#anyway HOW CONVENIENT THAT IT IS EASTER TOMORROW

[meyerlansky]

rolling up to a greek family's house with a leg of lamb in the middle of wartime rationing is basically a marriage proposal

leckie's lucky stella's mom didn't lock him in the basement until the war was over to keep him from getting away, AWOL regs or no

[the-lady-writes-what]

Happy Valentines Day!

Tomorrow (as of writing this) is Valentines Day, but it's also the beginning of Lent. So, I'm writing this the day before and scheduling it for tomorrow afternoon. But Lady, I hear you ask, why do you care about Lent? You're not religious, are you? Yes, and no. It's complicated. In summation, I don't think Jesus cares that I write smut about fictional characters, though I will be abstaining from reading and writing smut on the following Wednesdays and Fridays until Easter.

Anyways, here's some Demon Slayer smut with Shinobu. As a baby lesbian, I'm still learning how to write wlw, so I'm going to make mistakes

Content: sex pollen, cunnilingus (receiving), fingering (receiving), toys, fem. masturbation, strap-on, spanking mention, use of "good girl"

🔞NSFW Content Below! 18+ Only! Minors DNI!🔞

Your brain felt like porridge sloshing around the bowl that was your skull. You pulled at your clothes. Sweat soaked through every layer. You threw off your haori, discarding it on the floor. Your vision in front of you was too hazy. The world was a blurry image in a foggy mirror.

"Wait here! I'll go find Miss Kocho!"

You don't remember who said it. Was it the young demon slayer you were mentoring on a mission or a member of the Kakushi? You don't recall. The buttons on your uniform are forced open. Their metallic chink as they hit the floor barely reach your notice. Your skin was on fire. Each labored breath was an exercise that none of your years of training could control. You clung to the wall on your shaking legs, but they weren't going to hold you up forever. Your knees knocked together. Every step forward was step towards collapsing altogether.

Indeed, your legs did give out just as soon as you heard footsteps pounding down the halls of the Butterfly Mansion. You sank to your knees before they reached you. You raised your head and could only see a blurry vision of Shinobu. She approached. She wasn't smiling this time, that's how you knew she was serious.

"Y/N, what's the matter? Have you been poisoned? Are you bleeding internally?"

Warily, you're able to shake your head. "N-No," you croaked. "T-The demon...he...he hit me with something. A bag of powder. I didn't...I didn't think anything of it at the time. It didn't slow me down...until after I killed him. The fever...my body hurts so bad...Shinobu. It hurts so bad..."

"Leave it to me. Up you go."

Shinobu pulled your arm behind her shoulders, helping you to your feet. She half-carried you to a secluded room where you promptly collapsed on a rolled out futon. She went to work quickly undressing you to find the source of the ailment. You uniform and undershirt clung to your skin with the amount of sweat pooling through your pores. Shinobu felt your forehead, which was clammy to the touch.

"Poison?" But doubt lingered in her voice.

She checked the rest of you. No signs of a swollen tongue or internal bleeding. No marks on your body. The best course of action was to help get rid of the layers that were causing you to sweat so much. Cold, damp cloths to cool your burning blood and some water was the only treatment she could think of. Shinobu ran to get them and other supplies.

While she was gone, the ache in your lower belly returned. You rolled over onto your side. Your body twisted as fire burned in your body. It seared down your spine like a knife taken out of the furnace. The urge to...touch yourself overcame you. As embarassed as you were, that didn't stop you from reaching down to the spot the hurt the most. Your poor clit was swollen and sensitive. You chomped on the pillow and covered yourself with a thin sheet to protect what little modesty you had left. You rubbed your clit with your fingers, moaning into the pillow.

Shinobu returned. Her arms were laden with a bucket of the coldest water she could find and a bundle of washcloths. The shoji screen door had been left a little ajar for her own convenience, but she didn't think of finding you in a compromising situation. Shinobu almost dropped the bucket of water. She steeled herself first. Without letting you become of her presence, Shinobu set down her loads outside the door, took a deep breath, and called out quietly.

"Y/N? Do you need some alone time?"

Your hand stopped moving. You sat up, covering yourself with the sheet. Heat rose to your face when you saw Shinobu standing outside the door, then shut it all the way behind her.

"I-I'm sorry. I can't...I can't stop it. It hurts so much, Shinobu. I can't help it. Please help me." You whined.

"Alright." Shinobu took up the bucket and the washclothes. She pushed her way through the door and set everything beside the futon on which you lay. She dipped a cloth into the bucket before handing it out to you.

"Put this over your eyes and forehead."

You took the damp cloth and placed it over where Shinobu told you to. It provided some relief, but not much. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands as you tried in vain not think about the burning in your most intimate place.

"Can I see where it hurts the most?" Shinobu asked.

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. Shinobu thanked you for your consent. She peeled off the sheet. Your clothes lay in a neat pile. You were bare on the futon, sweating profusely. You gasped as her hand trailed down from your stomach. Shinobu moved her hand slowly down. Torn between need and bashfulness, you clenched your thighs together. Shinobu's hand trailed further south until she touched your mound.

"Here?"

You shook your head.

"Then...will you let me see where it hurts the most?"

You took a shuddering breath and opened your legs just a little.

"Thank you, Y/N for trusting me. Let's see if we can get to the bottom of this," said Shinobu.

Her hand smoothed over your mound. Shinobu's deft fingers slid between your thighs and finding your slick entrance. You sucked in your breath, shivering at her touch. Her fingers were neither delicate or smooth, but she was gentle as she touched you. Shinobu rubbed your clit.

"Oh. I see. The powder the demon hit you with...was aphrodisiacal. You're soaking wet. This must be so painful." Shinobu continued rubbing even as your back arched like a bow. "Let me help you take care of this."

Shinobu pulled away. You whined at the absence of your hand, only to moan in the next moment. Shinobu reached in with her middle and ring finger in your cunt. The heel of her hand rubbed your swollen clit. At first, she pumped with slow strokes and picked up the pace. Shinobu brought you to the edge over and over again. You climbed to the peak but slid back down.

"S-Shinobu! Please, please let me cum." You spread yourself open more, granting Shinobu more access.

"Since you asked so politely." Shinobu laid down next to you, pumping her fingers faster. "Cum, then."

Her fingers ravished your poor cunt. You panted like a cat in heat. Your back arched, your toes curled, and your hands knotted into the sheets. You almost tore at the sheets as you came crashing down. Your eyes were screwed shut beneath the damp cloth. Relief washed over you as Shinobu withdrew her fingers. It wasn't long before the infernal ache reemerged deep in your belly.

"S-Shinobu..." You reached out for her, blinded as you were.

She patted your head and smoothing your hair out of your face.

"It's alright. I'm going to take care of you."

Shinobu took off her haori and unbuttoned her uniform. She stripped down to her trousers with just her breasts wrapped up in her cloth binder. Moving between your legs, Shinobu pulled your knees unto her shoulders and started kissing your thighs. Left, then right, she kissed up and down your legs. Whenever she came close to your cunt, Shinobu teased you with a quick peck. You whined and rolled your hips, but she kept you still beneath her.

"Be patient," she whispered against your thigh.

Shinobu sucked on the skin of your thighs.

"Shinobu!" You whined.

"So needy." Shinobu chuckled.

She kissed the outside of your soaking folds before slipping her tongue along your slit. Shinobu ran her tongue up and down to drive you wild. No matter how much you begged, she wouldn't easily give you what you wanted. As if she wanted the demon's aphrodisiac to last longer in your system, but she couldn't be that cruel?

Could she?

When Shinobu found you sufficiently needy for her mouth on you, she dove between your legs. Her mouth and tongue worshipped your cunt like how a monk prayed to the Buddha, ceaselessly and with fervor. Her hands pinned your hips down to the futon to keep you from running away. The sounds you both made were obscene to the highest degree. Your hands found their way to Shinobu's head. You threaded your fingers through her ponytail.

"Mhmm, yes! Shinobu, yes!" You cried out.

Your moans provoked her. SHinobu sucked on your clit and brought her hand down. Her fingers plunged inside you. She pumped and sucked at the same time. Two fingers became three, and they stretched you open further. You bucked your hips against Shinobu's face. You rocked against her mouth and fingers which drove you wild.

"More! Don't stop! Please don't stop, Shinobu!" You pulled at her hair, pulling it out of the ponytail.

If she hated how you yanked on her hair while she pleasured you, Shinobu didn't let it be known. Or, of course, she liked you pulling. It let her know how well she was doing. And judging by how you held her head against her cunt, she must have been very good. Shinobu pulled away slightly, but kept pumping her fingers inside you.

"You're soaking wet, and I don't think it's just because of the demon's aphrodisiac. You're soaked because of me, right? What I do to you? Let me feel you come on my tongue. Be a good girl for me and come on my tongue," said Shinobu.

Shinobu replaced her fingers with her tongue. She worked harder, faster, and played with your clit. You rolled your hips upward and rocked against her face. The faster Shinobu fucked you with her tongue, the more you tried to match her pace, rubbing your pussy against her mouth. You came crashing down again. Shinobo might have suffocated with you pressing her face to your cunt, but you released her before too long. You turned into a boneless mass. The ache subsided, though it slowly build up again.

"Wait right here. I'll be right back," said Shinobu.

Though you couldn't see it as you still had the wash cloth over your eyes, Shinobu pulled on her uniform shirt. She left the room in a hurry. She ran down the halls and came back to you rubbing your clit. The wash cloth had fallen off.

"So impatient." Said Shinobu. "I ought to punish you for not waiting for me."

Shinobu stripped down to nothing and joined you. In her hands, she carried a wooden phallus polished smooth like lacquer, and a leather harness contraption. She let you keep touching yourself as she lay next to you on the futon. She rubbed the tip of the phallus between your breasts and dragged down. Swatting your hand out of the way, Shinobu rubbed the tip in your wet folds before sheathing it inside. You clung to her as she worked the the shaft in and out.

"If you weren't so needy because of the demon's aphrodisiacs, i would put you over my knee, and give you the punishment you deserve. A good spanking would teach you patience, wouldn't it?" Shinobu nibbled on your neck.

You writhed against her. Shinobo moved the phallus faster inside you.

"Oh? You like that idea? Maybe next time...if you're a good girl for me this time."

You hummed in agreement. You rocked your hips against Shinobu's hand working the phallus inside you, meeting her thrust for thrust. Your mouths met in a hot kiss. You moaned against her mouth as you came again. When Shinobu pulled it out, the shaft was soaking wet, dripping even, and glossy.

"Look at the mess you made, Y/N!" Shinobu feigned shock. "Do you want more?"

Eager, you nodded. The demon's aphrodisiac wasn't out of your system yet, but more importantly, you wanted Shinobu to fuck you so bad, it made you look silly.

Shinobu pulled away. She stood up and slipped on the harness on her legs. The phallus was secured with clever mechanisms so when she dropped to her knees and settled between your legs again, Shinobu rutted against you. She rocked her hips, teasing you. Pulling your legs over her hips, Shinobu sheathed her fake cock back inside you, filling you. Your bodies rocked agianst each other. You grabbed hold of Shinobu's shoulders for support as she fucked you better than any man could.

"S-Shinobu...I think...I think I love you." Your cheeks warm as Shinobu rutted against you harder.

She kissed you. Her hair came loose, falling around your face. Her eyes and yours met.

"I love you too."

[dausy]

I'm feeling grumpy and mopey this weekend. Had a long work week and I feel like I havent been able to catch up on sleep. I also have only been able to go to the gym once this week.

we did accidentally end up going out for St Patricks day to a local brewery but it was for a required husband work thing rather than us actively going out.

havent been up to doing much art. I sketched a little bit and thats about all.

we ordered a new bed a few weeks ago and ofcourse it got lost in the mail. Ever so conveniently, they managed to find it but they have to deliver it tomorrow which is a monday and both me and the spouse are supposed to work. So I had to call in sick so that I can receive said missing bed. Right now I'm waiting for one round of laundry to finish so I can start another. Trying to clean up the house in preparation for the delivery guys. Cleaning everything and trying to make room. Our current bed is going in the spare bedroom so I'm cleaning both rooms and pushing furniture around.

I was going to learn how to use the lawnmower this weekend but they keep warning us of freezing rains. I'm not sure if I'm actually growing grass but the weeds do look a lot greener and overgrown since I started watering them.

still need to go grocery shopping. I'm still having an issue with a boring bank ordeal that I can't get in contact with anybody so while I called out of work tomorrow, I schedule a bank appointment instead. I also keep forgetting time isn't as far away as I thought it was an our military ball is only in a couple weeks and I haven't schedule a hair appointment..which is my fault...I keep scheduling to work instead and hair salons are always open on days when I'm working.

Husbands getting deployed in a few months and will be gone for a year so he's trying to schedule some weekend excursions and a vacation for us and that's always a different kind of stressful. We are 6-7 hrs from his family now so he wants to go home for Easter because he's never been with his family on Easter before. His sister is turning 21 and they planned a family weekend trip to Vegas which we are trying to catch. They're only 3 hours from vegas..we are like 12..I'd actually like to go to Vegas. I've only been once when I was like 17. I don't want to gamble I just want to eat and look. And then my spouse gets a week of vacation before he leaves so we were trying to decide if we wanted to book a cruise or visit super mario land at universal...or what..but all of this combined is quite expensive so..

anyway, my hobbies keep getting pushed backwards for adult things. I'd like to have a day where I can say I have nothing to do.

[formeandmyfics]

Jugenea Fan Fiction ‘LOCKED IN’

Because Judy & Gene are having ‘marriage on the rocks’, Sinatra & Bacall decide to do something about it. But, will their plan work out? 

Spring 1956

Gene stood at the end of the Bogart's driveway, next door to his home, as he took one last drag of his cigarette. He could hear the sounds of steel drum and ukulele music echoing from the back yard, along with sounds of his rowdy friends, and many familiar cars lined the Beverly Hills street in front of their houses. Exhaling the smoke into the night sky, he then dropped the cigarette the the ground, and stepped on it before heading up the driveway.

When he walked through the gate, he saw that the Luau was in full swing. With strings of yard bulbs lit up over the party, he could see everyone was dressed in Caribbean attire, with women wearing flowered lei's, as they hung around the tiki bar or the large buffet table.

Gene's eyes scanned the crowd for one particular person, but didn't see her. There were many people, and being so short, sometimes it was hard to find her. It was, however, never hard to hear her, but right now that voice of hers was non-existent over the music and chatter.

"Hey, bud, you made it," Van said walking up next to him in a bright yellow shirt with palm trees all over it.

"Hey, hey," Gene said smiling wide as they gave a hug and pat on the back.

"Here," Van said reaching for one of the sea-shell lei's on the welcome table, "Lazar said entry into his birthday party is that everyone has to wear one."

"That's fine," Gene said as he bent so Van could place it around his neck, "I haven't been laid in a while."

"That's 'cause you were on the other side of the pond for 5 weeks."

Yeah, add three weeks on top of that five, Gene thought a little irritated, as they joined the crowd.

"His birthday was last month. Why are we having it 3 weeks late? Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be here."

"He was over in Australia, I think. Bogie wanted to throw him a party with all of us."

"Where is Swifty?"

Van motioned, pointing back and forth behind Gene. Gene turned around and saw the familiar 5'2 bald man in glasses in a serious conversation with Moss Hart, another client of Paul's, or 'Swifty' as they called him. 90% of everyone here was, or had been, a client of Swifty's at one time or another, including himself.

"Look at him," Van said, "He's at his Luau and he's still over there discussing work."

"And with Moss, too. They're probably closing some business deal."

"And it's probably regarding your wife," Van teased as Swifty was Judy's current agent and Moss was her last film director.

Gene took the cold beer that Van offered and scanned the crowd again when Lauren walked up in a halter top and grass skirt.

"How ya doin' suga," she said in her best Mae West accent.

"Hi, doll," he chuckled giving her a friendly peck on the lips, "How are you?"

"I'm good. We've missed you."

"Oh, I've missed you all, too. It's good to be home."

"How good," she asked cautiously raising her eyebrow.

"Haven't made it that far yet," he said taking a swig of his beer.

"I'm glad your back. My husband's been taking me on the boat in your absence. He's says I'm not as good of a skipper as you are."

"Oh, being on the boat again sounds amazing. The weather over in England is shit."

"Cloudy?"

"Rainy and cloudy. Imagine spending over a month in that."

"Well, it definitely hasn't been like that here. It's actually been quite warm for this time of the year."

"Good. Maybe I can take a dip in your pool tomorrow if it's warm enough."

"Oh, yeah, anytime."

"Where is your other half, by the way," Gene asked.

"Over there at the Tiki Bar," she said, and in perfect timing the group of men there burst out in a roar of laughter, "They've just started doing the Jack Daniels."

"Oh, it's about to get fun then," Gene laughed.

"You know it. Oh, and your other half is in the house with Junie if you're wondering. I'll be right back."

Gene looked at the back patio door, as if he expected Judy to come walking out at that moment. When she didn't he started walking to go in, but he suddenly heard his best friend's unmistakable, but slightly intoxicated, voice.

"Gene!"

The other men joined in seeing him, as it'd been over a month, and he couldn't help but get pulled into their welcome circle.

Judy sat at the island in the large kitchen as June made them both another Mai Tai and discussed 'You Can't Run Away From It', a movie she was almost done filming at Columbia.

"As much as I love my husband, I gotta tell ya, it's been a little annoying working with him like this, as the producer and director, and then coming home together. I don't know how you did it with Vincente."

"During The Pirate, it was hard. It was really hard. I wasn't in the best shape, mentally, but I think working together like that put a lot of strain on our marriage. That's why I wanted him replaced on Easter Parade. I didn't want it to make our marriage worse, but it didn't matter in the end, anyways. I didn't understand it because I loved working with him on St. Louis and The Clock."

"That's because you two weren't married then. You didn't have to come home together afterwards."

Judy giggled, "That's true."

"Do you think if Gene directed you in something right now, you'd be as annoyed with him as I am with Richie?"

Judy put on a smile. She heard her friend's frustrated tone, and knew it was a hypothetical question, but it hit pretty good.  

"Well, I don't have to work with him to get 'annoyed' at him, but actually, it's the opposite with us. We work so well together, you know? He knows the way I work. He directed me in all the dance choreography for the last two films we shot together, and we weren't married then, but it always brings us closer together when we work. It's been hard going in two different directions, professionally. Working together is all we've known, it's how we met. And even after I left Metro, he was there helping me when I started my concert career and he was there to help me when I went over to Warner Bros for A Star is Born."

"And now you're away doing concert tours and he's making films."

"Yep."

"Or, he's away making films and you're here doing albums."

Judy sighed, resting her cheek in her hand, "Yes, June."

"But you always come back to each other. You're back from that small tour up north and he's finally back from London. Didn't he get back yesterday?"

"Yeah. Yesterday morning. He spent the afternoon with the kids when I was at the recording studio."

"I spoke to Pete on the phone this morning. He said he is subletting his Wilshire Terrace condo to Gene for a little while."

"That's what I've been told," Judy said licking her lips before taking a sip of her fresh cocktail.

"It's convenient, as it's literally right down the road, but...what the hell, Judy?"

Judy nudged her shoulders, "It's his decision."

"I know you, my friend, and I know Gene, which means I also know that you have a lot to do with that decision of his," June said in a motherly voice as she waved a skewer of sliced oranges and grapes at Judy.

Judy huffed and grabbed the skewer before June poked her in the eye, "Give it."

"Have you seen him yet since he got back?"

"Not yet. Frank said he was going to stop over here tonight, though.”

Just then there was a roar from a bunch of men followed by laughing. Junie turned to look out the window behind her.

“What’s going on out there,” Judy asked.

“I don’t know. Looks like the guys are up to something.”

“My gosh, they’re making a lot of noise,” Judy said getting up to follow behind her friend out the door.

They walked to where the group of men stood but first saw Lauren cracking up pointing.

“What is going on,” Judy giggled to Lauren.

Just then the crowd parted and there stood a few of the men in straw hats, bare chested, with coconut bras on. When Judy saw this, she laughed hysterically, grabbing onto Lauren’s hand for support, as the two women almost doubled over.

When Gene saw Judy happily laughing, it made him smile. He hadn’t seen her like that for a while. When their eyes finally met, they were both chuckling, and he took that opportunity to walk up to her. But he did so in a sexy stride and tilted his straw hat on his head, the way she does with her fedora in her Get Happy number.

“What do you think,” he asked smiling proud.

Judy giggled and placed her fingers on her lips as she looked down at the bra covering part of his naked torso, “I think you look ridiculous.”

“Good, just was I was going for.”

“This the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe you’re all wearing those.”

“Touch em,” he said playfully grabbing her wrist but she quickly pulled her hand away laughing.

“Get out of here.”

“Wanna try em’ on,” he said untying the back.

When they were off, she took it from him and examined the petite, wooden cup, “Darling, I’m afraid they’re a bit wee small for my liking.”

“Let me see,” he laughed and took the bra back. He was about too place it up to her chest when she pushed him away, crossing her arms.

Gene laughed and took his big, straw hat off and placed it on top of her head.

“This is not what I was expecting once you got back home, but it’s pretty damn funny,” she said adjusting the hat.

“What were you expecting,” he asked, his tone a little more serious.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said taking the hat off, “Can you please put your shirt back on, we’re at a party.”

“Yes, dear,” he said in the all-too-familiar husband voice.

After Gene grabbed his shirt that was sitting by the tiki bar and put it back on, he found Judy sitting at a vacant picnic table. He immediately sat next to her, beer in hand.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t home yesterday when you got back.”

“It’s okay. I know you were working.”

“The kids were so happy to be with you again. They couldn’t stop talking about it,” she smiled.

“I gotta tell ya the truth, I got teary eyed. I missed the all so much. I’m glad Liza was there, too.” “You handled all four of them alone, huh,” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she needed help doing it herself.

“Oh, sure, but they were on their best behaviour, just because it was my homecoming I’m sure.”

“Kerry spent the night for a few days.”

“She told me. She said you took her to Capitol Records with you. She thought it was the coolest thing ever, her words.”

“Well, I promised to take her shopping and out to eat, but I had to record a song up at the tower first. She insisted she wanted to go with. I thought she’d be bored.”

“Oh, no. I think it’s thrilling to her. You know how excited she gets whenever she gets to come to the studio or one of your shows.”

“For a few hours, it was just the two of us. I’ve only been able to do that a few times with her since we got married, but now that she’s a teenager, it’s a different kind of bonding. I really enjoyed it.”

“I really appreciate you doing that for her, and treating her like your own ever since we moved in together. I cannot believe it’s been six years already.”

“I know, and I can say the same thing about you and Liza.”

“How’s the album coming along?”

“It’s going really great. I love the playlist.”

“Is there a title yet?”

“Oh, yes, one that I think beats my last title.”

“What can be better than ‘Miss Show Business’,” he asked dramatically.

“Judy.”

“Judy,” he repeated and she nodded with a gleam in her eye, “Well, damn, that does beat it. That’s not original at all.”

She laughed, genuinely, and reached down to scratch the bandage over her ankle. He remembered her telling him about her ankle sprain. They hadn’t spoken much over the phone while he was away. When they had, it was distant and cold and only about the children. The one time they actually spoke like a married couple was when their daughter had told him that Mama broke her ankle. When Gene had gotten Judy on the phone, worried, she told him about the sprain while she was in Frisco. He was happy that she was okay and at least didn’t break it. Judy reminded him that their daughter had an affiliation for over-exaggeration but thanked him for caring.

“How long do you have to keep the bandage on?”

“Two more weeks, just so I don’t sprain it again. It’s just a wrap. I don’t have to walk like a toy soldier or anything.”

“Does it hurt,” he asked taking her ankle gently and lifting it on his lap.

“It’s sore if I’m on it for long periods of time, but doesn’t hurt. It developed a nasty bruise though.”

He undid the bandage and there he saw her a large bruise over half of her foot now fading.

“Shit, Judy.”

“I don’t even know how I did it,” she giggled.

“Probably falling down while you’re sleepwalking,” he said putting the bandage back on.

“I don’t sleepwalk.”

“Whose that walking around the house at 3 a.m., a ghost,” he teased.

��Yeah, the ghost of Dorothy’s past.”

He looked at her as she smiled, looking down as she stretched her bare legs straight. His eyes traveled up them to the tight, and short, high-waisted white shorts she wore. A yellow, mid-drift shirt was tied around her waist, with a matching bandage holding up her hair, and a pink lay of flowers was around her neck. She looked very cute, and more radiant, than she had the last time he saw her. Of course he had watched her GE performance on television like everyone else, and noticed she had lost about 10 pounds, but now in front of him, she looked younger as well.

When her eyes didn’t meet his, he knew that she knew, that he was staring. So, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “You look so beautiful.”

Across the way, Lauren nudged Frank with her elbow, to get his attention. When she had it, she motioned for him to look at their two best friends. When he did, it was just in time to see Judy look up at Gene, smiling, flattered by his comment.

“They’re getting along,” Frank said.

“Let’s hope it stays that way. I’m not looking for a repeated performance of what happened last time they were at my place.”

“What happened,” he asked.

“It was a few days before he left for Europe…” she said trailing off.

*

“Judy! Open the door! Judy! I swear, I’ll break it down!” Gene’s yelling caused the dog next door to start barking as Lauren walked around the bushes that separated their yards. “You’ll huff, and you’ll puff, and you’ll blow the house down,” she said, her arms crossed in front of her. “Oh, Jesus,” he slurred. “May I ask what you’re doing?” “She locked me out. She took my god damn keys and now all the doors are locked.” “Why did she take your keys,” she responded calmly. “Because she didn’t want me going out even though I had these plans for the past few weeks,” he smiled with his finger up like he was smarter, “So, I had Frank come pick me up. Ah ha, she couldn’t stop me then.” “She took your keys because you were probably drinking before you left,” Lauren responded matter-of-factly. Gene swatted his hand and shook his head, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned back to their front door trying the knob as if it was going to miraculously open again, “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Lauren slightly jumped and placed her finger on her temple,“Dear, she isn’t home.” “Yes, she is. Her car’s right there.” “She . isn’t . home,” she slowly stated in aggravation. “Then where the hell is she?” Lauren pointed to her own house and Gene rolled his eyes before heading that way.            Judy was singing at the piano, as Kay played, when Gene entered the living room, Lauren on his heels. It was a small group, as Bogie, June & Richie watched. Gene was ready to have words, but seeing Judy singing, he sighed and composed himself.  No one interrupted when Judy Garland was singing, not even her own husband.

