorway and the sight of her makes Lexa do a double take.

Her hair is scraped up into a high ponytail—the prescribed three-inches from her hairline as set by Anya in the team handbook— but strays fall listlessly about her forehead as casualties of their half-time routine and her cheeks are pink. She has a thrift-store windbreaker over her uniform and bare legs, her fingers wound in the strap of the bag she has slung over her shoulder.

“What can I get you?” Lexa schools herself.

“A root beer float, please,” Clarke smiles, sliding a five dollar bill over the counter.

“Just you?”

“We won,” she nods, as if it’s an explanation, “everyone went out.”

“Not you?”

Clarke shakes her head and Lexa watches her lip sneak up between her teeth. It leaves her hot and reeling for a reason she doesn’t want to get into in the middle of her work place.

“I have Spanish homework.”

It takes Gus to intervene and pry Clarke’s change out of the the till before Lexa comes back to herself. Clarke is staring at her in a way that Lexa can’t decipher and it’s making her anxious—more than anxious, dizzy and clammy and horribly underdressed in her school clothes and cloth apron. She pulls the ballpoint pen from behind her ear.

“Lexa can sit with you if you want,” Gus says.

“I’m working,” she replies immediately, voice edging up an octave in panic.

It’s one thing imaging these circumstances from afar. The act of doing is always the part Lexa has trouble with.

“She’s off the clock,” Gus pats her on the back with a hulking hand.

He steers them to a booth and Clarke’s drink comes a minute later.

Lexa sits opposite Clarke, picking at the hem of her jeans with fingers that won’t seem to cooperate.

“I can get another straw,” Clarke offers.

Lexa shakes her head. “I’m sorry about Gus,” she inclines her head to the man, “he takes his duties as pseudo-father too seriously.”

“I heard that.”

Chagrined, Lexa ducks her head.

“I don’t mind,” Clarke says brightly. “It’s nice.”

“Really?”

She nods, grin widening.

“I don’t get to see you like this. You’re always so serious.”

“I don’t like Fridays,” Lexa says plainly.

Clarke looks at her in open-mouthed reproach as she liked a stripe up her vanilla ice-cream covered straw. “Who doesn’t like Fridays?”

“I find town wide shut downs troubling.”

“But they’re okay if they’re for a ‘once-in-a-lifetime astrological event’,” Clarke recites gleefully, “right?”

“You remember that?” Lexa winces.

“Do I remember the thirteen-year-old who got up in front of the city council to demand they make allowances for a comet that will only be visible in forty year’s time?” she piques a brow.

Lexa’s cheeks grow hot and she wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole, looking everywhere but at Clarke who is laughing a soft, airy laugh that is so different in cadence to what Lexa hears when she listens to Clarke giggle about the football players at college boys.

“If it’s any consolation, I think it’s nice,” her voice softens when she sees Lexa’s reaction and she slides a hand across the table, fingers stopping just short of where Lexa’s rest—Lexa has it in her to feel disappointed. “I like that you’re so passionate about things. The world would be a pretty boring place without it.”

She says it so succinctly, it could be a fact in a textbook and for that fact, Lexa feels herself compelled to believe it.

“I wish it was sooner,” she says softly.

Clarke lifts her focus from the melting ice-cream and carbonated soda of her float, lips pursed around her straw. “What?”

“Halley’s comet,” Lexa finishes her train of thought with red cheeks. “I wish I didn’t have to wait,” she admits. “I want to go camping. Somewhere like Nevada. I want to see it properly.”

“Nevada?” Clarke whistles. “You’d miss calculus.”

“It’s chance I’m willing to take.”

“Skipping class?” Clarke says, appalled, “what would your perfect attendance record say about that?”

“It’s an extenuating circumstance,” Lexa maintains.

Clarke nods conspiratorially and leans over the table. “I believe you.”

“Gus, please,” Lexa whines, all but desperate.

She has her usual textbooks tucked beneath her arm and backpack over her shoulders but a newly affixed pout on her lips that has been put there through no fault of her own. Or perhaps it was a fault of her own. But in truth she hasn't spoken to Clarke since Gus shoved them unceremoniously together in a booth last Friday night and as far as she was concerned she wasn’t going to again. She had had her five minutes. It was enough to last her a lifetime.

Clarke, apparently, had other intentions and when she approached Lexa in calculus third period, pulling her book over to Lexa’s desk under the guise of ‘asking for help’ in the otherwise silent classroom to ask her to come to the game Lexa had practically leapt out of her skin.

“This is me asking you to come,” Clarke had said, it wasn’t cocky but it had an air about it that she was used to getting what she wanted. “So now you have to. You’re contractually obliged.”

She slipped her a note later that said she didn’t have to if she didn’t want to of course but by that time Lexa’s brain was buzzing too hard for it to sink in.

She panicked.

No one ever said she’s a functioning excuse for a human being.

“You work anymore shifts and I’m going to run out of money to give you,” Gus grumbles, hand on her back as he guides her towards the door.

“I’ll work for free,” she wagers.

He walks her outside and stands in the door, hand on the door jamb and looks at her sagely.

“It’s not a trap,” he tells her after a moment. Lexa’s heart loosens in her chest at the words and she thinks that he might be smarter that he gives himself credit for.

“How do you know?”

“I have eyes,” he scoffs, rubbing a hand over his face like she is giving him a headache. By the frequency of the movement, she thinks she does it a lot. “You do too,” she says when she doesn’t seem to understand. “And you’ve been using them to moon over that Griffin girl since you were fifteen-years-old. Today, she invited you to the game and if I have to sit there,” he jabs a finger towards the counter, “ and watch you look miserable for another week because you let yourself get in the way, I may just sell up and force you out.”

Lexa swallows and adjusts the weight of her books in her arms and he softens his presence.

“Go see your girlfriend, Lexa.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

She goes to the game.

She doesn’t know what else to do.

It’s loud and bright, and the absolute opposite of what she thought she would be doing with her evening but she makes the most of it. She sits halfway up the bleachers with her clear-file of physics revision in her lap and pretends that she isn’t bothered every time the family next to her launches themselves to their feet at the sight of their son with the ball.

After half-time, Clarke pulls Anya aside and points up the bleachers to where Lexa is sitting. She can see the frown on her sisters face slowly melt into something devilish and wants to throw herself to the ground and hide but before she can, Clarke is bounding up the metal stairs and shimmying her way down the row to the empty seat next to Lexa. Her hair is neat but her cheeks are red and there is sweat clinging to her hairline. She grabs Lexa’s forearm with a dazzling smile.

“You came,” she beams.

“You invited me,” Lexa replies dumbly.

Clarke smiles a small, secret smile and Lexa finds herself wondering if it is for her. ��

“I thought football wasn’t your scene,” she levers herself into the spare seat, so close that Lexa can feel the heat of her through her coat.

Anya looks up with a wacky thumbs-up to which of them, Lexa doesn’t know.

All she does know is that she isn’t on speaking terms with her anymore and her cheerleading top is going to get an unfortunate soak in bleach the next time she leaves it on the floor of the laundry room.

She looks at Clarke and smiles.

“It was an extenuating circumstance.”

[catalinda04]

Carried Away Chapter 63: Honeymoon

Masterlist 

Lucy and Henry sat cuddled together in the movie room of the Lodge on Henry’s last day before leaving for filming in London. There was a movie playing on the screen, though neither of them cared about watching it.

    “Are you excited to be going back to London?” Lucy asked.

    “It will be nice to be back home, but it won’t be the same without you there.”

    “But you’ll be so busy with training then filming, you’ll barely have time to miss me. And you’ll have Kal to keep you company. I’ll be all alone here for nine weeks.”

    “You’re welcome to keep Kal with you,” Henry offered.

“No, it will be easier for me to close up the house, and get it completely clean without the bear in residence.”

“But, just think, by the time you get to London I’ll be almost done with filming and we can finally go on our honeymoon,” he teased.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going? Fiji? Bora Bora? The Maldives? The Seychelles? Tell me!”

“You’ll just have to wait until June, my darling, though I can assure you, you will love it,” he said pressing his lips sweetly to hers.

Lucy laid her head on his chest to watch the movie playing on the screen. Her mind whirring with thoughts unspoken. “Henry?” Lucy asked, not lifting her head.

“Hmmm,” he responded absentmindedly.

“I know we haven’t talked about the “B” word since last Thanksgiving,” she said, his full attention suddenly on her, “but I was wondering what you thought about maybe trying on our honeymoon…” she trailed off.

Henry sat up, and paused the movie, wanting to give this conversation his entire focus. “I think that sounds like a great idea, but are you sure?”

“Why? Don’t you want to have a baby yet?” Lucy asked, concerned.

“I’m all for having a baby tomorrow if it were possible, I just want to know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking I want to have a baby with you, and that at my age it might not happen right away, so if we want a baby, we should start trying sooner rather than later.”

“Why don’t we start trying right now?” Henry smiled.

“Mainly because I’m still on the pill. And I really don’t want to be suffering from morning sickness on my honeymoon,” Lucy laughed.

“I can see your point,” he smiled, “though we could practice trying…” he suggested, his eyebrows dancing mischievously.

“Practice does make perfect…” Lucy agreed.

April and May passed quickly for Lucy. She talked to Henry every night, and threw herself into her work in an effort to avoid missing him and Kal.

One day at the start of May, Lucy knocked on the door to the principal’s office.

“Good morning, Mrs. Cavill, what can I do for you today?”

Taking a seat in front of the desk, Lucy handed a piece of paper across the desk. “I’m here to submit my formal resignation, official as of the last day of school.”

He skimmed the paper and looked up at her. “I assumed this was coming. There’s no way we can persuade you to stay?”

“Sorry, but Henry and I want to start a family, and I want to be free to follow him on location, if I want to. Though we’re keeping the house here, so if we happen to land here for any length of time, I might put my name in to sub.”

“Well, we’d appreciate that. We’ll miss you Lucy. Though we still have almost a full month of class left, and a graduation. It’s kind of poetic that you’re leaving with your senior class.”

“I thought so too. It feels good to be going out on top, with such a great class.”

“They really are a great class,” he agreed. “Well, Lucy we hate to lose you, but I understand. We’ll have to plan something for the end of the year. How long are you sticking around this summer?”

“No time at all. I’ll meet Henry in London then we’re off to our honeymoon.”

“Oooooh, where are you going?”

“I don’t know! He won’t tell me!” Lucy exclaimed exasperated.

“That’s some husband to plan a surprise honeymoon.”

“He’s one of the good ones,” Lucy agreed.

“Well, I’ll let you get to it. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do today. Thank you for letting us know early that you’ll be leaving. Have a great day.”

“Thanks Erik, you too.” Lucy said, shaking the principal’s hand.

Once Lucy confirmed that she wouldn’t be returning the next year, the students started trying to persuade her to stay.

“But, Mrs. C, if you leave, who is going to teach Spanish 2 next year?” One of her first year students asked.

“I don't imagine they’ll have any trouble filling the position. I just ask that you give whoever they get a chance, especially if that person is a first year teacher.”

“But we don’t want you to go,” another student protested.

“I’m sorry Amelia, but I’m leaving whether you want me to or not.”

“Well, I don’t like it.” The red haired girl replied.

“Guys, it’s not that I’m ecstatic about leaving you all, but my life is changing. I’ll be sure to come to games and events if I’m in the area.”

“You better.”

Before Lucy knew it, graduation had arrived. As a Senior class advisor, she had been instrumental in helping the students to plan their ceremony. She had helped more than one class elected speaker with their speech, and had filled out endless paperwork to order the supplies the students wanted.

Her homeroom students were getting themselves ready in her room. She circulated amongst them, straightening stoles, and pinning caps. Just before the group was to leave line up, she called for their attention.

“Ok guys, this is it. You did it. Congratulations. I’m so proud of all of you. It has been my pleasure to get to know you all over the last six years. Even though I’m leaving too, I don’t want you guys to be strangers. Please keep in touch, let me know about your successes, and feel free to ask me for help if you’ve had a failure. And if any of you find yourselves in London, look me up. I’ll buy you a pint.”

“Mrs. C!” Patricia exclaimed, scandalized.

“I’m not your teacher anymore, it’s fine. And in London you’d be legal, so even less of a deal. Now, line up, and remember, just like we did at practice.

