#but actually it was both the grad school experience and the slow death of my relationship

[soundofsleat]

In the back

off the side

far away

Is a place

where I hide

where I stay

Tried to say

tried to ask

I needed to

All alone

by myself

where were you?

How could I

ever think

it's funny how

Everything that swore it wouldn't change

is different now

Just like you

would always say,

"We'll make it through"

Then my head

fell apart

and where were you?

How could I

ever think

it's funny how?

Everything you swore would never change

is different now

Like you said

"You and me

make it through"

Didn't quite

fell apart

where the fuck were you?

[ladyartemesia]

Yooo your love story straight out seems like an e2l slow burn tumblr fic. Do you have any plans using at as a plot?? I would def read it 👀

I don’t know if I would truly call it enemies-to-lovers because—although I got irritated with him and his behavior and did snap at him from time to time—we were not really enemies. In fact we were barely friends for most of the years we knew each other—

Well.

Ok. So that’s not totally true...

We fought online constantly. From the time we graduated college (where his crush first developed and I routinely forgot his name) the two of us were always fighting on social media—usually about politics—and occasionally about other things but both of us were too smart to ever truly get the better of each other so there was a grudging respect, (his mom said he used to yell at his computer screen about me). We had it OUT several times online even though we rarely—if ever—spoke in person.

My poor sweet boy DID get himself in trouble over me in more ways than one though—even if we’re weren’t close yet...

His college girlfriend set him up to fail asked him who he would date if the two of them weren’t together and he answered immediately—vehemently—

“Viola. I would definitely date Viola if I could.”

🤦🏻‍♀️ (oh...honey...no)

(That would become a huge THING in their relationship. Every time they got into a fight his ex would shout “why don’t you just go date VIOLA then?!”—When he married me he said he felt like a real winner in that particular collection of conflicts. Playing the long game I guess 🤣😂)

Back then I was all about the music/dramatic arts scene and I was dating a string of empty headed pretty boys who bored me nigh unto death because I was young and completely stupid.

In contrast my someday-boo was painfully quiet and shy (though not really with me because he was too busy trying to prove me wrong), but everyone who met him or spoke to him really liked him and respected him.

After college we were were still in the same extended social circle (and—as previously mentioned—fighting online), but I went to grad school and my not-yet-husband decided to chill for awhile and take a job as a landscaper while he figured his life out and... here’s where it gets complicated because...

—that’s where the girls came in. You see... he’s always been a really nice guy... maybe a little too nice 🤦🏻‍♀️

The term fuqboi tends to conjure up impressions of a cocky frat bro who slyly shags his way through a mountain of willing women with disconnected efficiency and a subtext of emotional constipation.

But that would not be the case here.

You see my husband is a listener. He’s an INFP. He, unlike many of his brethren, understands emotions and can really make a woman feel seen. Combine that with his good looks, brilliant mind, and broody nerditude and you have a recipe for women who were ‘just friends’ randomly dropping to their knees (and a lot more) for him.

Never one to stand in the way of a lady’s dreams, pre-me-hubby figured that if they were that determined to (*insert miscellaneous sexy stuff here*) with him then—well—he’d let them.

I mean why not, right? No harm done.

Wrong. 🤬

And here is where our paths truly began to merge (in the real world) for the first time.

As the FOURTH girl (just in my friend group) he graciously allowed (🤦🏻‍♀️) to have her wicked way with him sobbed in my arms, I became determined to put this ridiculous man-child IN his PLACE—this time in the tactile world as well as the virtual one.

...Poor Liz

She realized that he had absolutely no desire whatsoever to be in a relationship with anything other than his WoW account and she was insistent that he had broken her heart.

So I cornered him and we had it out. (Call me meddlesome, but to be fair he was four friends deep at this point.)

The problem was that... the more I talked to him...the more he was not really what I expected... I found myself...oddly...intrigued?

Later it would come out that I was the first girl—ever—that he actually pursued. And I was not even aware of it for like the first three months.

He was pretty slick after all when it came down to it.

That man convinced me to ‘help him’ with women—to make sure he didn’t get himself into another situation where some girl with heart eyes was tearing off his clothes and expecting commitment.

HE ASKED ME TO BE HIS ‘EXCUSE.’

🤦🏻‍♀️(...I know. I’m an idiot.)

“We can hang out. You’ll teach me how to spot if a girl is about to catch feelings and take off my pants. And I will have an excuse when they call as to why we can’t hang out” (—and ...they really were always calling. It was wild.)

....I mean he WAS shy! It SEEMED plausible!

So yeah my dim self agreed to it. (🤦🏻‍♀️)

I considered it a valiant attempt to save the rest of my social circle from the most clueless ‘accidental’ fuqboi on planet earth and maybe even an opportunity to teach him how to be a real human being and what not.