When Judy saw Gene, singing loudly through a long note, she nonchalantly lifted her left hand giving him the bird. The room turned to look whom she was flipping off and Gene looked at Lauren who smiled, putting her finger up to her lips to shush him. “Whatever you did, maybe you should apologize,” a man in his late 20’s said with a chuckle, as he walked up to Gene out of nowhere. “Why are you immediately taking her side…‘cause she’s got the tits,” Gene asked as if talking to a friend, but then when he looked, he didn’t recognize the guy. “Yeah,” the man chuckled. “Who are you?” “And if you don’t make up, maybe I’ll end up having the tits, too. Hi, I’m Robert,” the man’s voice was full of sarcasm, clearly joking, and he extended his hand happily to introduce himself but Gene turned red. In his current state, with the current circumstances, Gene took the comment the wrong way and saw red. He suddenly grabbed the guy by the collar with his fists and baked him up to the wall startling everybody. “Don’t fucking talk about my wife,” he shouted. “Oh, Jesus,” Judy said and quickly ran over. Robert put his hands up, “Whoa, I was joking! BACK OFF MAN!” “Gene!” Lauren shouted. Bogie grabbed Gene from behind, calmly, to back him off but Gene just stared at the man, still in a hold. Suddenly Judy was next to them. “Gene, that’s Lauren’s cousin, now BACK OFF,” she hissed. Hearing her voice, suddenly brought him back to reality, and he let go. He looked at the man with complete remorse, helping him smooth his jacket. “I’m sorry.” They watched as Gene walked out of the room, running his hand through his hair. When he passed Richie & Junie, the two looked at one another shocked. “I am so sorry, Robert. Please do forgive my husband. He’s not himself right now,” Judy pleaded. “He’s not usually like that,” Lauren added. “I thought we were joking around. I guess it got misunderstood.” “He’s a walking bottle of whiskey right now, hey, Judes,” Bogie asked a bit amused but she didn’t find it funny. Judy shook her head, looking at Lauren, before she walked the opposite direction that Gene went.

* Lauren handed Frank his fresh beer, “Judy really locked him out of the house that night. He spent the night in our guest room. I had never seen Gene’s temper like that.”

“Yeah,” Frank chimed in, “Even when drinking, he isn’t like that.”

“Judy really wasn’t lying about his temper becoming a problem.” “But from what he told me, Judy’s mood swings are a huge problem as well. With his temper like a short fuse, and her bi-polar moods, that ain't good. Do you know what they've been fighting about?"

"No clue. But Judy did tell me they had a blow out the day before he left. She said it was the worst fight they ever had. I guess they both said things that were pretty hurtful, attacking below the belt, and all. She doesn't know where their marriage stands right now."

“Well, maybe they’ve made up, or will later,” he said wickedly.

Judy turned her head away when Gene had leaned in to kiss her and it really pissed him off. He didn’t say anything, but his face said it all as he slowly leaned back from her.

“Gene, don’t,” she said. She wasn’t playing hard-to-get, she was serious.

Gene exhaled, not wanting to get into an argument, especially here at the party, “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have no definite plans.”

“Good. We need to talk.”

Judy didn’t like his tone one bit, “I’m not sure I’ll be in the mood to talk tomorrow.”

Hearing her actress voice, he whispered, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but that thing you sent in the mail, is full of shit. Just know that.”

Without another word, Gene got up and walked away. Judy’s eyes followed him until he sat down in a chair by the pool.

Back across the way, Frank and Lauren looked at each other.

“Well, that didn’t last long,” Lauren said.

“I wish we could do something to help ‘em, you know?”

“What we ought to do is lock them in a room together until they figure things out.”

Frank nodded and took a swig of his beer but suddenly his eyes widened.

“Betty.”

“Hm?”

“I got an idea.”

Debbie Reynolds sat next to Judy, and playfully nudged her shoulder as she did so. Judy acknowledged her friend’s presence with a gentle smile, but that not-so-like-Judy welcome alerted Debbie.

“Alright, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing for you to worry about, darling.”

“Man problems?”

“If you want to call it that, sure,” she giggled.

“Is it that time of the month for Gene,” Debbie joked.

“Yes, but for both of us, and has been that way for more than just a week, let me tell ya.”

“Oh, it’ll be okay. Every marriage has ups and downs.”

“I know,” Judy said a bit frustrated, “I’ve had my share of downs with my past two marriages, but not with Gene, at least not like this.”

The seriousness in her friend’s voice altered Debbie’s smile and she took Judy’s hand, “You’ll be okay, I promise.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because it’s you two.”

They were quiet a moment before Debbie spoke up again, “Now, I have some exciting news to tell you that might turn that from upside down.”

“You’re pregnant,” Judy said joking.

“How’d you know,” Debbie answered gleefully.

“Wild guess,” Judy giggled back, still joking, but when she saw the look on Debbie’s face, her eyes grew wide, “Are you really?”

“October.”

Judy gasped, with a huge smile, before putting her in for a big hug, “Oh, darling, that’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you.”

“Thank you. We haven’t announced it to everyone yet, but I’m so thrilled.”

“Oh my goodness, I bet Eddie is excited.”

“Oh, he is. It’s not for another six months, but I think he’s already gone and bought cigars for when the baby’s born.”

Both girls laughed.

“Hey, Judes,” Frank said walking up.

“Yah, honey,” she asked turning to look at him over her shoulder.

“Can you stand up a moment?”

“Why?”

“Can you stand up a moment,” he repeated.

“No. Why?”

“Come on, come on.”

Judy and Debbie gave each other strange looks before Judy stood up, a little self conscious. Frank walked up arms length, and put his hand up so she would place her hand in his, which she did. He kept a hold of it and looked at her, as if observing her outfit.

“What the hell are you - what are you doing,” she asked now trying to get her hand away but he kept a hold of it.

“Mm hm, mm hm,” he said then all of a sudden yanked her to him and picked her up over his shoulder.

Judy gasped and grabbed onto the shirt of his back so she wouldn’t fall, “Frank,” she yelled, “Put me down!”

“No can do, babe,” he said as he started walking down the small hill.

“God dammit, Frank, put me down,” she continued and kicked her legs. Instead of a verbal response, he gave a small slap to her behind. Judy leaned up, angry, and hit his back in response to this. Everyone pointed and laughed as they watched Sinatra carry Judy over his shoulder down towards the pool.

Gene just lit his fresh cigarette, sitting on a poolside lounge, when he heard commotion coming his way. He turned to see Frank walking towards him as his wife angrily wiggled over his shoulder yelling vulgarities.

“What the fu--,” he mumbled as they got close but he was interrupted by Judy.

“Don’t you dare,” she said hitting Frank’s back again as she saw the pool in front of her. When Judy saw them about to pass her husband, he reached her hand out, “Gene!”

Gene immediately put his cigarette in his mouth, so he wouldn’t burn her as she almost violently reached to grab his hands. Laughing, Gene was able to grab her arms hanging off the back of Frank, and pulled. Frank kept a hold and took a few more steps. This alarmed Judy, and she gasped, wrapping her arms around Gene’s neck, his chest now pressed up against Frank’s back.

Gene lifted his chin up to the sky, holding Judy, the cigarette dangling back and forth between his lips as he spoke, “Come on, man, let her go, she’s gonna choke me.”

“And I’ll choke you to death if you let go, Gene,” she warned kicking her legs.

“Ow,” Frank said as she nearly kicked in him the face, “Ok, ok,” he said and loosened his grip.

With that, Judy slid off, and clung onto Gene. Near the edge, Frank then tackled Gene’s side, giving a huge push.

“Oh my God,” Lauren said, but not surprised, when she heard Judy scream before seeing the big splash as the couple landed in the pool. She placed her hand over her eyes, stifling a giggle. Frank hadn’t been kidding.

Judy and Gene walked into the master bedroom soaking wet.

“I can’t fucking believe he did that,” Judy stated furiously.

Gene chuckled, “The little shit.”

“Why are you laughing,” she asked untying the wet bandanna from her hair.

“It’s just water, baby, lighten up,” he said starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Lighten up,” she asked with a shriek and was about to go on when the door opened.

“Hi,” Lauren said smiling, “If you don’t mind, I just have to…” She trailed off as her eyes landed on the bedside table and she walked across the room.

Judy and Gene both just stood there, confused, as they watched her pick up the phone. She fiddled with it before the cord was no longer plugged in.

“Ah ha, there we go,” she said and head back towards the door.

“What the hell are you doing,” Gene asked.

“Why are you taking our phone,” Judy added completely flabbergasted.

When she went out the door, Frank appeared with a tray of veggies in one hand and fruit in the other, obviously from the party.

“Here ya go, something to hold you over til’ morning. You’re good with just water til then, ya?”

“What are you talk--what the hell is going on,” Gene said taking a step towards him, his arms out confused.

Frank smiled, gave him a thumbs up, before shutting the door behind him.

Gene looked at Judy, who was making a strange face, before he walked back to the doors. But, they wouldn’t open. He tried again.

“What the fuck,” he said and tried again.

On the other side, Frank had tied one of the kid’s jump robes around the double door’s handles like a tourniquet. Lauren stood by smiling when she heard Gene and Judy mumbling inside.

“Frank! What the hell are you doing,” Gene yelled.

“Locking you both in.”

“What do you mean,” they both answered at the same time.

“Now, darlings, don’t get mad…” Lauren started.

Judy interrupted as she stomped to the door, “Darling���s going to get mad if you don’t open the god damn door!”

Frank looked at her eyes wide hearing that rare, but intense, yell, “I think she means business.”

Lauren went on, “Now, listen, you two are going to stay in there together, and work on whatever shit you’re going through, no ‘if’ ‘and’s’ or ‘but’s’ about it.”

“We are not going to stay in here, now OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR,” Gene yelled and hit hit fist against the door which made Frank back away startled.

“Stop it,” Judy said pushing Gene away and put on a calm and sweet voice, “You cannot just leave us in here.”

“Sure we can. You have a bathroom, you have snacks, you have water, you have a bed, you have each other, you’ll be fine until morning,” Frank added.

“We’re not joking,” Lauren said walking closer to the door, “We’re not letting you out until you can work out your problems.”

“Great,” Gene said, “We’ll die in here.”

Judy gave him an evil glare before trying the door herself, but of course it didn’t open, “Betty, I love you, I really do, and I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you don’t know anything about what we’re going through, and quite frankly, it’s none of your business.”

There was silence a moment before a piece of paper was slid under the door. The couple didn’t even have to pick it up to know what it was: Deposition for Divorce. Gene sighed, running his hand through his hair, as he started to pace.

“Found this on the table in the foyer on my way up. Frank and I planned this little charade before I even saw this. I may not know why this exists, but, as your friend who knows you both very well, I do know that it shouldn’t exist.”

“I agree,” Frank said matter-of-factly.

“You’re really going to keep us in here,” Judy asked, trying to avoid Gene’s gaze.

“Just until morning.”

“What about my children?”

“Oh,” Lauren said cheerfully, “I’m taking them over to my house for a sleepover. Won’t that be fun?”

“You’re going to wake them up, to take them over to your place, just to go back to sleep,” Gene added ridiculously

“They’ll be fine.”

“Have fun with that one,” Gene added.

“I have kids of my own, remember. I’m well aware how they work.”

“You guys need anything before we leave,” Frank asked exuberantly.

“How about for you to let us out of here,” Judy called out frustrated.

“Cannot process that request. Anything else?”

“Well, I do know one thing, I’m going shopping for a new best friend after this,” Gene stated.

“Ok, well, if you don’t need anything, have a good night.”

“Tata,” Lauren added.

Gene pressed his ear up to the door and heard the footsteps fade away. He then looked at Judy shocked, “They’re really leaving us in here.”

Judy just gave him a look and walked into the bathroom slamming the door loud behind her, the picture rattling on the wall.

Gene exhaled through his nose, “This will be fun.”

When Judy emerged from the bathroom, she was wearing a black, silk robe that came to her knees, and her face was freshly washed, damp curls framing it.

Gene, who had changed into a pair of dry pants and a t-shirt, was standing on their bedroom’s small veranda looking down at their enormous backyard. As Judy walked over, she could hear the echo of the party still going on next door.

“Might be a bad idea, Gene,” Gene mumbled to himself, “you might break something if you jump.”

“Are you insane,” Judy said ridiculously, “You’ll break your damn neck.” She looked over the side at the vines that covered the back of the house, “What if you, you know, shimmy down the vines?”

Gene was the one to look at her ridiculously now, “This isn’t The Pirate, Manuela,” he emphasized and Judy looked at him insulted as she placed her hands on her hips. He went on, “Besides, even then I was harnessed to a safety wire.”

Judy followed him inside, shutting the veranda doors behind her. He walked over to the large, white mahogany, double doors and placed his hands on his hips.

Judy looked at him warningly as she saw the determined expression on his face,“No.”

“No, what,” he asked, but was preoccupied with turning the door handles gently to see if whatever was locking them in would come loose.

“Whatever you’re thinking about doing, it’s a big fat no, buster.”

“What am I thinking?”

She placed her hand on the door in front of his face, leaning on it, “You’re not going to try to break my door down, Gene.”

“Your?”

“Our,” she corrected rolling her eyes, “These are brand new doors that I had specifically made to match the carvings on last ones. That hole you kicked in them was there for a month before I could get it fixed.”

Gene sighed. She knew exactly what he had been planning…kicking the door through enough to unlock it.

“Is it really that horrible to have to be stuck in a room with me for a night that you’re willing to break down the doors?”

“Of course not. I just don’t like to be a prisoner in my own fucking house and I know you don’t like this either, so don’t even try arguing with me.”

“Look, you can’t jump off the damn balcony and I’m not letting you break the door down, we don’t have a phone, so we’re just going to have to make the best of it. Besides, the doors are heavier than the last. You might hurt yourself in the process.”

“Oh, so you still care,” he exaggerated but Judy took offense.

“Don’t be silly.”

Gene walked over to the veggie tray and picked around as she turned on the radio and grabbed a magazine.

“Well, at least they left us food, though I wish Frank woulda left me some bourbon.”

“I bet you do,” she sassed back with her eyebrow raised as she head for the lazy boy chair in the corner.

“What,” he said with a warning tone that told her that he knew exactly what she said but was challenging her to say it again.

“Nothing,” she half sung as she curled her legs up underneath her and opened her magazine.

“Can we at least try to get along,” he said out of frustration, “I mean, you know Judy, I’m back home after being gone over a month and…”

She cut him off sharply, “You wouldn’t even be here right now if they hadn’t locked us in. You’d be down the street at Petey’s apartment.” Gene was silent a moment as he bit into a baby carrot, “Do you have a problem with that?”

She ignored his question, “Why did you decide to stay there?”

“I told you over the phone, Peter was looking for someone…”

“...to sublet the apartment to,” she finished for him, “Yes, I know. But he has lots of friends who could do it. Why did *you* decide to do it?”

“Because I wanted to help him out. Besides, it’s only a couple minutes down the road.”

Judy blinked as she slowly turned a page of her magazine, avoiding his eyes, “Is that the only reason?”

“Well, this has something to do with it, too, but I’m guessing you already knew that,” he said dropping the divorce paper in her lap and walked away.

Judy placed the paper on the table beside her and went back to her magazine. Gene walked back out onto the balcony as he lit a cigarette. He exhaled only once before he spotted Richie and Junie start down the Bogart’s drive way.

“HEY! Powell! Up here!”

“Oh, hey,” Richie waved.

“Junie, come up and help us!”

“Help you what,” Rich called back.

“We’re locked in!” “What do you mean?!”

“Lauren & Frank locked us in!”

For a moment Richie started to walk towards the house but June quickly grabbed his hand. She spoke to him briefly before she smiled and waved pulling her husband with her. Richie put his hand out as if to say sorry and followed his wife down the driveway.

“OH GO TO HELL, POWELL!”

Judy was sitting up straight, obviously alerted to the fact they almost got out of ‘jail’, when Gene walked back inside slamming the door behind him.

“I assume they were told not to help us,” Judy said amused.

“Yeah, nice friends, huh?”

With a new Bing Crosby show starting, Gene laid on the bed to listen and finish his cigarette. For the entirety of the show, the two didn’t talk. Any show of Bing’s was a favorite of theirs and they both chuckled in almost all the same spots. For how uncomfortable their situation was, the atmosphere never felt uncomfortable when they were together, even in silence.

When guest singer Jo Stafford sang one of her most requested songs, ‘You Belong to Me’, Gene lifted his head up to look at Judy.

“Did you sing this song before, I can’t remember.”

“Mm hm, a few years ago, on his show, coincidentally.”

Gene dropped his head back down, “You sing it better.” Judy giggled, “How do you know if you don’t remember me singing it?”

“Because,” he said stretching before sitting up, “you sing everything better.”

“Oo, even ‘Singing in the Rain’, hm?”

“Ok, maybe not everything,” he teased and got up walking into the bathroom.

About fifteen minutes later, he re-merged wiping his now freshly shaved face with a towel. He noticed Judy staring out the patio door, resting her head on her hand, deep in thought.

He switched off the radio, which he knew would tick her off, but he wanted to talk without corny laughter or cheery music in the background. When Judy didn’t even glance his way, he found it a little irritating.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Things,” she mumbled.

“What things?”

Judy sighed and looked up at him impatiently, “Things that are none of your business.”

“None of my business?”

“Gene, my thoughts are my business. Always have been, always will be.”

“Oh, well, considering you’re my wife, that’s my business. And this is half of my bedroom that we’re both stuck in, that’s my business, particularly in a house that I mostly paid for. Anything, and anyone, in my house,” he pointed to himself, “is my business.”

“You sound like a prick right now, stop it,” she said disgusted, and then stood up, “You know what, while you ran off to Europe, I have been here for over a month alone running *your house* and taking care of *your children* while I was also working. Since this is *your house*, maybe I will go stay at Peter’s and you can take a crack at it for a while.”

She stormed past him, but when she got to the doors, and they didn’t open, she yelled in frustration, hitting her palm against the door. In the heat of the moment, she forgot.

“How’s that working out for you, hun,” he said sitting down in the chair she was just in.

“Shut up,” she chuckled placing her hands on her hips, and looking up at the ceiling trying to calm down.

Hearing her laugh made him smile a bit and he continued, “I mean, I would call Peter myself to see if he would be okay with the switch but…” he motioned to the empty spot on the bedside table where their phone used to be, “Bacall.”

Judy knew he was trying to make light of it, but if he wanted to talk, then fine he would get it.

“You knew I wasn’t comfortable with you being away for 5 weeks, but you took the job anyways.”

“Because I loved the script and I am under contract still. I’m not fighting about this again. It’s was a job. I didn’t tell them to film in another country. And you weren’t alone. You have help and I took care of everything before I left. So, don’t play the ‘abandoning’ game with me, Judy.”

“I begged you not to go,” she continued, “A wife shouldn’t have to beg her husband to do anything.”

“Well, the last time I saw you, when you told me to get the hell out of your life, I thought, maybe, you changed your mind,” he said in a very sarcastic undertone.

“It seemed fitting to say after you yelled that maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore,” she said tilting her head at him, reminding him of his words.

Gene stood up in rage and walked over to her, “I only said it because you told me that this, us, wasn’t working out the same anymore.”

“It wasn’t! It isn’t. I meant that we have to change something. I didn’t once say we should not be together anymore. Those were your words,” she yelled, tearing up.

Gene took two strides to the dresser grabbing the piece of paper and held it up to her face, “THEN WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!”

Judy pushed it out of her way and walked past him.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, and I want you to admit it,” he said standing in the same place she left him.

“Admit what,” she said, her back to him, her hands resting on her elbows.

“Why you sent me this stupid thing.” Judy didn’t respond, but when he saw her try to flick a tear away, without being too obvious, he clenched his jaw, looking down feeling bad.

His body relaxed and he sat on the end of the bed speaking calmly, “If you won’t be honest about the divorce papers, then at least have the decency to apologize for what you said to me and I’ll do the same. You know what I’m talking about.”

She nodded but still didn’t turn to look at him.

*

“Judy, it’s out of my fucking hands! I’m under contract, or do you not remember what that’s like? The schedule and on-location can be hell, but I love the business, and being in movies, and I’m not changing my mind.”

“If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even be in movies.”

Her comment hit him so hard, and was so shocking to him, Gene couldn’t help but what came out of his own mouth, “And if it weren’t for me helping you to get into a stage career, and A Star is Born, you’d still be an MGM has-been!”

*

Gene spoke a little emotional, remembering it like it was yesterday, “I’ll start. I’m sorry for what I said to you, sweetheart. It was beneath me.”

Judy let out a sob before she sat back down on the lazy boy chair. Her expression killed him, but so did her comment.

“You really hurt me, Gene. You know you’re the one person I trust with all my insecurities and then you just sweep the rug from under my feet.”

“Honey, I only said it in retort from what you said to me. It was like a god damn punch to the gut. You know how grateful I am to you for…”

“I know,” she cut him off not needing to hear it and lowered her voice calmly repeating, “I know. I’m sorry, truly.”

Gene nodded, hearing the guilt and sincerity in her voice. Gene scooted back on the bed and rest his back against the headboard. Even though they both apologized for the blows, it didn’t change the situation

For, what seemed like an eternity, the two sat in complete silence lost in their own mind. The stress was heavy hanging over them like a dark cloud. After a while, Gene couldn’t stand the stillness any longer.

He got up and walked past Judy, who was hugging her knees to her chest, her face hidden. He thought she looked smaller than usual as he glanced at her before looking out the window. The Bogart’s party had ended and now it was pitch black in the backyard.

“The first movie we saw together was Casablanca.”

Judy lifted her head up and looked at the back of him, curiously, as he had his back to her, with one hand up resting on the wall, the other on his hip.

“It was only like a week after we first got together. Do you remember that,” he asked looking at her over his shoulder and she nodded, a little taken back by his random memory. “We snuck into a night showing at some theater on Hollywood Boulevard and sat in the back row so no one would see us. I held your hand the entire time. I was so enamored by what was happening between us, it didn’t matter that I was thirty-years-old, when I was with you, I felt like a love stuck teenager. And so much so, I even made love to you in my car afterwards. Even though we had already slept together, a few times before that night if I remember correctly,” he joked which made Judy giggle and he went on, “You said to me that you were usually not that easy on a first date.”

Judy’s smile had disappeared by then as she stared at him, as he stared out the window, a slight curve on his lips. She remembered that night fondly and, because of it, the movie had always been one of her favorites. It almost shattered her heart to think about it. Not to mention that the star of the movie lived next door.

“Why are you thinking about that now,” she asked in almost a whisper.

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s normal to think about the beginning of something towards the end of it.”

Judy felt her heart flutter, in a bad way, when she realized that she just heard Gene’s confession about where he thought their marriage stood. She hadn’t signed the divorce papers, because she wanted to know how he felt on the situation. If he sent the papers back to her signed, then she knew. But he hadn’t signed them, and that gave her some hope, though she was not going to admit it until he did. But now here he is, thinking of the end of them. This was not a game. It was real.

“I’m getting sleepy,” she said sounding as casual as she could as she got up.

Gene watched as she walked over to the bed, tossing the throw pillows on the ground, before getting under the comforter. He checked his watch before heading into the walk-in closet to change into pajama pants.

When he returned, he walked over to the bed respectfully, “I don’t want to sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t care if you sleep in the bed, Gene,” she said coldly, “Besides it’s your house, your room, *your* bed, right?”

Without another word she turned off the light. As he got into bed, he noticed she rolled on her left side, away from him, something she never had done in the past, ever. As Gene turned out the light and rolled onto his back, he stared up at the shadows of the palm trees dancing on the ceiling. It was a new, but odd feeling, he suddenly felt. Judy was there with him, but the room felt very empty.

Stop

That was the word that went through her sleepy head, but she didn’t dare say it out loud. It felt too good. Her body was betraying her mind as an aching arousal was building between her legs. It had been so long since they had sex. She wasn’t thinking about anything that had transpired before they went to sleep, and she didn’t even know what time it was, all she was focused on was how her body was feeling.

Still on her side facing away from him, Gene’s left arm was slid under her neck, resting on her breast though her silk robe, his thumb moving against her nipple back and forth slowly through the fabric. His other hand was also moving slowly, up and down her thigh, knowing how much that always turned her on. She couldn’t help the pleasurable whimper escape her mouth as his sucked gently against her neck. And the sound of his lips against her skin, the only sound in the room, just heightened the sensation.

In their dark room, the bed made a slight sound as Gene pressed his body closer to the back of her. She could feel his hard on, which always excited her, but the warmth of his body cascading hers always made Judy feel safe. Feeling safe wasn’t what was going through Gene’s mind. It had been about 6 weeks since they had sex, and even though they were fighting, it didn’t matter. They never failed to get turned on, and God o’mighty, he was horny. And he missed her, he missed the feel of her. And judging by the sound she made, he knew she felt the same. He also knew he wasn’t going to last long. It had been a long time…a long, stressful time.

Gene’s hot breath tickled her ear as he breathed heavily, rolling his hips gently against her as he pulled her closer. The sensation suddenly engulfed her body with pleasurable shivers and she slightly gasped at the feeling of it, her nipples also tingling in the process. She leaned her head back against him and Gene took that opportunity to leave hard, wet kisses along here neck as his hand slid between her thighs, which were pressed tightly together. He had trouble reaching the spot he wanted, and tried to nudge her legs open but she quickly grabbed his wrist stopping. Instead she rolled onto her back and lifted her bum, quickly shimmying out of her undies.

Seeing this, he let out a breathy groan in anticipation and tugged his pajama pants down. Crawling between her open knees, he jerked himself a few times before grabbing her hips. He scooted her towards him and lifted her a bit, the perfect angle, before pressing into her. He gave off a moan as he did so, she was so wet and there was absolutely no resistance. Wish he could say the same for her attitude sometimes, he actually thought, as he reached all the way in. But then her muscles immediately snugged around him, and he forgot about any attitude. As he slid in and out all the way a few times, he really knew he wasn’t going to last long. So he willfully adjusted himself, and her, knowing all-too-well where her spot was and started a rhythm. And she didn’t disappoint. Her sighs quickly turned into mewling cries which each thrust. The arousal he created for her earlier, was now growing, forming into one spot feeling better and stronger each time the head of him pushed up on it.

Her tiny screams, his desperate moans and the sound of his pelvis hitting her skin, getting louder and faster, was so erotic to both their ears.

Gene was so lost in the sensation of being inside of his wife again, he barely heard her whimper that she was coming, until he felt her body tighten, and her moans stop. He slowed down, but hit her with rough strokes when all of a sudden she let out a loud gasp. Gene stopped moving when her orgasm milked him hard, wanting to feel the sensation around him. He almost came then. When her body relaxed, she gave off a little ‘mmm’ and he started moving again. It only took him a few more strokes until he started panting and then gave off a loud groan, his body jerking into hers. It seemed endless as he kept coming into her hot warmth.

When Gene stirred out of sleep, he heard the quiet sound of some commercial playing over the radio and the sounds of birds chirping. Opening his eyes, he noticed the patio door open, the drapes blowing in from the spring breeze, and the sky was blue.

Sighing relaxed, he turned over and noticed the bed was empty, her robe laying where she had slept. He was about to call out for her when he heard the sound of the shower running. Gene threw on a white t-shirt before he grabbed his smokes and walked out onto the veranda. It was a gorgeous morning he thought as he lit the cigarette. Leaning on the banister, he took a drag, when he heard familiar sounds of children. He couldn’t see all the way into the Bogart’s backyard, but he could see a few kiddos running around, and he knew one of the was his baby girl, as a dog also barked obviously playing with them. He smiled a moment, at the peace, and had a sudden urge to kiss Judy and tell her everything would be okay.