Lucy followed the group to the school’s gymnasium, giving them their timings to process up to the stage. She took her place backstage to watch the administrators give their speeches, and the students speak confidently about their time at the school. She held back her tears as she watched her “kids” receive their diplomas and switch their tassels.

The time came for the students to make their exit out to the school’s front lawn, when, Daniel, the class president approached the podium. Lucy had no idea what was going on, this hadn’t happened at practice that morning.

“Thank you again parents, friends, family, and teachers. Before we go, there is someone else the class would like to thank. Mrs. Lucy Cavill has been one of our advisors since 7th grade. She has spent countless hours, over the last six years, facilitating fundraisers, and class trips, chaperoning dances, and in one memorable instance she spent an entire weekend letting us throw whipped cream pies at her face. She has always been willing to help us, even if it wasn’t her subject area. She has been tough on us, and we are better for it. Mrs. Cavill is leaving with us this year. We didn’t want her to leave without letting her know just how much she has meant to us,” he turned to motion Lucy to the podium. “Mrs. Cavill, if you’d come here please, the class has something for you.”

Lucy’s eyes were shining with tears as she approached the young man at the podium. She gave him a hug, and he motioned to the other side of the stage where two girls, both wearing Superman capes over their graduation gowns, were walking toward her. One girl carried a huge bouquet of tulips in every color imaginable. The other carried a teddy bear wearing a school jersey and a graduation cap. Lucy laughed as the girls handed over their presents before embracing her in a group hug.

The next day, Lucy took her time getting ready for the day. It was her last day as a teacher at the school. The staff had a half day of in-service before they were allowed to leave for the summer. There was a going away party planned that night for Lucy at a local restaurant.

Lucy had spent much of the past week sorting through her school supplies; packing boxes to bring to a friend who also taught Spanish, donating items to other teachers in the building, and deciding what should be left for whoever came after her.

The going away party was bittersweet, Lucy loved the opportunity to spend time with these people she had grown so close to, but loathed the saying goodbye. Even though she knew that she would see them all again, it wouldn’t be the same.

Lucy spent her Saturday cleaning The Lodge, getting it ready to be closed up until at least November. She and Henry planned to spend much of the month at The Lodge, including Thanksgiving with Lucy’s family. She went out to dinner with her parents and her grandma Joanne. Both Marie and Joanne cried as they hugged Lucy goodbye.

“I’ll be back in November. It’s only five months away,” she reassured them.

“We’ve never gone that long without seeing each other before,” her mother protested.

“I’ll call all the time. You’ll get sick of me calling you,” Lucy joked.

“I love you my Lucy-Goosey,” Marie said, hugging her daughter tight.

Sunday morning John drove his daughter to Clint and Anna’s house where she would stay overnight, before Clint drove her to the airport the following day. It gave Lucy the opportunity to spend some time with her niece and nephew before she left.

Monday afternoon Lucy was finally boarding a plane to take her to London. She hadn’t seen Henry in over nine weeks, and she missed him fiercely. “Here I go,” she thought to herself, “starting a whole new chapter of my life.”

Lucy had a full week in London to fill while Henry was filming. She had a lunch with her sisters-in-law one day, relishing the chance to catch-up with the women she hadn’t seen since her wedding. She even flew to Amsterdam for a day to visit Sarah and Paolo, though Henry knew where she was going this time.

Finally Sunday morning arrived, and Lucy and Henry were getting ready to depart for their honeymoon. Henry still hadn’t told her where they were going. As they rode the train to Gatwick airport, Lucy asked again, “please will you tell me where we’re going?”

“No, darling, it’s going to be a surprise,” Henry replied, kissing her temple.

“Do you know what this is doing to me? I haven’t researched anything. I don’t know what the things to do are, or where are the best places to eat, or what are the best things to eat. I feel so unprepared,” she whined.

“Darling, I can assure you, there will be plenty of information about activities, should I decide to let you out of bed,” he murmured in her ear, causing her to blush.

They checked in, and Lucy took her ticket from Henry. “Dubai? We’re going to Dubai? I brought clothes for a tropical beach relaxation trip, not a desert city trip.”

Henry laughed, enjoying needling his wife. He let her stew about it while they made their way through security. Once they were safely ensconced in the airline’s first class lounge, he finally put her out of her misery. “Darling, we are only connecting through Dubai,” he started, digging into his carry-on bag, “on our way to,” he held up the guide book he’d purchased for her, “the Seychelles.”

Lucy gasped as her hands flew to her mouth. “That’s where Will and Kate went!”

“It is.”

“And you got me a guidebook,” she said, taking it from his hand and kissing his cheek.

“I did, and I understand that you will very likely not be speaking to me on the flight, because your nose will be buried in said book,” he replied, reaching back into his carry-on bag.

“That would be a correct assumption. I only wish I had some,” she looked over at what he had pulled from his bag, “highlighters! A whole pack!” She jumped up, before settling herself on his lap, looping her arms around his neck. “I knew there was a reason I married you,” she pressed her mouth to his. “I love you Darcy. Thank you.”

“I love you too Cupcake.”

Lucy couldn’t believe her eyes as she wandered around the villa Henry had rented for their week in The Seychelles. It was almost bigger than The Lodge, in the middle of, what felt like, their own private rainforest. It wasn’t over the water, but the the private beach in front of the villa made up for that.

“Wait, it has a pool AND a private beach? That’s it. I’m moving here,” Lucy said, turning back to Henry.

“We also have a private butler just for us, to get or arrange anything we need,” he said, ambling toward his wife, drawing her close.

“You are too good to me,” Lucy said, dropping a kiss on his lips.

“You put up with a lot, being with me. I want to show you I appreciate all of your sacrifices,” he said, kissing her sweetly.

“Well, right now, I want a shower, and then I want to go for a swim. Did I tell you I bought three new suits for the trip?”

“You did not, but do you know the best part about having our own private pool? No suit required,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Mmmmm, that does sound nice,” Lucy agreed, pulling Henry toward the master bathroom.

Lucy and Henry didn't leave their villa for the first three days of the trip, cocooning themselves in a bubble all their own. They passed their days sunning themselves by their private pool, or on their private beach, making love at every available opportunity, and just enjoying being together again.

Once they did venture out from their private oasis, Lucy convinced Henry to take her diving with the whale sharks. He wouldn’t admit it to her, but he was terrified of the giant creatures, but after seeing the expression on Lucy’s face when she removed her mask, he would have gone diving with her a dozen more times.

The couple returned to London tanned, and happy, and relaxed. Ready to enjoy being married and being together. Lucy wasn’t positive, but she had a good feeling about their attempts at making a baby.

Her confirmation came at the end of July. It started with a feeling of nausea while she was caramelizing onions one evening. The following morning, while Henry was out for his morning run, she awoke with an instant need to run to the bathroom to vomit. She barely allowed herself to hope that she might be pregnant already. That afternoon while Henry was out with Kal, Lucy made her way to the pharmacy around the corner, and after staring at the tests for several long minutes bought three different brands, just to be sure. She hid the tests in the bathroom cupboard to take the next morning while Henry was out for his run.

Lucy could barely sleep that night, thinking about the tests waiting for her in the morning. As soon as Henry left, Lucy popped out of bed, a decision she immediately regretted, as she was kneeling over the toilet, ridding herself of last night’s dinner.

She opened all three boxes, taking out the six test sticks, lining them up on the counter. Once the tests had been completed, Lucy laid them all face down on the counter, and rather than pace herself silly in the bathroom, went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.

Tea in hand, Lucy approached the bathroom counter cautiously. She turned the first stick over, two pink lines showed in the window. The second test showed the same. Lucy’s heart was racing as she flipped the third test. A plus sign stared back at her, then a second plus sign on the next test. Happy tears poured down her face as she flipped the fifth and sixth tests, which both simply read “pregnant”. All six tests confirmed what she had barely let herself hope. She was going to be a mom.

Lucy gathered up the test sticks and her cup of tea, and left Henry a note, then went to the roof to drink her tea and bask in her joy. That was how Henry found her 45 minutes later. Clutching her tea, and staring out over the London city skyline.

“Good morning darling, you’re up early,” Henry said, kissing his wife, before sitting on the end of her chaise sun chair.

“I had something I had to do this morning,” she said cryptically, before pulling out one of the test sticks. It took him a second to comprehend what he was seeing. The two pink lines blurred as he realized what it meant.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.

“You’re going to be a daddy,” she laughed, her tears starting again.

Henry’s words escaped him. He pulled Lucy to him and they held each other, crying their tears of joy. “I’m crushing you! I don’t want to hurt the baby!” Henry exclaimed, releasing his wife.

“Darcy, the baby isn’t even the size of a walnut yet, you’re fine,” Lucy laughed, resting her hands on her stomach.

Henry removed her hands and lowered his head to her stomach. “Hello in there. This is your papa. I can’t wait to meet you,” he said soothingly before pressing a kiss to her stomach.

“It’s really happening. We’re going to be parents,” he said in awe.

“We’re going to be a family,” Lucy corrected him.

Chapter 62           Epilogue

[teacher-lavin]

Waking from History’s Nightmare: Baldwin & Joyce (Part Two)

The Threat

Two weeks after school ended for summer, I had told a group of much younger teachers, “The students I teach have saved me much more than I ever saved any of them.” The next evening, the phone rang late. Muffled crying, then: “Lavin, I don’t know what to do. My mom is threatening to kill me and then to commit suicide. What should I do?” It was Candela (name changed here, another short story with a moral....). Overwhelmed, I told her to call her older sister and ask her to meet us at Burger King. 

James Baldwin’s views of teaching and James Joyce’s deep encounter with language play both pertain to the tale. 

First Baldwin:

“The purpose of education, finally, is to create in a person the ability to look at the world for himself, to make his own decisions,” 

Baldwin delivered this claim in his Talk given in a  New York City library to a group of majority white educators (October 1963). He roots his discourse within the mind and heart of the student, particularly the African American student, wishing teachers to know the student’s psyche as:  her or their or his or The child’s internal struggle. Therefore, Baldwin poses the questions as if within an imaginary stream of consciousness resonating within in the student’s mind. He  postulates further,

“. . . [the student will] say to himself this is black or this is white, to decide for himself whether there is a God in heaven or not. To ask questions of the universe, and then to live with those questions, is the way he achieves his identity” -- James Baldwin, Talk To Teachers (1963).

Baldwin assumed, I decided, that the child’s coming to terms with big questions is a process whose uncertainties demand companions, and that accompanying a child or a young adult who is asking these big existential questions is the teacher’s role. 

Rewind Three Months Earlier: The Library Excursion

“Candela” told me about three months earlier that she was taking the bus to the Jesuit university on the other side of town after school. She was seventeen that year. Her mother signed a permission slip. Our high school had no library. Candela had complex questions about our readings: James Joyce’s fiction, James Baldwin’s essays, Gloria Anzaldua and Frantz Fanon’s writings and Adrienne Rich’s A Wild Patience Has Taken Me This Far. I wanted her to experience a library as she restlessly interrogated how and what she would write.  

For that purpose, I had met Candela’s mom just the week before Candela’s library escapade at the end of her shift from midnight to 7:30 a.m. cleaning the elementary school two blocks away. Mrs. Cartagena (name changed), a small fiercely determined Cuban woman told me that she “was losing touch with her daughter” (my translation). She cried. She was exhausted.  I stayed until her tears allayed, and she said she hoped the library would broaden her daughter’s horizons.

Because I’d taught for decades at night as an adjunct professor in the Jesuit English department, I knew lots of librarians there and phoned ahead to set up Candela’s visit. The  University’s library is a weird mix: extensive collection of James Joyce criticism and Irish history, and a wonderful offering of contemporary poets from across the panoply of world cultures and languages. It goes deep.   

The morning after her visit to “Hawk Hill” (local term for the Jesuit tower looming  almost ivory over West Philadelphia), Candela had more questions than before her trip across town. “So, what is Poverty Awareness Week?” There were signs around campus advertising a week of awareness devoted to homelessness and world hunger. “I was in heaven with the books, taking them off the shelves, reading, then finding more and more and more?” She added excitedly, “Your friend, the librarian, showed me a book by Edwidge Danticat, signed by the author. Imagine that: Danticat actually must have held it in her hands. I felt like I went around the world, no lie, Mister.” 