And before you think ‘fake dating’—we weren’t. We were just hanging out as friends. You see when I went to yell at him (and chased him down after he laughed at me and tried to escape) we ended up talking in his car for like four hours. And then that happened like three more times randomly so... I... actually... wanted... to be his friend... 🤷🏻‍♀️

I was still 110% not interested romantically.

Your girl (me) was after some bland banker dude (🤦🏻‍♀️) and so I blissfully fell into friendship with my actual soulmate without a single second thought. And I never worried about either of us catching feelings because I had a crush on someone else and he had heavily implied that I was not his type. (He told me later that I just assumed this and he simply never corrected me 🙄)

I don’t remember falling for him. I never decided to. I never thought about it...

But one day after the whole crew was hanging out at a restaurant (and the waiter kept giving me free drinks which may have pissed my once-and-future man off) the two of us went out to his car to have our customary three hour post-chill chat...

I was teasing him about something—some girl he was still attempting to untangle himself from—and I said—as had become my habit (seriously I said this so many times as a joke)—“It’s too bad I’m not your type—you could just tell her you have a girlfriend.”

(Now. I know what you’re thinking. But I was still firmly on team platonic ok! I was just a flirt. And maybe part of me was starting to feel weird things about him—but those feelings weren’t like anything I recognized so I thought I just needed to cut back on sugar or something.)

(Have I mentioned I’m an idiot?)

ANYWAYS he looked me right in the eye. So serious. And instead of saying “that’s too bad”—LIKE he ALWAYS did—he said—

“You...are my type, Viola... You’re exactly my type.”

To which I responded—“....What? No I’m not. You said I wasn’t.”

“Never said that. You assumed.”

“You LET me!”

—followed by a good ten minutes of me having an existential crisis/yelling at him for allowing me to believe he didn’t find me attractive and lulling me into a false sense of security. He was infuriatingly unapologetic.

At the end of it all he asked me to give him—give us—a chance.

And I agreed to go out on a few dates with him (mostly to prove to myself that there was nothing there).

(🤦🏻‍♀️)

The only thing I ended up proving was that I was wrong about what I wanted and even more wrong about what I needed.

You see...

Those weird feelings turned out to be love.

(🤦🏻‍♀️)

And it was a really special experience to sit in a room full of girls who had cried in my arms over him—girls I had lectured repeatedly on the dangers of his heartless ways— and admit that I was his girlfriend.

🤦🏻‍♀️

Love was—and continues to be—nothing like I expected and frankly I couldn’t be happier.

... to answer your questions

1. I have considered writing a fic based on our story called Broken Road. The title is taken from an old Rascal Flatts song that—as insanely cheesy as it is—really reminds me of us. Don’t know if I will actually write this. Thought about it a lot though.

2. Tags I would use for this story?

#enemies-to-lovers / #idiots-to-lovers / #college au / #outgoing!fem reader(me) x shy nerd!accidental fuqboi / #reader is also a huge nerd actually / #she’s just a loud one / #frenemies-to-lovers / #the love is requited / #they’re just idiots / #pining (his) / denial (mine) / #reader has terrible taste in men / #except for that last one / #she really redeemed herself there at the end

[nona-gay-simus-main]

Top 10 Worst Romance Tropes - Part 1

It’s Valentine’s Day and that means it’s time to talk about romance. Specifically, shitty romances. Woo!

Disclaimer: This list is just my personal preference, and I don’t want to fight with anyone about it. You do you, boo. 

I’ve also tried to avoid things that have been talked to death like romanticizing abuse or love triangles because I want to keep things original. There’s also definitely going to be a part two to this post since I came up with so many terrible tropes.

And third, but not last: this list specifically pertains to the genre Romance (whether paranormal, fantasy, etc. the point is that the romance is the main plot or at least half the plot). There will be a separate list for romantic subplots in other genres.

1. The Misunderstanding

If the entire plot of the novel can be solved by the characters having ONE (1) conversation, I’m just not interested.

Chances are these people should not be together anyway, since apparently, they can’t even communicate properly. You can’t both/all be communication bottoms. One of you needs to suck it up and be the top.

I’ve seen people argue that this actually a good trope because it’s “realistic”, but to me, the whole point of romance is that it’s supposed to be escapist. 

Otherwise, we’d all be reading about mediocre people going on mediocre dates and being boringly happy together - that’s realistic too. Do you want to read a book about it? I sure don’t!

2. First Love is The Best Love

This is more applicable to YA than any other genre, but I’m so tired of stories that make your first love be your one and only true love. I’m not saying it never happens, but it certainly doesn’t happen as much as the media says it does.

I feel like it’s both disingenuous, and possibly even dangerous, to raise such a cult around first love. Your first love is not going to be your one and only chance at love and that’s probably for the best. It’s likely, that along the way you’ll find someone who’s an even better fit for you and by then you’ll be more mature and better at handling relationships.

I just wish there were more stories that didn’t romanticize the magic of first love, as much as the showed how experience and knowledge can often be much healthier in the long run.