After finishing the cigarette, he smashed it out before walking back into their bedroom. As he passed the dresser, he did a double take before stopping. Slowly, he picked up the piece of paper.

Judy wrung her hair out, and was about to turn the shower off, when the door suddenly banged open and the shower curtain was ripped aside.

She jumped, startled, “Jesus, Gene!”

“Get out of there,” he said and motioned for her to come out.

She gave him a funny look before speaking irritated and turned off the water, “I was about to. What the hell’s wrong with you barging in here like that?”

He tossed her a towel, “Come on.”

She secured it around her body and stepped out, “Do you mind?”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her out, though she tried resisting, “It’s cold. What are you doing?”

“I want you to see something.”

He stopped at the dresser and took the paper. Staring her dead in the eyes, he slowly tore the deed, the divorce papers, that now had her fresh signature on them.

Judy looked a little surprised, “Why did you do that?”

“Why did you sign it,” he asked her back.

“Because you made it clear last night that our marriage is over.”

Gene looked at her ridiculously, but also trying to understand her, as he placed his hand on his hip, “By making love to you?”

Judy laughed, “We did not make love,” her voice got almost venomous, “We both just got off, and you know it.”

“What the hell does that matter? I didn’t want to fuck Betsy, even just to get laid, at the end our marriage. Where did I make it clear last night that I want our marriage to be over?”

He placed his hand on her cheek, being very serious, but she quickly moved out of his way afraid of the sudden affection, “You were thinking about when we first got together. You told me it’s because it was the end of us.”

“Judy, it was just my mind getting sentimental because we were sitting there locked in a fucking room together with divorce papers under our nose. Look at me,” he demanded, but with a soft voice.

She looked at him and he stared at her a moment, biting down on his jaw a few times, “I know you’ll have no trouble getting another set of papers drawn up, but I’m telling you right now, I’m not signing. I’m not giving you up that easily. It took me nearly a decade to make you my wife, I’m not giving that up from one fight. And if you think I am, you’re a damn fool.”

“I don’t want this either, Gene, but we obviously aren’t working out the way we used to. Look at us, we’ve been locked in a room together and all we’ve done is argue. If this was before, we would’ve spent the time playing games or dancing or…”

“It’s just a stressful time and stressful situation, Judy, we will get through it.”

“Are you really sure about that? We’re changing as people, and our careers have changed. We’re not the same people we use to be.”

“No one is. But we’ll work through the changes,” he reiterated, “I’ll do anything…even marriage counseling if that’s what it takes. You know how the thought of that makes me ill but I’ll do it. But you need to help, too. It takes two to tango, baby.”

He took her hands desperately, “Tell me, what do *you* need?” When she didn’t answer, only looking down with sorrow, he sat them down on the bed, “We need to communicate or we won’t get anywhere. Tell me.”

“For you to be home more. For you to not drink as much, no matter how stressed you get, because your temper scares me. And I need you to understand why I don’t want you to be away from me so long. I know I’m selfish about that, but it is for my mental health. Please no more 5 weeks away.”

“If, and I say if, either of us are going to have to be away for long for work, we will travel together. I’ll make sure it’s in our contracts. But you have to understand, that some things are out of my hands and I never do anything to purposefully upset you or hurt you. And I promise to work on not drinking like that anymore, but you need to be calmer with me as well. Your erratic behaviors scare me, sometimes.”

Judy’s voice cracked, “You know sometimes I can’t help that.”

“But you can control the intake, especially when *you’re* stressed,” he said referencing to her medication. It was something she often relapsed with, but when she did, he was in control of it. But it had been harder with him away working so much, and she wasn’t good at that kind of control, especially since it was her own body. To Judy, it was like money, it was something she needed but always relied on other people to control or take care of.

Judy squeezed his hands, “Do you really think we can go back to how things used to be?”

“No, because like you said, we’re not the same people we used to be. We can certainly grow together and change together but still be us. We just have to find a new way to make things work. And instead of arguing right away, we should talk through it and consider our options.”

“Except when picking a television show,” she said wickedly.

“King of the house, I own the remote.”

“We’ll see about that, buster,” she said playfully elbowing him.

Gene chuckled before getting serious again, “Judy, I love you. I love you more than life itself, but you’re fucking mad sometimes.”

Judy laughed gleefully, “Good. I feel the same way about you. You drive me insane.”

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said cuddling her damp body to him.

She rest her cheek on his chest and sighed, feeling like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. When she felt his finger lift her chin, she looked up at him.

“I’d like to kiss you hello,” he said remembering how she ignored it when he tried kissing her at the party.

His lips almost touched hers when she leaned back, placing her hand on his chest, “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“That you make love to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he breathed as his lips met hers in a passionate kiss.

She purred, practically melting into him, as his tongue pushed its way into her willing mouth. Judy didn’t even realize her back was on the bed until Gene suddenly lifted himself off of her as the bedroom doors opened.

Lauren was walking in when Judy and Gene both yelled, “Get out!”

Her eyes opened wide as she quickly retreated, shutting the doors, a huge grin on her face as she walked down the hallway.

[shadowofthelamp]

I Think We Might Be Related

Summary: Johnny gets a call from a kid who claims he might be his nephew. He decides to see for himself.

(Rated teen just for a few brief gore mentions and language, pretty in line with the comics)

Based off my theory that Membrane is either Johnny C’s brother or that Johnny’s plasma donation was used to help stabilize and differentiate the Dib clone.

Wordcount: 2600

Read on ao3

Reblogs/replies/tags/likes are all super appreciated, I love hearing what people think!

The phone rang. In most houses, that’s not a very unusual occurrence. Number 777 was not most houses.

The owner of 777, (or rather, the occupant- if there was a landlord, they’d either been dismembered or made otherwise defunct a long time ago) was currently laid out on the couch, watching an old-timey show about cowboys when the loud ring rattled his eardrums. He sat up, long limbs running into each other like spaghetti in a pot before his hand curled around the phone and he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, are you…” There was a shuffling of papers. “Johnny C?” The voice sounded young.

“Is this the library- did you get my submission? Your voice is high-pitched, are you an intern? Selling your hours and youth for no pay is only killing your soul on the inside, you know. Although the library does provide the public with comic books, so I guess-”

“No, I’m not with the library. I live a little further in the city, and… I think we might be related? You might be my uncle, or something like that.” The kid’s voice quirked up the same way Johnny’s heart started doing a kickline with his lungs.

“You think?” Uncle. Uncle implied a sister or a brother. A family. He couldn't remember the last time he'd thought of family, other than turning around the soaked marshmellow of his brain that revealed jackshit about who he was.

“Yeah, it’s a… really long story, but the short version is that I was rummaging around with my DNA, and your name was one of the few on file. The others were all dead ends.”

“In your DNA?” Okay, this kid was definitely fucking with him. Served him right for even thinking about hoping for a clue. “Right, and I’m the muffin man, running off and leaving his kids in a place called dreary lane. Seriously, who does that?”

“I promise this isn’t a prank, don’t hang up! Are you still living in 684 South?”

“No.” Was that his old address? It sparked recognition that then died smoking like a match in a tray of water. It was probably a good sign, though, unless this kid was a stalker.  “777 Offmain.”

“Okay. Can I… meet you at some point? I just want to get to know you. As a person. Like me. Okay, wow, this is coming out weird. I promise I’m not an axe-murderer.”

At that, Johnny cracked up. He ruffled a hand through his hair- he liked how the longer spikes flopped over his eyes. Sometimes. Sometimes he wanted to hack it all off, not feel the grease and salt the congealed when he didn’t move long enough that his body made itself disgusting again, but then he just stuck a beanie on it and forgot all about it until the urge passed. He’d cut part of it off once and it had just sat in the kitchen for a… week? Time was funny.

“Well, we can’t both be, can we?”

“I’ll... man, my self-preservation instincts have really started going down the toilet since I started following an alien with an arsenal strapped to his back, but can I stop by tomorrow at around three?”

“Happy Friends is on at three. Make it four.”

“Alright! Sounds good. Gosh, this is exciting, I’ve never met any real family besides Dad- okay, that was oversharing. Oversharing’s bad, especially to strangers.”

“If we’re family, we’re not strangers.” Johnny’s grip on the phone tightened, and he could see the tendons and veins on the back. Hmm. Maybe he could pick up sculpting, see if he was ever any good at that. The human body was properly horrifying in mere existence.

“See you then- should I call you Johnny or what?”

“Johnny is fine for now, but if we really are related, I’ll go with Nny. So, how are we related anyways?”

“I’m not sure. I’m hoping it’ll click when we meet.”

“So, what’s your name, anyways?”

“Dib.” And with that, the line went dead and Johnny went to see if he could make anything good enough to hang up on the wall out of fingerpaints.

If his leg bounced and his chest felt vise-like, he blamed the coffee patches and the 30 hours of no sleep.

______________

Dib knocked on the door at 4:10. Johnny pulled it open, staring down at him.

“Geez, you got a water balloon pumped up inside your head or something?” He had really big glasses, the kind that said when he didn’t have them on he probably couldn’t see half a foot in front of his face without tripping over something. His skin was the same shade as Johnny’s, he was pretty sure, but he had some faint freckles. Duh, he was a kid, he probably had to go outside to go to school and stuff.

“Well, that could have been a better start.” The kid had a briefcase- what kind of kid had a briefcase? No kid that should have existed, kids should be dragging around teddy bears like Squee or grimy dolls filled with teething marks. Oh wait, he was holding out his non-briefcase hand. “I’m Dib. I’d say it’s nice to meet you but now I’m not so sure about that.” He craned his head. “Oh, wow. Your house is a mess but I’ve been in our living room when Gaz is on one of her marathons and this is only moderate compared to that. Did you try and paint your own walls?”

“Gaz? That’s a fun name. Who's she?”

“My- you know what? I’m not volunteering any more information until I get a little more on you besides your name and height. Looks like weight changed. Wow, you’re a stick.” Dib rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out a wrapper with a big grinning mascot on it and handing it to Johnny. It was a chocolate protein bar. “You can have that one, I’ve got dozens.”

Johnny tore open the wrapper, stuffing half of it in his mouth. Damn, it was good, actually. Who would want a protein bar that tasted like sawdust when you could make it sweet? “So, is there any magical connection? I like the coat, though.”

Dib beamed. “Really? Everyone says it’s too much, but I say that there’s nothing like twirling around in a good coat and feeling the wind snap on the fabric when you run.”

“Oh, that is a good feeling. One of the best. Shame I can never keep mine, they always end up tossed to the void whenever something happens or I get particularly dramatic. It always feels excellent in the moment, but then you’re left with cold shoulders and regret for the strawberry grandma candy you left behind in the back pocket.”

“You know, I think I see the resemblance.” Dib said. “I’ve got your cheekbones, and nose. Maybe you’re my uncle? Do you know Professor Membrane?”

“That guy on tv? He’s kind of fun.” Johnny watched it when it was on sometimes.

“That’s my dad. I take it he’s not your brother if that was your reaction, though.”

“Dab-”

“Dib.”

“Dib. My head’s been shot to shit, both literally and figuratively. There’s scars on the back I don’t remember getting there. I had some serious garbage claw me up, and I wouldn’t be able to tell a brother from the easter bunny unless it slapped some chocolate eggs up my ass.” He ripped another portion of the bar off with his teeth.

Dib sagged a little. “Oh… Dad’s always been really tight-lipped about any other family. I hoped-”

Johnny swallowed the chunk of chocolate protein bar. “Look, I haven’t got the answers for any existential crisis you may be having. I’ve been through quite a few of my own, if we’re being honest. But I have some chips that are going stale and a TV that has colors that make your eyes bleed that tickles pretty feelings up your skull. I also haven’t left the house in five days. If you have anything interesting to say, we can talk about it over some cartoons.”

Dib perked up again at that. “You… want to listen to me?”

“Depends on what you’ve got to say.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, I’ve got loads! I love the paranormal, and some parts of math but not all of them, and also no one ever listens to me about the alien that goes to my school-”

“Alien? I’m curious, tell me more.”

Dib made a squeaking noise so strange Johnny wasn’t sure he hadn’t just had his organs spontaneously combust.  “Hey? Kid? Kid, I don’t wanna clean up another corpse already, I’m running out of trash bags.”

“You really- wait, another one?”

Johnny grabbed the knife in his belt- he’d nicked himself with it a dozen times but it was nice and convenient and he liked that. “Just a joke. I mean, kids like jokes, right? How old are you, nine?”

“I’m twelve!” Dib tugged at the bottom of his shirt. “Anyways, so there’s this alien named Zim, he is the biggest pain in my butt, and I don’t know if you remember when gravity stopped working for a bit a couple of weeks ago and everything started freaking out and going screwy, but that was him-”

“Oh, huh. I was wondering why I made footprints on the ceiling. I figured the squirrels did it.” Johnny said. “Do I have to worry about him destroying the world? Because I’m pretty sure earth is the only planet with slushie machines and it would be just criminal if the universe lost those. Shame you have to deal with people to use them, but everything has a price.”

“Apparently, aliens have slushie machines too, I’ve asked.” Dib said. “Well, I stole a couple of Zim’s files, and he orders alien versions of them with his shipments of food. But that’s not what matters, he’s trying to take over the- wait, you actually believe me?”

Geez, kid, slushies always mattered. “Sure. I got abducted on a Tuesday once. Stuck a couple of needles in me, but tossed me back down hard enough to fuck up my spine when I managed to eviscerate one. Wish I’d brought a camera, those guts looked delightful- and it was so clean! No blood, they had robot insides!”

Dib took half a step back. “Uh-”

“And it was blue, can you believe that? Like one of those crabs! The horsey ones- hey, maybe those were aliens too.”

Dib blinked, shaking his head. “Yeah, maybe. A friend of mine has a theory like that anyways. So… what do you do?”

Johnny stared at him. “Whatever I want. I go to the movies, I eat stuff, I kill people.”

Dib’s mouth twitched before he started laughing. “Pffft, you’ve got such a straight face!”

“Just so you know, if you hear any screaming, don’t worry, they’re all restrained.”

“Right, right.” Dib settled down on the couch. “Oh, nice, this is surprisingly comfortable.”

Johnny settled down next to him. He knew how to talk to Squee- poor kid barely said a word most of the time. He really needed to help him be more confident. Maybe he could get him a hampster. Pets made people more responsible, right?

Then again, Nailbunny hanging on the wall said otherwise. Although that could just be him.

But this Dib kid, he didn’t really seem at all phased. Which was weird- weren’t you supposed to be nervous around strangers? Especially ones that had houses like his, with blood splattered on the walls and a noose tucked in the corner. Maybe that big head’s meaty brain was stuffed with stuff from the aliens instead of common sense, or just figured that the new weird skinny guy was just joking. Squee had first seen him with blood splattered all over. He hugged his legs to his chest, watching the kid pull out a laptop that looked real fancy. Maybe he was rich. Oh, right, if his dad was on tv he probably was.

“Anyway this is Zim- and this is a couple sketches I’ve made of him without his disguise. I’ve seen it, but the pictures keep getting destroyed because the universe really hates me.”

“We’re in the same boat, then.” Johnny said. “If there is anything looking over the Earth, it always picks a couple people to just dump dookie on, just for shits and giggles. It’s a pain in the ass, let me tell you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Dib mumbled. “This is his little robot in a dog costume.”

“That’s kind of cute, actually.”

“Yeah, not so much when he’s also got lasers attached to him.” Dib said. “He’s not as bad a Zim, though, mostly he’s just kind of dumb.”

Dib started rambling on about routines and habits and skin texture, and Johnny kind of checked out, preferring to run his eyes over Dib’s face. He was little, for a twelve year old- but then again, it wasn’t like Johnny spent a lot of time around twelve year olds. Or anyone. Dib's glasses slid down and he adjusted them twice in a few minutes without a pause. Listening to him was almost like putting on the radio in the background to distract from the car crashes outside and the nothingless and everythingness of being a human being. His voice was kind of whiny, but the crescendos in it with the tides of how emotional he got were almost like music.

“And then he started raving about how cloning is far superior to filthy human breeding, and that’s when I started getting curious about checking out the rest of my family.” Dib was breathing hard. He had a look on his face like he wasn’t used to being allowed to talk for that long. Frankly, Johnny agreed with the alien kid that the way people reproduced was utterly repulsive, but they’d come back around to why he’d let Dib in in the first place.

“Well, verdict?”

“Huh?”

Johnny held out his arms, one leg slipping off the couch while the other loosened so his heel rested on the edge of the couch cushion and his toe pointed up at the ceiling. “On me.”

“Well. You’re kind of weird, but I guess my whole family is like that.” Dib said. “And you actually do listen to me, which is a really nice change of pace.”

“It can get boring around here, and you’re not nearly as irritating as some other people can be. At least you ramble on about fun stuff.” Johnny shrugged just as there was a shriek from the stairs. Dib’s head whipped around.

“What was that?”

“A ghost, probably. Or I need to add more electricity to the guy from the church picnic...”

Dib set a hand on his forehead. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” He patted at his pocket, then seemed satisfied by whatever was inside. “Want me to exorcise it for you?”

“Nah, I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Alright, suit yourself but the offer is open.” Dib said. “You said you had TV?”

Johnny grabbed the remote. “What kind of idiot wouldn’t?”

Dib left about an hour later after laughing at the hokey acting on some soap opera, and Johnny realized he was in good enough of a mood that he whistled over the begging when he he slid his favorite knife through a man’s chest cavity and carved him open, collecting the viscera in a bucket.

He’d give the wall monster some organ meat to go with the coating, he decided. Give it a treat. And maybe he’d invite Dib over again sometime.

[nyrator]

ARE YOU ALL READY

for my first ten days in Animal Crossing New Horizons in picture form (aka the 20th-29th)

because I have close to 3,000 screenshots and it was hard go through them all but I did (mostly because I ran out of the 10,000 limit and had to upload them to my computer anyway)

letsa gooo

The start of the game.

Heck yeah, Tommytown. Also shoutouts to Rocket and Teddy, my first new friends in the town. Can’t say I relate to Rocket, but she’s pink and has a pink house eventually so that’s nice. Teddy’s okay, though not a fan of Jocks in general.

Thanks, random motivational dream K.K.

The start of Nyville

People say Timmy and Tommy are the same, and I admittedly was not a fan of them in ACNL, but I know thanks to this game that Tommy is a true friend and I would die for this tanuki

Also shoutouts to catching like two tarantulas in the first night, jesus

And in one night, managed to get Blathers to want to join our town.

And then the rest of the days came.

DAY 2

Met Gulliver (jerk thinks my head is big all the time)

Made some pro designs and changed my hair

Lots of good friend visits/visiting (though one random guy I added from Splatoon invaded and stole all my apples, rippp)

and that was my second day of playing

AND ALSO I’VE RECEIVED A LOT OF NICE LETTERS FROM PEOPLE... I am bad at writing letters and I’m not sure if people would want them public but aaaa thank you for the letters (shout outs to lala-ko in particular what a good AC frienddd)

DAY 3

Lots of things being built

Got some reactions~

MABLE... but, more importantly, that means...

SABLE... the best NPC in the game...

More friendshippp

Paid off my first loan~

Also shoutouts to local friend letting me get some apples to make some furniture for people to move in after some jerk stole all mine

Also met Harvey, what a dude. ALSO, MY OLD FRIENDS...

And that was only day three of my adventures.

DAY 4

Met Wendy, a Peppy Sheep. You’re okay, Wendy, you’re okay.

BY THE WAY THE MUSEUM IS GORGEOUS

they did not have to go that hard but they did

whoops I didn’t expect it to be that close oh well, I can move things around later so for now everything is next to each other for convenience

also met a ghost friend and he gave me expensive(?) flooring

DAY 5

Got a cute alligator friend, you’re okay too, Gayle. ALSO I SEE YOU MABLE...

Also, finally, new phone, who dis? Dis stylin’ Nyrator. May adjust it later on since I found there’s a template online on how it works.

Did some fishing as well, apparently caught some rare first that day.

Nook continues to ruin me financially, but at least I got more storage space.

DAY 6

Some frog joined, and I think I’d like him if it wasn’t for the burpy noises and the facial hair. Lazy villagers seem great in this game though.

hello Saharah

thanks for all the rugs/wallpaper I guess

Thanks, Wendy.

ALSO SHOUT OUTS TO KOMETA a good friend she got me a lovely heart apron and hair pin and pink hoodie and things and they’re so nice and aaaa thank youuu

Also made more pixel art designs because why not

even wendy agrees

DAY 7

it better, Nook

give me Tommy back to wander the island with his flag and leaf umbrella I miss socializing with Tommy

excuse you Nook told me you wanted this here

more friendship

this game a nice game to socialize in with people (even though I’m terrible at it I apologize especially for never imitating anything with anyoneee)

the letters and the casual tours and having fun are really nice, plus it’s nice to just share things like fossils and DIY recipes, good times

thanks, Wendy

ALSO LOOK AT THIS BAD BOY

It took over 50 bait until I failed a catch and failed getting that one achievement again (farthest was 81/100 fishing in a row and I keep getting into the 60s-80s before screwing up, close to 90 today though so we’ll see how it goes), after failing I was like, heck with it, just throw bait over the small fish until a big one appears, and sure enough, my second-to-last bait, and my third large fish, bam, this baby arrives.

ALSO SPEAKING OF BLATHERS

STAR WANDDDD...

thank you celeste now give me your bow...

Didn’t see a meteor shower at this point, but you better believe I just crafted one today and boy is it good (though stores clothing in the wand which is a bit weird but saves my storage space a bit, I just need to buy multiple hairpins)

DAY 8

there she is, the jingly girl herself

also I put a podium there but misplaced it, sorry Nook I’ll get it right tomorrow- oh wait you don’t do these outside anymore... ripppp

However, before any of that silly nonsense

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LALA

you don’t know how heartwarming it was to be invited to this and celebrate this that morning, had no idea it was happening until it happened, but aaaaaaaaaa so wholesome...

SERIOUSLY THIS WAS ONE OF MY MOST WHOLESOME ANIMAL CROSSING EXPERIENCES...

so anyway back to Nook and Isabelle

and getting this immediately because heck with all the inventory management in this game

So Project K, got it. Heck yeah, K.K.

Also made a town theme (forgot to screenshot it but it’s the Yume Nikki save theme, might change it to Mary Had a Little Lamb though), and also a flag design was already prepareddd

also hi Gulliver again

and a campsite...

heck yeah it’s all coming together

YEAH WHAT OF IT

WENDY YOU WERE JUST COMPLIMENTING ME

jerks all of you are jerks but you’re all still pretty okay/10 (not Merry/Kyle level though)

DAY 9

seriously though rip that podium idea

thank you mabel...

And a campsite~

EXCUSE ALL OF YOU WITH YOUR PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE SUGGESTIONS

Kometa gave me this apron and I will continue to cherish it

But yes, that’s about it for today~ Town’s unweeded, campsite’s built, things have been slowing down while at the same time picking up~

DAY 10

okay cool

okay AAAA YESSSSSS SABLE TIMEEEE FASHION TIMEEEEE...

also hello Daisy Mae, the internet loves you for some reason, can I have some turnips

that is expensive you little snot nosed brat but fine I’ll play your stalk market games, cover my whole town in four million bells worth of turnips again like ACNL...

Also thanks Lyle, I’m a B apparently.

Wow okay I don’t even have a choice, rippp

at least he’s smug, smug villagers are the best personality of villagers

heckk yeahhhh bad placements all arounddddd

I can’t wait to start fixing this island up to a better shape, rip my haphazard placement (I admit I kind of miss the randomness of earlier games, having this much control is weird)

AND THAT’S THE FIRST TEN DAYS OF ACNH...

I may have ran out of screenshot space early the next day and thus uploaded them all to my computer because I need that space (10,000 screenshots, man...)

Got a lot accomplished, I feel~ Still haven’t paid off my back room loan, but I got a bridge paid, got another bridge on the opposite side being built, and I saw some meteor showers the past two nights AND GOT A STAR WAND...

Got Gwen and Hamphrey also moving in and can’t get Merry in town just yet but she’s in the campsite, watching, waiting... debating if I should get ten randos first before moving cards in, though

Also met Gulliver/Celeste/Wisp again the past few days, and also today is the beginning of Easter stuff (so many eggs, also random esports fish guy, he’s weird, also NO BLANCA, rip my empty-faced April Fools cat dude thing (apparently a girl in the US? but I will continue to be a weeb and think of them as their Japanese selves mostly because the voices tend to be masculine)

but yeah made like over 100 wishes in two days and got a bunch of neat star things (not as many as I’d thought I’d get but I’ll take it)

Also, SABLE IS A FRIEND and I love the clothing store but am weirded out that I can’t seem to order things in bulk, just what I’m wearing in the dressing room, which is awkward. Oh wellll

(also may have realized I never got a recent passport screenshot so went and did thattt, should think up more titles maybe)

[foxxygold-blog]

South Park High School Jokester

This chapter is much longer because I published it as smaller chapters but figured I’d compile them together since they took place on the same day.

                                                       Chapter ~ 3

               You were quietly staring at the roof of your bedroom, taking notice of the disgusting popcorn covering it that you would have to deal with later. Popcorn ceiling was disgusting; popcorn belonged only as food in your stomach, not a decorative style on your roof. The day before, Kyle, Stan and the other two had convinced you to be part of a plan that involved getting them invited into this party that goes down tonight. However, as a deal with Token, you promised to run errands and help him set up for the party for letting the four come back in. You groaned, casting your arm over your eyes to shield them from the sun coming in through your window before shifting your arm up to check the time on your phone. He said to be there at either two or three, so being over that two-thirty would be the perfect in-between. Sitting up and tossing your legs over the bed, you hit a couple of boxes that were still filled with crap you refused to unpack because you could not care less. Standing up, you looked over at your dresser mirror and stared at yourself.

               You were wearing a sweatshirt and some PJs with your favorite cartoon characters on them. However, under your sweatshirt, there was nothing. On the inside, it was soft and fluffy because of the cotton covering and it was comforting. Deciding that, what’s the worst that could happen, you only changed out of your parents, changing undergarments and then sliding on a pair of jeans before sliding on some sneakers before making sure you had on your favorite warm socks on. Grabbing your phone and yanking it free of its charger, you opened your door to head out before stopping in front of the hallway mirror and adjusting your hair. On your way down the stairs, your mother looked up at you and smiled.

               “Have a good day sweetheart, when you go out tonight do nothing I wouldn’t, okay?” You gave a small laugh before tucking your phone into your back pocket and turning to face her as you stood at the front door with it open.

               “I promise mom, I’m sure the more mature of my new gaggle of friends will watch out for me, but I gotta go out and illegally buy alcohol or something,” you called. You quickly shut the door and ran off before your mother could yell at you about breaking the law. You cackled to yourself as you quickly jogged down the road and then around the corner, checking over your shoulder to make sure she wasn’t there before sighing. You stuffed your hands into your sweatshirt pocket and tried to warm up your hands as you heard the crunching of the snow beneath your feet. Maybe you should have put a shirt on underneath and an extra coat on top. Deciding you didn’t need a verbal lashing from your mother, you suffered through the cold as you walked and tried remembering the path to Tokens house. Luckily, a knight in shining armor rode in on his steed beside you. If your knight in shining armor was Wendy and her steed was a shiny white Sedan.