Then, Candela paused and said, “Hey, if they really want Poverty Awareness, why don’t we just invite them over here?” She laughed an ironic laugh. 

The Threat, 

--Fast Forward Three Months, Burger King 

We met about thirty minutes after Candela’s tearful, frightened call, the three of us, Candela, her older sister (fictional name, Marisela) who had left her home twenty blocks away and her own three children with a neighbor (her husband was working nights) and me. We  replayed through tears their mother’s threats and her delirium. Marisela said that we must call 911, report the incident and the troubling words kill and suicide and that their mom would be detained, by the police and placed on meds. After about ten days she would be released. This had happened before. Marisela would sign the papers. 

Candela said that would be brutal, heartless and inhumane. Marisela countered that  there was no alternative. Then, Candela said that she couldn’t bear thinking of her mom confined in that cold, clinical environment where no one would understand her. Marisela said that there would be Spanish-speaking nurses and assistants.  Candela dissented, “But translation has to have nuance. It has to have sensitivity to the words and their meanings. It has to be dialogic.” Marisela looked perplexed. Candela explained, “I learned this all from James Joyce. Nobody gets mom’s meanings the way that I do.” Candela’s point came literally from our class. And, then, she cried and quoted her favorite line from Joyce’s Finnegans Wake, “Can't hear with the waters of. The chittering waters of. Flittering bats, fieldmice bawk talk. Ho! Are you not gone ahome?” And she added in her own words, “That’s so much more than Good Bye.” Candela  said that she needed to make sure her mom understood everything that had happened before she brokedown and everything that would follow from that point. Anything less, would be “a violation of the sadness of her story and of the sadness of her life.” Again, Marisela looked perplexed. A very shaky pause ensued, “Spontaneously, Marisela hugged Candela and repeated over and over, “Candy, I’m so proud of you, baby.” Together, they decided to call 911 and to be there with their mom and to accompany her and to do the translation whenever and wherever possible, in person, the two of them. 

If Baldwin’s distillation of the point of education brings teachers into a dynamic relation with the profoundly personal context within which students take risks and grow intellectually, his statement of the “paradox” of education, later in his essay, poses another problem of which we need to be aware. His terms inform the occasion, 

“The Paradox of education is precisely this -- that as one begins to become conscious one begins to examine the society in which he is being educated  ....  The obligation of anyone who thinks of himself as responsible is to examine society and try to change it and to fight it -- at no matter what risk. This is the only hope society has. This is the only way societies change” - James Baldwin, Talk To Teachers (1963).

So much of what we do as students and teachers and family members and neighbors and co-workers is caught within the paradox that James Baldwin articulates as an admonition to “examine and try to change” society’s forms wherever our perceptions pose poignant questions and uncertainties. Candela and her sister, Marisela, revealed Baldwin’s wisdom to me as well as an assurance that bringing students literature in all of its complexity is crucial to acquainting them with complexity  so that they can distinguish what they want to believe and how they want to live. 

Candela came away with deep convictions about nuance and dialogic sensitivity to meaning. That’s where she felt and honored profound responsibilities to her mother. Isn’t that when words are most crucial, when we discern how they create meanings and, thus, relationships? It’s no surprise that Candela continued growing and  became an extraordinary leader in her community. That will be another story.

Our work, however, as students and teachers, is to keep that conversation alive with the integrity we learn from Baldwin responding  that “Joyce is right about history being a nightmare-but it may be the nightmare from which no one can awaken. People are trapped in history and history is trapped in them” James Baldwin, A Stranger in the Village, 1955.

[fanfics4all]

A Lodge Between Us: Part 3

Request: Yes / no 

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night 

Archie x Lodge!Reader

Word count: 2332

Warnings: Nothing I think

Y/N: Your Name

Y/N/N: Your Nickname

Summary: You’re Veronica Lodge’s little sister and are dating Archie Andrews. You’re nothing like your sister, you don’t care about the riches and you don’t follow your parent’s orders blindly. You become close with the Southside and want to stop your father but your father has gotten into Archies head and is the devil on his shoulder.

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Masterlist

Part 1,  Part 2, Part 3

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

I walked into our living room apartment to see my mother holding a cup of coffee and walking to my father’s studdy. Before she could walk in I walked in front of her with a smile.

“Oh, I can take that in to Daddy. I wanna ask him something, anyway.” I said trying to take the cup from her.

“Your father and I have business to discuss.Besides you know the rules about his study.”

“Mom, those were the old rules.” I said confused and my sister had joined us, walking out of her room.

“Which still apply, Y/N.” She answered with a smile. Before I could argue anymore my father walked out of his study.

“I thought I heard my two palomitas out here chirping. Is that my cafá con leche?” He asked taking the cup from mother.

“Thank you, corazón.” He smiled.

“Daddy, Tonight's the season premiere of The Matchlerette. I would love to have my friends over.” Veronica said with a smile.

“Who exactly are these friends?” Dad asked.

“Inner circle only.” I answered for her.

“Hm.”

“You can watch with us, they’re dying to meet you!” Veronica added.

“They're welcome to come over, mija.” Our dad smiled.

“Thank you, daddy.” Veronica gave him a hug and a kiss.

“Come on Y/N, let’s get ready for school.” Veronica said and pulled me to our rooms.

I got dressed in a salmon colored skinny jeans, a gray tank top with black polka dots and a black bow, some cute black boots, black flower earrings, a few bracelets and a watch, and to finish it off I grabbed my sunglasses and one of my black bags. For makeup I did a gray eyeshadow with a winged liner and some fake lashes. For lips I did a pink that matched my pants kind of well.

Once Veronica and I got to school we met Kevin, Betty, and Jughead in the student lounge. Kevin had something important to tell us so we all got to school early.

“It was full-on Carrie. Midge covered in Moose's blood, screaming like a banshee. It was insane.” Kevin said, talking about what happened to Moose and Midge last night.

“Kev, what were you even doing there? You could've been shot, too.” Archie asked walking in.

“I was just night-jogging, you know, as one does, and suddenly, I hear gunshots.”

“Can we agree there's a killer on the loose?” Archie asked sitting down.

“With terrible aim.” Jughead said trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Jughead, he murdered Ms. Grundy.”

“We don't know these three crimes are related.” Betty pointed out.

“Guys, can we focus on what matters here? Midge and Moose are alive. Archie's dad survived.” I said smiling.

“The Matchlerette starts tonight and you're all coming over to watch.” My sister added.

“There's a shooter terrorizing the town. You really want us to watch a gross dating show?”Jughead asked looking at her like she was crazy.

“What Veronica means is that we want you all to come meet our dad, officially.” I explained with a smile.

“Well, we'll be there, guys.” Betty smiled.

“Hey, Andrews, we're going to the hospital to see Moose. You coming?” Reggie asked Archie.

“Yeah, for sure. I'll see you tonight, Ronnie.” He said leaving.

“I better go. Was supposed to meet my peer mentor at Southside High half an hour ago.” Jughead said and Betty stopped him. Veronica and I went to our classes.

After school Veronica and I raced home to get everything ready for tonight. Everyone arrived on time and the five of us sat down. Betty, Jughead and I were sitting on the couch while Veronica and Archie were sitting on the two chairs.

“Why don't you sit down next to me, loverboy?” I said making room for him.

“Archie?” I asked when he didn’t more or say anything.

“I'm sorry. This thing with Moose It's like nobody cares. Dad keeps saying, "Leave it to Sheriff Keller. I'm like, "Yeah, he did a great job of catching Jason's murderer." Oh. Wait, I'm sorry, that was us.” He said loudly.

“Inside voices please.” Veronica whispered.

“No, don't stop him. Archie going Travis Bickle is my favorite Archie yet.” Jughead said with his mouth full of popcorn.

“Doesn't it feel like he's targeting us? I mean, specifically? I don't want anyone else getting hurt.” Archie said worriedly.

“You know, back in our salad days, When we had a getaway on the Cape, all of us got together and hired private security to keep out the riffraff, as an added layer of protection.” Veronica said and I rolled my eyes.

“I loved that house.” Our dad smiled walking into the room and all of us stood up.

“Dad.” I said slightly shocked.

“We're on our way to dinner at the club.” Mom said.

“I wanted to meet your friends first.” He said looking at us with a smile.

“Great. Thank you. This is Betty Cooper.” I said introducing her.

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” Betty said in her usual sweet voice.

“And Jughead Jones.”

“Hi, you know my dad.” Jug said shaking his hand.

“I do. He's a good man. He values family. I hope his return comes sooner rather than later.” Daddy said with a smile.

“So do we.” Jughead smiled back.

“And, Daddy, this is-”

“Archie Andrews. The boy who's captured my daughter's heart.” Dad said cutting me off.

“Daddy.” I said slightly annoyed.

“Uh, it's nice to meet you, sir.” Archie said with a smile.

“Ah, please. Call me Hiram.” He said and the two shook hands.

“I couldn't help but overhear your discussion and I, um I understand your frustration with Sheriff Keller. As for someone who's had his own share of run-ins with the law I can say that the police aren't always the solution. Sometimes we need to take matters into our own hands. We need to protect ourselves.” He said.

“We’re gonna lose our table.” Mom reminded him.

“Oh, yes, of course. Hey, it was nice to meet all of you.” He said and they started walking out.

“Oh, and Archie?” My dad said causing us to turn towards him.

“Yes?” Archie asked.

“Why don't you come over for dinner this week? I look forward to seeing what you come up with to save Riverdale.” Daddy said and I smiled at him a bit, maybe he is trying…

We spent the night watching the Matchlerette and once it was over everyone went home, since it was a school night. Once everyone left Veronica and I got ready for bed and went to sleep.

The next morning I was getting ready for school I had on gold sequined shirt, white jeans, purple heels, with matching purple earrings and a bracelet. For makeup I did a black and gold eye with winged liner, and a metallic golden lipstick for a little something extra.

I was backing my beige bag for school when my mother knocked on the door.

“About Archie coming over for dinner I wouldn't push that if I were you.” She said.

“I'm not. Dad invited him.” I said confused.

“Daddy wants to please his little girl. And you want your father's approval. Mija you want everything to change overnight. You want him to be friends with your friends. And that will happen. Just no need to rush it. No need to be so thirsty, Y/N.” She said and walked out the room.

After that weird encounter I met Veronica downstairs and we made our way to school. School was normal for once and after school I went to Pop’s to meet Archie. I walked in and spotted him in a booth looking out the window.

“I have incredible news, Archiekins. You are invited to dinner with my parents. Our place.” I said sitting across from him.

“Oh, Y/N/N, this week's crazy-”

“I don't care.” I said cutting him off.

“Archie, this is nonnegotiable.That drive-by he did was a kind gesture, but this, this is like I don't wanna call it a test, though it kind of is.”

“What am I being tested for?” Archie asked confused.

“Not you, my father.” I sighed.

“Can he just be a dad for one night? No agenda other than getting to know someone who's important to me.” I said grabbing his hand.

“In that case, I'll be there for you.” He said with a smile.

“I don't have time to teach you Spanish, but I've selected phrases for you to memorize and practice. And can we not talk about that private army you're starting? Okay? Thanks.” Archie looked down and smiled. Once that was done with Archi and I finished our date and it was perfect.

The next day Archie and the Bulldogs were walking around town handing out flyers about the ‘Red Circle’. One of them handed me one and Midge and I looked at each other and sighed. I can’t believe Archie is starting an army of students! Has he lost his mind!?

It was the weekend and I had asked Veronica to help me polish the silverware. She happily agreed since it was a special dinner tomorrow. We were working in the dining room when our mother walked out from the kitchen.

“You're playing with fire, I want you to know.” She whispered to me and walked over to get a drink.

“I'm polishing cutlery, Mom. In advance of my parents getting to know my boyfriend over dinner.” I said finishing the knife I was holding.

“That may be your agenda, but it's not necessarily your father's.”

“He's making an effort, I'm making an effort. Veronica is making an effort. The only person not making an effort is you.” I pointed out.

“I'm trying to warn you Y/N.”

“About what, Mom? What do you think Daddy's gonna do? Please, God, enough of these veiled threats. Tell me you think he's dangerous. Say it to my face or forever hold your peace because we're never having this conversation again.” I said standing up.

“Y/N!” Veronica said touching my arm to get me to sit down.