3. Fighting means Flirting

Just to be clear, I’m not talking about enemies-to-lovers or disdain-to-love, where the characters start out fighting and eventually grow to have a much healthier dynamic; nor am I talking about affectionate fighting, where they insult each other, but they don’t actually mean it.

I’m talking about cases where the love interests are actually fighting, but the author will have one of the side characters say something that implies that actually, they are flirting. Fuck right off!

I’m not one of those people who think that if the characters have one fight, that’s an instant sign of a toxic and unhealthy relationship. It’s fine if your characters fight sometimes. It’s also fine if they flirt sometimes. Just don’t try to tell me those two things are one and the same. It’s not cool to promote the adult version of the message that ‘boys pull on girl’s pigtails because they “like” them’. 

If your characters are older than fourteen, I’m going to be expecting them to act accordingly.

4. Virginity Naïveté

This is a trope I see a lot in cis-hetero romance and I’m so repulsed by it.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being sexually inexperienced, or writing about someone who is sexually inexperienced, but these characters are rarely just inexperienced. They are also so ignorant about sex, to the point of making me question whether they are emotionally mature enough to be having it at all. And not only that, but they are often paired up with the biggest sexpot character and it turns into this icky power imbalance, where the more experienced person uses their sexual experience to manipulate their partner.

It’s not realistic, and it’s gross, stop perpetuating the social construct of virginity. Just let women (and sometimes pretty feminine gay men, but that’s a whole ‘nother can of worms) have healthy sex lives. And if they are inexperienced, at least let them have a healthy attitude towards sex and sex-havers. And pair them up with someone who, if not at the same experience level as them, is at least at the same level emotional maturity.

5. Questionable Consent

Nothing puts me off a story faster, than if I have to wonder if the what happened was fully consensual. 

I don’t know how to say this, but please stop having your big male characters groping strange women (or sometimes strange smaller man, but again - ‘nother can of worms) or even women (men) they know, who have not expressed any romantic interest in them; pressing them against walls/doors; giving them lovebites (yes, something I literally read once - though admittedly, it was in a fanfic) and any number of inappropriate physical behaviors without explicit consent.

Surprise kisses are fine if the other person responds, or if you stop when they don’t - but anything other than that is weird, uncomfortable, and it makes me feel like this character doesn’t understand boundaries. And frankly, I don’t want to root for someone who in any other circumstances would be a rapist. 

6. Insta Love

I’ve recently been exposed as a slow burn hoe, and that’s true enough, but even if you like faster-moving romances, what’s so compelling about Insta Love?

The whole point of romance is to see the development of the relationship (except for the rare cases the partners are already together at the start, or if it’s a second-chance romance) and see them falling for each other. 

If they are already in love by the second time they meet, all that potential and stakes are lost.. And half the time, you can’t even figure out why they are in love, to begin with, aside from the fact of being two people of similar ages, attractiveness levels, and the right sexuality. It’s boring and lazy, do better.

8. Teacher/Student:

This is probably because I work as a teacher, but no power dynamic will skeeve me out more than the teacher/student one.

It’s particularly awful if it’s a high school student / high school teacher, for a multitude of reasons I hope I don’t have to explain, but even if it’s college it’s still pretty gross. 18-19-year-olds or even 21yos are just not mature enough to handle a relationship with their professor, who is a minimum of 35 btw, (unless they are some super-genius), and holds their future in their hands.

Maybe grad school would be okay if I’m sure it’s a one-off and that professor doesn’t make a habit of dating their students. Really, the most acceptable versions of this, are either grad-school student/professor, but the student is not that professor’s class, or a college student having a one-sided crush on their professor, and then they meet on equal terms, years after. 

9. All in the family!

I’m not talking about actual incest, which should obvious - but specifically about dating your partner or ex’s sibling/parent/uncle/aunt/first cousin. 

I mean, if it’s a one-night-stand, fine, everyone makes mistakes, but a prolonged relationship, that I’m supposed to root for? Yikes.

Your ex will always be there. At your wedding. At your anniversary parties. Every holiday from now on. And how awkward are family get-togethers going to be when everyone knows where your genitals have been, from now until the end of time. And especially currently, with the internet and how everything is forever? Once your kids /your ex’s kids grow up? They’ll know too! That’s gotta be uncomfy.

10. Cheating

Look, if the romance starts with cheating... well, first of all, I’m already rooting against this couple, because they are assholes and I prefer my romances asshole-free (when it comes to the main characters at least). 

Not only is cheating such a gross and awful thing to do to someone but frankly, I don’t think any relationship that starts with cheating can last. I don’t think you can really trust a cheater - not just to cheat again, but really for anything. They already broke their ex’s trust, who says they won’t do it to you too?

Now, I will say there are some borderline situations that I find more acceptable, where your mileage would vary, if things with the third person beyond purpose-less flirting (aka flirting for the sake if a confidence boost, rather than with the intention of starting something - some people are just naturally flirty) and/or at any point the people involved know that what they’re doing is wrong, but they keep doing it anyway - I’m out.