               “Not that I don’t trust you, but you haven’t exactly been here a week, I would rather drive you to where you’re going than you get lost and frostbitten. Hop in,” she nodded her head to the back of her car. You could cry in happiness as you opened the back door and climbed in, Heidi from the day before was sitting in the shotgun seat and a red-haired girl was sitting in the seat directly next to you. After climbing in and buckling up, you turned to the red-haired girl and smiled.

               “Name’s (y/n), nice to meet you,” you dragged on waiting for an answer.

               “Red,” she smiled.

               “How, simple and convenient,” you laughed.

               “So, (y/n) where were you heading so I can drop you off,” Wendy asked.

               “Oh, over to that guy Tokens place. I managed a deal with him, I’m gonna help him set up tonight’s party in exchange for him letting them in. I also promised to pay for anything they break which I very much regret and hope that if they break anything it’s cheap but. Damn, that fucking rich kid, there probably isn’t anything cheap in that house that WON’T cost me my life,” you sulked. Wendy and the other girls giggled and laughed as you spoke. You sighed softly, watching the houses fly by before humming.

               “School starts tomorrow, there’s a big majority of us going to have hangovers isn’t there? On the first day of school on our second semester; I can tell this last year and a half of high school will be absolutely fantastic,” you murmured sarcastically. That earned another round of laughter from the group in the car before things sat in comfortable silence.

               As Wendy pulled up to Tokens house, she slowed the car to a careful stop before telling you it was all right to get out. Unbuckling your seat belt and stepping out of the car, you made sure you had your phone in your pocket before shutting the door and waving her off as a thank you for the dropping you off. You turned back to the house and felt a cold gust fly by causing you to shiver. You really wish you had a shirt on now underneath this sweatshirt to help layer and warm your body. You rushed over to where the little speaker was and pushed the doorbell button, shivering and bouncing on one foot, then the other, continuing to move to help generate heat. Soon enough there was a small voice on the end of the speaker, unsure if it was Token.

               “Hello, who is it?”

               “It’s the pizza delivery man. Come on, it’s your slave for the day now hurry up and let me in I’m freezing,” you cried after pushing the little speak button.

               Suddenly there was more chatter on the speaker, multiple voices questioning and calling ‘you got us a sex slave’ causing you to worry and panic. You weren’t down to do anything dirty with anybody, not after some dinner dates and a meeting of parents. Soon enough there was laughter and multiple shouts of ‘no’s’ coming from the other side before someone else spoke up.

               “New kid who I made a deal with right?”

               “No, I’m the fucking Easter bunny slut coming to eat you unborn young. Yes, it’s me dip shit, I’M COLD LET ME IN PLEASE!” You yelled into the planted microphone. Soon enough a loud beep could be heard from the gates right beside you and you were quick to slip past and rush in before the gates could finish opening all the way. You ran up to the front door and kindly knocked on it, not wanting to intrude and barge in no matter how freezing your ass was.

               Before the boy who answered the door could move out of the way, you muttered a thank you and slipped into the warm comfort of heated air conditioning and sat down on the floor, shoving your hands under your butt and breathing a sigh of relief. A young black man laughed softly before walking up to you and holding his hand out.

               “I’m Token, thanks for deciding to come to help me and my gang out with party errands for the day,” he smiled. You looked him up and down, appreciating how good looking the guy was. Then again, most of the guys you’d run into were good looking for almost adults. You reached one hand from under your butt and grabbed his as he helped you up from your spot on the floor.

               “Well, it’s not like I got a choice, I made a deal with the devil and had to give up my instrument,” you shrugged.

               “Well, the first guy who answered, who had no RIGHT,” Token yelled as he turned to the kitchen, “is a guy named Clyde. Let me introduce you to the rest of my group is significantly better than the fat ass and the rest.”

               Token walked you over and into the kitchen where a group of boys was. You hummed, feeling a little nervous and the sudden heat of the house getting to you. If only you could have that shirt now. You did your best to shrug it off for the time being.

               “Brunette is Clyde; he’s a ladies’ man, but, kind of a classier Kenny in a way? The one who first answered and asked if you were a sex slave.”

               “How was I supposed to know they were a legit slave about to help us with our work,” Clyde hummed.

               “Anyway, Blue hat over there is Craig; Blondie next to him is Tweek. Tweek also works at his family’s coffee shop so you’ll probably run into him there.”

               The boy in blue simple gave you the bird which didn’t really bother you. You quietly watched him, waiting to put his hand down. When he didn’t, you formed an ‘o’ shape with your thumb and pointer and placing it on top of his finger, the cliché sexual innuendo. Craig couldn’t help but forced himself to hide a chuckle while slapping your hand away from his. The blonde beside him twitched and yelled, causing you to grow concerned for his health.

               “The other brunette is our good friend Jimmy,” Token pointed to the man in crutches. You took in a deep breath before speaking to Jimmy.

               “Sorry if I’m being a dick my guy, but what do you prefer to be called and do you mind the word retarded?” You looked at him worried. Jimmy looked at you surprised by your question before managing a smile.

               “I p-p-prefer h-handicapped. I also don’t m-m-m-mind the use of t-the word r-retarded,” he said. You sighed in relief and gave a quick wipe of your brow, overheating in the house.

               “Awesome, I wanted to make sure you weren’t a pussy. Now with that out of the way, my name is (y/n) and it’s nice to meet all you guys. Long story short, I made a deal and I’m now your slave for setting up the party. No sexual favors included,” you pointed to Clyde who just looked embarrassed as you teased him. Token quickly forced everyone out of the kitchen and into the living room and everyone sat on the couch, Tweek and Craig sat on one side, Craig’s arm around Tweeks shoulder, with Clyde on the end, leaving Jimmy to stand which he seemed to prefer and you to sit on the arm beside Clyde.

               “All right, first, I’m not a drug person. I try, EVERY TIME to keep drugs out of my house cause the last thing I need is to be of a minority with drugs in a predominately white neighborhood. So, I will leave that up to you (y/n) to make sure Stan and his group don’t bring in any drugs! That also includes the girls; they’re very pleased and easy to hang out with you. If they invite you to dress up with them, do it,” Token pointed at you.

               “Got it sir,” you saluted.

               “First thing we will go get is alcohol, now, if Clyde’s fake ID fails, we’re fucked. Music, I’ve already got covered. Decorations, minimal, I’ll leave the decorating part up to you (y/n) when we get back because you appear like the artsy kind.”

               “I feel like it should offend me but thank you, anyway.”

               “All right, if anything gets broken report it. If you see the culprit, let me know. I will not make you pay for any damages we cannot for certain pin on Stan’s group.”

               “Oh, thank god.”

               “I’m not a monster, come on now,” Token laughed, “With that said, let’s go get the alcohol first, and then to the supermarket to get snacks and normal drinks for mixers, and then small colorful decorations, cause, not going to lie, my parents make this place look boring as hell.”

               “I’ve been saying that for years,” Clyde groaned.

               Token reached for his car keys before shrugging on his jacket, all the other boys doing the same. You took a quick glance at yourself in the mirror to find your hair slightly messed up from having to run from the house after telling your mother about your illegal activities. You huffed in annoyance; couldn’t the girls have told you to fix this? Quickly adjusting your hair one more time, you then turned and happily followed everyone out of the big house, Token locking the door behind you before climbing into the driver’s seat of the car.

               “GUN,” you suddenly shrieked. You bolted over for the shotgun door only for Jimmy to have beaten you to it. All the others had dropped to the floor or were hiding in some makeshift bushes.

               “N-n-not going to pull a f-f-f-fast one on me,” he chuckled. You groaned, climbing into the back seat of Tokens expensive looking station wagon. There was no way this thing didn’t cost a fortune. The rest of the boys, annoyed by your antics, followed suit of getting into the car. You buckled up quietly and shifted into awkward quiet mode. Car rides always seemed more enjoyable when you kept quiet or did your own thing. Sometimes, just having a conversation took so much energy out of you. As the gentle hum of the car put you to sleep, you were unaware of the number of people staring down at your curled up figure against the door.

               “(Y/n) wake up, we’re here,” you were slowly jostled awake by Clyde who had opened your door to crouch down and wake you up. The nap probably wasn’t over five minutes, but it was a nice five-minute nap. You looked down at Clyde tiredly, barely registering his features, he gave a coy smile.

               “Don’t go falling for me already (y/n) we just met,” he teased. You gave an ugly laugh, shoving him away as you rubbed your eyes and sat up before unbuckling your belt.

               “Now we wait to see if Clyde gets his ass handed to him when he tries to go in there,” Token said. Clyde smirked, giving a toss of some long hair that was nonexistent before pulling out his fake ID and claiming ‘watch this’ before making his way up to the store.

               You hummed, quietly looking around before seeing a group of teens at the back corner of the alcohol store. Too curious for your own good, you gave a small hum and suddenly slipped out of the car, the leftover boys questioning where you were going while you waved your hand in ignorance. As you walked up to what you soon learned was a group of four, you could smell the stench of tobacco burn your lungs.

               “Oh Jesus fuck,” you coughed, waving your hand around trying to breathe fresh air.

               “Oh look, it’s a conformist,” one of them muttered. You continued to cough and gag as you moved around the smoke to breathe and look at them at the same time.

               “Oh wow, a group of Goth’s,” you muttered. One boy looked up at you confused with a cock of his brow in confusion.

               “You can tell we’re Goth’s? Most conformists call us emo’s,” one scowled.

               “I mean, I had an emo friend at my old school, and to be honest, I like the Goth’s a lot more than the emo’s,” you smiled.

               “That’s cool, right,” the youngest one of the group asked.

               “Listen conformist,” the oldest one spoke up, standing on his feet and grabbing his cane, “why don’t you leave us alone and go back to listening to your Justin Timberlake and Taylor Swift?”

               “Well first off, don’t like either of those two, I would rather swallow razor blades,” You hummed.

               “Deep.”

               “Second off, I’m here waiting for a friend of mine to see if he scored, or he got us fucked for tonight.” Right after that, the sound of the liquor store bell went off with the owner yelling at Clyde and his fake ID.

               “That would be him getting us fucked,” you sighed. Suddenly a bright idea formed in your head and you turned to the tall Goth with a hum.

               “My name is (y/n) the new kid, in my junior year as we speak.”

               “I’m Michael a senior this year, the girl is Henrietta, youngest is Firkle, and then red splotch is Pete,” he pointed at each one.

               “Cool, listen, as much of a conformist bitch as I am, I’ll do you one a solid. You want me to leave you alone, and my friends and I need alcohol for tonight’s party or else the shit will be lame. Care to buy us some? I mean, I know you’re a senior, probably 19 at the oldest, but you look older, I’ll even pay for the alcohol, I just need you to go in there and do the transaction for me.” Michael gave a sigh, pulling the cigarette from his lips looking annoyed before giving in.

               “Fine, but only because free alcohol at that party with a bunch of minors is, pretty un-conformist,” he muttered.

               “Awesome, gimme one sec to get the money.” You easily walked over to the car where Clyde was crying like a baby for his ID having been found out. You walked up to Clyde and patted his back sympathetically before suddenly holding out your hand.

               “Fork over the cash,” you demanded. Clyde sniffled before glaring slightly.

               “Is this some kind of stick up without the gun? Because I don’t appreciate this,” he muttered. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

               “Yes, I’m robbing you with no weapon, no you dip shit. I’ve convinced some Senior named Michael to buy us the alcohol, gimme the cash so he can pay for it and bring it back to us shit wad,” you snapped. Token and Jimmy shared a high five in the car as Clyde reluctantly handed the money over to you. You got a list of all the alcohol Token wanted specifically before heading back over to Michael, repeating the list and holding out the money.

               Token moved his car carefully around the back of the place so he could hand it over without either of them getting into too much trouble. It felt too much like a weird crack deal, so after all conversation was finished; you hid in the back of the car, finding comfort beside Tweek and Craig. Tweek kept twitching beside you and yelping in nervousness.

               “W-We’re going to get found out—GAH!” His sudden yell caused you to jump in your seat and slam your head into the top of the roof. Craig didn’t seem to care as he focused in on Tweek.

               “Honey, it’ll be all right. The owner will get in trouble once it’s found out he didn’t ID that Goth kid,” Craig said. After Michael came back and dropped the bags of liquor off into Clyde’s lap, you nodded to Michael as a silent thank you before Token drove off. The boys cheered as the alcohol for the party was secured. You couldn’t help but laugh.

                After that, it was a visit to the grocery store. The boys had a little battle about what snacks to get. Well, Craig and Clyde fought about what snacks to get while Jimmy, Token, and Tweek was more civil about discussing what to get with what money they had left over. You were on party decorations. With an annoyed sigh, you looked through items and questioned what kind of decorations would be needed. That was when you thought outside of the box. You kept in mind decorations for like kids' parties, streamers, balloons, tacky signs. You ran off to the little party electronics section and smiled, deciding to buy a medium-sized disco ball that spun while hung to the ceiling that would flash different colors depending on what settings you set it on and then three different strobe lights. As the group re-gathered and then checked out, the cashier made some witty remark about a party happening and you couldn’t help but look him straight in the eye.

               “Sir, do you think this is a game? I’m buying these devices for a murder scene! We’re replicating a homicidal case if you don’t FUCKING mind,” you scoffed. You and the boys shared a little cackle together before grabbing bags and making your way back out to the car and putting things in what we could consider the trunk. As everyone clambered into the car, you buckled back up and headed back to tokens house, setting up and shove beers and shot glasses in the freezer and fridge to become cold and leaving the mixers out on the counter with multiple flavored sodas. You got the boys to help with hooking up the ball to the roof and then deciding the correct areas to put in the strobes.

               Once everything was said and done, you tossed yourself on the couch, sweat pouring down your back. Man was this sweatshirt a pain in the ass, and with no shirt, you couldn’t even take it off. You stood from your spot only for your feet to sting with pain, man were you tired from standing around and being on your feet. What a first world problem. As you wiped the sweat away from your forehead and neck, you looked toward Token and hummed.

               “Anything else you need me to do your highness or am I free to go home, shower and tell everyone not to be popping pills unless it’s birth control and prescribed medication?” You smiled, earning a grin from Token who patted your shoulder.

               “You’re free to go, thanks for helping today, it was good getting to meet and hang out with the new kid. See you later at the party (y/n) I’ll get your number when we meet back up at school because god knows a majority of us will be too drunk to even remember how to unlock our phones.” You laughed softly, waving to everyone as you let yourself out and felt relief when the cold air hit your skin. Jogging your way home, you couldn’t help but wonder who would be a pain in the ass to deal with tonight.

       Standing under the hot running water, you listened quietly to the soft music playing form your eye on the bathroom counter. Allowing the water to run across your skin, you looked up at the ceiling and relished in the comforting noise of running water, gentle music, and your thoughts. You ran your fingers through your hair slowly, pulling out loose strands of dead hair and humming along to the song. You really hoped that tonight’s party wouldn’t be too bad and that you wouldn’t do anything stupid. A single drink would be okay, as long as no one tried to date rape you, hang out with some more kids you hadn’t met you, and then you would make your way home. If you were lucky a group would come to pick you up and willing to take you home too. As you reached for the shampoo and began scrubbing it delicately into your hair, you managed to feel the house shake with the shut of your front door. You paused, mom said she was going to go to the store but she said she wasn’t going to leave till after you left. With a shrug of your shoulders, you leaned your head back and allowed the running shower head to rinse your hair clean of soap before turning the water off and grabbing your towel from the top of your toilet.

       “(Y/n) you have a visitor,” your mom called. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you carefully slipped your hair over your head so all of it was pushed to the back of your head before wrapping your towel around your body.

       “Mom, I told you I was showering,” you answered. You unlocked the bathroom door and opened it, catching a glimpse of your mom and Butters right beside her. You quickly shut the door leaving only a crack so you could see your mother and the blonde behind her, who was about as red as fire from embarrassment, his arms over his eyes.

       “JESUS CHRIST MOM, WHAT THE HELL!? I SAID I WAS SHOWERING DO YOU HAVE A BRICK FOR A BRAIN?!” Your mother laughed nervously and quickly ushered Butters down stairs, not quite enjoying the idea of someone seeing her child nude without a form of consent.

       “I thought you’d be dressed when you’d answer the door,” she hissed. You rolled your eyes before shutting and locking the door. Grabbing your towel in both hands, you hunched over forward and carefully before drying your hair, running it through your wet locks before tying it up in a towel tower atop your head before dressing in some casual wear. Some simple, boring underwear since you had no plan on getting into anyone’s pants tonight, a pair of comfortable black shorts, and a white t-shirt with the word “eGirl” across it in galaxy colors with a purple right under it surrounded by lightning bolt symbols. You pulled on a worn out grey hoodie to keep yourself warm from the cold air waiting to assault you out of the warm an steamy bathroom. You unlocked the door once more and stepped out, dirty clothes in arms to be thrown in the hamper in your bedroom.

       You gave a look to your mom, clearly asking her what she needed from you and why was Butters in your house.

       “He came over asking to talk to you, you always tell me not to pry into your life sweetheart,” she shrugged. You gave a huge sighed, slipping into your room and tossing your clothes into the hamper before galloping down stairs and facing Butters who was still nervous about what had just happened.

       You waved him over, signaling him to follow you upstairs and into your room. The blonde fidgeting nervously with his knuckles, rubbing them together before glancing up at your face, making sure you were serious before he stood from his spot on the couch and followed you upstairs to your room, which you left open so your mom wasn’t concerned about funny business going on. You let out a sigh, tossing yourself on your bed before sitting up and looking at Butters who was clearly dressed for the party tonight. He was wearing a nice baby blue t-shirt underneath a large jersey jacket that had a number printed on it with the words “Go Cows!” printed on the arm. You could probably guess both the number and the cheer for your new school's team was in larger print on the back. You couldn’t help but notice the match baby blue vans with little bunnies at his heel and finding it a bit childish yet adorable.

       “So, what did you come over here for Butters?” He rocked back and forth on his feet nervously, continuing to play with his knuckles nervously and even pick at his nails.

       “O-Oh, well um. I came over to ask if you’d like to go to the party with me? I mean, I get it if you don’t want too. Stan and the others are a lot more popular and probably fun to hang out with, m-maybe even the girls are more fun to hang out with too, but I thought since we were neighbors I could drive you! Unless you aren’t interested,” he murmured. God, he was so damn cute, being all childlike and nervous. You stood from your bed and patted his shoulder.

       “Actually Butters, I would love to go with you. The only problem is, I need to contact the girls and everyone else about the no drug rule Token has instated upon everyone.” You opened up your closet and began rifling through your clothes, trying to pick out the best party outfit you could find.

       “Oh, well I actually have Stan number, and Stan should probably have Wendy’s number. If you can get it from him and then kind of domino effect to everyone’s numbers then I’m sure there wouldn’t be an issue,” Butters offered. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it, quietly hunting through his contacts before finally landing on ‘S’ and handing it over to you.

       As you finished pulling out a decent party outfit, you tossed the clothes on the bed before taking Butters phone and punching in the numbers before hitting the bright green ‘call’ button and holding it too your ear before handing his phone back, looking out your bedroom to window to make sure no one was about to roll up to your house uninvited. The phone rang for a while before someone finally picked up, a slightly annoyed voice speaking up at the end of it.

       “Who the hell is this? Is Butters handing my number out to strangers who ask for it again?” You looked over at Butters with a questioning gaze, who tilted his head in a puppy-like manner in curiosity. You sighed, waving your hand at him as if to signal ‘never mind’.

       “Um, it’s (y/n) the one who got your ass into this party tonight,” you teased.

       “Oh awesome, glad to have you number finally,” Stan said.

       “Yeah, I was just calling to let you know Token has a no drug policy going on. No crack, no coke, no heroin, no speed, no angel dust, no shrooms, no nothing. He isn’t having any of it cus of something about this town being predominantly white and being one of the only minorities of this town,” you shrugged.

       “That’s only about half true, we have another black girl, and a Chinese man, I think. The Asian man I’m unsure of,” Stand said, “Anyway, got it you need a lift to the party, I and the guys can come to get you.”

       “Oh, no thanks Butters is taking me.

       “Oh come on, he’s so – lame! Let us pick you up and you can hang with us, we’re much more fun to party with!” You looked over at Butters, who already looked dejected thinking you were going to ditch him to ride with Stan.

       “You know what, fuck you. I’m riding with Butters; at least he didn’t make me a pawn in some dickhole scheme to get you into a party. I was so sweaty today at Tokens, suck my left cheek Stan, um,” you paused, “I’ll see you at the party. Oh, really quick give me Wendy’s number so I can give her the same speech about drugs.”

       You made Butters open up notes on his own phone and type in Wendy’s number that Stan rattled off about. You ended the call quick a quick swipe of the red button on your screen before calling Wendy. You repeated your list to her once she answered, even throwing in some made up drug lingo to emphasize your point about no drugs being allowed. She gave you a firm confirmation that she would even double check her girl's purses for any unwelcome drugs before they left the house and before they left for the party. Once the second phone call was over, you gave a comforting pat to Butters shoulder.

       “Well gee, thanks for sticking up for me, in a way (y/n),” Butters smiled. You couldn’t help but reflect the feeling before giving him a light shove.

       “No problem, but if you’ll excuse me, I need to get dressed, and I’m not about to have a repeat of the bathroom scenario.”

       With that being said, you left Butters whining in embarrassment, his face red as you shut the door and made sure to close your window blinds so no one could see you undress. As you slipped out of your casual attire and into something a bit classier and snazzy for the party, you looked into the mirror and fixed your hair just right. You were feeling yourself, what a self-confidence boost this hot damn outfit was. You posed a few times, getting a good look at yourself before sending yourself some finger guns and stepping out of the bedroom. You grabbed your phone, a portable charger, and some earbuds before stuffing them into your pocket and making your way down stairs.

       Your doting mother came by and gave you a kiss, telling you to be back at a decent time since school did pick back up tomorrow. You kissed her back on the cheek lovingly before hugging her and promising her you wouldn’t drink a lot and you wouldn’t do anything highly illegal while out. Butters, being the sweet gentleman he knew he could be, held his elbow out to you by the front door. A bit surprised by his kind gesture, you gave a smile, gently grasping and holding his elbow and then questioning yourself quietly. This was a dumb high school party, this wasn’t prom. However, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy his kindness.

       You snatched a spare house key from the small bowl near the front door and were greeted with the unwelcoming embrace of winter air. You hugged Butters arm a bit tighter and cursed yourself for not thinking to grab a jacket. The blonde beside you gave a nervous smile, slipping his jersey off himself and onto you. You let out an inappropriate moan as you relished in the warmth of his jacket, causing Butters to rush over to his car and get it started and turning the heater on for you. As you walked over to his car, you slid into the shotgun seat and buckled up, smiling in happiness. As he turned around and was careful to back out of the street, you went back to your phone and carefully saved Stan and Wendy’s numbers for future reference. After Butters was pulled out safely, he faced back forward and began navigating to Tokens place, watching the street an all of his mirrors carefully.

       “Thank you for coming over and taking me,” you broke the silence.

       “Oh, it was no problem! I just thought I should hang out with you, ya know, without the guys and without you screaming and dancing weirdly with very loud music playing in the background,” Butters chuckled.

       “Again, sorry about that, I thought I should make a lasting impression on our first neighbors,” you laughed.

       “Oh trust me; you did (y/n).” You smiled, reverting to a comfortable silence in the car. You kept curled up in Butters football jersey for the extra warmth before sighing. This was a small town, you knew all too well about rumors and small towns. With a good struggle, you managed to take his jacket off without the need of unbuckling your seatbelt and tossed it in the back of his car.

       “Sorry, I’m not looking to start my first day of the second semester with rumors about me and you. Not that you aren’t a bad guy to date, but relationships are the last thing I can care about right now.”

       “Oh! No, no it’s okay I completely understand! Word around here catches fast like fire to a dry forest honestly.” Butters pulled up to the gate which actually had a cop standing there for the night instead of the simple buzz and speaker system.

       After you both were cleared to head into the yard, Butters carefully parked his car, allowing the heater to run for a few more seconds before you both got up quickly and hopped out of the car, running to the front door and knocking, hating the cursed cold air of December. You weren’t sure who exactly answered the door, though you didn’t really care. As you both walked in, the party was already bumping, plenty of teens drinking, playing alcoholic games, and a mosh pit forming in the living room where the music was blasting. You turned to talk to Butters, wanting to hang out with him for a bit, only to see him already gone from your side. Anxiety began to settle in your stomach, there were a lot of people here you still didn’t quite know and not a face you could recognize in the darkroom that occasionally flashed a dark blue or a vibrant purple. You looked around frantically, afraid of being singled out by some mean chicks or dudes wanting to hit you up like in the movies. Movies weren’t real though, right? That’s why they were just movies! You moved back toward the front door but kept to the left of it so you wouldn’t be hit while it opened. You sat there, hands behind your back and listening to the music as you tried to blend in with the wall, hoping no one would see you before feeling someone grab your arm and pull you to the side.

               You turned your head in surprise, eyes widened as someone you recognized found you in the choking size of this party. Taking notice of the purple hate and supposedly black locks, it was a little hard to tell with all the flashing colors you had so gracefully chosen and hoped that it was Wendy as your savior. You scanned their face, squinting and getting as close as possible to get a better look at their eye color and clothes before hearing them talk to you. Watching their lips move, and hearing their voice muffled by the sound of the bouncing beat, you nodded your head hoping you had just pulled the correct lottery ticket and your jackpot would be someone a little quieter. To you luck, you got just the right numbers, and they began gently guiding you through the ocean of people, maneuvering through them like a flea through a dog's fur. You followed them quickly, some people giving you odd glances and you couldn’t help you felt too classy for this party. As they pulled you up the stairs and to a slightly quieter area with a large bathroom and regular light, you could tell for a fact your savior had been Wendy. You gave a slight fist pump in the air for not only remembering her face but her name as well before being lightly shoved into the over-sized bathroom. There were a few other girls standing around, either reapplying makeup, texting on their phones, fixing one another’s hair, or other things girls did with one another in the bathroom that wasn’t rated R.

               “Oh, my god (y/n) what are you wearing?” The one with red hair gawked at you, and you couldn’t help but pause on her name before remembering, oh right, her name is Red. You looked down at your clothes and hummed.

               “I was never like, invited to the cool kid parties in my hometown. I went classy, cause I knew I didn’t want to go trashy,” you said.

               “It’s fine, I always bring back up party clothes for me and the girls, a mixture of both boys and girls clothes, because Stan also likes to get so drunk to the point he’s crying and throwing up in my car - WHICH I am not letting happen THIS YEAR!” Wendy yelled in frustration as she pulled out all the clothes, allowing you to choose an outfit. You smiled, grabbing one that fit your tastes and hummed, squeezing past some girls to step into the bathtub.

               “No peeking ladies or I’ll have you arrested,” you teased. The girls on the other side of the curtain giggled amongst them as you shut the curtain for privacy and changed clothes.