“Can't do it, can you?” I asked when she didn’t say anything and sat down.

“Just remember, you're the one who welcomed him back.” I glared at her and she walked off.

Tonight was the dinner and Veronica was helping me get dressed. I decided to pull out my favorite red and black dress, black heels, and two beautiful bracelets. For makeup I did some black eyeshadow with a silver highlight in the corner of my eye. I also pulled out one of my favorite red lipsticks to complete the look.

Archie had come over and we were currently all sat down eating dinner. It was awkward to say the least.

“The posole was really great, Mrs. Lodge.” Archie said with a smiled.

“Glad you liked it.” My mother smiled black while holding a glass of wine.

“So, Y/N tells me you rescued the Muggs girl.” Dad said.

“Yeah, but the creeper got away. We need to be faster with our response time.” Archie said.

“Yeah, because you'd like to be ahead of the threat. I understand.” Dad said looking at mom. She rolled her eyes and drank some more of her wine.

“So, tell me, have you ever had rum?” He asked Archie.

“Rum? What, like the alcohol?” Archie asked confused and I looked at him weirdly and nodded.

“Yeah, there's a signature Lodge family label. It's I have some in my study. Would you like to try it?” Daddy asked and Archie looked at me.

“Of course he would.” I smiled grabbing his hand. The three of us got up but my dad stopped me.

“Oh, palomita, would you mind if Archie and I had a little chat, man-to-man?” He asked.

“Oh, um sure daddy…” I said sitting back down. My mother smirked at me like she just won something.

“Poor little princess. The king will always keep her at arm's length. She'll never be allowed in his private throne room.” My mother said drunkenly and finished her glass of wine. I glared at her and shook my head. I got up and paced outside my dad’s study and I could hear a bit of what they were saying but it was muffled by the thick doors so I couldn’t be sure. Once they were done Dad said Archie and I can go to my room for a bit and so we did. Archie wouldn’t tell me what they talked about so I just gave up, for now. The two of us talked about how we thought the dinner went and honestly I think it went well, my dad was actually being a dad for once. Archie soon left since it was getting late and I went to bed.

The next morning Veronica and my mother went out to go shopping so it was just me and my father home. He sat at the table reading the paper and I sat next to him eating some breakfast. He pulled his paper down a bit to glance at me and I was looking at him with a smile.

“Oh, I know that smile.”

“I've been thinking-”

“Oh boy…” He said placing his paper down.

“I want a more active role in Lodge Industries. I am a shareholder, am I not?”

“That's an honorary title, Y/N.”

“Well, let’s make it a real one.” He looked at me with a raised brow.

“I mean Veronica is involved and I wanna get my hands dirty. I wanna be in the room where it happens. Unless there's a reason why I shouldn't be involved. Get a peek behind the curtain?”

“No. None at all. Of course you should be involved. You're a Lodge, after all.” He said with a smile and the two of us cheered to our new agreement. I would no longer let my father pull something over on me.

Tag list: @jojokoko0717 @lilaqueenquinn @lonelydoode @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @blueandgoldaus @nixdunbarhale @nixdunbarhale2

[hymn2000]

Freeze - MCU AU Fanfic - C19

Previous chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

Story synopsis:- When a burst gas main destroys everything and leaves Peter with nothing, the Stark’s take him in. Thrown together by necessity, they then need to try to keep it together and build a new life. Devastated by loss, Peter doesn’t make things easy for them, and Loki and Tony struggle with their own grief and the responsibility of having someone completely dependant on them.

Chapter description:- Life takes another turn as the rest of Peter’s classmates rejoin the class after their trip

Story warnings/themes: character death, hurt/comfort, trauma, grief, depression/mental health issues, bullying, corporal punishment

Relationships: Frostiron (Loki x Tony) (romantic), Tony and Peter (platonic), Loki and Peter (platonic)

From the same AU as Called To Be A Rock

Chapter 19 - And They Call Themselves Friends

-

True to his word, Peter slept most of the weekend. He was wiped out, physically and emotionally. Malaki hadn’t been back on Friday, so he had another tired, lonely day at school. Taking his school uniform off on Friday after school felt great. He flopped down on his bed and slept soundly until 9am on Saturday. He got up and had something to eat and went down to the lab with Tony, but by 1pm his head was nodding and Tony told him to go and have a lie down.

On Sunday, Tony was out, so Thor came round to keep an eye on him, which was easy work, as the boy was asleep for the most part. 

It ended up feeling like a bit of a wasted weekend, and Monday morning came as a bit of a shock. Peter hid under the covers, hoping that if he was found all hot and sweaty, and if he put on a croaky voice, Tony might let him stay home. All the kids who had been on the Spanish trip were going to be back today. Peter just knew they’d all be Nigel’s and Wendy’s, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with that. He wasn’t strong enough.

-

His plan of pulling a sickie didn’t work. Tony just shook his head and said; “Nice try”, and made him get up and get ready for school anyway. 

“The rest of your class will be back, won’t they?” Tony said. “You should be able to settle into the routine a bit better now”

Peter didn’t bother telling him that that was exactly why he was dreading going. He decided he’d just have to grin and bear it - but he didn’t feel much like smiling.

-

Peter sat on the end of the front right hand row in the form room, pretending to be really interested in his white board. The classroom was already fuller than last week, and the new voices and noisy chatter were most off-putting. He fiddled with a dry-erase marker, picking at the sponge on the top of the cap. He had horrible heart palpitations. He was just waiting for one of these new voices to start scoffing about Common Muck with Scholarships.

-

Three girls entered the form room, arms linked, talking together. The girl in the middle stopped, spotting Peter. 

“Oooh, new kid” she said, glancing to either friend. “He’s cute, don’t you think?”

One of the other girls laughed. “You really have no filter. Well, go and say hello then!”

The girl unlinked herself from her friends, jumping forward, planting her hands on the desk in front of Peter, making him jump.

“Hi! You’re new, aren’t you? I’m Millie!” she looked over her shoulder at her friends. “That’s Florence and Macy”

“It’s Flo” Florence said. “Everyone calls me Flo”

Peter blinked at them, unsure how to react to their sunny, friendly personalities. A voice behind him piped up:

“That’s Peter. He doesn’t talk much”

“Oooh” Millie tapped the white board on the desk. “Is that why you’ve got this?”

Peter nodded, and jumped again as Ms Hathersage appeared.

“Quiet now, you lot! You have exactly four minutes until the bell, and I want absolute silence”

No one else seemed phased by her. Flo tapped Peter’s desk.

“This is our row”

Peter’s heart beat faster. This was it. They’d turn on him now.

“I always sit at the end” Flo said. “Do you mind moving up one?” 

“Honestly Flo, you are so particular sometimes” Macy said, scooting past the back of Peter’s chair and taking the seat at the other end of the row, up against the wall. 

Millie sat next to Macy, and patted the chair beside her. Peter obediently moved over, and Flo took his place. She smiled gratefully at him.

“Thank you” she put her bag down, and spotted Peter’s satchel. “Oh wow, I love your bag! It’s brand new, isn’t it? Where ever did you get it?”

“Flo! Stop badgering him!” Millie laughed. “Ignore her, Peter. She’s got about a million bags already - she doesn’t need to copy you”

“Amelia, quiet now” Ms Hathersage said, and started to take the register.

“She thinks I talk too much” Millie whispered to Peter. “Flo talks lots more than I do, though” 

“Amelia, I’ve already asked you once!”

Millie put a hand up in apology, but as soon as Ms Hathersage’s back was turned, she rolled her eyes. Peter smiled slightly. He liked her.

-

Peter did worry that they were all just being polite, but when the bell rang, Millie and Flo linked arms with him while Macy danced ahead. In Geography, they insisted that he joined them on their table, and Mr Tucker didn’t object. 

Peter felt almost comfortable. These girls were kind, and they didn’t act weirdly about him not speaking. They included him in their conversation and gossiped about the teachers and other students. 

Peter looked at them.

Millie was definitely the leader of the pack. She was a conventionally attractive girl, with shoulder-length dark brown, almost black hair, with sparkling green eyes in her round face. She radiated confidence. 

Flo was definitely the most attractive of the group. She was sweet and bubbly, with porcelain skin and long blonde, almost white hair all the way down her back. She seemed happier daydreaming and doodling in her notebook than paying attention in lessons.

Macy was a bit of a mix. She was calm and collected in class, a little mad outside of it, and she knew exactly how to manage her friends. She had short, medium-brown hair, mostly covered by a headband. She seemed distracted, somehow, but happy.

Peter thought they were all very real people.

-

The three waited at the end of the lesson, making sure Peter didn’t get left behind. They all sighed in an exaggerated fashion as soon as they’d left Mr Tucker’s classroom.

“Thank God for that! I hate Geography more and more every day” Millie said, linking Peter’s arm.

“Me too” Flo said, linking Peter’s other arm. 

“What? Geography’s a laugh - it’s the teacher that’s the problem!” Macy said, prancing ahead.

Peter suddenly realised that she might be a show-off. She seemed to perform her part of the conversation as they went down the corridor, spinning on her toes and clapping and somehow managing to never crash into anyone. 

Peter decided he might like her best. 

“Hey, Peter!” Macy said, stopping suddenly. “Have you had the bagels yet?”

Peter blinked at her.

“Aww, no way! You must try one: they’re the best! I’ll buy today, ok?”

Peter nodded. He didn’t see the need to protest.

-

Macy went off to join the queue in the dining hall, while Millie and Flo took Peter over to a round table at the back of the hall by the coffee machine. He still felt a little nervous. These girls all had big personalities, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling that they were just taking pity on him. 

“So, why have you joined in the middle of the term?” Flo asked. 

Peter didn’t really want to share his story with them. Still, he got out his whiteboard. 

I moved house and my old school was too far away to keep going to. 

Flo nodded. “Oh, right. That’s a bit rubbish”

Peter nodded slightly. Millie smiled at him.

“Are you cold? You’re shaking”

He didn’t want to tell her that he was scared, so he just nodded.

“Aww. You’ll warm up after you’ve eaten”

At that moment, Macy appeared and handed them all cheese and tomato bagels. 

“The food here is great, trust me” she said, taking a seat. 

Peter didn’t feel hungry, but didn’t want to seem rude, so he took a bite when the others did. He was pleasantly surprised. These bagels really were good. He was quite content sat back eating and listening to the girls talking. 

Once he’d finished, he wrote them a question.

Are you all boarders?

Millie shook her head. “Flo and I live with our families not too far away from here. Macy boards though, don’t you, Mace?”

Macy looked up from filing her nails. “Yes, I live Bay Laurel. That’s the girls house. I go home during the holidays though. What about you? Are you boarding?”

I live with my guardians

“I wish I did” Macy said. “But they live in Canada. It would be a long daily commute”

How long have you been boarding for?

“Since I was six. I was at the sister school, and then I moved into Bay Laurel when I was ten, going on eleven. I had some friends moving up with me, so that was nice. We helped each other pack and it made the move easier”

“I used to board” Flo said. “When I was really little, I went to a boarding school a few states over. But it didn’t work out, so father brought me over to St Hendricks so I was closer to home”

“Well” Millie said. “I’m glad I don’t board. We all know the boarding master in Scotts-Pine has a cane”

“Don’t get into trouble and it’s not a problem” Macy said, grinning. “I love how you say it like your father doesn’t own one! Peter? What are you looking so worried about?”

Peter didn’t respond. He knew they might think he was weird if he started asking questions of the corporal-punishment-in-schools variety. 

“You know, I hope I’m not overstepping the mark” Macy said. “But I heard Nigel talking in the queue. He said your family are all gone and that’s why you moved here”

Peter was horrified. How did Nigel know about that? He sighed deeply, looking down at his whiteboard. Millie squeezed his hand.

“You don’t have to tell us”

Peter nodded, but decided he did. If he got it out of the way now, he wouldn’t have to do it again.

My parents both died when I was little, so I lived with my aunt and uncle. My uncle died years ago, and my aunt died in January. I couldn’t stay in Queen’s on my own, so a family friend and their partner took me in. 

Tears filled his eyes, and he looked away quickly. The girls exchanged shocked looks, and Millie took control of the situation.

“Aww, don’t cry! Oh Peter!” she hugged him tight, and he hugged her back. “How awful! I’m so sorry to hear that”

The other two joined in the hug. 