Some authors will try and justify the cheating MC, by having their partner cheat too, but I’m sorry - two wrongs don’t make a right. That just means everyone is an asshole, and I’m not rooting for any of them to be happy.

[redrobin-detective]

together or not at all

I’ve been binging Erasermic stuff all day and my heart is FULL so I just opened up a post and started typing, never looking back.

XxX

Shouta and Hizashi were not type you’d think would date.

They were an odd couple throughout their time at Yuuei, still staggering from the wounds of going from a trio to a duo midway through their second year. Shouta was quiet, dour and took everything too seriously. Hizashi, meanwhile, was loud, silly, borderline wild with his frequent advertisements for his podcast during slow class events. 

There was no official announcement or anything, just one day, at the end of their second year they were spotted holding hands on the roof. It was grief that brought them together, everyone said when they were sure the couple wouldn’t hear. Once they graduated, they’d move onto to partners they were actually compatible with. Hizashi and Shouta paid the rumors no mind, holding each other close during stolen moments in the hallway, tender hand touches during patrols. On graduation day, while everyone else threw their caps into the wind, Shouta held up his cap in front of their faces and kissed his boyfriend as cherry blossoms blew into their hair. Their future together started now. 

They moved in together right away, scraping together what little cash they had to rent a small beaten down apartment. Shouta let Hizashi carry him over the threshold for the first time after it was theirs, only because it made his boyfriend stupidly happy. There wasn’t much of a demand these days for new grad heroes, not when All Might was there to protect all of Japan with power to spare. Hizashi got a gig as a sidekick for a low-ranked hero that paid more in experience than in actual money. Shouta worked at a cat cafe and local bookstore, unable to find work yet as an underground hero. Every night they came home, exhausted and collapsed together on their second hand mattress that didn’t even have a bed frame. They held each other close in lieu of heating and found it warm enough.

Hizashi’s powerful quirk and outgoing personality made him popular and soon he was employed by a more well known hero which gave him lots of exposure and an increased salary. When his first paycheck hit, he ran down to the shelter and got the black and grey cat Shouta had been wanting to adopt for ages. When his boyfriend came home from his shift at the cafe and found a kitten with a bow around his neck patrolling around the apartment, Shouta looked as if an angel had appeared before him. Needless to say, Hizashi was rewarded well for that particular present. 

Shouta’s contacts finally put him through the proper channels and he hit the streets as an independent agent. It paid less than his other two jobs had but Hizashi could see how much it meant to Shouta to be out there doing good, doing what he was made to do. However, he didn’t like how much damage Shouta took in those early days. He swears he spent all their extra money on first aid equipment; patching up scrapes and burns, icing bruises and stitching up deep cuts. So many nights he dreamed he would come home to an empty apartment, waiting in vain for Shouta to return. On those awful nights, he’d wake up in a sweat and see Shouta beside him, breathing deeply in sleep and promise himself it would never come to that.

Hizashi brought up marriage first, awkwardly and full of jitters the summer of their 21st year, 3 years since they’d become pro heroes and 6 since they’d first met. “Okay,” Shouta had shrugged, going back to playing with their cat, Oreo. Confused, elated and bit nauseous, Hizashi dropped the subject but started looking at ring options in secret. It was Shouta, however, who actually proposed.

His depression and a flare up of his chronic fatigue syndrome later that fall had him feeling worse than ever. The anniversary of Shirokumo’s death was just around the corner and crime was trending upwards all over Japan. He only saw Hizashi for a handful of hours over a week as they rushed from one disaster to another. One rare morning they awoke together, Shouta forgot to kiss him goodbye as he was summoned to help the police take down a particularly nasty villain. The fight was brutal, two heroes and six officers were critically injured and one hero died, slowly and painfully in Shouta’s arms. Underneath the blood, his hair was blond and all Shouta could think about afterwards was the carelessly missed kiss that morning.

He flung himself at Hizashi when he came to pick Shouta up, clutching his best friend and boyfriend’s face reverently with bloodstained hands. “Marry me, Hizashi,” he choked out in a rush. “And promise me you’ll never leave.” 

“Never Shouta never,” Hizashi had wept, crying the tears his other half wouldn’t, holding him close. “It’s together or not at all.” 

In the end, it was a simple affair, neither had anything to prove with a grand wedding. They purchased rings, rented out a small back room in a bar and stood before a judge and a few friends as witness as they exchanged their vows. Hizashi cried and Shouta never complained of dry eye that day. They celebrated at the bar, drinking and laughing until it was the wee hours of the morning. Shouta was completely inebriated, unable to walk or form sentences. Hizashi swept his groom off of his feet and, once more, carried him over the threshold of their place. He banged Shouta’s head on the door frame trying to get the two of them through the narrow entryway.