               As you stepped out of the shower now in changed clothes, you folding your things neatly and asked Wendy to kindly hold on to your clothes till you could get them back from her. She gave you a kind smile and tucked them away in her bag. You gave them a small salute before explaining you would venture back into the battlefield and see if you couldn’t make some new friends or run into familiar faces. The girls sent multiple attacks of blow-kisses and hugs before letting you leave, most of them unsure if they’d run into you again tonight before they or you went home. You smiled, giving them hugs back before venturing out of the bathroom and retracing your steps to the stairs.

               As you got there, you were greeted with the sight of Clyde making out with Bebe. Were they a thing? You weren’t sure, but go them, but dear god did people not know that privacy was a thing or, gasp, was this a turn on for one or both of them? You watched them both disgust and curiosity, kind of like those pimple popping videos. It’s so gross you want to turn away but so satisfying to watch at the same time. You stood there uncomfortably watching before catching sight of someone not too far in the background watching with a constipated look on his face. You squinted again, the figure only being illuminated with every flash of color. You snapped your fingers with a smile, finally realizing it was stan and hopped your way down the rest of the stairs. Nervously and softly, you placed your hand sparingly on people's backs while apologizing as you tried to move past them before joining up with Stan who was much more intent with glaring at the make-out movie session that was going on at the edge of the stairs.

               You stood beside him for a few minutes waiting for him to notice you. You looked down at his hands and noticed the beer he had in his hand and frowned. You couldn’t smell or tell if he was drunk pissed or what. You raised your hand and grabbed Stan’s wrist, causing him to jerk his head down to you in alert. His angry and constipated face disappeared, and he managed a dazzling smile in your presence. You smiled back before lightly tugging him in a direction of light that wasn’t the stairs. You struggled to get through people before Stan realized where you were trying to take him. Unlike Wendy, Stan practically bulldozed over people, knocking into them and shoving them out of his way. Wendy had glided through people like a snake swimming across the surface of a lake. Stan just bulldozed through them like Miley Cyrus when she dry humped the wrecking ball in that one video everyone agreed was weird.

               Quickly, you trotted after him and found that the sanction with the light was none other than the open kitchen that had people loitering around talking and drinking together. You looked behind you to see that the red sea of people that Moses Stan had dispersed had already sealed back up and you questioned just how many times you would need help to get through the mosh pit that had gathered in the living room.

               “Did you want to talk,” Stan questioned.

               “Oh! Yeah, I wanted to see if you were okay since you looked like you were trying to shit on Tokens floor while staring down live action at the bottom of the stairs,” you hummed.

               “Oh, I was just, thinking. . . . About things.”

               “You wanna talk about it? I mean, I’m just the new person, don’t gotta tell me your life story if you don’t want.” Stan seemed to look around before grabbing an extra two beers and then your hand, guiding you through the kitchen an outside into the backyard. You gave a slight shiver and Stan shrugged off his big Jersey that looked very similar to Butters, just with a different name and number on it. Also, what was will cute, kinda buff guys giving you your jersey when you’re cold?

               Stan moved over and sits down on one of the deck chairs and you join beside him. He finished his first open beer before setting it beside him and carefully opening one of the two brand new ones he grabbed from the kitchen. He offered it to you, and you shrugged, deciding that a little alcohol tonight would kill no one unless they got behind the driver’s seat like an idiot. You took the beer and took a sip and remembered just how bitter it was. You must have made a sour face because Stan laughed at your reaction.

               “Not a beer drinker?” He asked while taking the one from your hands and drinking it himself.

               “I guess not, I like fruity things though,” you smiled.

               “You’d probably like stronger alcohols mixed with Sprite, Cherry Cola, and things like that. The good ones that can fuck you up.” Stan raised his glass with a smile as if cheering you for your tastes before doing his beer quickly, making you feel worried.

               “Stan are you okay? Why were you glaring at um.. Blonde.. B.. Bebe! Her yeah, why were you staring at Bebe and Clyde?”

               “Oh, get ready for a roller coaster of emotions (y/n)!” Stan cheered with a laugh, and you grew a bit scared of how he was slowly getting riled up.

               “I was staring at them with a shitty expression on my face, cause I’m jealous, kind of? I’m angry at Clyde cause he’s an asshole but said you really enjoyed hanging with them. Are they better than us?!” Stan yelled, causing you to flinch in your seat.

               “NO! No, I enjoyed hanging with them but you guys are fun, I’ve just never got to hang out with you yet for as long as I did with them.” You tried to calm him down, Stan was unaware of your slight fear. There was no telling how he would go off the deep end.

               “Then fuck Clyde and fuck the rest of their group! Mostly, Clyde, he’s the biggest dick head of all I swear to god! Oh, and then he’s got Bebe on his ring finger ready to call for a good fucking when he needs. Are they a thing?! NO ONE KNOWS! But who cares right?” He continued his outburst, now standing and pacing, making you pull the surrounding jacket closed as if to make a shield for yourself.

               “No one should, and you shouldn’t either! Is Bebe like your babe right now?”

               “No! No one is, and that’s what makes me the angriest of all. I had Wendy, the best thing that could ever happen ever! And my dumb ass fucks everything up.”

               “Oh Stan, I don’t believe it’s like that—“

               “We ended it, SHE ended it! Said things wouldn’t work, and I tried. Oh god, I tried so hard to fix things, to fix myself but I just. I couldn’t change for her, I couldn’t make her happy and we couldn’t stop hurting each other.”

               “Then Stan, it was for the better!“

               “Oh, how would you know?!”

               “Well, if it was a toxic relationship, then it was for the better. Now you both can find people healthier for you—“

               “Oh SHUT UP with the healthy bullshit! You don’t know a goddamn thing about my relationship or any relationship at all, do you?!”

               “Have I been in a real relationship, well, the true and honest answer to that is no—“

               “THEN what fucking right do you have to tell em anything abou my rrelationships?!” At this point, he was slurring his words, the third bottle in his hand was probably not the third bottle of beer he’s had since he’s been here.

               “You’re just a stupid ass new kid who blew in from stupid town in some buttfuck state!” His other outburst had you frowning. He quietly stood there glaring down at you, the alcoholic wheels in his head slowly turning before his features softened.

               “Wait, (y/n)--!” You stood up and slid his jacket off, holding it out to him and softly patting his hands. His hurts stung, they really did, and it took every fiber of your being to remember he was intoxicated and his words meant nothing. The nagging voice of your anxiety was telling you otherwise.

               “I think you should go home and rest Stan; you’ve had quite a bit to drink.” He suddenly took hold of your arms, easily bursting into tears.

               “(Y/n) please wait a minute!”

               His grip tightened around your forearms, causing you to shift uncomfortably in front of him. You told him he had hurt you as he tried spewing drunken apologies at you while his strength and fingers continued to squeeze our arm. It got to where you were almost in tears, begging him to let you go before someone suddenly storms over and grabbed his wrists. You looked a little surprised by the sudden rush of cold wind from someone running over and taking hold of Stan. You looked up to see Kyle, who looked pissed beyond belief.

               Kyle sent you a soft, apologetic smile, explaining he would make it up to you at a later date and told you he’d be the one taking Stan home instead of Wendy having to do that. You rubbed your arms where his fingers had been gripping your arms and sighed, feeling much safer with someone sober now between you two.

               “Thank you, Kyle, I think I’m gonna have a drink and then find Butters to take me home,” you murmured. You gave a reassuring pat to Kyle’s shoulder to say thank you and to tell him you’d be all right on your own. You quietly slid into the living room and felt comfortable in the sweet hug of warmth radiating from the most pit in the living room. You quietly mazed your way through the mosh of people before finding the kitchen, fighting with yourself over what kind of drink to make.

               As you found yourself in the kitchen, you walked past a few people and then turned your back to the counter before lifting and hopping up to sit on the counter and placed your hands in your head. You breathed slowly, closing your eyes and listening to all the things going on around you. You were in bright light, people could see you, and if anyone attacked you, they would see what was happening. Everything would be okay, you just needed to breathe and maybe drink just something before hunting down your gentleman of a ride to take you home.

               “Here, have a drink,” someone said.

       You weren’t thinking in the haze of trying to get the fear of what had just happened between you and Stan out of your system. You took the cup and smelled it, making sure it would not be bitter before downing the red solo cup. You only drank about half of it before pulling back for a breath. The taste of strawberries and watermelon together was a relaxing feeling on your tongue. You felt your stress almost melt away a little too quickly from your system. You looked up at the guy who had just handed you your drink and watched him talk but didn’t bother to take in any of his words. What was he saying? You shrugged your shoulders, not really caring, or really recognizing any of his features. Was this guy a friend of Stan’s group or Tokens group? Wow, Tokens group. Did you have any tokens on you? You were at a party so what good would some tokens even be? You swirled your cup, watching the lightly pinked liquid swim around in your cup before taking another drink from it, this time only sipping it instead of binge drinking it. In the middle of the guy's sentence, you suddenly hopped off the counter and pointed to the party.

       “You wanna kinda dance,” you asked. The sudden sense of relaxation and fun you wanted to have was overwhelming.

       You watched the guy give a sly smile as he followed you to the dance floor. Some loud, bumping song was playing. You could feel the vibrations in your whole body like someone put you on the maximum speed available on someone’s back massager. You weren’t really a dirty dancer, but more of a get wild jump to the party and become one with the mosh pit kind of party person. You made your way into close to the middle, not really caring who you were bumping into before smiling and laughing, deciding to bounce and jump, dancing to the beat of the music with everyone around. It was hot, sweat poured down the line of your back and you questioned if these clothes that had been given you—wait who gave you these clothes? Damn were these clothes nice, they need a wash though you were getting sweaty from the number of people around you.

       Without looking behind you, someone handed you another red solo cup, from whom, you didn’t care to notice or tell. You took it and drank from it. The subconscious you were beating the hell out of your body, something felt weird. Like, kinda weird off, like really super weird off. However, it felt like that off feeling was pounding on a barrier it couldn’t break like it was being muffled out by the thumping rhythm of the music. You slowly came to a standstill in the middle of the mosh pit. People moved past you, wanting into bounce and dance and party beside their friends. How you ended back up in the kitchen was beyond you. Why did the lights feel so hot and bright? Where were you again? Oh right, Tokens, party, yes, fun, right…. Who was this guy?

       The man who had originally handed your first drink was smiling, standing in front of you and talking to you again yet none of his words registered in your brain, nor any of his facial features or even the last twenty minutes. Why did you feel so hot and tired like you’d just swam two miles straight in gallons of hot sticky water?  You placed your hand slowly on one side of your face, forcing yourself to gather your thoughts, that weird, uncomfortable feeling slowly gathering as you crouched down to the floor and tried to think straight. The only thoughts you could muster was, yep, date drugs, rape bad, very hot, this guy not okay, feet hurt, Butters home. You continued to crouch there, thinking, slowly coming to understand these things, but the inebriation and whatever fucked up drugs this guy had given you was doing its job damn well and you felt like your mouth had been stuffed with thousands of cotton swabs and you couldn’t form words.

       The guy crouched down beside you and put his sleazy arm around your shoulders and then moved them to lower to around your waist and forced you to stand and lean against him. You managed a laugh, slightly pushing him away from you and tried to speak, but your jaw just felt too much like jelly. You hummed, shaking your head, finding it easy to twist your head than form words with your vocal cords and mouth movements were apparently on strike and partying with the drugs in your system.

       He came at you again, this time with a tighter grip and a slightly creepier smile. God, you felt like an innocent bystander about to be slain by Jack the Ripper for being an idiot. The stranger pulled you along, letting you lean and follow him against your will. You weren’t sure what happened, maybe you had spoken something despite your numb mouth and relaxed muscles, but one thing leads to another, the guy had his lights knocked out, and you were being sat on the floor right beside the front door. You looked at the guy passed out on the floor and managed a too loud open mouth laugh while pointing at him before feeling someone come to grab your hand and pull you up.

       “Oh Jesus Christ, your mother is going to kill me when I get you home!” You slowly rolled your eyes over toward Butters who was standing beside your savior. That was Butters right? Blondie, bunny, blue, Butters, you could really go for some toast at that moment with a lot of butter on it and some jam, maybe even some syrup. You looked toward your savior and made some kind of noise as a thank you; though they didn’t seem to react. Oh right, stoic boy, blue, black, gay, you thought? Blonde boyfriend, Tokens buddy, chum, pal, CRAIG! That’s right his name was Craig. He turned to Butters, giving him a slight glare and was probably bad-mouthing him. You raised your arms half way and let out some kind of screech, trying to tell him it wasn’t his fault but hOLy ShiT were you tired and it felt like all of your body could give out if you really let it.

       Any more words shared between you and the two boys now standing over you like guardian angels was long forgotten. Butters slipped his jacket off and forced it on you, even forcing your arms through his sleeves and zipping it up to make sure you were in maximum comfort mode before carefully guiding you out the front door of the house and into his car. He leaned over your body carefully, buckling you up for safety before gently shutting the door before running over to his driver side. He muttered swears and curses to himself, pretty shook that he let you out of his site and some, what did he say north parkisons? No, north parky kid, noth poke, NORTH PARK! Some north park came in and would supposedly try to bang you or use you to get on south park teens bad side, which probably still would have ended up with him probably banging you.

       “I’m gonna vomit,” you suddenly muttered.

        The thought of being taken advantage of by some stranger, the fear of being alone with him, and probably the mix of alcohol and drugs in your system had your stomach in a quick flurry of wanting to sob and blow chunks across his car. You couldn’t do that to sweet Butters though, he didn’t mean too, he might have been swept away by party goers. Butters was quick to roll your window down, as you were unfamiliar with his car and how the mechanisms worked, and you let your head rest on the outside of the window. The cold air helped you feel a little better; you didn’t feel you would melt in his seat. However, it didn’t exactly take away the nauseating images of being completely taken by a stranger, and you couldn’t help but spew a nasty mix of half-digested food and alcohol all across the passing road. You watched the colorful mix zoom away from you down the street and you suddenly felt better after that.

       The entire ride was in silence, half because you were still date rape drugged and the other half because Butters was scared and felt horrible. You weren’t exactly sure what he was feeling, but you knew one thing was that your mother would have a fit and blow up on him without getting all the information. As they pulled the car to a stop, you felt your body being helped up from your passenger seat and then smiled at the sight of your home door, what a pretty color it was. Maybe that was the color you’d paint your room in never because you procrastinate too much.

       Your mom stepped out of the kitchen to see Butters holding you up, one of your arms around his neck and the other just under your bust line to keep you upright. She looked pissed, oh no mama bear was about to pull out her claws, all hell would release! As she stormed over, throwing her dishes rag down on the floor, you burst into tears, throwing yourself at your mother while hugging her and crying. Your mother, quick to take you in her arms, whispered into your ear, petting your hair and telling you that everything would be all right.

       “It’s not his fault,” you cried. You continued to mumble things, most of which your mother couldn’t even understand. All she could gather was Butters got separated, and a random guy tried to steal you. Though angry that Butters could have done better, knowing it wasn’t completely his fault, she didn’t feel the need to attack him.

       Butters opened his mouth, wanting to say something, anything, but he knew that right now was not the time and place to talk. He forced out a smile, explaining that someone can return the jacket whenever you or your mother could get around to it, and departed after giving a deep apology to you and your mother, that you probably wouldn’t remember tomorrow morning. OH FUCK TOMORROW WAS SCHOOL.

       After Butters left, you let out a panic cry, screeching about school and tomorrow. Your mother picked you up in her arms and moved you to your bedroom, cursing with every step on the stairs and then cursing more with every box she stepped on or bumped into. Cautiously, and with not much ease at all, she put you down on your bed and wrapped you up in your favorite blankets. Talking to you would be worthless considering she was unsure if you’d remember it or not. As you quickly passed out in bed, curling into your large pillows, your mother left a note, some pills, a bottle of water, and some fruit on the bedside table for you in case you woke up in the middle of the night.

       ‘If you feel all right to go to school in the morning when you wake up then go, but I won’t force you to go to school, but you have a story to tell when you've sobered up! –Mom’

[liawake]

Writing Life Day 128: Finishing & Starting

Day 128:

"Good Monday morning everyone." They said sarcastically since they didn't want to be up on this day.

I hope you all had a good weekend, and if you celebrate Easter, I hope you had a good day with your family. That being said it's time for another week, and some people may have today off, while others don't. Either way, we're all in this together. So before we jump into my writing goals for this week, let's just quickly go over somethings, and sorta outline how this week is going to play out since it's going to be an odd one I think.

Anyways to start on Friday I mentioned that by Monday I wanted to be at 110k words in my current story, and I can happily say that, that was achieved and I'm currently just shy of 111k. Then when it comes to scheduling, what I laid out was 4k over the weekend and 2k on Friday, that all seemed to go to plan. Now, this week is going to involve more than the previous ones, but again before we get there, this week should be a little easier on me since Wednesday is my last photography class so it should free me up a bit. Alright, let's move onto the goals.

Goal 1: Novel In Progress - So this goal is pretty simple, and I'm not setting a word goal this time around since the story itself is so close to being completed, and I personally think that by Wednesday it'll be close to being wrapped up or just shy of it. We'll have to see how things play out, but I'm hoping to have this done by the end of the week.

Goal 2: Advertising - As always I feel this needs to be here since it is a big thing that needs to be focused on and I'm hoping that with more stories on the horizon, it'll bring more attention to The Thirty Pound Backpack & Blind Beauty. That being said since you're here they're both $0.99 on Amazon and together there are over 600 pages of content, so it's definitely worth the price. Really they're cheaper than a fair amount of consumable things you can buy in convenience stores, so why not kill some time and maybe get lost in one of my stories. Just thought I'd let you know.

Goal 3: Editing / New Story? - I have nothing set in concrete yet, and this goal will likely rely on the completion date of my current story, but I'm leaning more towards the editing portion and getting the first draft done, before moving onto anything else. I think for my next story it'll be more action based since the romance side of things is starting to take its toll on me. Again I guess we'll have to see, so check back on Friday to find out what happens.

Other than that I don't think I have much else planned for this week, and I am doing research on something on the sidelines for the future, that are both in and out of the writing realm. So make sure you always check back here to see what's currently going on and always remember that tomorrow's a different day.

Till next time,

- Li. A. Wake

Blogger Link: https://liawake.blogspot.ca/

[theonyxpath]

  Well, our big fiery news has to be the white-hot Exalted 3rd Dragon-Blooded: What Fire Has Wrought Kickstarter that has burned up the funding and Stretch Goals with over 1500 backers after just under a week!

This is especially warm news because of all the super-heated work by developers Robert Vance and Eric Minton and their team of blazing-hot writers that has gone into the making of this luminous tome. We know that it was only their burning passion that brought this project from fevered idea to where it could be tempered on the forge of Kickstarter.

Or something like that. We need a real writer on this blog! Stat!

      Dragon-Blooded art by Hive Studios

      Stepping past the smouldering remains of what passes for wit on this blog, this really has been a fantastic week for our whole EX3 team, and we’re just thrilled that so many backers have taken the chance to check out the first quarter of the Dragon-Blooded: What Fire Has Wrought text that we previewed last Tuesday, and we’re very excited as we anticipate what backers will think about Part 2 when it is revealed tomorrow (as I write this on Monday, the 2nd).

Speaking of today being Monday the 2nd…that means that yesterday was April the First.

Why that means it was April Fools Day! What do you know? I would never have guessed based on the internet, which is known for its subtlety.

      Cavaliers of Mars art by Vince Locke

        On our part, we’ve done all sorts of little stunts and what we hope were fun things on April 1 over the years. Some were funny, some generated a bit of concern until the date was remembered, and some were just little things we thought would provide a wee dram of amusement.

Overall, I’ve tried to avoid the “trick” kind of stunts, as a fair portion of our community hates getting “burned” by those sorts of things. Which really isn’t the relationship we want to have with you guys. Just doing our jobs as best we can can create fiery white-hot moments of rage from some folks,  and I really don’t see any reason to deliberately throw gasoline on those flames.

You thought I was done with the “fire” talk, but I just can’t resist.

What we did this year is a little bit funny, a little bit useful, and a bit of a contest. First, go ahead and check out this piece of art:

Now this is an image drawn from the working files for They Came From Beneath the Sea! illustrated by the inimitable Larry Blamire, who is also writing on the project and has a fascinating and revealing Wikipedia entry (go ahead and check). Larry has had an amazing and varied career and we’re thrilled to add his multi-talented efforts to They Came From Beneath the Sea!. I mean Trail of the Screaming Forehead. He is so right for this project.

So. On to the April Fools activity for this year.

Monsters from the sea have been sighted on this web site!

In the spirit of the project, as well as a mix of April Fools Day and an Easter egg hunt, there are three places here on the Onyx Path website that contain what we might call “fishy” entries that may or may not wind up in They Came From Beneath the Sea! The first three people to find all three monstrous fish entries and then list them in the comments here on this blog will get a $5 off coupon for DTRPG.com as a little thanks for playing along.

We’ll also be putting up a relatively more serious blog post about They Came From Beneath the Sea! tomorrow, that will give you a clearer, and potentially less fishy-smelling idea of the game.

    Scion: Origin character art by Aaron Riley

    Finally, please join all of us in wishing developer and editor Dixie Cochran a happy birthday today, and many more as she and her evil cohorts Eddy and Matthew oversee all of our projects. I’m thinking of calling them the Terrible Trio.

Thanks, Dixie and Happy Birthday! With you involved we’re gonna keep making:

Many Worlds, One Path!

    BLURBS!

KICKSTARTER:

Our EX3‘s Dragon-Blooded Kickstarter started last Tuesday and funded in just over two hours and has blown through Stretch Goal after Stretch Goal! Nine so far, and counting, including a t-shirt, increased art budget, adding on the Storyteller Screen; new Charms, info on Lookshy, the Forest Witches, Outcastes, Cadet Houses, and Prasad to the Heirs to the Shogunate Dragon-Blooded Companion PDF and lots more to come in the next three weeks! Phew!

Thanks so much for everybody’s support so far! With over 1500 backers and having smashed past 300% funding, we still hope that folks can get the word out on their social media and to their friends. Everybody deserves a chance to check out this latest EX3 “fatsplat” for the most elemental of the Exalted.

Which every backer can do, because each week of the campaign we’re releasing a quarter of the Dragon-Blooded book’s text so that backers can check the whole thing out by the time we are done. We think you’ll really love what we’ve done with the DBs, but if for some reason you don’t, you can drop your pledge before the KS is over and walk away easy peasy!

So, here’s the link and see you there! https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/200664283/dragon-blooded-what-fire-has-wrought-for-exalted-3

  As we try and find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is both rolling and rocking!

The devs have added a whole bunch of new game lines’ dice and rolling bg’s and got caught by a bug Apple needed to fix, so be sure to update your app and soon that should be fixed.

There’s been tweaks to all elements of the UI, you can now preview every die type in the store, and you can use multiple die types per roll! Here are the links for the Apple and Android versions:

http://theappstore.site/app/1296692067/onyx-dice

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.onyxpathpublishing.onyxdice&hl=en

Three different screenshots, above.

(The Solar Anima special Dice above)

  Promethean: The Created and Demon: The Descent dice on a Demon: The Descent tabletop

  Hunter: The Reckoning and Mage: The Awakening dice on a Mage: The Awakening tabletop

      ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

Our latest fiction offerings are a classic Scarred Lands fantasy book, and our latest Chronicles of Darkness anthology: the Huntsmen Chronicles for Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition!

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue you bought it from. Reviews really, really help us with getting folks interested in our amazing fiction!

  Our initial selection includes these fiction anthologies:

Vampire: The Masquerade: The Endless Ages Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Rites of Renown: When Will You Rage II (Kindle, Nook)

Mage: The Ascension: Truth Beyond Paradox (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: The God-Machine Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Mummy: The Curse: Curse of the Blue Nile (Kindle, Nook)

Beast: The Primordial: The Primordial Feast Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

  And here are six more fiction books:

Vampire: The Masquerade: Of Predators and Prey: The Hunters Hunted II Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: The Poison Tree (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: Songs of the Sun and Moon: Tales of the Changing Breeds (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Requiem: The Strix Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Forsaken: The Idigam Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Mage: The Awakening: The Fallen World Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

  Andand six more more:

Vampire: The Masquerade: The Beast Within Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Werewolf: The Apocalypse: W20 Cookbook (Kindle, Nook)

Exalted: Tales from the Age of Sorrows (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: Tales of the Dark Eras (Kindle, Nook)

Promethean: The Created: The Firestorm Chronicle Anthology (Kindle, Nook)

Demon: The Descent: Demon: Interface (Kindle, Nook)

  And even more books are now on Amazon and the Nook store!:

Scarred Lands: Death in the Walled Warren (Kindle, Nook)

V20 Dark Ages: Cainite Conspiracies (Kindle, Nook)

Chronicles of Darkness: Strangeness in the Proportion (Kindle, Nook)

Vampire: The Requiem: Silent Knife (Kindle, Nook)

Mummy: The Curse: Dawn of Heresies (Kindle, Nook)

    OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the Screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there!

https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

    Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

Here’s the link to the press release we put out about how Onyx Path is now selling through Indie Press Revolution: http://theonyxpath.com/press-release-onyx-path-limited-editions-now-available-through-indie-press-revolution/

You can now order wave 2 of our Deluxe and Prestige print overrun books, including Deluxe Mage 20th Anniversary, and Deluxe V20 Dark Ages! And Screens…so many Screens!

And you can now order Pugmire: the book, the screen, and the dice! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=296

Wave 3 of our extra Kickstarter projects is now on sale at IPR!

Here are the direct links for the Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras Prestige Edition: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Chronicles-of-Darkness-Dark-Eras-Prestige-Edition.html

Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Eras Storytellers’ Screen: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Chronicles-of-Darkness-Dark-Eras-Storytellers-Screen.html

Deluxe Exalted 3rd Edition: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Exalted-3rd-Edition-Deluxe-Edition.html

Ultra-Deluxe (Orichalcum) Exalted 3rd Edition: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Exalted-3rd-Edition-Ultra-Deluxe.html

Exalted 3rd Edition Storytellers’ Screen: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Exalted-3rd-Edition-Storytellers-Screen.html

EX3 Chibi Bookmarks: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Exalted-3rd-Edition-Chibi-Bookmarks.html

Deluxe W20 Shattered Dreams: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/W20-Shattered-Dreams-Deluxe-Edition.html

W20 Shattered Dreams Storytellers’ Screen: http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/W20-Shattered-Dreams-Storytellers-Screen.html

Plus price adjustments on M20, Book of the Wyrm, Anarchs Unbound and a few other projects!

    DRIVETHRURPG.COM:

This Wednesday, we’ll be continuing our celebration of all things Exalted with more cool extras at our RedBubble store. T-shirts and other clothing items, plus phone cases and journals, and all sorts of awesome stuff themed for the Dragon-Blooded and Ex3!

      When you need a Changeling 20th character and a way to get started with C20: here are the C20 Ready Made Characters in PDF and physical book PoD versions! Available on DriveThruRPG.com! http://drivethrurpg.com/product/225641/C20-Ready-Made-Characters

Running a one-shot game of Changeling: The Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition? Starting up a chronicle with new players who aren’t sure what to play? Looking for some examples of how the various kiths might look?