“I’m sorry for your loss. I know it’s hard” Macy said.

“It really does get easier” Flo said. “Thank you for telling us. You didn’t need to do that. We didn’t want to upset you”

Peter couldn’t help crying, not only because of what had happened, but also because these girls were being so kind to him. 

-

The three looked after Peter, getting him a drink and making him laugh to take his mind off it all. Peter appreciated their efforts, although his tears of sadness were very nearly replaced with ones of happiness. Everything that had happened with Ryan and his gang at the other school had left him so isolated and hopeless, so much so that it felt as though kindness was a thing of the past. These girls had proved that theory wrong. 

-

The girls stayed with him throughout the next two lessons, and all through lunch. His appetite still wasn’t great, but Millie introduced him to the pasta queue, and somehow a bowl of pasta and cheese was all he needed. He’d never known it taste so good.

Peter had to see Miss Marns in fourth period, but they came and found him just before fifth so they could go together.

“This is literally a dream come true” Macy said, rereading the brief. 

“Snakes don’t often feature in my dreams” Millie said. “Why are we making snakes? Textiles should be dresses, skirts, maybe even bags!! Not snakes!”

“Make a snake wearing a dress then” Macy said, as though it were an obvious solution. “I’m totally tattooing mine”

“How can you tattoo something made of cloth?” Flo said. 

“By drawing them on! Honestly Flo, stop asking silly questions” she shook her head, and looked at Peter. “What are you thinking for yours?”

Glass eyes

“I don’t think there’s any in here. Maybe you can use buttons?” she said. “Are you any good at sewing?”

Peter shrugged. 

“I’m rubbish at it” Millie said. “At least, I’m rubbish at sewing machines. I can hand-sew ok”

Peter looked down at the brief. He wasn’t sure he’d be any good at sewing, and he didn’t have any ideas about how to design it. He kept thinking about Loki. A part of him wanted to make it for him, but the overwhelming reality that no one knew where he was right now was enough to stunt his idea. He sighed. 

“What about this?” Macy said, shoving an IPad under his nose. “Do you think you could make one like this? I like its little fangs”

“That snake would destroy you, given half the chance” Flo said, peering at the cobra on the screen. She took the IPad and started typing. “You want a cute snake for a toy, surely. Something like this”

She showed them a photo of a corn snake. 

“It’s got massive eyes” Millie said. “We could always use Marlin for inspiration”

Peter looked at her.

“Marlin is my brothers snake” Millie said. “It’s a ball python. I don’t see it often because it lives in his room, but sometimes we put it in the paddling pool just to watch it swim”

“It wiggles” Macy nodded. “I’m not making a boring snake. I’m having a king cobra-type tattooed snake. Can snakes have piercings? I might make a gangster snake”

She looked so serious that Peter couldn’t help but laugh. She glanced at him, and then nodded triumphantly at the other two.

“Peter likes my idea” she stuck her tongue out at them.

“Macy!” Ms Castleton snapped. “Don’t be so rude! That was very unladylike”

“Sorry, Ms Castleton” Macy said, but she crossed her fingers behind her back. 

Peter saw this, and looked at her fondly. 

“What are you staring at?” she said, and stuck her tongue out at him when Ms Castleton’s back was turned.

Peter hesitated and returned the favour. Macy grinned, moving her chair closer to his and pretending to look at his work over his shoulder.

“You’re gonna be just fine here”

-

Tony watched out of the car window as Peter was hugged goodbye. A minute later, Peter opened the passenger door and climbed into the car. 

“Hey kiddo”

Peter pulled the door closed, flopping back in his seat.

“I’ve gotta go to the shops to pick up a few bits before we go home, ok?”

Peter nodded. 

“I’ll try to be quick” 

-

Peter fell asleep in the car after they’d been to the shops. Tony was worried, as he hadn’t said a word since he’d picked him up. Sure, Peter didn’t really talk to strangers any more, and he didn’t speak at school, but he’d mostly stayed talkative with him and Loki. 

He gave him a little shake when they got back to the house, and they went to the kitchen together.

“So” Tony said, switching the kettle on. “How was school?”

Peter just shrugged.

“I saw those girls hugging you. Friends of yours?”

“Oh” Peter didn’t realise he’d been seen. “Um”

“Are they some of the people who were away on the Spanish trip?” Tony pressed.

Peter nodded. 

Tony sighed. “What’s up with you today?? Cat got your tongue?”

Peter just shrugged again. Tony sighed again, and shook his head.

“Go and get changed, and then get your homework done”

-

Peter sat doing his homework in silence. Tony gave him a poke.

“Hey, do you want a snack?”

Peter shook his head. Tony watched him working for a minute.

“Are you ok?”

Peter shook his head again. 

“Talk to me?”

Another shake of the head. Tony didn’t know what to do. He tried to give him a hug, but Peter leant away from him and wouldn’t let him. Tony sighed and left the kitchen, going downstairs and checking the post. He sighed heavily and threw the letters down on the cabinet. Nothing of importance. Still no word from Loki. It was a worrying development, or lack thereof. He didn’t know what to think.

-

Tony caught Peter on the way to his room.

“What’s the matter? You know you can talk to me”

Peter shook his head and tried to wriggle free. Tony held on tighter. 

“You can’t bottle it up forever, kiddo”

Peter pushed his hands away and darted into his room, shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t in the mood for an ultimatum. 

-

Tony kept his distance for a while, but soon time was getting on, so he knocked on Peter’s door. 

“Peter?” There was no reply. “I’m coming in now”

He opened the door and found the boy fast asleep. He sighed and gave him a good shake, waking him up.

“We need to think about getting you fed”

“...’m not hungry”

Tony seized him under the arms and sat him up. 

“Oww! That hurt!”

“Sorry. Right, you need to tell me what’s going on with you” he said. “Are you just tired? Is that it?”

Peter shrugged. 

“Peter, stop being so evasive”

“I don’t want to talk to you! Leave me alone!”

“Peter-”

“No!”

“Oh fine then, be that way” Tony snapped. He checked his watch. “Ok, it’s half seven now. If you’re not in the kitchen by eight o’ clock, you’re not having any tea tonight”

-

Peter went into a sulk. He decided he didn’t care, he didn’t want to speak, and he wasn’t hungry - certainly not for anything made by the likes of Tony. 

But, sulking was hard work. He was determined not to show his face, but he started clock-watching, and at five to eight he cracked. He rushed to the kitchen and buried his face in Tony’s chest.

“I need to talk to you!”

He told him about Millie and Macy and Flo, and his fears that they were just hanging out with him out of pity. He told him everything that had happened that day, and started talking about textiles.

“-so I thought, y’know, I could make it for Loki, but he’s not here any more, and so there’s no point, and I was so horrible to him before he left and now I feel so guilty and a miss him so much and, and-”

“Ok, ok, sweetheart, shh” Tony hugged him close. “It’s ok, chick”

“I want him to come back!”

“I know. I know you do. He’ll come back when he’s ready”

“No he won’t! He won’t ever want to be near me again! I was so hateful to him”

“It’s not your fault he left. He will come back; he promised he would” Tony said firmly. “When he’s ready, and not a moment before”

Peter rested his forehead against Tony’s shoulder, breathing deeply. He knew he needed to believe Tony. After all, he knew him better than anyone else. 

“I just want him to hurry up”

“I know. Try not to think about it. You’ve got other stuff to focus on. School, for a start, and your new friends”

Peter stood back slightly. “Do you really think they’re friends?”

“Sure” Tony said. “They’ll come running up to you tomorrow morning, you’ll see”

“What if you’re wrong?”

Tony smiled. “What if I’m not? Come on, lets get you fed”

*

[wesleyv21-blog]

One Week Down!

¡Hola, todos! Sending out good vibes from Quito!

Damn has a lot happened this weekend! Perhaps both the most exciting and nerve-wracking part of the experience so far has finally come: I moved in with my homestay family! But there’s quite a story leading up to this point so I’ll start from the beginning.

Friday was taken up by one-on-one interviews with our program director, Faba, during which we just checked in about our medical information and how we’re doing so far. Since there are 24 of us, and each interview took about 10 minutes, and somehow we fell behind at some point, this took almost half the day. When it was finally done around 1:30, a big group of us went out for tapas and had quite the time. It will be our last meal together for some time, because at around 4:00 on Friday, our host families came to pick us up from our hotel!

I was quite the ball of nerves and excitement while waiting for my family to arrive. Hell, we all were! All I had to go on was a letter they wrote me describing how excited they were to welcome me into their home, as well as a photo of the family and some info about them that the program provided. Well, the funny thing was that my family did not show up on Friday. The whole family had taken a weeklong vacation to the beaches of Esmeraldas, a province to the northwest of Quito that is a looooooong car ride from the city lol probably 6-8 hours with traffic. So, one of their good friends who is hosting another student and who lives close by picked me up. She was so nice and hospitable, feeding us cake, tea, and a scrumptious dinner. She is quite experienced in hosting foreign scholars, and in fact I ended up meeting two additional students from other universities and doing other stuff in the country that were wrapping up their time in Ecuador. My temporary host mom has a daughter and a son around our age, so all 6 of us ended up going out to a house party after dinner. Oh, one cool thing about my temporary host family is that the father’s brother is an ex-president of Ecuador who is also a famous economist. In addition to his famous books he’s written, my temporary host mom showed us a picture album with the whole family which was amazing and cute.

Now, this house party was something else. Getting there took around 40 minutes, as we had to drive out of Quito to Tumbaco, a little town out to the west. Let’s just say that the young Quiteño upper-class plays hard. First of all the estate was enormous, surrounded by this huge wall that enclosed probably three or four buildings on this large piece of land. Behind the mansion was this patio that was replete with a huge grill, a hammock, access to the kitchen, comfortable furniture, and even security cameras lol. There were many young men and only four young women including my temporary host sister. The men were going hard, forcing each other to drink, smoking cigarettes, forcing each other to drink more, running around all over the place, fighting over control of the music, grabbing the women as if they owned them. I had heard from one of the program assistants during our safety lecture that in Ecuadorian society, men are under such pressures from patriarchy that they vent all their pent-up emotions by drinking excessively. I don’t know enough to claim that this is what I witnessed, but it is a tempting conclusion to draw. Of course what I saw at the party is also heavily influenced by class, since these kids (my age) have the leisure and money to drink hard on a Friday night. It should also be said that this entire weekend is a dry weekend; bars are closed and you can’t buy alcohol anywhere. The reason? There was a national referendum today, and I take it that for all elections, since voting is mandated by law, alcohol disappears so as to ensure people’s faithful compliance. Nonetheless these individuals had procured alcohol from somewhere and were indulging. The most fun I had was swapping party stories with this one guy who ended up getting so drunk he couldn’t stand by the end of the night, and talking with this truly intercultural young man who spoke English, Spanish, and German, had studied abroad almost as much as he had in Ecuador, and who has plans to continue his education in Europe. One other thing I learned was that marijuana is super taboo here, way different from the states lol.