“Clumsy bastard,” Shouta hissed, clutching at his head. “Wait til my husband gets aholda you.” 

“You’re not gonna have to wait long,” Hizashi said, waggling his eyebrows as he kicked the door shut. Shouta regretted drinking so much the next morning when  his head and stomach protested. Hizashi danced in with some seltzer water in one hand and a bouquet of roses in the others. Luckily his drinking was his only regret from yesterday. 

They kept their marriage private, both for Shouta’s growing career as an underground hero and simply for their own privacy. It wasn’t a secret, just not advertised. They celebrated their one year anniversary in the hospital, Hizashi having fractured his spine after a building fell on him. Shouta spoon fed him little bits of preserved wedding cake when his husband was awake enough. They moved to a bigger place, somehow acquired two more cats when Hizashi wasn’t looking and spent a lot of weekends cuddled together on Nemuri’s couch misremembering bad stories from high school.

“Shouta,” Hizashi said one evening as he chopped up some leeks for their dinner. “Nemuri is going to start teaching at Yuuei soon.”

“As if she didn’t traumatize enough kids when she was a student,” Shouta said dully as he looked over police reports. “What of it?”

“I was thinking of applying too,” he said casually. “All Might taking personal leave means its more dangerous out there, I think it would be nice to train the next generation of heroes.” He glanced at his husband out of the corner of his eye.

“You can,” Shouta frowned, moving his papers in front of his face to avoid Hizashi’s puppy dog eyes. Also so he wouldn’t see the stitches over his right eye and the bruises around it. Being a hero was dangerous work, being a teacher? Less so. 

“Oh come on babe, you’d be great with kids,” Hizashi said, abandoning his cutting to drape himself over the counter. “You have this stern but steady authoritative manner but you’re soft enough that it’s not intimidating.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Shouta sighed. “Sign up if you want to, but you’re already busy with patrols and your radio show.”

“I thought it might be good practice,” Hizashi teased, tugging down Shouta’s papers away from his face. “For when we decide to have kids.”

“We are not having kids,” Shouta said with an eye roll.

“That’s what they always say,” Hizashi said in a little sing-song tone. Shouta ignored him, pulling the papers closer to his face. “Come on Shouta, you were just telling me the other day how sloppy the latest rookie heroes have been without All Might around to pick up the slack. We can help change things at Yuuei, Nedzu-sensei is principle now. I know you’ve been dying to change the parameters of the entrance exam.”

“Stupid, worthless, prejudiced exam,” Shouta mumbled under his breath and Hizashi grinned, dropping it into a casual smile when his husband lowered the papers to glare at him. “You just want me to cut down on my patrol hours.”

“Maybe a little,” Hizashi shrugged, leaning over to loving tap piano keys on his husband’s arm. “Or maybe I miss seeing you every day and working as teachers would give us some structure. I fell in love with you in those hallways, Shouta. Is it so bad I want that again?”

“Tell Nemuri to get me an application,” Shouta grumbled. “I can’t guarantee I’ll sign up or anything but I’ll look it over. One year, maybe even one semester and then I’m done.”

“Well if you do it, I’m doing it,” Hizashi beamed, leaning up to chin Shouta’s scratchy chin before pulling back and working on the meal again. “Together or not at all, remember?” 

“Hard to forget when you’re still here,” Shouta said but a small smile was tugging on his lips as they fell into a companionable silence, thinking about the past and what they had lost and all the things they stood to gain from the future. Shouta and Hizashi were not the couple you expected to see, much less to marry and stay together through thick and thin. Luckily though, outside perceptions and expectations did not determine the course of a relationship; some things stayed between best friends and partners and lovers. 

Shouta would find himself tangling his fingers on the chain with his wedding ring around his neck, watching his husband joke around with their students. Hizashi would grin up at him and mime him a quick kiss. Shouta would snort fondly but not break his gaze. Some loves could endure just about anything. 

[thebeautyofdisorder]

The Undone & The Divine (BBC Dracula) - Chapter 8

A/N: Okay, sorry it’s been like two weeks since I posted the last chapter. I am such a mess. This is a bit shorter, more of a set up than anything, but informative? I have so many ideas for this, that it took me a minute to figure out in sequence what’s going to happen when.

Pairing: Dracula & Agatha/Zoe, off and on Dracula/OFC

Rating: M, for blood, language, and mercenaries with guns.