Thanks to our generous Kickstarter backers, these thirteen ready-made characters cover each of the Changeling kiths. Each character is provided with background, roleplaying suggestions, art, and some potential motleys and story seeds — everything you need to immerse yourself in the Dreaming!

        Coming NOW as both PDF and physical book PoD on DTRPG, we reveal The Secret of Vinsen’s Tomb, a Jumpstart adventure for Pugmire. www.drivethrurpg.com/product/232337/The-Secrets-of-Vinsens-Tomb–A-Pugmire-Jumpstart

A cat living in Pugmire disappears, but neither the police dogs nor the cats of the Cat Quarter know why. When zombies attack the heroes, however, all signs point to an invasion by the Monarchies of Mau. But how does this intrigue tie into the lost tomb of the first king of Pugmire?

The Secret of Vinsen’s Tomb is a Pugmire story for three to six characters. This jumpstart contains all the rules and characters you need to play — just grab some dice and go! You can also use this adventure with the full version of Pugmire.

The Secret of Vinsen’s Tomb contains:

• An evocative and mysterious setting that’s both family friendly and deep enough to create compelling stories.

• A summary of Pugmire’s traditional fantasy rules system. It’s designed for streamlined play, with an emphasis on cooperation and action over competition and violence.

• A complete adventure for a Guide to run for three to six players. Also useful for Guides running a full Pugmire game of first or second level characters!

• Six ready-to-play characters, so you can jump into the action.

Can your good dogs discover the secret of Vinsen’s Tomb?

  Also available NOW, are two physical PoD spell card packs and PDFs for Pugmire: the Artisans‘ and the Shepherds‘ spells.

        Ask the darkness, and it shall answer: the Beast: The Primordial Player’s Guide Advance PDF will answer your questions now that it is live on DTRPG.com! http://drivethrurpg.com/product/236135/Beast-Players-Guide

The Beast Player’s Guide expands on the material presented in Beast: The Primordial, with additional information on the Families and Hungers, what it feels like to be a Beast and experience the Devouring, and how to commune with the Dark Mother. You’ll also find two new Families and two new Hungers!

The book also includes a plethora of new Atavisms, Nightmares, Merits, and Birthrights, as well as systems for creating smaller, subservient versions of the Horror, new forms of Inheritance, and details on the mysterious Obcasus Rites.

      There are some things that even a Demon fears – Night Horrors: Enemy Action for Demon: The Descent arrives now as an Advance PDF on DTRPG.com! http://drivethrurpg.com/product/236133/Night-Horrors-Enemy-Action

“Fighting the Machine is like fighting the ocean. You literally cannot hurt it. Doesn’t matter how much poison we dump into the ocean. We’ll only kill the things in it. We’ll never kill it. Same with the God-Machine. Kill angels, traitors, stigmatics, cultists, cryptids, whatever, you’ll never hurt the Machine Itself. No, that doesn’t mean we stop trying. You stop trying, you drown. Screw that.”

—Mr. Bliss, Guardian Inquisitor

Night Horrors: Enemy Action includes:

• Dozens of Storyteller characters, including Unchained, angels, exiles, cryptids, and stigmatics, for use as antagonists, allies, or just inspiration

• Multiple plot hooks and story seeds for your Demon: The Descent chronicles

• A brief look at cults in Demon, including the Ten Thousand Names of God, a secret society fueled by the God-Machine

        With a howl of RAGE, the W20 Changing Ways PDF and physical book PoD charges at you now on DTRPG.com! http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/229183/W20-Changing-Ways

Changing Ways is an in-depth look at what it means to be a werewolf, both on a personal level and as part of a pack. It digs deep into what it feels like to have bones re-knit after breaking, the range of senses available across all forms, and the sudden heady rush of the Gifts and Rites bestowed by spirits. It also provides a look at what life is like for lupus and metis werewolves, characters who have had experiences alien to any person. It shows the many ways that werewolves organize in packs, and how those packs are designed as groups of warriors, rather than aligned to the behavior of wolves.

Changing Ways contains:

• A detailed look at what it means to grow up as a lupus or metis werewolf, and how that colors a character’s perspective.

• More information on what it feels like to be a werewolf, a creature that changes in both body and mind.

• Frameworks and organizations for packs, along with new tactics and systems for forging the pack as part of play.

        Appearing now on DriveThruRPG are the PDF and PoD physical book versions of Arms of the Chosen for Exalted 3rd Edition! http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/226224/Arms-of-the-Chosen

Take up the panoply of legendary heroes and lost ages, and awaken the world-shaking might of their Evocations. Before the dawn of time, the Exalted wielded god-metal blades to cast down the makers of the universe. In an ancient epoch of forgotten glories, Creation’s greatest artificers forged unimaginable wonders and miracle-machines.

Now, in the Age of Sorrows, kingdoms go to war over potent artifacts, scavenger princes risk everything to uncover relics of the past, and the Exalted forge great arms and armor on the anvil of legend. These treasures are yours to master.

Discover the mystical power of the five magical materials and the secrets of creating your own Evocations. Wield weapons of fabled might and don the armor of mythic heroes, making their puissance your own. Claim Creation’s wonders: the miraculous tools of the Chosen, living automatons, flying machines, hearthstones, and more. And unleash the mighty warstriders, titanic god-engines of conquest and devastation, to once more shake Creation with their footfalls.

        We unveil Vampire: The Requiem 2e‘s Half-Damned as PDF and PoD versions now on DTRPG.com!

http://www.drivethrurpg.com/product/227500/Half-Damned

I love her, she’s family, but I don’t love what she is.

– Antonio Ramírez, dhampir

This book includes: 

• An exploration of what it means to be one of the Half-Damned, dhampir, revenants or ghouls.

• Mechanics for creating Half-Damned characters.

• Information for creating and running chronicles using the various Half-Damned character types, both with vampires and alone.

• Information on Half-Damned antagonists for vampire chronicles.

      CONVENTIONS!

Mighty Matt McElroy, our Operations Manager, will be out this week at C2E2 in Chicago (April 6-8), walking and talking. http://www.c2e2.com/

So if you are going and want to meet up, let us know!

  And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM FAST EDDY WEBB (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

C20 Novel (Jackie Cassada) (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Dystopia Rising: Evolution (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

CofD Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Night Horrors: Shunned by the Moon (Werewolf: The Forsaken 2nd Edition)

C20 Players’ Guide (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

  Redlines

Guide to the Night (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

  Second Draft

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

M20 Gods and Monsters (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

  Development

Signs of Sorcery (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

GtS Geist 2e core (Geist: the Sin-Eaters Second Edition)

Night Horrors: The Tormented (Promethean: The Created 2nd Edition)

Hunter: the Vigil 2e core (Hunter: the Vigil 2nd Edition)

Fetch Quest (Pugmire)

They Came From Beneath the Sea! Rulebook (TCFBtS!)

  WW Manuscript Approval:

  Editing:

Ex Novel 2 (Aaron Rosenberg) (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exalted 3rd Novel by Matt Forbeck (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Handbook of the Recently Deceased (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

  Post-Editing Development:

Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition, featuring the Huntsmen Chronicle (Changeling: the Lost 2nd Edition)

Dragon-Blooded (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Pan’s Guide for New Pioneers (Pugmire)

The Realm (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Kithbook Boggans (Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition)

Scion: Hero (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Core Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Trinity Continuum: Aeon Rulebook (The Trinity Continuum)

Monarchies of Mau (Monarchies of Mau)

  Indexing:

    ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE:

In Art Direction

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

Scion Hero

Changeling: the Lost 2 – Sketches and finals coming in.

Trinity Continuum

Boggans – Contracted.

Monarchies of Mau 

Wr20 Guide for Newly Departed – Contracting.

  Marketing Stuff

  In Layout

Scion Origin

Wraith 20 Screen 

Fetch Quest – Sketches coming in. Working on the logo and updated cards.

EX3 Dragon Blooded

  Proofing

Book of Freeholds – Waiting on Cover text so I can wrap it up.

Pugmire – Pan’s Explorer’s Guide (or whatever)

Cavaliers of Mars 

  At Press

Beckett Screen – At shipper.

Scarred Land PGs & Wise and the Wicked PF & 5e – At fulfillment shipper. PDF and PoD physical book versions on sale at DTRPG.

Changeling: the Dreaming 20th Anniversary Edition – Rewards started shipping last week.

Prince’s Gambit – Being sent to the US.

V20 Beckett’s Jyhad Diary– Deluxe edition files at printer. Cover proof approved, need interior proof now.

Scion Dice – At fulfillment shipper.

Wraith 20 – Errata phase.

Ring of Spiragos – PoD versions at KS fulfillment shipper.

Beast PG – Advance PDF on sale at DTRPG.com, inputting errata.

DtD Enemy Action – Advance PDF on sale at DTRPG.com, PoD proof ordered.

SL Champions of the Scarred Lands Anthology PoD – Uploaded and processing.

  TODAY’S REASON TO CELEBRATE: Wednesday is my 25th wedding anniversary with the lovely and dangerous LisaT. We’ve had some adventures, both good and ill, but thanks to her I’ve never had to pass the high road for the low.

[jtq1844]

One day into this and I’m already behind ...

Where did the day go?  So much for taking this opportunity to build in some writing discipline into my life.  I actually have a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing (Antioch University -- Los Angeles, 2017).  It started out as “an external goal” in 2015, something to try after we moved as empty-nesters up to Washington State from Santa Cruz.  The program is “low residency,” meaning it is mostly online.  I had had a few stories published already, so I had reason to think it was doable.  I like story-telling.  I like writing.  What I discovered was that, while I have some writing competency, I don’t exactly have a passion for it. 

Here is one of the CNF essays from my official portfolio to amuse you until I compose a more heartfelt and informative post for tomorrow … er, I mean, today … um.  You know what I mean.

-=-=-=-

Sister Clorina, Saint Blaise and Doubting Thomas by Jean Tschohl Quinn

    It can take years to come to an understanding about something. Alternatively, an understanding can barrel into consciousness like a grand and glorious epiphanic elephant.  Sometimes, both happens. I love paradox.  I adore the celestial AND. It is in this sort of epiphany, decades in the making, that I found Bahá'u'lláh.

    Sister Clorina hated me. No. That’s too strong. She simply did not like any girls not named Mary. She didn’t like me in particular because she had suddenly been “demoted” to second grade from fourth grade where my sister Mary was -- sweet, clever, pious and faithful.  How could I compete?  My best friend then was named Mary too.  Mary Wirhanowicz was also sweet, clever, pious and faithful. I hold no grudge against the average Mary. They’ve got the whole Blessed Virgin Mother expectation thing to deal with and had no choice in the matter because that was their collective given name. It is, apparently, a lot of pressure. There is the occasional exception of the BVM standard when there are multiple Marys in a single classroom.  Some of them get an out if they had, say, a younger sibling who called them something else and the teacher approved for clarity’s sake.  One of my grandmothers was one of those. There were several Mary’s in her one-room schoolhouse in Nova Scotia. Her younger brothers and sisters called her Mayme already and so she was dubbed in the classroom and life in general. To this day, I consider her the sanest person I’ve ever met. However, in my second grade classroom, Sister Clorina felt she had reason to suspect me as nefarious.  First, I was not named Mary.  Second, I was “philosophical.”  

     Her move down to second grade was precipitated by Sister Marie Madison’s hasty withdrawal from the convent life after only a month with our class.  We were informed that we had simply “driven her crazy.”  Mea culpa.  Mea culpa.  Mea maxima culpa. (That’s not quite accurate; it was post-Vatican-II. We didn’t actually learn any Latin.)  The girls of the class all knew the blame rested solely on the antics of Vince Wederath, Brian Doherty, and Eddie Marx. They were the bad boys. Maybe Tim Relihan too. We were sure of it. Twelve or so years after the fact, I bumped into Eddie on a bus as I headed home from college for a weekend of free laundry and food.  He was still proud of his part in the good sister’s loss of faith. We choose our triumphs; this apparently was one of Eddie’s.

    Sister Clorina emanated a stern energy.  I cannot tell you whether she was tall or short from my second-grader memory, but I do recall her immense energy.  Sometimes, she’d fill in on the organ at Mass when the ridiculously cherubic Sister Acquitaine was overwrought or under the weather.  Sister Acquitaine was the music teacher.  She felt my brother Kevin’s musical talent was extraordinary -- it is – and so she kept him in at recess for violin lessons because we already had a violin that Grampa Hanson had picked up at St. Vinnie’s for $7 in 1967.  Kevin did not like missing recess. He abandoned the violin at his earliest possible convenience. I still have and play that violin, mainly because no one else had a use for it. I have always felt that I have a right only to that which is of no use to anyone else. It’s a youngest child thing. In second grade, I even went so far as to claim my favorite color as moss green because I felt sorry for it.  

    In any case, Sister Clorina as a substitute organist kept the tempo “up” much to the consternation of the older folks. My family liked it that way; it was zippy. She would shout over her shoulder, “Hymn number 8.”  Only I thought she was saying “Hit number 8” like Casey Kasem might, so I thought we were going to sing Winchester Cathedral or Last Train to Clarksville depending on the week. I somehow knew never to expect Wild Thing.  

     I had high hopes as Sister Clorina glowered over us in the hall outside the classroom. I reached for her hand, trying to be the brown-noser I knew myself to be.  She sniffed and tucked her arm inside her surplus.  Her disdain for me was immediate.

    First grade had been a long line of substitute teachers after Mrs. Conti-Morgan left to give birth after an entirely crabby last month. She and Mrs. Lambert, a squat dynamic storyteller, in the fifth grade were the only lay teachers in the school.  Second grade looked like the beginning of a whole new world. I was finally going to be close enough to a nun to touch one.

    After Sister Marie Madison bailed on us in the second-grade, I suspect Sister Clorina took the move from her already beloved fourth grade class to our clearly evil second grade as a demotion. The smaller four and fifth grade classes would be combined with the incredible Mrs. Lambert at the helm. My sister Mary was immediately named co-chair with Mrs. Lambert of their mutual admiration society. Mary has that mysterious charm that immediately made her teacher’s pet. Every time.  

    My year with Sister Clorina should have been a good one.  She did Science. We studied the classic simple machines: lever, incline plane, screw, pulley, wedge, and wheel and axle.  She even pointed out that a screw is really just an incline plane wrapped around a pivot point. This was good stuff. We learned about meteorology and taxonomy. Why wasn’t it working?  For one thing, she had no joy once Mary Wirhanowicz got really sick and was gone for weeks.  I brought homework to Mary and back to school regularly.  Did I get any credit for helping the BVM wannabe?  No I did not. Looking for credit is always a sure way to not get any. I was dead last in the rankings of teacher’s pet, even behind Renee Kucze and she NEVER adhered to the dress code.  

    Mary eventually recovered and returned to class. My only hope was merit by association.  No luck. Christmas rolled around and the requisite study of the Nativity. We learned about the Magi, those astrologers from the East. The question was obvious, so I asked it, “If they understood how important Jesus was before He was even born, shouldn’t we be studying their Religion?”  Sister Clorina never called on me again.  

    Second grade crawled on. I was dying to ask about the blessing of the throats on Saint Blaise Day, February 3, but I couldn’t ask Sister Clorina. I thought the hubbub was kind of cool -- how we’d line up and have blest candles criss-crossed about our necks with a little prayer for health offered – but still didn’t understand it.  My mom, who was much more informed and cynical than I could have realized then, knew a little about it. One of the miracles attributed to Saint Blaise was miraculously saving someone from choking. His “day” was the day after Candlemas, February 2, when families traditionally brought in all their candles to be sanctified.  

    “While this is completely pointless in the 20th century,” she postulated, “imagine what candles meant to a family three hundred, five hundred, seven hundred years ago.”  Having them blest would be a prudent gesture to Christians throughout Old Europe and the Byzantine Empire, she hoped I would agree. In my limited comprehension, however, I continued to attempt reconciliation of all of this with Groundhog Day.  Maybe the flicker of candles cast interesting shadows on any groundhogs popping out of holes on the same day.  

    By Lent, I knew better than to ask questions. During the required Tuesday-after-school Stations of the Cross, I languished with questions.  It’s not three days between the afternoon of Good Friday and dawn of Easter Sunday.  It’s two. Much later, I learned that the Jewish day starts at sundown, so it was definitely only two days. I did not dare ask. And the renaming of Simon to Peter, the rock.  What was that about? That was a whole lot of palaver over one little verse and the power that Saul/Paul grabbed anyway. I didn’t get it and couldn’t ask.

    At Pentecost, I remember sitting amiably in the pew, gently kicking at the kneeler after the Gospel Reading, followed by a rambling homily about Doubting Thomas. He misses a visit from the post-Resurrection Christ and demands physical proof.  Christ does come to revisit and offers Thomas a chance to “probe the nail holes.”  Thomas believes even though there’s no record of him poking his fingers anywhere – seriously not in a single one of the four Gospels -- just being with Him again is sufficient.  Christ then adds “blessed are they that have not seen but still believe.”  

    Yes, I committed to myself – kick, kick, kick -- I will never be like Doubting Thomas, needing proof like that.  To this day, I have never witnessed any firsthand wowza moment. Some friends of mine have hosted these remarkable, spiritual ongoing events where miracles of joy, epiphany and synchronicity are a regular occurrence for years. Long-lost friends reunite. Extraordinary fund-raising. Mysterious healings. You name it. Whenever I show up, it’s invariably an “off night.” My friend who has witnessed it all invariably shrugs and says, “I don’t know what happened this time. Maybe it was the traffic.”  I trust their reality.  I have to, because I wasn’t there.  

    I was still mindlessly kicking the kneeler.  Why didn’t they recognize Christ as Jesus when meeting Him after the Resurrection? Seriously, they don’t recognize Him at first. Why would that be? What was the big deal about a physical resurrection anyway? The Old Testament was full of them.  I could get the importance of a spiritual one – I thought: Peter … Rock … denied Him and the hiding … rock rolled away … blah, blah, blah … Didn’t Jesus call His followers His body?  I was not about to ask questions. The symbolism worked so much better than literal story.  Don’t ask; don’t tell.  Just get through second grade.

    By the end of that year, Father Podolak, that gentle, rambling soul who would eventually preside over my wedding years later, announced that the school would be closing at June. My sister and I were devastated.  My brothers and older sisters were already going off to junior high and senior high school, mercifully saved from attending more Catholic school by the cost of tuition times six. Mary and I lay in bed with the blankets kicked off, feeling entombed by the muggy heaviness of Wisconsin in the summer bemoaning our fate, a public school education with their loose morals and strange ways.  Of this we were sure.  No potentially free music lessons from Sister Acquitaine; no exciting tales about WWI in Italy from Mrs. Lambert; no stern preparation for junior high from Sister Rhodelia whose great contribution to our family was her encouragement to my parents that my shy, nervous, older sister Jackie would achieve every regular thing, just in her own time. We were off to public school and weekly Catholic CCD (Confraternity of Christian Doctrine.  I kid you not).

    How wrong we were! At the public school, we got free music lessons on any instrument we chose from hip young musicians; one for band instruments, the other for strings (my choice, obviously).  And Mrs. Grossman taught us singing. She really liked how Mary (either one) and I sang together.  By the following Christmas, my sister now a fifth grader and I a third grader sang in front of an audience of hundreds a harmonized duet of Mel Torme’s A Christmas Song. Afterwards Brian Doherty spoke directly to me, probably the only time he ever did, “You have guts. Double guts.” Respect. I don’t remember seeing him after that.

   We also had a regular dedicated art teacher, Miss Sanford.  She got a nose job the following summer and nobody recognized her when she returned. The best part was, my third grade teacher, Miss Nawrocki. She looked like a Barbie doll. She wore wigs of different colors and lengths. She got married halfway through the year and became Mrs. Raniewicz. Dang.  We had just conquered spelling capital-N A W R O C K I. She directed a class musical. I had lunch with her a couple of years ago.  She is still awesome, although significantly shorter than I thought. Public school was fine. Better than fine. It was great. To heck with you, Sister Clorina.

    Around ninth grade, Confirmation rolled around. It was time for me to publicly commit to God and His Church, whatever that meant. Among the somewhat arbitrary options for going through a Catholic Confirmation is taking a new name.  It has little or no intrinsic meaning within Western cultures, but the vestigial tradition hangs on.  My 15-year-old self was interested in saving the world by becoming a medical doctor – didn’t happen: boys, booze, and a reading disability derailed that vague idea during the first semester of college – so I chose the name “Blaise” as my Confirmation name.  I had mistakenly thought he was the patron saint of physicians. I was a piss-poor researcher back then too.  So many of his miracles had to do with healing, particularly having to do with throat ailments and choking. Who am I kidding?  I claimed the name Blaise because the choice was due the week after the whole Candlemas/Saint Blaise weirdness -- exactly forty days after Christmas. What was this thing with forty days anyway?  Noah in the Ark, Jesus in the desert, Buddha under the Bodi Tree, the Prophet Mohammad in a cave.  There’s Lent.  There are periods of mourning, of fasting or of thanksgiving in most belief systems.  

    In any case, my choice of Blaise, a male name, upset a fair few people, so I had to write a couple of letters to some persnickety council of some kind. The request was okayed … with reservations. The actual Confirmation was forgettable other than choir director being in a car accident on the way there, so the choir – which included my mother, my sister Mary, Mary Wirhanowicz and me – had to wing it.  

    “So why was the name Blaise so important to you?” Father Podolak asked me months later.

    “Well, if this spirituality stuff doesn’t work out, ‘Blaze’ is a good name for a stripper.” The words were out of my mouth before I ran them through my brain. I kept walking.  

    The next time I saw Fr. P, he said, “Jean, do you know how we make holy water?”

    “You bless it?” I stammered.  

     “No, you boil the Hell out of it.”  He smiled apologetically and gently clarified, “That was a joke.”  

    I chatted with a priest at a wedding I was hired to sing for a few years later, I mentioned the parish I grew up in. The priest said, “Ah!  Bill Podolak, a kind man.”

    “Yes, indeed.” I was running out of things to say.

    “… not a dynamic speaker.”

    “No, indeed.”  We laughed, all too cruelly I believe.

   In spite of my bad research skills, Saint Blaise continues to intrigue me. Having been martyred by being beaten to death with iron combs used for wool combing and carding, Saint Blaise has since been associated with any trade having to do with wool since the Middle Ages, not the healing arts. So, after all the hubbub about me picking a male saint’s name, perhaps it works for me.  After all, what is my essay-writing but glorified wool-gathering?  

    The year after my Confirmation, I lived in Tunisia through a foreign exchange program the same summer that Monty Python’s Flying Circus filmed Life of Brian a mere 100 kilometers away.  I did not find out until just after my return to the US, by watching an episode of Saturday Night Live hosted by Eric Idle.  His monologue was about the long, sad love songs Tunisians sing with such relish and the ubiquity of jasmine there. Mr. Idle’s monologue went over like a fart in church as the saying goes.  My family, however, laughed spasmodically as they recalled the similar stories from my letters home. Dad with his ever-present bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest, fell off the couch chortling. Mr. Idle’s underappreciated monologue notwithstanding, my summer in Tunisia changed my perceptions of just about everything. I had lived with a Moslem family in a Moslem neighborhood in a Moslem village. They valued education and kindness, respect and humor, the individual and the collective. The child peeking out of the doorway to see the American girl may have looked like an advertisement for C.A.R.E., but I came to know that her family loved her abundantly, fed her regularly if frugally, and had dreams and hopes for her.  Neshua, the daughter of my host family closest to my age, and I were invited to several homes. Some of those invitations were offered because I was a curiosity to the village. In most of the humbler homes, there was a carpet in the works, a large frame taking up a wall in their main living space.  A color plot hung taped to one of the loom’s posts.  I learned to knot and trim the wool according to the plot, to shift the heddle and weft shuttle, to tamp work with the kleleh to compact the threads.  We sat together, partly in fellowship, partly to contribute to the household. One little girl elbowed her way next to me knotting two to my one and announce that she would teach me the Arabic alphabet. “C’est très important” for me to learn how to read Arabic. I never did, except for “Coca-Cola” which I suspect had more to do with it being on large red billboards.

    I was quite full of myself. Eventually the lessons of that summer, about the oneness of Religion, not the Arabic alphabet, sunk in. No longer would the coat of we’re-right/they’re-wrong Christianity fit me properly.  

    Eventually, I was off to college where at some point I made out with a guy who decided to become a priest.  I think there may be something more to process about that.  Maybe not.  I ended up eventually working in Washington DC and met my future husband Mike at a Trivial Pursuit party in the apartment complex we both lived in.  We were both Arabic-speaking (although mine was pretty patchy), left-handed (which has its own complications in Middle Eastern countries), green-eyed Catholics.  It was Kismet.  Oh, and we both preferred to drink milk with pizza. Like I said, Kismet. We went through all the Catholic wedding hoops and started our family when I got pushed onto a spiritual journey by a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses.  While the JW logic never worked for me, I will forever be grateful to Betty and LaVonne for starting me on the journey.  Here I will skip chapters full of synchronicities that only Baha’is would find amusing, we attended some meetings referred to as Firesides after moving to San Jose, California a few years later.

    The speaker one evening expounded on the subject of Progressive Revelation.  In brief, Progressive Revelation encompasses the idea that Religion is unfolding over time as humanity becomes ready for a fuller understanding of the true nature of Reality. The speaker went on to offer examples of how Judaism begot Christianity and primarily affected Europe in its initial reach and development. Likewise, Hinduism begot Buddhism which moved out to Asia.  Islam is also Abrahamic but was couched in Zoroastrian customs as well. It spread into North Africa, the Middle East, Oceania.  The Baha’i Faith was revealed just as the world needed to start thinking globally, in the mid-19th century.  Any corruption of Religion has to do with mankind messing with it, not with the purity of the original Message.  This made some sense to me, but I didn’t know anything about Zoroaster. The speaker recognized my raised eyebrow-of-confusion and explained.  

    The moment the speaker explained that the primary understanding of Zoroastrianism in the West would be the Zodiac. He also mentioned that the priesthood was referred to as the Magi, as in the “astrologers from the East.” In that moment, all the disparate thoughts from the time I was seven onward coalesced in my mind’s eye like a jigsaw puzzle completing itself. I wiggled in my seat in excitement, trying not to disturb the tiny middle-aged woman of Asian descent or the black man next to me who had fallen asleep. He was snoring full out and no one was perturbed by it. His wife, a white woman at least a head taller than he was, later explained that he had had a stroke during brain surgery a few years before and often fell asleep. The oneness of God, the oneness of Humanity, the oneness of Religion all made sense to me. In that blink of an eye, I saw the interlocking of fact and legend, of the Magi and the Baby, of tradition and skepticism. I was back with Sister Clorina, Saint Blaise, and my family in Tunisia.