Saturday morning, my friend’s host family dropped me off at my real host family, and I finally got to meet them! Their house is also enormous. Just like every other house I’ve seen in Pichincha province (which includes Quito and the surrounding towns I’ve visited, like Pifo and Tababela), their house is enclosed in a tall wall covered in spikes. It has three stories, including a large patio and a home office for the parents’ travel agency they’ve owned for over 20 years. The sitting rooms are spacious and filled with cool art, the kitchen is small but intimate, and the house is super well located: just a few minutes’ walk to Parque La Carolina, El Jardín Mall, and our class building. Two parents, a daughter, two sons, and their grandmother all live in this incredible house. There’s even room for a visiting aunt who lives in London who is also very charming. In addition, a lovely Japanese woman named Ayumi rents office space and works as a travel agent for Japanese tourists. Her office is right next to my room; she’s also super friendly! Everyone is so welcoming and nice! We talked, watched Black Mirror in Spanish lol, ate delish traditional Ecuadorian food, compared the Spanish and English in different countries across the world, and went out the shopping mall. More on the food. It’s all soo yummy. There’s like a mini corn-on-the-cob that’s called choclo, and it’s usually served with a slice of cheese. They brought out a cacao fruit, which looks really cool, and when you cut it open you expose the brown seeds that are covered in a white slime. You can suck on the seeds and ingest the white slime, which sounds kinda gross but is actually a good mixture of sweetness and tartness. Oritos are mini bananas that are super sweet. Habas reminded me of edamame, as they’re kinda a bean-looking food whose shell you bust open to reveal a kinda bland inside that you can scoop out and eat. It’s really good with just a pinch of salt added to it! The main course of lunch featured a sardine flank that was served cold in a red sauce with tiny round potatoes. At breakfast there was thick papaya juice which was really good, and with lunch there was this sparkling apple juice that somehow had no sugar whatsoever in it. Tonight for dinner I had pastel de plátano, which is exactly what is sounds like: a little pan-seared cake made of smooshed sweet plantains called maduros. Oh I guess should I explain how meals work lol. Lunch is the main course of the day, usually consisting of 3-4 dishes served around 1-2 pm. Breakfast and dinner are both very light. Coffee or tea is usually served at both, and I’ve had grilled cheese sandwiches served at both as well lol. At breakfast, they bring out the rich fruits, whether in slices or juiced. Dinner, if served at all, tends to be pretty late, like around 8 pm. Needless to say everything I’ve eaten so far is delish(;

But I have to say that moving in with the host family has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Saturday was one of the longest days of my life. I’m overwhelmed still from being here and being so far away from what’s comfortable; add to that the awkwardness of getting to know an established family unit so intimately and the mindfuck of re-socializing your brain to speak only another language. There was a lot of time to myself Saturday, which was hard. But, it was also very fun and I can’t say I regret it. I knew going in that this weekend would be the hardest, but once I get over this hump then it should be relatively smooth sailing. On the positive side, they treat me very well and I can hold my own in conversations with three generations of native speakers. Think about the differences in pronunciation that accompany age in English-speaking lands; well, I’m slowly building the satisfaction of mastering that in Spanish as well. I also get along very well with both sons, which is cool to think that I’m making international friends! It’s a long journey I’ve just begun, but I wouldn’t go back for anything.

Another cool thing was a conversation I had with the youngest son about voting today. This won’t be his first time voting (that came in Lenín Moreno’s election last year), but he nonetheless had some cool perspectives on the referendum. Voting is mandated by law for all those above age 18 and is optional for those aged 16 and 17. If you do not vote, you incur a steep fine. In addition, upon voting, one receives a certificate that one needs to do official citizen business like procure a passport or visa. The referendum consists of 7 questions that will amend the Constitution. These questions are:

1.       Would prohibit those accused of corruption from ever serving in public office (Ecuador has a long history of political corruption, yet the last straw in adding this question to the referendum was the recent imprisonment of former vice president Jorge Glas on corruption charges)

2.       Would limit all elected officials to only 2 terms in the same office (brought about by the last president, Rafael Correa, who changed the constitution to allow himself to run indefinitely)

3.       Would replace all current members of the Citizens’ Participation and Social Control Council (the 5th branch of government here) and replace them all with new appointees (to flush out the last remaining allies of president Correa)

4.       Would remove statute of limitation for sex crimes against minors (due to over 1,000 cases of sex crimes against minors brought to court over the last 2 years)

5.       Would prohibit mining in protected areas, untouchable zones, and urban centers (mining is on the rise in Ecuador, yet this question might prove decisive for the young industry’s future)

6.       Would get rid of the law of plusvalía, which essentially treats the sale of property of any kind as speculation, meaning that the seller must pay like 70% of the revenue from the sale to the state as tax

7.       Would expand the protected areas of the Yasuní National Park, the single most biodiverse place on earth that also sadly houses much of Ecuador’s oil reserves (this question would thus prohibit future oil drilling in Yasuní)

The general populace was expected to vote to pass all of them in what many see as a middle finger to the last president, Rafael Correa, and a vote of confidence for Moreno’s young regime. Yet that’s not how my host brother necessarily sees it. He doesn’t support the current regime, and he certainly didn’t support the last. According to him, both presidents have raised taxes, especially on imports, which has raised the cost of living significantly. In addition, neither president supports/ed policies that are favorable toward foreigners, something he doesn’t like. His perspective is quite interesting and will need to be investigated further. Another interesting thing about the referendum came when Sebastián told me that many voters don’t understand the wording of the questions, not to mention all the annexes that are on the flipside of the ballot page. Very interesting. Also last night I watched a government news channel ahead of the vote today. After going into detail about each of the questions, the focus turned to the actual process itself. Even though this is the 11th national referendum since the return to democracy in 1979, there are some new and exciting steps being implemented in this referendum. For example, there is a new electronic rapid-response exit-poll-type technology designed to report trustworthy results ahead of the official tally. Lots of domestic and international observers were invited to oversee the polls. Something that I guess isn’t new is that all ballots are translated into indigenous languages, and for the many hard-to-access communities scattered across Ecuador, the government helicopters ballots in so people can still vote. Another highly promoted feature on this program was the accessibility of all voting stations so that people with different abilities can still vote. The temptation at looking at this at first was to dismiss it as government propaganda, which it no doubt is. After all, in the U.S., elections are a piece of cake and no one ever has reason to question the outcome (except Trump lol). But, I had to catch myself. This is a country whose democracy is relatively young. Building up these institutions is key for achieving long-lasting social justice. Who am I to come in and laugh at things that Ecuadorians take pride in? Nonviolent, inclusive elections aren’t a given. So, I learned a lot more than I thought I would watching that program last night.

Today I accompanied my host brother, Matías, as he went and voted. It was quite the process to get to his assigned voting place. We had to take a bus probably a mile or so (which, in Quito traffic, took about 30 minutes) and walk to the destination. Although we didn’t know at first which street the school was on, so we were walking around asking people where it was. Finally, we found it, and I watched as Matías showed his I.D., was handed the piece of paper with each question labeled and color-coded, walked over to a schooldesk on which stood a cardboard trifold to act as a privacy shield, and deposited the ballot in the cardboard box in which was cut a slit to slip in the ballot. And home we went. At night, nos reunimos para cenar y mirar los comentarios a cerca de la votación. As expected, all measures passed. Now the country awaits the implementation of each question.

After lunch I had the opportunity to talk to the ones I love most. I cannot overstate how happy I was to reconnect with them and catch up, even just to see their faces and hear their voices. No matter where I am on this earth, I know where home is (:

Classes finally begin tomorrow. I’m actually looking forward both to their content and the sense of routine they’ll bring. 

¡Hasta luego!

[hopemckinney-blog]

photo by Alex Schonauer

Picture a circle of houses, smack dab in the middle of suburban Connecticut. It’s July and the air is heavy. The pavement is so warm there’s no other choice but to race to the grass, bare feet padding across the neighborhood field. You rub Gatorade remnants off your mouth with the back of your hand like a beer-bellied man who just rewarded himself after work with a fresh Corona. Stop. Look around. The whiz of bikes alerts your attention to a tanned kid frantically waving and summoning you to his yard for a neighborhood meeting. The most important news of the day is freeze tag once the sun sets. These are your days. The idea of a device you can hold in one hand with an unlimited amount of information is entirely foreign. A device that slowly gnaws on your self-esteem, absorbs your attention for hours, but can teach you a seemingly infinite amount of information seems impossible. This was my childhood since my birth in April 1995. It changed around 2007 when computers and cell phones seemed to add extra limbs on the bodies within the American population. A peak millennial experience.

           The Pew Research Center establishes millennials as the generation from 1981 to 1996, ages 23 to 38. Baby boomers are from 1946 to 1964, ages 55 to 73. There’s a swirl of generalizations given to both generations. The recent viral trend of the phrase “OK, boomer” kicked off with 25-year-old New Zealand lawmaker Chlöe Swarbrick, who was speaking in support of a climate crisis bill in November of this year. In the viral video, an older member of Parliament can be heard heckling her. Swarbrick looks up, quickly responds, “OK, boomer,” and continues with her speech as if nothing happened. A New York Times article called this quick-witted phrase “a rallying cry for millions of fed up kids.” It seems to have finally put a label on the increasingly clear divide between older and younger generations.  

           A myriad of TED Talks have analyzed this generational disconnect, and they tend to begin by looking at the stereotypes. Boomers are the generation characterized by hard work. They’re the architects, according to Dr. Mary Donohue, a published writer who advocates revolutionizing today’s workforce through enhanced communication. They’re obsessed with working, competing and focusing on fact and logic more than anything else. Millennials are the adapt, adopt and improve generation. According to Leah Georges, a published researcher examining the multigenerational workforce, we’re the “everybody gets a ribbon” generation who thinks they’re going to change the world. We tend to be fueled by feelings and desire immediate action.

           If you head to Google and type in “Millennials are,” some of the top searches are poor, lonely, soft, snowflakes, “the therapy generation” and helpless. “Baby boomers are” entitled, “the problem,” terrible, and rude. These generations have been riddled with stereotypes, smacked with labels and assumptions before a conversation can even be had. The individual has almost entirely been erased and silenced. So, let’s go back to 1945.

           Joe Alaimo, 74, was born alongside two sisters in Enfield, Connecticut, to first-generation Italian parents. He walked up to me with his hand outstretched and a set of kind eyes that could put anyone at ease. I found out his childhood was strikingly similar to mine – jumping on bikes with a crowd of friends and spending hours outside without a worry in the world. “My dad worked a lot and he had his own meat market so he put a lot of hours outside of the home,” he said. “So, my mom did most of the raising of us.”

           He went to Central Connecticut State University for a teaching degree after he graduated in 1964. For one year, the cost was a measly $1,000, a foreign concept for millennials today. He was able to work on a tobacco farm and earn enough money to pay for college himself. Two months after he started teaching in 1968, he was drafted to the Vietnam War – a foreign concept for millennials as well. “I didn’t wanna go,” he said. “I was ready to go to Canada. I didn’t believe in it. It’s not because of a fear of anything, I just didn’t believe in the purpose of that conflict.” Until 1974, he worked with a combat engineer company and was a training, non-commission officer, setting up classrooms for lieutenants. He ended up receiving a staff sergeant rank, and they wanted him to stay and make a career of his role. “I said thank you, but no,” he gently laughed. “It was fun, though. At least it kept me out of Vietnam.”

           Joe married his first wife in 1968 at 24 years old. This is the marriage his daughter, Jennifer, was born from. They weren’t married long and he ended up becoming, in his words, Mr. Mom. “The only thing I couldn’t do was comb her hair,” he said with a smile and a slight shake of his head. “I couldn’t do a straight part. She had long hair and that was the style. I just couldn’t, in the morning, get that thing going.”

A year after he split up with his first wife, she decided she wanted custody of Jennifer. This seemed to be the main source of distress in his life. “It was a whole year of constant concern that something was going to happen.” The judge ended up ruling that Jennifer should stay with him.

           Joe did his graduate study in Spanish literature and noted that, had he been alone, he would’ve gone to Spain or some other place. “But I didn’t, because I chose to be with Jennifer,” he said. “I didn’t want to give up my daughter.” In 1981, he closed on a house for him and Jennifer. “I had an attorney and the real estate agent, but every signature was my signature,” he said, and then paused. “I’m pretty easygoing, but I’ll tell you, Hope, at the end, I was shot. I was mentally shot. I couldn’t remember my name, again, because all the decisions were on me. It was very stressful.”        

           I asked him whether or not he struggled with his mental health. “For the most part, I didn’t,” he said slowly. “Although, I did when Jennifer’s mom and I broke up. I saw a psychologist, a counselor-type, just to keep a perspective. And he helped. You always wonder, what could I have done and, uh… so, I don’t know. That’s part of mental health. If you break your arm, you go to the doctor, right? I’m a firm believer in getting help.”

I was surprised but I tried not to show it. I would be lying if I said I didn’t place judgments on the older generation in terms of therapy. I asked whether or not therapy was looked down upon when he was younger. “Oh, yeah,” he said with a furrowed brow. “You’d get your brain drained and all of that. Electric shock. It wasn’t the thing to do. Like with my dad, he wasn’t one to talk about feelings. You just keep them in, get an ulcer and smoke and drink a little bit. I didn’t follow in that suit.”

           I asked how comfort came about for him. “Well, I did a lot of reading,” he said. “Going through the garbage of a divorce, fear that my daughter was going to be taken away. I think part of my character is I’m a sensitive guy. I can’t give a speech sometimes without bringing a tear to my eye.”