Chapters 1-2 Here - Chapter 3 Here - Chapter 4 Here - Chapter 5 Here - Chapter 6 Here - Chapter 7 Here

Can be found on AO3 - Right HERE - or enjoy below the cut

Chapter 8

By all accounts he appears as a human man, at varying states of age depending upon how regularly and well he is fed, lingering even at his most satiated at around 45-50 years – presumably the age of his death. His hair is thick and inky black, kept shorter and slicked back when in public view; his nose aquiline and aristocratic; his eyes appear black at a distance but in close quarters and lighting seem to have a dark mossy-brown hue; admirable bone structure, and a mouth that is at times both harsh and jovial depending upon what impression he wishes to put across at the time. His accent is tainted by those of his victims, but always holds a slight thickness and gravel, reminiscent of his native tongue. His teeth, even when not in the state of blood frenzy, still seem longer and sharper than normal, particularly the canines. His fingernails also are long and honed to a point, and seem to be of inhuman durability and sharpness. He is excessively tall and somewhat broad, though of a generally slim build regardless of his bestial strength. No physical deformities upon the rest of his body when in his humanoid state, though his eyes can seem to gleam in the darkness like those of other nocturnal beasts.

When in the presence of human blood, those eyes dilate and become ringed in crimson, and all blunt edges of his teeth sharpen to slight but lethal points. Animalistic tendencies manifest – hissing, snarling, growling, the hunched stance of a predator, etc. Interestingly, he also seems to bare all the normative signs of the common morphine addict – tension, restless movements, irritability, the inability to control his emotions and behavior. He possesses speed the likes of which the human eye can barely detect, but only in small bursts in the midst of attack, by my witness. He was able to manifest a continual fog, as stated earlier in my narrative, and could very well be at fault for the storm swirling in the seas now, as I write. He can deform himself to fit into any small space, one could assume, though I have only seen him do this by defiling the physical forms of other living beings – notably a wolf at the convent, and the late Jonathan Harker, who was also undead at the time. Whether that’s relevant to this ability, I don’t particularly know. He can call wolves and bats to his service, and possibly flies – whether this works with all creatures and he’s merely chosen these for theatrical purposes, or if he’s limited to creatures of darkness and decay, I have yet to discover.

The ‘kiss of the vampire’ is a strong opiate, meaning most victims are often unaware of his bite or the danger they are in until it is too late. He can create and control the dream state in which they enter, often choosing scenarios of an erotic nature. Whether this is for his own amusement or because of the effect it has on the blood, I can only deduce. This method seems to be equally employed through both sexes though I have yet to see any direct indications of intercourse, willing or unwilling. If he possesses a sex drive at all, it is seemingly outranked by his desire to feed.  

He is highly intelligent and possesses a biting wit, which in another context might even be endearing, and his charm is carefully honed to attract potential victims. Though his mental weaknesses are notable, including his arrogance, lack of self-awareness, and dependence on his victims to take in and retain key skills and information. As opposed to learning the language of a new land through study, he merely drains one of its countrymen and absorbs their inherent knowledge. This leads to a flurry of unpredictable behavior and reckless death, and also speaks of his impatience and lack of discipline, which has undoubtedly lessened with age. He was, in life, an excellent ruler and even better general with a skill for strategy currently wasted on petty mind games. If he could ever reach a point of managing his appetite for blood and destruction, he could be an invaluable resource - a first-hand witness to the last four hundred years of European history.

I’m sure you will, dear brother, quickly dismiss this as folly, but however much you would like to categorize him as yet another mindless demon from the pit, I assure you he is anything but. He may fear the cross, but don’t think there is a heavenly power that instilled that fear. It reeks of an entirely human weakness. You would do well to remember that, should you run across him or any of his kind in the future. While his existence seems to have been very luck of the draw, it’s nowhere near as anomalous as Dracula himself would like us to believe. Others could have survived and done what he has done. In fact, I could almost guarantee it.

Zoe read through Agatha’s words again, this particular afterward for maybe the twentieth time since she’d found it. Not for any particular information, more over just marveling at the clarity, simplicity, and dare-she-say fondness with which it was written, in comparison to the information she’d been brought up with. Shockingly, the nun was able to more realistically sum up the vampire than any other Van Helsing before or after her (granted, she had the firsthand experience), and with so much less fire and brimstone, religious nonsense. It was half of why she’d spent so long away from ‘the family business’ as it were, until she’d had to take over the institute. Science had always been the only god she would acknowledge.

Whatever logic Agatha had administered from across the pond however, while well used, had been entirely riddled with her elder brother’s showmanship and particularly Catholic brand of fending off the forces of darkness. Agatha may have seen him as the devil incarnate, but that didn’t stop her from acknowledging his humanity – and in that, Zoe couldn’t help but agree. Dracula was very much still a man, no matter how immortal or powerful, and he still had all of man’s other weaknesses, sans physical vulnerabilities. Minor detail.

She supposed it had made it easier for both the zealot and the scientist to see their subject of animosity as no better than a rabid dog that needed to be analyzed and destroyed. But that had never been the case at all. A self-serving lesson to learn, she had to admit, but an important one. So long as he had retained some of his humanity, there was certainly hope for her.

It was the only thing keeping her sane through the mock trial this experiment had turned into. Every turn she was being questioned and analyzed harder than she had since grad school, and yet still regarded as the antagonistic and dangerous party. It was a contradiction that made her genuinely question the mental capacity of her colleagues.