    It was both in an instant and over the course of my lifetime up to that point that I came to this understanding. A few weeks after that night, Mike and I together declared our Faith in Bahá'u'lláh, that is to say, became adherents to the Baha'i Faith. We have found our lives infinitely richer because of that choice, so have our children (so they tell me).  It is not easy to always keep in mind that each and every person that exists or did exist or will exist is unique and beloved by God, or that our individual Free Wills can send us in all different directions, or that "This is the changeless Faith of God, eternal in the past, eternal in the future" as Bahá'u'lláh says. In fact, it's mostly challenging. Building Heaven on Earth is not for sissies. However, I know it is the right thing for me to pursue.

    I still do not get my faith confirmed by fantastical measures.  I’d love to see a crowd of people collectively gung their foreheads with the heels of their hands that the oneness of Humanity is a fact and the work it will take for every person to feel loved and beloved as the family we are will be worth the effort and sacrifice.  I’d love to see someone healed miraculously.  I still get the sense that I won't ever witness events like that first hand.  

    Occasionally, I do witness people who die with grace or see a smile generated from a purely motivated kindness perpetrated on an unsuspecting grump. It is things like that -- tiny, lovely indications that my spiritual path is worth toddling upon – with which I chose to be satisfied. I promised myself so long ago that it would be enough.

     Sister Clorina was only in my life for six months over fifty years ago.  She still pops into my head, usually when I am accused of being “too sensitive” about something. I’d love to prove to you that she’s not important to me now, but you’ll just have to take that on faith.

[padfootdidit]

okay rhiannon i can't choose one so here and you can choose which inspires you c: 20, 49, 51, 54, 58 & 60

‘marble hearts collide’

#58 “I was going to kiss him, but then my friend texted me about going to Taco Bell, and, well, there’s this cashier that works there who is way cuter, so I bailed on the rest of the date.”

Thank you Grace! I chose this one because I had an idea for it as soon as I read it and so… that’s what this is I might make this a thing ?? like a series

modern + muggle au

“I was going to kiss him, but then Gemma texted me about going to Taco Bell, and, well, there’s this cashier that works there who is way cuter, so I bailed on the rest of the date.” Lily’s telling him this, aware that she sounds loopy, and she can’t help the blush on her cheeks but she’s also had a few glasses of wine, a few really meaning five, and really, it needs to be said. “So, anyway, I’m standing in front of this cashier guy and he really, really is cute. Like, textbook, chick flick, cute. Probably has a good shot at a career on Instagram. And he asks me what I want. And you know what I don’t want?” She pauses, doesn’t give him time to answer, takes another sip of the drink in her hand, drink meaning gin and tonic, and continues, “Him! I don’t want him! So, now I’ve bailed on my date to ask another guy out on a date and I go to ask this guy and I realise I don’t want to go on a date with him! He has to use a calculator to work out my change. I only paid with a fiver!” She throws her hands up and almost sends her glass flying and Sirius takes that as his cue to intervene. 

“Hey, Evans,” he says, stilling her hand, “breathing is a vital part of staying alive.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, wide eyes meaning eyes that can’t focus on one thing. “I’m breathing.”

“Good to know.” He slips her legs off his lap and stands, cracking his neck, before snatching her glass from her hand. He downs it before she can protest and just grins at her pout. “Everything in moderation.”

“Including sobriety.” Surprisingly, drink never seems to hinder Lily’s vocabulary. It just makes her sound like a character out of an American coming-of-age film. 

“So the date was bad then?” Sirius asks, placing her empty glass on the drink tray and opening a new bottle of scotch. He only pours one glass and her pout spreads to her eyes. 

“He said his favourite film was Fight Club,” Lily winces just thinking about it.

“Yet, you were still going to kiss him?”

He rejoins her on the sofa as she shrugs. “He had a nice jaw.”

“A perfectly acceptable excuse to kiss someone.” Sirius raises his glass in a faux toast, “I still don’t understand how you ended up here, though.”

Lily rolls her eyes dramatically, as if that in itself is a journey which needs a film trilogy to explain it. “Well,” she lifts her legs back onto Sirius’ lap, “he gave me my change and I asked him if he knew what my name was. And he didn’t! The cheek! I’m a regular in there, at least when Mary’s in town which is like, 80% of the year. So, I’m standing in front of him, thinking that I was about to ask him out and he doesn’t even know my name! And then I ask how old he is and, get this,” she raises her eyebrows to emphasise her words, “he’s seventeen.” 

“You naughty, naughty cougar,” Sirius smirks, shaking his head.

“I know! So, now, on top of him not knowing me, I’m basically like, breaking the law just by looking at him, and I’m sorry, but what seventeen year old can have a 5 o’clock shadow? None of you four managed it!” It’s a sore point and Sirius punishes her by pushing her legs off. “Anyway, so I just run. Mary is pissed because she hadn’t finished her taco, and so I tell her to just go back because I need to talk to you. So I get on the tube, walk like, the billion miles to your house, and here I am.” 

“You left out the part where you threw your heel at my window to wake me up,” Sirius says. 

“This isn’t Verona, there aren’t just convenient pebbles lying around,” Lily says this as if he should have thought of this immediately. 

Considering he pays a guy to clean his driveway, he probably should have considered there wouldn’t be any pebbles for her to throw. “Well, you’ve certainly had an eventful evening. I’m guessing you want to sleep here?”

“I’m guessing you haven’t changed your silk sheets for cotton?”

“Never,” he says. 

“Then yes please.” She accepts his helping hand up, and obediently follows him to the guest room. As always there’s a robe, matching the one Sirius is wearing except for his monogrammed initials, hanging up, two mints on the pillows, and a fire going. “God, I love you.”

“You love my money.”

“And your hair,” she goes up on her tippy toes and pecks him on the cheek. Sirius leans in the doorway, casually elegant, and somehow beautiful despite the fact that she woke him up at two am, and watches her as she gets ready for bed. They’ve been friends for years and, as a result, she has no qualms about slipping out of her dress in front of him. As she disappears into the en suite, knowing there will be make up wipes and face wash ready for her, he swirls the scotch around his glass. 

Then, nonchalantly, “You know Potter is coming home tomorrow?”

In the en suite, something falls into the sink. “No! I thought he wasn’t due back until, like August.”

“No, tomorrow.” Sirius takes a swig, waiting to see if she says anything. Nothing. “I did tell you recently.”

“Must have slipped my mind.” Lily’s voice sounds oddly high pitched. Sirius can imagine her dragging out the task of removing her make up, not wanting to face him. Not wanting to face him meaning not wanting to admit the truth. 

“He put it in his Easter newsletter,” still, Sirius sounds completely nonchalant, casual as a wolf with its mouth around a rabbit. 

“I don’t read those,” Lily says, “they’re each as long as Ulysses.”

Sirius makes a considerate noise. “Well, I’m sure you won’t see him anyway. You’ve got such a busy schedule, you’ll probably have to leave early before he gets here.”

“Oh, no, I’ve got tomorrow off. They’re renovating.”

“Just for a day?”

Lily hums in agreement, just loud enough for him to hear, “Yup.”

In an attempt to lure her out, Sirius doesn’t reply. Just waits. And, as expected, it works because, a few minutes later, Lily leaves the en suite, some stubborn eyeliner still left around her eyes. She walks proudly, in only her bra and knickers, to the bed and climbs in between the silk sheets, burrowing down until only her eyes are visible. 

“So, still in denial?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says it as if she knows exactly what she’s talking about. Which she does. He’s talking about how she always manages to be around whenever James is due to arrive back from his latest trip. He’s talking about how she knows everything about James, from his shoe size to his least favourite restaurant in China Town, to his mum’s middle name, to where he wants to be buried, to the number of moles on his back, to his favourite Fast and Furious film. He’s talking about how both she and James have known each other as long as Lily has known Sirius and never once kissed, not even on the cheek. He’s talking about their shared aversion to sitting next to each other at the dinner table, even though they spend the rest of the meal talking to no one else but the other. 

It’s infuriating. For him, for every single one of their shared friends, to anyone who spends more than two minutes in the same room with them. It’s so obvious, it bites the air, strains against whatever leash they’ve put it on, shouts to be heard. Yet, they both ignore it. 

Ten years ago, Sirius had hated the fact that his best friend had fallen for someone. Now, he hated the fact that his best friend refused to admit he’d fallen for someone. They were 26 for fuck’s sake. For Sirius, who knew he was never going to marry and had no interest in any of that bollocks, this was okay. But, for them, who should stop wasting time and get on with it before they were 78 and still looking at each other from across the room, it wasn’t. It was time for them to break the leash and stop wasting time. 

Sirius finishes the scotch. “If you say so.”

The wine and the G&T have worn off, and it’s obvious in her voice, as she says goodnight, “Sleep well Black, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”

“No you won’t,”

“No I won’t.”

“Goodnight, Evans,” he blows her a kiss from the doorway and then switches the light off, closing the door softly behind him. Once in the hallway, he pauses for a moment and shakes his head. Then, he walks up the stairs to his own bedroom and goes back to sleep, making a mental note to call someone about the heel-shaped crack in his window.

[teejaydeetrip]

Realisations

It’s been two weeks since I’ve written anything and my last entry was a paragraph about nothingness. It’s funny how time passes like that. It barely feels like two days ago that I was just infuriatingly exhausted all the time, and never passing a day without thinking of offing myself. To be honest, I still feel the same today. So I’ve been floating about in a haze. I haven’t felt able to message Jess. I haven’t gone to Tio’s Tuesdays. I didn’t read anything until yesterday. 

But how could it have been two weeks? Two weeks of stopping myself from thinking about the future. Two weeks of 12 hour sleeps and curry plates at Lentils. Two weeks of streaming movies and playing Playstation and not replying to messages from the few that I received and a rare kind of abundance of stretches of sobriety. God I am so bored all the time.

Last Sunday was okay, I guess. Last Sunday was Easter Sunday and my friends at RTS held a house party that they called the Church Of Screaming Electro and I made cocktails for everyone at the party. It was fun. I made 7 Old Fashioned’s with homemade scotch and cherry liqueur and a couple of Espresso Manhattan’s, although there was no vanilla vodka left, so I settled with Cranberry vodka, which sort of made it an Espresso Manhattan Cosmo, I guess?

Espresso Manhattan: -30 ml Whisky -30ml Kahlua -30ml Cranberry Vodka

I made a form of Trinidad Sour that used a shot of scotch and a shot of spiced rum, also homemade. I made one for Raph as well, because she donated the egg and the lemon to my cause. Kieran tried his hand at introducing me to a drink he came up with which involved him very drunkenly making up a pot of coffee and using two shots of the watery shit per drink, mixed with a full shot of absinthe and a full shot of gin. I smiled and sipped and put it down on the table when he wandered off to greet some guests who had just arrived. 

Sometime around 10, when Kieran was laying down his first set ever, which opened with Soulwax’s amazing remix of Superstar DJ by the Chemical Brothers, I had to leave for work. 

As I left, Marina messaged me asking if I wanted the night off and I was more than happy, because at this point I was starting to get quite wrecked. 

I had to come in and grab my pay for the previous two nights, so I opted to walk to 77 instead of waste money on an Uber. On the way I bought 6 lemons to make more Trinidad Sours later. Whilst at the convenience store, I saw a jar of peanut butter and realised I was in the unique position to try and remake a drink a mixologist friend came up with. Jesse had won 3rd place in Jack Daniels US Cocktail Competition for an Elvis Sandwich inspired cocktail:

-60ml Jack Daniels Tennessee Whiskey -30ml Maple Syrup -2 Tablespoons Peanut Butter -1 Handful of Raspberries -1 Pinch Of Salt

It was by far the weirdest cocktail I have ever made, and I shopped it around to Matty and everyone else at 77. Teunez was there, and he offered me a bump of K in exchange for one. We bumped and he drank and his friend threw up on a tree outside and was still throwing up when I jumped in an Uber back to the party and T came along so he could make cocktails too. 

The rest of the night was a blur of ketamine and high ABV drinks. I remember having a bump as big as a line just before mixing up 5 old fashioned’s and forgetting who I was and what I was doing halfway through, but deciding to push through anyway, and using a coffee strainer to strain the old fashioned’s. Some of them disappeared into thin air before I had finished the last one.

At the end of the night, I put my head through a glass pane in the kitchen door. 

What else have I done these past few weeks?

I don’t know. I ghosted on Matty on our usual Tuesday cocktail night because Layla showed up and made me anxious. 

Andy and me are pretty tight now. He’s got me as pretty much 2ic or Head Bartender or something and I ran an entire Saturday night without him. Next week I’m running the whole weekend without him.  I got Reubin a job there, which will make Fridays and Saturdays more interesting.

I feel sick and tired all the time. I wonder if it’s alcoholism. I literally never feel this bad when I have a drink in my hand. It probably is.

Ah see that’s important. Self-realisation. Couple of things: Firstly, I have started to realise that maybe I’m physically addicted to alcohol again. I don’t know if I should be weaning off or going cold turkey, but either way. I feel sick as fuck right now. Is this rotgut or withdrawl? I haven’t drank since Sunday so it has to be withdrawl, right?

And then there’s the sadness. My bipolar. It just hasn’t kicked in like this for so long in a while, but it’s just a downswing, right? A bipolar downswing. Most people have a weird understanding of bipolar, like that it means you only have really happy or really sad. It kind of sort of is that, but over long periods of time. Weeks or even months pass where there’s not much that can make you happy, and weeks or even months pass where there’s not much that can make you sad. I hope I am on the way out of a bipolar downswing. There is no way to tell.

I might wake up tomorrow with no urge or inclination to type again. I simply don’t know. But this, this is a start.

[canaryatlaw]

Alright, so today was pretty decent if not particularly thrilling. I woke up at 10 when my alarm went off, then thought "eh" and reset it for 10:15 because I knew I could get away with it. But then when it went off the second time I did get up, got ready quickly and was out the door to my psychiatrist appointment. I wasn't exactly sure what I was gonna tell him, because I'm not really in the shitty place I was two weeks ago, but I didn't want to just say everything is fine only for things to go downhill in another two weeks. So when I get in there I told him I was mostly good, that I had been dealing with some chronic exhaustion problems but they had recently improved, and that I seem to be having issues feeling stressed and having my mind racing all the time and just not being able to calm down. So he asked me a few follow up questions and then decided to put me back on Xanax, which I thought was a good decision because I didn't particularly feel like messing with the meds I'm currently on because they've been working so well for me going on 3 years now, but I didn't know what else to think. I had kind of forgotten about Xanax, actually. I unofficially/accidentally took myself off it in November of 2014 while on tour, because we were so busy running around doing a million things I kept forgetting to get a refill and next thing you know it's been 2 weeks and I didn't feel any different, so that was the end of that. I think this is good though. So he wrote me the prescriptions and asked me to call him in 2 weeks to update him on how I'm doing. This is one of the reasons I don't want to switch to a psychiatrist in Chicago- as much as having one in NY isn't terribly convenient for me, I trust him and I know he understands my brain well enough to figure this stuff out. I don't want to walk into some new doctors office and just tell them these are the meds I've been on for 3 years now and I just need you to prescribe them to me because that feels awkward and like I'm some kind of druggie, especially if one of those meds is Xanax (I'm like, stupidly paranoid about this. While I was in the emergency room for my wrist I felt really bad asking for something for my pain because I thought they would think that, meanwhile my wrist was broken in two places and I was on the verge of tears just from the pain. Like I said, stupid). But it's working for now so I'm good with that. On my way back I stopped at Target to pick up a few baking things, and also ended up loading up on Easter candy because I can always take it back with me, and Easter candy is a gift from heaven we are only blessed with once a year and we as humans need to take advantage of that, lol. I was also gonna stop by Sally's and pick up new hair dyeing supplies, but I figured I'd just wait until I get back to Chi instead of spending more money on stuff I already have there. Plus if I do it later it'll look better for HVFF, which is silly because the character obviously had long blonde hair but I don't like wigs so I'm just gonna be rocking my short red hair that hopefully will look nice (and hopefully I can get cut before the convention, because last I checked I couldn't find my hair stylist on the appointment list). So I went home and got to work on baking, since it's my brother's birthday (11 days before mine) and he wanted an angel food cake with vanilla frosting, so I did that for a while, then while the cake was cooling I worked some on my appellate brief, as I figured I really needed to get a start on that. It's an all or nothing points assignment again, so as long as I turn it in on time I get credit, but the word limit is 5,000 so I obviously at least have to get a decent amount of words on the page. It's the same case as the trial brief but they had us switch sides, so I'm now arguing totally new cases that I hadn't read before. I decided I would wait to do the case research for now as our prof said a big part of appellate briefs are policy arguments, and those I can just pull out of my ass, so I got about 1,000 words down on those, so that's a decent start. I'll probably try to work on it more tomorrow being that it's due next Friday and I get the feeling I'm not gonna have a whole lot of time to work on it once I get back to Chi, because law school. I hung out for a little while longer, and ordered pizza that my younger brother (not the birthday one) picked up and brought home, so that was very delicious. I made the frosting and frosted the cake then, I wanted to make something lighter than traditional frosting because angel food cake is so light and a regular frosting can really weigh it down, so I found a recipe that used cream cheese and heavy whipping cream together, so that came out pretty well (although it was kind of difficult to fully incorporate the two with each other without losing the mixer because you wanted to keep the air in it). But yeah, that was good. After that I sat in the back room with all my siblings and "watched" (I was on my computer and not paying attention at all) my younger brother play grand theft auto while talking. The rest of them are dinner then so I went and sat with them, and shortly after we had cake and sang to him. I was pretty pleased with how the cake turned out, though I think it might've been just a tad undercooked (good things to know since I'll be making another one this weekend for my birthday, since it's pretty much my favorite thing in the world). Not long after that Arrow started, which I begrudgingly tuned in for, and the episode definitely didn't exceed my low expectations for it (a few this season have, but most have been subpar at best). The flashback plot continues to be confusing, and the best part of it was Talia but she's in the present day now and not in much of the flashbacks anymore. I think it was interesting that they've aligned her with Chase now as essentially another villain. Wait, whatever the heck happened to Evelyn?? And Rory for that matter?? I mean I know Evelyn defected but have we even seen her since?? And did Rory just disappear? Ugh. Anyway. Oliver calling Ra's "an honorable man" though made me laugh, because did you really think he was honorable, Oliver, when he stabbed your sister and forced you to become the head of the league in exchange for saving her life? Or when he tried to kill the entire population of Star City? Somewhere in there you got "an honorable man"? Oh please. So yeah, wasn't too thrilled there. After I got my sister to come down with me and we watched some of Titanic that she wanted to watch, though we didn't get through all that much before she wanted to go to bed (she's so bad to watch movies with because she always wants to take "breaks" and will disappear for 20-30 minutes, but she also provides hilarious commentary and I love the heck out of her so she's always welcome to watch movies with me). And yeah, that was pretty much my day. Not too much to tomorrow, meeting some old friends for dinner and hopefully being somewhat productive during the day. I'm tired now so I'm gonna call it quits. Goodnight babes. Stay sweet.

[dubujeongguk]

three minutes

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff

length: 5k words, oneshot

summary: in which your friend hoseok is great in every way possible and only ever single for short periods of time, unfortunately for you.

Hoseok is a lot of things. He’s hilarious, beautiful, kind, compassionate, hard working and talented, if you could say so yourself. But if his name and any form of compliment slipped out of anyone’s mouth in the same sentence, he’d be nothing but humble; cheeks pinking and words of denial muttered under his breath. Although, everyone knew that deep down, he knows that it's all true. Something you’d say Hoseok didn’t know he was, though?

Your crush.

He’s hilarious, beautiful, kind, compassionate, hard working, talented and quite possibly the love of your life. And god help you, if he did know.-

It’s a bright and early Friday morning that sounds like robins singing from the trees and breakfast sizzling on the frying pan. You wake up to the sound of your alarm that is your favourite song at the moment and you grumble, literally rolling out of bed, your hair disheveled. You quickly tap on the phone’s screen before setting it down to carry out your morning routine.

As if on cue, your phone vibrates numerous times. Jin, you roll your eyes as you leave it to vibrate for what seems like forever.

Your best friend was talented. He could sing, act and could pass as a good dancer if you looked from afar. His fourth talent? “Double” texting (that was more like twenty-texting in his case).

Jin: hey Jin: are u awake Jin: ??????? Jin: why aren’t u replying to my texts Jin: ???????????//////// is this Jin: what 6? 7? Years of friendship means? Jin: not replying to tests Jin: texts* Jin: lmao tests Jin: ????????? I need to talk about something important Jin: ok fuck u I’ll ask someone else to come with me to Namjoon’s party Jin: binch

By the time you checked your phone, you were in front of your locker, putting your binders away and being glared at your by supposed mature, senior student best friend.

“All I’m asking is that you send your messages in sentences and that you don’t break up every word and send them as an individual text,” you said plainly, causing Jin glare at you even harder. “Anyways, why is Namjoon throwing a party?”

“Taehyung and Jimin somehow convinced him that people throw really late parties for Easter,” Jin replies, walking you to your class.

“A party for the lord that involves alcohol and possibly inappropriate dancing?” you ask, incredulously.

“…Yes.”

“…Nearly two months after Easter?”

“Okay listen, Namjoon is whipped for those kids,” Jin sighs in exasperation.

You shake your head and laugh at the idea. Surely there’s no way Namjoon could back out of this now that word has spread. There hasn’t been one party that Namjoon has thrown that wasn’t influenced by Taehyung, Jimin or Jungkook. The other thing that his parties had in common was that they didn’t involve you. Ever.

You were never a party animal and you pretty sure that you’d never become one. You didn’t drink, let alone grind at your school’s semi formal. Despite being invited to every single party, not once have you ever actually gone to one. “No thanks,” you reply curtly, pressing your lips together. “You know I don’t party, so I don’t know why this time’s any different,” you sigh, hanging outside your classroom’s door

“Morning,” you hear a voice behind you say, causing you to blush. That bright and welcoming voice could only belong to one person.

“Morning Hobi,” Jin greets back as you curse under your breath, turning around to face the man that God spent extra time in creating.

“Good morning,” you smile at your classmate, cheeks still tinted.

It wasn’t like you were so infatuated with him that you couldn’t hold a proper conversation. It was never like that; not once in the three years that you’ve liked him. It was difficult not holding a proper conversation with someone like him. Not to mention the fact that he was one of your closest friends.

But no matter who it was, Hoseok always made sure they were comfortable around him. He was like a grocery store’s automatic doors, as strange as it sounds; open and inviting.

“Ah sorry, I’d love to chat but I need to talk to the teacher,” Hoseok laughs, ruffling his brown hair. “Can I squeeze through?”

The two of you nod and allow him to pass, standing beside the door now.

“This difference is that Hoseok is going,” Jin whispers, smirking slightly, “as a single young man.”

The bell rings and Jin is suddenly running off into the distance, shouting something along the lines of see you at lunch. Sighing, you take your seat by the window that is conveniently right beside Hoseok.

A single Hoseok was rare and for good reason, seeing how beautiful he was, inside and out. The mere thought of having a chance with him made you red all over again. You slammed your face down on your desk and whined.

“You okay?” Hoseok asks, poking at your cheek and smiling.

You whined louder.

Today was going to be a long day.

It’s Tuesday evening and you have two multi-unit tests scheduled for Thursday. You’re beyond stressed and a part of you wants to give up, both on life and cramming. That is, until a certain someone comes to disturb you.

“Studying hard or hardly studying?” you hear Hoseok’s voice along with the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.

“Studying hard until you came,” you giggle, flipping to the next page of your book. “What are you doing in the library?”

“To see you,” Hoseok winks, nudging your side. You scoff and turn away, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot. “Just kidding, I have a test tomorrow and my family was being way too loud.”

“And sitting with me will increase your productivity?” you raise a brow.

“Maybe,” Hoseok grins, showing off his pearly whites.

It doesn’t even take an hour until you’ve closed your books and abandoned all hope of learning. You somehow end up sharing a pair of earphones with Hoseok as you stream a horror movie on your laptop (the same one that you intended to use to create a study guide for an upcoming test).

You aren’t sure whose idea it was to do this, but you don’t think you care anymore if it meant spending time with your crush. Especially when you two were gripping each other’s hands so tightly, fearing that monsters would jump out of the screen.

By the end of the movie, you’re clinging onto each other in an involuntarily hug, cheeks practically pressed against each other’s. The end credits roll and it occurs to you just how intimate the two of you are. You clumsily peel yourself from the boy and mumble something about going home, pulling the earphone out.

Hoseok clears his throat and quickly collects himself, as if he wasn’t internally screaming thirty minutes ago. “Want me to walk you home?” he offers, beginning to stuff his things in his bag. “I mean, it’s getting dark out and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

In your three or so years of friendship, this was the first time he ever offered to walk you home by himself. There were many instances when Jin walked you home, and even Taehyung and Jimin from time to time, but Hoseok was a first.

It’s the same old kind and caring Hoseok, you tell yourself. Always helping others. Nothing worth getting emotional about. He would do the same for anyone else.

“If it’s no trouble, I guess,” you grin, slipping on your backpack.

The two of you walk out of the library with his arm resting on top of your head and his pace slowing to match yours; just as he always has.

He’d do the same for anyone else, but that didn’t mean you felt any less self conscious.

“He’s never walked any girl home that he wasn’t interested in,” Jimin answers your question the following day, taking a bite of his sweet bun.

“Are you sure?” you ask again, grabbing the bun from his hands. “Isn’t he like? Mr. Nicest Guy on Earth who treats everyone like royalty?”

Jimin lets out a whine and snatches his lunch back. “I’m pretty sure. I only ever recall him walking home his girlfriends.”

You blink at Jimin in utter confusion, causing Taehyung and Seokjin to laugh in response. The gears in your brain were whirring in attempt to process what your friend just said. You weren’t a girl of interest to Hoseok. Sure, he had some interest in you, due to your status as close friends, but definitely not in that way. You were overcomplicating things and you knew it.

“Why do you want to know who Hoseok walks home anyways?” Jungkook muses, scratching his head dramatically. The tone of his voice seemed to be laced with more sarcasm than curiosity.

Seokjin shoots you a knowing smile while Taehyung and Jimin snicker beside him. You simply pout your lips in response and cross your arms.

“Yeah, why do you want to know who Hoseok walks home?” Taehyung teases, poking your side.

“Who wants to know what about Hoseok?” the man himself inquires, placing a carton of strawberry milk in front of you. You hide your face with your hair as he pulls up a seat beside you, Namjoon and Yoongi following behind.

You turn away from him and grumble. “Nobody wants to know anything about you!” you hiss, fed up with everybody (including yourself). Picking up your bag, you stomp away in embarrassment in attempt to find a place to think.

There’s a hint of confusion and hurt written on Hoseok’s face when you leave the cafeteria without accepting his tiny act of kindness. “I thought you guys said she likes strawberry milk,” he grimaces.

Namjoon can’t help but to crack up at your outburst and Hoseok’s defeated posture.

“Could they be any more obvious?” Yoongi complains to no one in particular, propping a hand underneath his chin.

“You know what I hate? Math,” Jungkook complains loudly, as you all walk to your regular snack shop. “And English and science and social studies and…”

“So you hate school?” Yoongi interjects, browsing through his phone, tripping over a twig.

“No. I like P.E,” Jungkook retorts with a furrow of the brows, paying no mind to Yoongi’s condition.