           As a teacher for 51 years, Joe has worked, and continues to work, with both older and younger generations. He brought up a time when he used to teach and a large group of students would meet in an auditorium to listen to a speaker who was older and has been in the field for years. He said there would be a clear lack of respect due to technological devices. “When these devices,” gently tapping my phone, “and these devices,” gently tapping my computer, “came in, people felt they needed to spend more time on them rather than listening to you. I don’t know if that was my old age, but it was more my feeling that we have a responsibility here. I’m being responsible and I don’t see you as being responsible. Make a choice.”

           He met his wife, Lynn, and got married in 1986. They had their son, Daniel, who is now 30. “My son’s a millennial, and he works his butt off,” he said, “He also knows how to relax. The millennials I’ve met in my student program… some drag their feet and others ask questions because they want to be on top of their game.”

           While Chlöe Swarbrick has become a representation of millennials, it feels like President Donald Trump has become representative of the baby boomers. I asked him if he had any thoughts on Trump, and I carefully watched his face. He sat back and momentarily paused. “I can’t believe he still has people that follow him,” he said, distressed. “Talk about rude, arrogant and racist. He’s just awful for this country. It’s scary how the rest of the world is viewing us because of him.”

           Joe breaks a lot of common stereotypes about boomers, and this showed me the importance of recognizing the individual. I decided to turn to none other than Instagram and ask millennials for their thoughts on certain topics. About 100 people responded to each question. Fifty-four percent would rather live in a society with advanced technology than no technology at all. Eighty-one percent want to get married at some point. Seventy-one percent want children at some point. Sixty-nine percent consider baby boomers ignorant. Eighty-four percent said social media affects their mental health negatively. Seventy-six percent said finding a job or career affects their mental health negatively. Eighty-seven percent said money is on their mind a lot. Seventy-three percent have deleted their social media at some point to better their mental health.

I turned to statistics to get a logical point of view. According to the Pew Research Center, millennial women are more likely to participate in the nation’s workforce than prior generations.  The median net worth of households headed by millennials was about $12,500 in 2016, compared with $20,700 for households headed by boomers the same age in 1983. Millennials also have the most outstanding student debt compared with earlier generations. Student debt doubled from 1998 to 2016. So, it’s a statistical fact that, financially, millennials are in a horrible situation. Even Joe admitted that the stress of money is always there and always has been there. I turned to a millennial in my life to understand their mindset outside of my own personal experience.

I grew up next door to Hayley Richards, who would remain my best friend to this day. She’s 24 and I’ve never met anyone quite like her. When we were young, she had hair filled with dark curls and static all the way down her back. She had a freckled face and was always on a mission to create something. Both of us were, and remain, artists at heart. We would spend hours playing, no matter the season. As we got older, we had more in common than I think we knew. High school had separated us and, though we remained friends, she went through some heavy things that I didn’t recognize until I sat down with her.

Her long hair has been chopped since senior year of high school. Less makeup, more freckles. She has an androgynous look, which is drastically different from before. But it fits her with ease. She just spent the last hour showing me all of the art she’s been making when she isn’t working at her job in New York City. Pads of paper lay across the table in her childhood home, and we sit across from each other like we time traveled back to being 8 years old.

I asked her what she thinks about our generation being labelled as sensitive. “I would say we’re more emotionally intelligent than older generations,” she said. “Or more in tune with our emotions, which may come across to older generations as being sensitive. They were always taught to keep their problems to themselves, don’t show any weaknesses, and I think that causes a lot of problems in itself and may most definitely have trickled down to the reason why people think we’re sensitive.”

Her father’s father was both physically and verbally abusive; an alcoholic who didn’t show any emotion. She thinks that trickled down to how her father treated her and her three siblings. He worked a lot and didn’t say I love you often. She recognizes it was likely because of the way his father had treated him. Her parents raised her in a religious household following the United Church of Christ, alongside incredibly traditional, heteronormative views.

When we were sophomores in high school, she came out as gay to her mom who had asked her what her sexuality was. “I think for me it was so overwhelmingly something I couldn’t deny that I had to accept it otherwise I was gonna go crazy,” she said, looking down. “I felt a lot of shame.I struggled a lot with –  especially the way I was raised religiously – with my spirituality and feeling like who I was was wrong and seeking ways to change that which obviously is not possible.”

“I remember she told my dad and he came into my bathroom that night and he peeked in and looked at me in the mirror,” she said, lowering her voice, “My baby girl.’ And I was like I’m still your baby girl, I’m still your daughter. I didn’t understand the sadness in his facial expression.”

Although her parents accepted her being gay, she has struggled with her gender identity since leaving for college years ago. Attempting to have that discussion with her parents is almost impossible.

“I feel like I’m constantly teaching them things, which isn’t a bad thing. If someone’s gotta do it, I will. At the same time, they don’t put in any effort to research on their own or look things up and make sure that they’re doing things the right way, so it feels a lot like I can’t be myself because I have to teach them who I am.”

Amidst all of this, Hayley also realized she has borderline personality disorder. Before she made this realization, she would smoke and drink constantly in college, attempting to numb the pain. It wasn’t until this past year that she made significant strides with her mental health. “Seeing a therapist helped hugely,” she emphasized. “Just being able to talk about it is one of the biggest things that’s helped because when you keep it all inside, there’s nowhere for it go and there’s no way for you to understand it.”

She’s been working since she was 15 years old. She’s been a student bank teller, a waitress, a bartender, a shuttle driver, a camp counselor, a music tutor, an executive assistant, and now she works with animals. She graduated Wagner College with a major in music composition and a minor in psychology, but only one of her jobs has been related to her major. “That ties into my lack of sense of purpose,” she said. “If I feel good in a job and I think about moving up, then I’m plagued with anxiety and not being able to fulfill the needs of that job. Then, before I know it, I’m at another job, like oh, let’s try this. Ever since graduating college, I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do with my life in case music doesn’t work out.”

She has plans to go back to school in two years and dreads the thought of finding a way to pay for it. She’s currently working paycheck to paycheck and has no idea how she’s supposed to save money while trying to survive on her own financially. “I live in one of the most expensive cities and I work on minimum wage, so money… I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about money every day,” she said.

I sat down with my mom to get her take on being a baby boomer. She’s 55. In 1979, her parents divorced, which was not a common experience during the boomer generation as it is for millennials. She graduated from nursing school and got pregnant with my older sister in 1986, by a man who was not my father. He told her to get an abortion. “I cried all the way to the appointment,” she said. “Just sobbing. I was raised Catholic, which was part of it, but I also just wanted to be a mom. Plus, there was that stigma of getting pregnant and not being married.”

She married my father in 1988, who ended up paying off her student loans; a “whopping” $9,000. I asked her what she thinks she would have done if she hadn’t got pregnant and married so early. “My friend Terry and I were going to go become travel nurses or nurses on a cruise ship,” she said. “Travel nursing seemed appealing to me because I wanted to go to different parts of the country. I think my life would’ve taken a totally different trajectory. I would’ve liked to go to California, I think.”

“I think I would want to experience some self-discovery before I have a kid,” I said. She paused. “Yeah, that’s something no one said in my time – self-discovery,” she stated, gently. “I think a lot of boomers needto do that, though. Like, later in life you realize you’re not happy and you have to go to therapy and figure out what the problem is. Like, why am I struggling? Because you’re looking for your identity.”

While talking with her, I reflected on how many conversations I have had with friends and how many thoughts I have on my own about finding purpose and existentialism as a whole. This seems to be consistently absent from the experience of baby boomers, at least when they were our age. “Me and my friends in nursing, you get confronted with a lot of life and death issues,” my mom said. “Maybe we were existential and we didn’t think about what that was. I think when you help someone to die, it makes you feel existential without putting a label on it.”

Maybe millennials feel so existential because they grew up in a time with so much rapid change. We remember a time when technology was only a small part of life. While we were going through our formative years, smartphones were placed in our hands and social media began to take over and shift the world in a way that no one thought was possible. Instant gratification has been ingrained in our brains so we have become impatient for more, but I don’t necessarily believe that’s a bad thing.

As for boomers, they taught younger generations the importance of hard work. I don’t feel that quality has been lost on us. What has been lost is taking the time to listen and learn from each other. A dialogue needs to be opened intergenerationally. Rather than following the sentiments of our current president, we should follow the trails that have been blazed by the generations before us that worked hard to be treated equally, allowing millennials to have a wider range of choices for what we want to do with our lives. Every generation has people who are power hungry, lazy and disrespectful. Every generation also has people who are empathetic and attempting to change the world for the better. It has to be each individual’s decision to listen to each other and learn these lessons.

[journeydb]

January 19 2019 Barcelona

Happy Birthday to me!  What a fun day I had, beginning in the morning when I met Jessica and her husband, Alex, and daughter, Laura, at the Diagonal Mar shopping center for tea and croissants at a cafe, followed by the video arcade, where we played games for an hour and I re-connected with my inner child.

Tonight Bruce took me out to dinner with our dear friend Jackie and her wonderful children Erick and Isabela.  The restaurant, A ContraLuz, is located in Les Corts, where they live, and the food was creative and delicious, while the service was impeccable.  We had SUCH interesting conversations!  These young people  are passionate about life and learning and they love speaking English with us to improve their fluency, which is quite good.  Jackie struggles a bit  more but she is really improving a lot.

After dinner we took photos of many different combinations of us together, in different parts of the dining room, because we were almost  the only people left there and because the decor was so unique.

My life’s journey, from Vermont, where I was born in Newport, through Wilmington Massachusetts, where we moved  when I  was  five, and, except for five years that we lived in Ohio, where I lived through my high school  graduation until I left for college. 

My family has always been the bedrock of my life and still is, especially my sisters Kathi and Fran.  Being the second eldest of eight children, and the eldest girl with more responsibility than my older brother, was challenging, and I began caring for my younger siblings when I was only five years old.  After our parents died, Mom in 1995 and Dad in 1996, and our oldest brother, Frank, in 2004, I became the “matriarch” of what had become a very large family and have always done my best to be with all the family members, traveling to the east coast at least once a year and whenever there was a need for my assistance in any way, and bringing them to Colorado to get to know the beautiful state where I had settled.

In 1972 I married my high school sweetheart, began working in the computer industry as a programmer, and then, after five years, he and I moved to Colorado because our marriage was “on the rocks” and we thought a change of venue might save it. We were wrong, we broke up, he moved back to Massachusetts, and I stayed, because Colorado had become my home and I felt like I belonged there. Also, my cousins, the Panariello family, lived in Golden and I had always been close to them, so I felt like I had family there, at least until everyone but Debbie moved to Chicago because of my uncle’s new job, and, as a result, Debbie and I became as close as sisters.

I met Bruce while working at NBI, a company where he was one of the founders, and we started dating a year after I was divorced and six months after he was divorced.  I left NBI  to work for 3M in marketing  support, covering a nine state region and traveling more than 60% of the time.  I returned to NBI when 3M left the computer business, and worked in NBI’s corporate office as a Marketing Support trainer, for three years until I went into computer sales, briefly for another word processing company’s distributor, and then for Sci-Pro, which was acquired  by ATV Systems, a California Point of Sale company looking to expand in the hospitality systems business.  My territory included Colorado, New Mexico, Wyoming, Arizona, Utah, and Nevada.

I made many friends all over the western states, some of whom are still good friends today, and learned a lot about how to get around on my own in different places, as well as how to negotiate with people and mediate between people so that everyone’s needs are met, as much as possible, at least, and I matured greatly during this time of my life, but it was also stressful and exhausting to be on the road so much.

After almost three years with ATV I left to join Honeywell Systems, where I was only responsible for sales in Colorado, and that was a relief, since the traveling was interfering with my personal life.  I liked Honeywell and my bosses there until, after three years, a new, young arrogant branch manager replaced the one who had hired me and we didn’t get along, so I took a sabbatical and found a new career by becoming an entrepreneur.

During the sabbatical I was in Portland, Maine, visiting my sister, Kathi, and she and I were having lunch with our mom when I went looking for a book for Kathi’s daughter, Kristin, and walked into the Ecology House store, where I fell in love with the products, the vibe, and the possibility of becoming my own  boss.  Shortly after returning to Boulder I called the owners and suggested they consider a franchise operation with me being the first franchise owner and they came to Boulder to work out the details and help me find a space in a good location. 