Yes, let's aggravate the person we're terrified of. Honestly.

Their latest critique, however she loathed to admit it, was actually sound. They needed a control. A 'direct contact' feed to compare to her bottled one, and they all knew there was only one vampire to compare to. Clearly they didn't actually expect him to participate, they only wanted to de-legitimize her process.

But it would make an impact, wouldn't it?

-----

It was just before sunset, traces of red just beginning to seep onto the surface of the sun, and for the first time in a great while, Count Dracula was unenthused. He was beginning to be rather fond of daylight, even if it came with certain disadvantages, as he was beginning to discover. Perhaps vampires were better off as creatures of the night after all.

Most if not all of his preternatural abilities were greatly weakened by the sun, though why he wasn't sure. It made him feel languid and slow, which was perfectly fine for an afternoon on the beach, but highly inconvenient when he got hungry and none of his more willing resources were available. Physical conditioning or a lesser reality of the lore he'd always accepted, who was to say?

Who indeed.

He had given Zoe plenty of space to run her little experiments without interference, aside from keeping an 'eye' out to ensure she wasn't in any immediate danger. But there was only so long that would last, and despite having ample opportunity to create more brides...he felt like he needed more answers before that inevitability occurred.

Agatha had been right, annoyingly, as usual. Lab rats were not something he needed, especially ones who could question him on topics even he didn't fully understand anymore.

If the Van Helsing women were good for anything, aside from healthy competition, it was certainly bluntness and clarity. Being the only thing close to another vampire of any mental capacity to be in his proximity for over 300 years certainly didn't hurt.

Zoe Van Helsing was someone he needed, a concept he could scarcely understand and wasn't entirely fond of, but if he wasn't mistaken, she needed him as well - and hated it even more.

----

"Dr. Helsing, is this really necessary?"

Zoe found herself staring at the younger but far more egotistical doctor through the glass that separated them with an expression not unlike one would give a particularly frustrating insect who refused to die as fast as she wished it would.

"Is what necessary?"

The man, Dr. Connors, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, punctuating his next words with unnecessary flare.

"Well, our sponsor doesn't understand the necessity of this trial, when it cannot possibly prove anything. All of our intel on the 'vampiric condition' states simply that they require blood to sustain life, but also that it's nearly impossible to kill them. Surely your continued …  existence without blood doesn't fully prove or disprove anything. And without anything to compare it to…"

"For now," she interrupted stubbornly, attempting to ignore his tendency to discuss her as though she were a theoretical construct.

"Even so," he continued blandly, "There are surely better uses of our time, in the face of an increasing number of...undead. Preventative measures, protection for the innocent. Unless you can get some sort of control data…"

Their 'sponsor' had sent this idiot to report back on how his precious money was being spent,  and it had become an increasingly infuriating thorn in her side. Or stake in her heart, she was sure he hoped. Zoe had just begun to second guess her tendencies toward homicide, when she felt the tell-tale hairs begin to rise on the back of her neck.

"Oh fuck me," she cursed aloud, completely indifferent to the confused looks of those observing her. They wouldn't be confused for long.

"Careful what you wish for Doctor."

Everyone but Zoe took a startled glance around. She turned around, eyes directly finding the dark ones on the outside of the glass, quirking a stern brow despite the relative chaos of everyone else receding into the corners in panic.

Count Dracula merely flashed her a shit-eating grin in response, relishing her disapproval in equal measure to the human fear beginning to fill the room. Pungent and yet satisfying, she noted, rather unhappily.

"Oh Zoe how the tables have turned," he couldn't resist prodding at her through the encasement, ignoring the guns pointed at his back in favor of taunting her, hands in his pockets. The picture of malicious nonchalance.

She wasn't trapped, as he had been. They'd learned their lesson in that regard at least, but it was a barrier she'd permitted for her own sanity. Watching everyone walk on eggshells around her was grating, and it ruined her focus. Plus, it helped with the sensory overload until she got more accustomed to it.

"And yet you're still the one at gunpoint," Zoe shot back with a hint of a blithe smile.

He turned and directed his overly fond smile towards the tattooed gentleman with the over-sized assault weapon, greeting him like an old friend. The man that Zoe had never seen with a single facial expression looked so dumbstruck that she had to fight down a laugh. This was apparently the last straw for their visiting dictator.

"Count Dracula," came more of a squeak than a shout from the bespectacled doctor's mouth, with such a forced amount of distaste that Zoe was now certain he had lost his mind entirely. "You will not be permitted to attack anyone here."

Shooting Zoe an incredulous look, mostly as she could read translating to ‘Is he serious?’, the vampire watched her answering eye roll very obviously telling him ‘He's an idiot, but reports to the money’.

Dracula finally looked away from their silent exchange, and took out a small pocket flask, not unlike the one he'd left her before, and shook it in the other man's general direction as he passed by him with total indifference.