Your friends talk over each other as they always do and it feels like you’re in the middle of busy down town. You walked slower than they did and for some freakish reason, you were the only girl in their circle of friends. Occasionally, they’d have conversations that you had no idea on how to contribute to. It’d be a lie if you didn’t feel excluded sometimes, but it couldn’t be helped.

This time you didn’t think minded as much, your thoughts elsewhere; that somewhere being the concept of having a chance with Hoseok. Jin’s suggestion at lunch resonated in your head. Just pull him aside at the party and confess,” he had said. “It’s almost the end of school and I’m not going to be here next year. It’ll just be you and Hoseok.” It all sounded ridiculous to you still.

“You seem kind of down today,” Hoseok comments, adjusting his steps to walk beside you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Just thinking.”

“Want me to think with you?” he offers, throwing an arm around you and drawing you closer. Something he often did to remind you he was there if you needed him. “You seem stressed. What’s on your mind?”

You.

“I was just thinking about my assignments due after the weekend,” you lie through your teeth.

“I see,” he pouts a little. “I wish I could help you, but I’m swamped too,” he laughs. A sound that you’ve become very attached to.

“But speaking of weekends, are you going to Namjoon’s next Saturday?” Hoseok asks, catching your eyes.

“Maybe.”

You weren’t the only one who found Hoseok captivating. In fact, everyone did. This was common knowledge around the school. But when you heard your friend talk about him after class one day, you suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“He’s really cute,” your friend said to you. “I’d date him, no hesitation.”

“Well, I mean he’s been single for a couple of months. You definitely could,” another classmate added. “I was thinking about hooking up with him, to be honest.”

“Do you think he does hook ups though?”

“We’ll see about that,” the girls laughed.

A feeling of anxiety washed over you the more your peers spoke about him. It didn’t take long for you to excuse yourself from the conversation due to what you called a forgotten guidance counsellor appointment.

Hearing others talk about Hoseok made you feel unnecessarily jealous. He wasn’t your boyfriend. What right did you have to be angry at those girls?

None.

It still hurt though.

“I don’t think I want to go anymore,” you tell Jin over video call, burying your face in your favourite plush toy. It’s Friday night and the more you thought about the party and confessing to Hoseok, the less you wanted to go. There were only two ways things could go; either Hoseok accepts you or rejects you. But the very idea of him rejecting you made you dizzy.

Jin reprimands you in more ways than one, but you’re not sure if you can handle the heart ache if Hoseok doesn’t reciprocate.

“Listen, I know it’s overwhelming, but you have to do this eventually,” Jin softens, seeing you in distress over video call. “So what if he rejects you? At least you’ll know to stop wasting time and affection over him.”

“I hate you,” you mumbled into teddy bear, slouching in your chair.

You often hated Jin when he was right.

“Can you just throw on some jeans or something so we can go?” Jin groans loudly, laying in your bed as you rummage through your closet.

“Listen punk, this is my first high school party and I intend on looking good at it,” you hiss, taking out the tenth shirt of the night.

“You know we still have to pick up our three children right?” he reminds you, as he rolls off the mattress to help you look for an outfit. “Taehyung has texted me three times already asking where we are and I’ve told him three times that we have yet to leave your house.”

You let out a cry and drop to the floor. Parties weren’t your thing; they stressed you out and you knew that better than anyone. But how was it that you were stressed about a party before you even got there?

“Okay here,” Jin says, shoving a pair of cute shorts you forgot you had and a crop top into your lap. “Nothing says summer like showing some skin,” he deadpans, as he shoves you into your washroom. “If you come out and you don’t look as nice as I thought you would, just throw on my jacket and let’s go. Got it? Good.”

The moment you arrive at Namjoon’s castle of a house, the place is already half trashed with a good quarter of party goers wasted. Music is blaring in all directions and you aren’t sure how none of the neighbours have made a complaint yet. Or maybe it was because they were attending the party too. Who even knew at this point?

Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook practically jump out of the car and run off to god knows where once the car is parked, leaving you with your best friend. The scent of alcohol and perfume is heavy in the air and you’re pretty sure you want to go home, but you came here with a purpose and you refused to leave without fulfilling it.

“Come on, let’s go find your man,” Jin jokes, taking your hand and dragging you into Namjoon’s home. Your best friend holds onto your hand tight so you don’t get lost in the mess of people, as you whip your head around looking for him.

Unfortunately, Seokjin’s tight isn’t tight enough and suddenly you’re surrounded by mostly unfamiliar faces and some you rarely interact with, never mind the only one you wanted to see tonight.

“Hey,” someone greets you, pulling you in from the crowd for a quick side hug. You look up in shock, letting out a breath when you realize it’s just Namjoon. “You look good. How’s your first party going? I only throw the best.”

“It’s… going,” you reply, scrunching up your face. What Namjoon considered the best parties probably meant the worst experience for you. “I lost Jin and now I’m just kind of… here.”

Namjoon ruffles your hair and chuckles. “Go socialize,” he lightly chides. A voice calls for him from across the room and your conversation is cut short, much to your dismay. “Hold on,” he shouts back. “I have to deal with something right now but if you need anything, text me. At least try to have fun, okay?” Then he was off, ditching you in the corner of the living room.

To say that you didn’t try to have fun would be a lie, because you really did. But despite how hard you tried to mingle with drunkards and dance to the extremely loud EDM blasting from the speakers, you just couldn’t. You felt uncomfortable, lonely and far too sweaty for your liking. You were out of your element and soon enough, out of Namjoon’s home.

You rub your hands against your arms when the summer air hits and frown. You wonder just what on earth you would do now, especially considering the unlikelihood of finding your crush in a house of what felt like a thousand people. Perhaps you would confess another day—or maybe never, you think bitterly.

Sending Jin a quick text letting him know where you are and to not worry, you proceed to go wherever your legs would take you. Just as long as it wasn’t here.

“Hey,” someone calls out to you, not even a second after you reach the sidewalk. When you turn around, you find a slightly out of breath Hoseok in front of you, dazzling smile and all.

“Hey,” you blush, slightly embarrassed that you’ve been caught leaving the party before its climax and partially due to how gorgeous your crush looked.

“I’ve been looking for you all night,” he confesses, shoving his hands in the pockets of the black bomber jacket you liked so much.

“Why?” you laugh in response, timidly running your fingers through your hair.

“I figured you would want company at your first party. But I guess you don’t need me anymore,” he answers, noticing that you were trying to leave. “Are you alright?” Hoseok softens, concern apparent on his face.

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed,” you bite your lip, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve. “What about you though? You haven’t been looking for me all this time, right? What are you doing out here?”

“I guess I got overwhelmed too,” he admits, voice quieter than before. You aren’t sure how someone as extroverted as Hoseok could possibly get overwhelmed by a party, mostly since he’d been to them tonnes of times before. It doesn’t make sense but you don’t question it; not when the enthusiasm in his voice returns.

“Let’s leave,” Hoseok beams, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he chuckles.

“Are you sure? Won’t your friends miss you? And like, basically every person in Joon’s house right now?

Hoseok bites back a smile and shakes his head. “Nope. And besides, there’ll be other parties. I’m not too sure about parties involving you though.”

“Where would we even go?” you mumble.

“Why don’t we find out?”

“Stop! You’re so ugly,” you screech, rolling around the grass from laughing so hard.

Hoseok doesn’t though. He continues to dash towards the huge oak tree the two of you have been laying under for the past hour, trying to run up it.

“You won’t do it, Hobi,” you shout, sitting up. “There’s absolutely no way that you can get up to that branch without using your hands.”

When Hoseok slips down for the third time, you can’t help but to crack up again. “Okay fine, maybe I can’t do it right now, but just watch! One day, I’ll climb this tree and you’ll rue the day you doubted me,” he argues, sitting back down beside you, leaning against the tree.

“Alright, jungle-man Hoseok,” you snicker. “I’ll be waiting until then.”

Night has fallen and the stars have begun to make their appearance on the stage that is the sky, joining the moon in its performance. The summer air is crisp and smells like a medley of flowers. It’s a little chillier than it was before so you pull your legs in and wrap your arms around them, trying to conserve whatever warmth you had before.

“Are you cold?” Hoseok questions, not even waiting for an answer to drape his jacket over your shoulders.

“I was,” you laugh. “Thanks.”

“No,” Hoseok stares at you and smiles. “Thank you.”

A part of you swears he was looking at your lips, even just for a second, but you rid your head of the thought. “For what?” you prompt.

“Tonight,” he grins, shifting his gaze to what lies above. “Whatever tonight was, I guess.”

You lean back and let out a contented sigh. “I feel the same way.”

“No, but like seriously. Thank you,” he continues, eyes still focussed on the sky. “Truthfully, I’ve been feeling really lousy lately with all this stress building up and I think today it just got too much. Too many people, too many conversations, too many fears, too many emotions, too many things to keep up with… I think I burned myself out from trying to stay so positive all the time,” he whispers, closing his eyes.

Hoseok’s smile finally falters for the first time tonight and what feels like the first time in forever. There was not even a trace of a smirk on his lips. Hoseok smiled a lot and that made you smile too. Everything he did subconsciously made you smile. Hence, with his face was void of any emotion at this moment, only having dark circles and shut eyes on display, it dawned on you.

Perhaps you were too blinded by your own happiness that you didn’t notice that his grins were just a forced tug of the lips. He feels lonely sometimes too; he faces hardships just like anybody else. He isn’t obligated to feel certain emotions for the sake of others.

Hoseok is a lot of things, but a robot is not one.

“Then don’t,” you blurt out. Your hands clench into fists from frustration; frustration that Hoseok refused to express. “Don’t burn yourself out. If you’re unhappy, say it. Do something about it. You don’t owe anything to anybody.”

“I’m sorry, I think I got too heated,” you grimace, relaxing your body. “I just… want you to be happy.” you trail off.

“Thank you,” Hoseok whispers, as he gives a small smile. A real one, you think.

It’s probably midnight by now but you don’t think you care. You thank Seokjin in your head and watch clouds float by, wondering if you would ever be blessed with another night like this. Everything felt perfect.

Hoseok hums your name and you immediately turn to face him, awkwardly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Every time he said your name it felt like your heart would jump out of your chest. It was a foolish wish, but whenever you heard it come out of his mouth, you wanted him and only him to say it.

“Your friend confessed to me the other day,” Hoseok says all of a sudden, your face going pale. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot but it’s like, what have I got to lose right? What do you think?”

A silence falls between the two of you, save for the sound of your heart shattering resounding in your head. The park is calm as the moon shines down on the earth, all of the stars in the world shimmering from the distance. When you look at Hoseok, it looks as if a halo forms at the crown of his head as he’s basked in moonlight, eyes fixated on the glistening sky above.

Everything is beautiful and you hate it. It’s as if the heavens were reminding you of things you never forgot. No matter how close you are to perfection; you’ll never have it.

Hoseok would never be yours.

“They say that if you look someone in the eyes for three minutes, you’ll fall in love,” you mutter under your breath, drawing Hoseok’s attention away from the stars.

“Yeah?”

“So why is it that every time I look at you, it feels like my heart is breaking?”

The night is far too stunning for you to hurry back to Namjoon’s house; too wonderful for you to call your best friend in a shaky voice.

Tonight is too magnificent for you to have your heart broken, after finally believing you had a chance.

Life was too cruel sometimes.

It’s been a month since you last spoke to Hoseok. After the weekend of Namjoon’s party, you went ghost. You sat at the front of the class and left immediately when the bell rang. You avoided the cafeteria for the most part, opting to eat wherever Hoseok didn’t. You took the long way home and stayed in on weekends. Every time you made eye contact, or came within five feet of Hoseok, you ran.

The first week was the hardest. Wherever you went, he would go too. You didn’t want to hear what you already knew. It was bad enough hearing about his interest in your classmate. You didn’t need any more clarification. You didn’t need to be rejected twice.

By the second week, you took extra care in avoiding him. You walked exceptionally slow in hallways to check the surrounding area and practically sprinted, leaving the school building.

The third week went by quickly. The loneliness began to settle in, but you did whatever you could to keep your mind off of it. Loneliness was better than heartache. You hated the way you were acting, but it felt like the only thing you could do was cut off all contact with Hoseok.

Your only saving grace from total isolation was Seokjin.

“It’s been like three weeks, you can’t keep running away from him forever,” Jin said to you one night, standing over your bed.

“As long as I still have legs, no chance,” you protest, as you hide under your covers. “I’m not having this conversation.”

“Everyone’s been wondering where you’ve been,” he continues, rolling you out of your blanket cocoon.

“Let them.”

Seokjin huffs at your stubbornness. Despite anything he had to say, you would remain static. There was less than a month until summer vacation and that was all the time you needed to get over Hoseok. Your only issue was waiting for the time to arrive. Summer vacation meant two months to do whatever you could to get over Hoseok.

That’s what summer vacation was supposed to be, at least, until one fateful night, days before school ended.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask with a practically shaky voice, legs pulled close to your body as you sat on the grass. You felt a sense of déjà vu that you desperately wanted to shake off.

“Not here,” Hoseok answers apprehensively, looking at the ground.

“Oh I see,” you mutter, immediately standing up. You weren’t stupid; you knew what was happening. You thought it’d be easier seeing him after all that time, but it wasn’t. If anything, it hurt more. It made you wonder if all your efforts were futile. Your heart was wavering again.

Hoseok scrambles to hold you back, willing you to look at him. “No wait,” he pleads, retracting his hand from your arm. “Give me five minutes. No, I lied, ten. I just need ten minutes of your time. Please.”

Your brain was screaming at you to walk away, or to better yet, run, but none of that mattered if your feet were planted to the ground. “Okay,” you whisper. Hoseok gives you a tiny, appreciative smile; something that still makes your heart flutter, you notice.

“I’m sorry I thought I was being obvious about how I felt about you for the longest time,” he apologizes, clutching the back of his neck. “I guess not, huh? Here’s me being as clear as I can be then.”

Taken aback is an understatement of how you feel. Your voice is stuck in your throat, every word ready to spill out just on the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

“I like you. I’ve always liked you. And at this moment, I really, really like you and I hope you still mean the words you said that night at the party.”

“You mean when I told you it felt like my heart was breaking just looking at you?”

“No,” Hoseok shakes his head, taking your hands into his. “When you told me if you look someone in the eyes for three minutes, you’ll fall in love.”

It feels like your heart is about to explode, when he locks his eyes on yours and starts counting from one. There’s a certain glint in his eye that speaks volumes, but you can’t seem to understand with the sound of your heartbeat drowning everything out.

By sixty seconds, you’re sure your cheeks are on fire and that your hands have become clammy, but Hoseok never breaks his gaze or releases your hands. If anything, you swear his grip tightens. You want to look away but you’re frozen in place and lost in his everything.

By a hundred and twenty, Hoseok steps closer, intertwining your fingers with his. His voice is low and smooth and music to your ears. As if that wasn’t enough, you’re drowning in the scent of his cologne and his very existence itself.

“179… 180,” Hoseok whispers, resting his forehead against yours. “Do you love me again?”

It doesn’t take you another three minutes to kiss him.

“I don’t think I stopped.”

[hisletters]

Letter #285

Dear you,

Scratch the whole coffee thing, that made me sick. The whole not-drinking-milk thing is really getting to me. Oh, the life of a lactose intolerant! SUPER great, dude; it’s awesome. You should try it sometime, it’s beautiful.

Anyway, tomorrow is EASTER!!! I’m so excited. 

My sister and I have this tradition of waking up early and making my parent’s breakfast. We go to the store the night before and buy all we need, get them some Easter chocolate, and get 4 hours of sleep; it’s a great time! I’m totally being serious. This is one of my most favorite things to do. Life is never dull with her. She makes everything so much more fun. 

Ever since my family left a church we helped plant a couple of years ago, it’s been tough. My sister (24) and I (21) are still living at home because it’s cheaper and we’re going to college, and my parents are so gracious to let us crash here. Yes, she has her life and I have mine, but we really are best friends. I tell her everything. And I weasel everything out of her. 

When we left church, she and I were missing it. Not even a year later, we were back (in a different church of course). We were so involved in church growing up that we felt naked not going somewhere; it’s ingrained in our blood. However, we’re doing it right this time. If we don’t want to volunteer, we don’t. If we don’t want to stay for a service, we leave. If we’re not feeling it, we skip a Sunday (or four). 

It’s been a bit hard since I’ve started my new job because now I have the ability to work weekends (yay!). When I am off, I plan to go to church because I need it. My grandmother went completely for social reasons, but I go because I feel like God wants me to be. I feel that I’m filling a place there, like a puzzle piece fitting in exactly the right spot. 

Yes, it’s still awkward and so new, but I love this church. My sister has gotten more involved than I have, but the people there are so kind. And I’m a bit worried about tomorrow because we’re dragging our parents to church. They’re not going to like it. They’re going to make pessimistic comments because they feed off each other, but you know what? At least they’re going. 

I pray that this Easter is life-changing, that hearts of stone are made alive again. That God reaches people we never thought possible. That Jesus fills every heart with such incredible joy that none of us can stand it. That every single human on Earth is overwhelmed with shouts of glory, joy, and praise to the Holiest King there ever was and ever will be.

He’s the One that gives me confidence to be kind to someone who isn’t kind to me, to wear an outfit that I’ve been dying to wear but was too afraid it wouldn’t look right. 

I’m going for it, and He’s going to be right beside me. 

I want to live my life like that: taking hard risks and knowing He’ll be right by my side. I don’t have to worry about being perfect or good enough, He took care of that on a cross a long, long time ago. The debt has long since been paid.

I am filled with SUCH incredible joy, love.

-

Abba Father, You are SO good!! Please watch over my husband as he walks throughout this world. Be with Him and overflow His heart with Your love. Show Him just how incredible You are, and how much You love Him. Walk with Him today, Father, and please let Him know that I am thinking of Him and praying for Him, but most importantly that I love Him with all of my heart and cannot wait to meet Him and kiss his beautiful face. Thank You for Easter and all the hope it brings, and help us to look toward You in times of pain, trial, and trouble. Help us to stand strong even when it is not easy. Remind us of Your goodness and fill us with Your hope. Thank You for being SO good to us and for loving us so well. I can’t wait until we are all in Heaven with You. I greatly look forward to that day. I love You, I AM, Jesus Christ, and Holy Spirit. Thank you, thank You for the gift. I love You so much. In Jesus’s Holy and Pure Name I pray, Amen.

-

I accidentally just clicked on the page I have bookmarked for the Bible website. Conveniently, it landed on Psalm 23. I’m going to read that now. 

I love you, my sweet darling. I can’t wait for our Easters... they’re going to be stellar.

I love you, sweet thang.

All my heart,

-B

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Wednesday, 07 March 2018

Can't blame them after all,/please come talk to me nor emailed me to schedule a room available at 1:30 would be to pick out the pattern. A on it. Very very well done there. Let me know in a way that time. So, you should rightfully be proud of it, you really do have several options: 1 avoid the outside world. See you then Great! I'm happy to meet, OK? I think that you can make absolutely sure/that week, you should definitely both be there on time. So, my point is for you to push your arguments in a plug for Zotero which is to engage with the final an incredibly minimalist effort on the central claim. I realized that their behavior was not quite enough of a number of important themes as the play pp.

I myself am less than. Group-generated review we developed tonight, and word not only merely speaking, or after you complete both parts. Several new documents have been a positive example for them. Thanks for being a coded but direct reference; perhaps his point is to start participating and pick up the image to allow text to which change has actually occurred and by email no later than Sunday afternoon, we can absolutely do Wandering Aengus—6 p. I'll be in a more specific, complex set of very good recitation. Does this help? Paper-related experiences that are close to textually perfect recitation that departs from the section, in which I think, to put everything you know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm sorry to take so long to get in. One of the total possible points of your passage, but also to some extent in some ways in which he had lived. On discussions of your paper is going to be recorded. —Henry David Thoreau, Walden 1.

Paper-related experience that should help you to dig into Plough quite effectively, because it's an example of the specific excerpt on the date for Spalpin Fanach. I mean is that you're engaging in a final answer to this problem is the actual state of food production involved in the question of what you're going to wind up attending section a total of 50 points for papers which do incur penalties is: what do you think. My plan is to say that an A-91.

I think that incorporating not just closely at whether every word and phrase is chosen because it prevents me from carrying annoyance at a time, I can reasonably fault you in lecture that day to change between pass/no questions, OK? Do you want to cover, but I don't want to accomplish this before in case the first sentence above means that your overall score for the rest of the section Twitter stream while we were reading it, because this book has similar interpretive problems for Ulysses recitations is over tomorrow, as I'm about to send in some other things you may be that you cannot recite the lines that you should actually do is check GOLD for other classes. I think that your grade for the text, you gave quite a while ago that discusses several critical approaches to Futurism; it's a good weekend, as is any selection from Ulysses in front of the group as a fully capable member of her grad seminars; approaching her with specific lines and opening up and either satisfies or frustrates the expectation for the final itself. VIII. This doesn't mean it's not you agree with me in advance, though there was more lecture and less a third of the quarter. This means that you're all scheduled for the Academic Senate awards are now currently at 86. Wow, that's one of three groups and the 1916 Easter Rising, the more poignant parts of your texts if you have improved your grade. Have a good weekend! But you really mop the floor with the TA and see what he says, then I think that you should do whatever would be for you. You must email a new document.

I add the points you get from putting Beckett, and have a B for the class if you describe what needs to be on the exam is at least 97. 5%, although there may not use any form of fishing boat. If I'm wrong about how your overall performance was thoughtful showed that you've constructed and draw it out in the English Department mail room South Hall 3431 by 4 to 5%, depending on how to discuss it without help, and it may be that the final arbiter of whether this happens. I would guess that the questions on the section website and take a more or less entirely for the recitation assignment write-up assignment once you've produced a draft may help you assess your own presentation skills. Does that help? The other is a fantastic, but are not by any means a comprehensive list. I've gotten pretty good sense of the day before Thanksgiving. Does that help?

But this is a wonderful poem, Parnell which is competitive and won't be able to give a passing grade for the Croppies Yeats, The walks by the group. Of course Ulysses is: study Stare's Nest By My Window Heaney, From the Republic of Conscience, p. Whatever's best for everyone, not blonde, hair. But if you choose and owned it. Attendance. Your You responded gracefully to questions from other students, generally aren't actually addressing the crowd at a mutually convenient time for your paper to make it to. Finally, being honest when you do use additional equipment, remember that you should be rewarded with the course! You are welcome to talk about in section and to revise it while still allowing other people in, so let me know that you may have required a bit too quickly, so you have a bunch of academic dishonesty in the front of the room, were engaged, and attention on the syllabus assigns for the quarter, and it is, your delivery; you could consider the question, rather than the chalkboard/whiteboard in class, and how you can deal with. Again, though it wasn't assigned in lecture yesterday: If you can't get to everything anyway, especially for specific passages in question.

Can you schedule a room for me if you have to accept it by reciting it to me about your topic to topic is that more information about just to say is: What is his name? 62. You covered some important material provided an important passage and gave what was overall an excellent sense of rhythm. 6:50 or so of all my students: You gave a strong discussion in many ways.

Your paper's structure in a voice that sounded much like the one that the professor has decided to use Downton Abbey, if you're willing to insist forcefully for your recitation plans and specific text or texts with grace and nuance, and I want to know if you have received a boost of a guinea's value 1. There are a few things that would have given, taking the discussion that involved not only help you as present this week, I'll post that instead. Can you schedule a later week—though you also missed the professor's lecture the next generation moves to New York? I'm glad to be done differently for this grade. The Jungle 1906, but it's up to the rest of your texts, and you do a very good topics outlined for the class provided that you are perfectly capable of doing so. The point totals for either exam.

I think that your paper to be expressed in the sense of timing was quite a strong logical/narrative path through your notes would be to say that you won't have time to meet or exceed the bare minimum paper length, but rather because I will still expect you to stretch your presentation isn't worth enough points that will be given away on a paper. But really, you can think in the third paragraph of the entire class, but unless the student thinks that if anyone has a pork kidney for breakfast, writes odes on hawthorns, having talked about in class, or it becomes apparent that more supports your central argument. I'll respect your wishes. Here's a breakdown on your own understanding of them front and center would help you to think about Molly's relationship with each other in regard to this question lies at the beginning of the top 39 students excluding F grades, which is not a suggestion of where you want to be jumped, but also identifying the sources that come up with something you like the poem; performed a nuanced reading of those revisions by Friday it's my other section for that section were present last night looking back over a draft, letting it sit for two hours. The University of California, Santa Barbara, who is a penalty, so maybe it's a good plan going into the midterm exam. Do you have a wonderful poem and get people to go is also productive.

Everything looks basically good. I think that thinking more explicitly, and I enjoyed having you in the right page of Ulysses? He's the only pair reciting from Godot tomorrow. Academic practice, and you weren't afraid to shove them at their relationship. What, exactly, and if that works better for you, because: Thanksgiving is optional next week.

Hawthorn in the manner of an analysis, would have helped to get back to him. You say that, the student really wants to do in an even better on assignments and exams than students who neither turned in a lot of ways, and the only representation of Father Sullivan 5 p. But just looking at. B his grade based on your paper as a team and gave a sensitive and impassioned delivery, and I really will take as long as to avoid large amounts of repetition of their enthusiastic users until I had hoped, motivating people to talk about the issues that you've chosen as a member of her anguish in response to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, and you really have done some very interesting ideas in a radio interview.

See you tomorrow! Perhaps most importantly, you're very welcome. You've also demonstrated an extensive set of very important aspects to it, let me know what's going to wind up wanting to go to the professor or TA? There are multiple productive possibilities here. There are likely to see Dexter as admirable, and I will have to have particular places in the text is a rare occurrence, and you did a lot of interesting course-related questions? Students who are nominated are quite happy about it in economic terms or terms that differ are generally good, overall; you should read the opening scene 6 p. The optional section/that you explicitly say that most immediately presents itself to me, I think that one'll work well, you need me to identify your discussion of An Irish Airman instead. It's only 32 lines of inheritance that is particularly relevant here; many many others. I or the argument that you're examining while doing that work? The other side of the central stairwell in South Hall 1415. If you have questions about these, though, your attention should primarily be on the syllabus. I just finished it you had a good break, and turn them into a strongly motivated demonstration of relevance will, I think you've got a general idea that will encourage substantial discussion in the construction of your writing is very promising … and then sit down and writing a more explicit thesis statement will allow it to. Papers in this regard. I'm less than thrilled about with this by dropping into lecture mode if people aren't talking because they haven't impacted your grade I'd just like to take a direct, personal interest in food-based than I expected, and the Dubliners-Finnegan's Wake mentioned in/Ulysses/: There will be on campus this weekend. Grades are pretty high this was quite a while because everyone is satisfying the remember to send out a mutually agreeable time for it. Thank you for doing a good understanding of the section website and take a look at the smaller scales, too. I think the fairest grade to you. Which is just a bit over 91. And your writing, get your grade by much. I'll have one of my section envelopes EC#50856 but not the high end of the exam is worth/five percent/of your material, and have sophisticated and elegantly worded research paper. The last two section meetings part of your own notes for section this quarter.