With Bruce as a financial partner and my unofficial IT manager, I raised enough other capital to  launch the business and we opened the Boulder store in June of 1988, the Denver store two years later, which we closed within a year because it was unprofitable and a drain on the business, and a holiday store in Crossroads Shopping Center for a month in December 1991.

During this time as a business owner I joined Boulder Business and Professional Women and made many wonderful friends through that organization, many of whom are in my life today.

The business was my “baby” until Bruce and I got married in 1992 and Hobie, my real baby, came along a year later and, after a year of trying to run the business and be a mother at the same time, which was exhausting, my landlord raised the rent so high that I had no other option but to try to sell the business, which wasn’t possible, so I closed it.  I was sad to say goodbye  to Ecology House but happy to be a full-time mom.  One thing that helped me through this transition was the women’s support group I had begun with one of my best friends, Theresa, which changed over the years as people joined and left, but we always had a core group of “Soul Sisters” to help one another through life’s ups and downs.

Those years when Hobie was young were the happiest of my life and I also began volunteering a lot with organizations like Reading to End Racism, Boulder County I Have a Dream, Boulder Friends of UNICEF, and Parenting Place, which was very rewarding and I felt like I was making a contribution to the well-being of our community.

I also began exercising more, and participating in sprint triathlons and cycling tours. I became politically active, raising money for political campaigns and working to elect candidates,as well as engaging in protests and marches.  I also joined the Boulder Valley UU Fellowship, which became my spiritual home, and there I became even more involved in social justice.

When Hobie was in elementary school I began studying Spanish with my dear friend Camila, pictured with me, above, during the 2016 campaign,and through Camila I made many dear friends, most of whom were also her students at one time or another.

When Hobie was in middle school, I began tutoring English as a Second Language with Intercambio and the staff and many of my students became dear friends.  My last career before retiring three years ago was teaching Spanish to children in before and after school programs in Boulder County and North Denver.  

Throughout my adult life I have loved to travel whenever I could and, thankfully, Bruce feels the same way.  We traveled alone and with many family members and friends, especially the Thompson family, and Hobie was almost like the fourth Thompson kid for much of his young life.

When Hobie turned 20 in 2013 and had a good job and a budding relationship with Katie,with whom he was living, we felt he was responsible enough to be on his own for a while so we moved to Barcelona for a year (although we really ended up being there seven months because of travel back to Boulder) to try living abroad and improve our Spanish, and since then have lived half time there and in Boulder. Hobie and Katie have lived together for nearly six years and we have become very close to her family, and so have Hobie’s grandparents and aunt who live in Centennial, so we spend as much time with them as possible when we’re home in Colorado.

We made a lot of friends in Barcelona and are so happy to see them when we’re there and it makes us appreciate being in Boulder with our family and friends there even more. Not exactly a nutshell, but that’s the short version of my life,at least so far!

[purplesurveys]

656

Where is the last place you had a kiss? My girlfriend’s couch. I normally wouldn’t kiss her inside her house but we were alone, so it just happened. What did you eat for breakfast yesterday? I skipped breakfast yesterday and went straight to having a macchiato, which was a horrible idea considering I had a badddd hangover. My body made me pay for it soon enough when my stomach started unusually heating up, so I bought a sandwich by around lunch to help it feel better. When was the last time you were at an amusement park? 2013. I don’t like amusement parks so when my friends make plans I don’t go along with them. Two weeks ago I was at a school fair which kinda has the same amenities as an amusement park, but I guess it’s not the real thing so it doesn’t count. When was the last time you cried out of physical pain? Last Wednesday. My friend Leigh was trying to demonstrate for me the concept of just-noticeable difference by pinching the skin on my hand. I don’t like feeling pain anywhere on my body, so when she started amping up her pinching I had to yell out. Have you ever done anything to Support the Troops? No. Can’t relate.

Do you donate blood? Nooooo no nope. I just said I didn’t like feeling discomfort on any part of my body hahaha and getting pricked is the worst sensation for me. I wouldn’t be able to donate blood even if I wanted to either – as far as I know you have to be of a certain weight to be qualified, and I’ve never met that requirement. Are you wearing two shirts? No. It’s never too cold to be wearing two shirts here. The only time I had to really do this in a local sense was in Sagada. That weather was b r u t a l. It was the first time my dad turned on the heater in our car and I didn’t even know Filipino cars came with heaters lmaaaaaaao. This was a very long way of saying no. Have you ever owned the socks with toes on them? Never have. What were you the last time you went trick or treating? I went as my best friend at the time, Sofie. I didn’t have time (and wasn’t as extroverted as I am now) to come up with a detailed costume, so I went as her – black dress, eyebags, winged eyeliner, and thick hair that was never combed. It had the least effort of all my friends’ costumes, but I got the most compliments on social media lol. What's your favorite morning activity? I am so not a morning person, and I just like sleeping/lying in whenever I can. Can you cook? I am hopeless in that department. Is there a lot of laundry in your hamper? No. My mom’s laundry day is Friday, so it’s basically empty the whole weekend. When do you think you'll have children? In a little less than a decade, honestly. I’m pretty firm in my decision to have kids; it’s my biggest dream if anything. I mean I’m also willing to wait until I’m in my 30s because god knows how expensive everything is rapidly getting these days, but I just know I’ll end up having kids one way or another. Can you point out constellations in the night sky? No. The only thing I can safely point out for you is Orion’s Belt, and that’s because it’s essentially a giveaway lmao. What was your favorite part about studying ancient Greeks and Romans? Nothing. It’s one of my least favorite topics. The only thing that got me to enjoy them for a brief period was the Percy Jackson series, but when I finished the books my interest in that world waned fast. Have you ever eaten a gyro? Nah, but close enough – I’ve had shawarma. What's your favorite flavor of Tootsie pops? Mmmm not really a fan of Tootsie Pops, or like candy in general. What's the last thing you bought at a mall? If I remember correctly, I got a toasted siopao in Coffee Bean. Where did your mom go to high school? She went to Colegio de Santa Rosa in Makati. What's a subject you would never major in? Philosophy. My college curriculum required me to take one Philosophy elective, and not only was it the worst experience ever, but I got my second-lowest mark in college from that class. Is there someone who you can turn to for money and not be ashamed? No. I hate asking for money, even from my parents. When's the last time you took a bubble bath? A little over a year ago, probs. I love bubble baths when I manage to get settled in one, but because I’m usually in a hurry when I take showers, the concept of staying and relaxing in a bathtub is a little weird to me so I never do it haha. Have you ever swam in a river? I have photos of me when I was 1, my mom, her sisters-in-law, and their kids (my cousins) swimming in some river.  Are there any dirty clothes underneathe your bed? No. I know I could be messy, but that’s just disgusting. What food do you love the smell of while it's cooking? Curry. What food do you hate the smell of uncooked? I just hate the smell of wasabi in general. Your #2--what's their occupation? Your #3--what color are their eyes? Your #1--what cartoon character would they be? Your #4--are they allergic to anything? All Myspace questions that I’m skipping, lmao. Has a bee ever stung you? No. That’s like one of my top 3 fears so I never allow myself to be near bees or wasps. If there’s any nearby I run the fuckkkkk away. Where did you last go camping? I have never been camping for real. In what month do you start Christmas shopping? Last year I had some stuff ordered by early November – but those were gifts for just my girlfriend. I bought everyone else’s gifts like a week before Christmas. Have you ever slept in a bed with someone with bad BO? I’m sure I have; I just don’t let it bother me because no one’s breath is supposed to smell great in the morning lmao. Do you have a favorite flavor at Baskin Robbins? I have never had Baskin Robbins and I dunno if I will, because it’s just so expensive. Philippine suppliers looove bringing foreign brands like Shake Shack and Baskin Robbins over here and slapping insanely high prices on them just so they’re seen as high-end lmao, it’s sad. Are there fast food wrappers/cups in your car? No not at the moment. If anything there are old receipts. Do you read the newspaper? Very seldom, but given that I’m a journalism student, I encounter newspapers a lot because they’re everywhere in the college. What search engine do you use? Google. Have you ever posted a question on Yahoo questions? Nope. But the website is useful and I just look for people asking the same question I have at the moment. Have you ever been on a dating website? I made a Tinder account a few years ago just to observe it and just for fun. I never needed it but I was curious, so I joined it but I used a fake name and a photo of a cat I saw in school as my profile picture so that no one knew who it was. Have you ever had a crush on a celebrity of the same sex? Save for CM Punk, I’ve only ever had crushes on female celebrities. What kind of flowers would you plant in your garden? I dunno, I’ve never felt interested in growing flowers...or a garden, in general. Would you rather have a flat tire or overheated car? Flat tire. As far as I know that can be fixed a little more easily than a completely overheated car. What's the safest form of transportation? Private car, lmao. That’s really your safest bet in this country. Do you believe that kids should be taught abstinence? They can be taught about it so they’re aware of what it means and asks of them, but kids should also be reminded that at the end of the day it’s an option that they can choose to take or not. When's the next time you'll go to the grocery store? I only ever go when my dad is home because he likes having us along, so maybe in a month or two. When's the last time you went to Chuck E. Cheese? Never. What's your favorite cheese or cheese flavored food? Mozzarella sticks. Do you like black licorice? It’s decent, at best. I won’t spit it out, but it’s not my first candy of choice either. Can you count to 100 in another language? Two, Filipino and Spanish. We use Spanish when referring to currency, so that’s why it’s easy to memorize. Like I’d say I have labing-limang (fifteen in Filipino) notebooks, but when I have to say fifteen pesos, we say it as kinse (fifteen in Spanish). Idk, it’s a weird quirk with Filipinos but yeah. What's the nearest thing to you that can bounce? I don’t think there is anything bouncy in the living room at the moment. Do you hate cleaning? If I have to do it I get lazy. But when I actually want to clean, it can be relaxing. Do you clear dishes in the garbage disposal or in the garbage can? My mom takes out the garbage. Do you watch anything on the E! network? I don’t think our cable comes with E! so the only times I get to encounter it is when we’re staying over at hotels. I like having Keeping Up With the Kardashians on when we do have that channel. Have you ever tried out or thought of trying out for American Idol? I loved the show during its peak days, but I never had the desire to join it. Where's your car keys? Upstairs, on my bedside drawer. Did you keep any momentos of high school dances? From my high school ball, yes. I still have my old gown, photos with Mike, the instrument he used to ask me to ball (a Starbucks cup with the proposal written on it by the barista), and my old corsage. I like keeping stuff like that around so that I don’t forget, not because I still like him lmao. My prom could fuck off, and I have nothing from that night. Do you still have clothes from your high school dances? I have no idea. My high school prom dress disappeared after a while, but I still have my ball gown. The last person you laid in bed with said... I don’t know what you’re referring to but our last conversation was her telling me to drive home safe. Can you touch your nose with your tongue? I can’t. Which celebrities would you want to hang out with at a bbq? The Friends cast. Do you think you could do better drawings than Napolean Dynamite? I have never seen the movie. What are you doing on Superbowl Sunday? Isn’t it over already? I saw my aunts and uncles post about it on Facebook so I’m pretty sure it’s over. Anyway, I don’t care for football. Ever been to the original 13 colonies? No. Have you ever been to a concert that got out of control? Not really. The most ‘rebellious’ thing that ever happened was at my One Direction concert. The organizers made the stupid decision of holding the show on FLAT concert grounds and not a stadium, for a concert that probably held 10,000-20,000 people. Can you imagine holding that on just the GROUND??? Anyway, my sister and I had the third best tickets which was supposed to bring us to the semi-front, but it turned out to be so far from the stage. Everyone from my section all the way to the back resorted to standing up on the monobloc chairs which really isn’t allowed, but duh it’s One Direction and we wanted to see them. Harry had to call us out and ask us to get down from the chairs and just stand on the ground for our safety, but we kept protesting until they just gave up and continued the show. What's the last thing you watched on tv? Titanic, but we watched it on Netflix. I haven’t seen cable TV in a whiiiiiiile.

Whose show should be cancelled? 13 Reasons Why. Do you like Lindsay Lohan as a blonde? It doesn’t bother me. When's the last time you ate fruit? Last Friday I tried some of Laurice’s green mango with bagoong. Can you jump rope double dutch? Nope. I know jump rope but I never went that far.