"Not to worry, I brought my own," he stated, opening it and taking a long swig. It cleared a direct pathway for him easily, bee-lining for Dr. Bloxham who sat at the control panel. She naturally flinched on his approach, despite trying to hide it. He noticed and flashed her a charming smile, to his credit only showing the slightest hint of fang.

"Terribly sorry about the finger," the Count apologized humbly, almost convincingly sincere as he draped a long arm over the back of her chair. "...But would you mind letting me in?"

Bloxham looked somewhat confused. "You want to go in there?" Her eyes shot up to the ceiling. The sun had not completely set. He gave her an encouraging smile with a faint trace of pity.

"I would love to go in there."

Zoe merely rolled her eyes and tapped on the table with relative impatience, as he paced through the parted seas of scientists and interns alike to join her in the completely ineffective glass prison.

"You evil little thing, you didn't tell them," he accused with quiet glee as he approached her from the opposite side of the table.

"If their superstitions help them feel safe, then all the better for me," she excused in a murmur, hoping he hadn't just given the game away completely.

His grin was one of near pride, as he bent his tall form forward to rest his hands on the table. "I can go slit his throat if you want me to. Heaven knows you won't."

She sighed, not trusting herself to answer. "Why are you here?" she asked instead.

"You needed me, didn't you?"

------

Okay, so this could go really amusingly or very terribly - we’ll see what I come up with, eh? Shouldn’t be as long of a wait this time, fingers crossed.

Tag List: @break-free-killer-queen @mephdcosplay @charlesdances @punk-courtesan  @crowley-needs-a-hug @hoefordarkness @bellamortislife @malkaviangirl @imagineandimagine @chelsfic @dracula-s-bride @my-fanfic-library @hyacinth-meadow @mymagicsuitcase @littlemessyjessi @desperatefrenchwriter @ss9slb @crazytxgradstudent @claesbang @mr-kisskiss-bangbang @gettingcrazyforlife @carydorse @dreamerkim @gatissed @alhoyin @girlonfireice @festering-queen @jangleprojet  @guardianbelle @vampiregirl1797

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[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 133: Dewey Wins

“But...I’m hurt.”

I started reviewing the Week of Sardonyx in late 2017. It was slow going thanks to grad school and student teaching and licensing tests and my job (boy do I not miss those days), but I’d clawed my way through Cry for Help in October and Keystone Motel on the first Sunday of November. In those reviews, I wrote at length about how this was the most devastating arc of the series, a massive argument spanning multiple episodes with no easy answers.

Then the Friday after my Keystone Motel post was uploaded, Cartoon Network dropped the Breakup Arc on us all at once, and I had to make some edits.

There’s no official name for the span of episodes between Dewey Wins and Kevin Party, but considering it features not one but two breakups, with only one reconciliation by the end, I think my nickname is apt. Just under a fifth of Season 5 is devoted to six consecutive episodes designed to make us miserable, and on top of being an outstanding sequel to the Week of Sardonyx, it’s the best precursor we’ve got to adolescent trials of Steven Universe Future. 

The Week of Sardonyx is strengthened by numerous previous episodes where Pearl does bad things without consequence, making it something of a shock when her actions are finally addressed. In a similar way, we’ve been taught from Log Date 7 15 2 and Kindergarten Kid and The New Crystal Gems that emotionally draining arcs are followed by cooldown episodes, and Dewey Wins sounds like the name of a fun adventure with our goofy mayor. There’s no situation where the Breakup Arc would be a pleasant affair, but the pattern adds an extra layer of angst as our anticipated relief period ends up more stressful than the arc we needed relief from.

But not every big arc gets a cooldown. Our very first, ending with Jailbreak, is followed by one of the Breakup Arc’s major prequels: Full Disclosure, an episode about missed phone calls and the importance of keeping friends in the loop regarding space adventures. The ghosted party is flipped, as Connie now refuses to talk to Steven, and watching his struggle gives an even greater appreciation for Connie’s own turmoil (not just from Full Disclosure, but Steven’s reckless self-sacrifice).

We know something’s wrong from the moment we see her, in a way that’s different from Greg and the Gems’ wide-eyed concern. Her discomfort manifests just as it did in Mindful Education: a downcast expression and curt demeanor made more apparent by Steven’s cheery chattiness. But because she’s the only one of them that has truly taken the lessons of that episode to heart, she soon expresses her feelings outright (after a brutal “Of course I’m happy to see you”—Grace Rolek only needs one scene to be the episode’s MVP). Her complaints are all valid: this is not the first time she’s been left on Earth, and her sense that Steven isn’t taking her seriously is confirmed when he can’t even take her seriously within the conversation. She’s as direct as she can be, but when Steven refuses to acknowledge her pain, her anger takes over and she shuts him out. Lion’s side-eye is icing on the cake.

My biggest issue with Dewey Wins, however, is Steven. I’m torn, because it’s easy to justify his behavior throughout the episode as a result of recent trauma and the relief at surviving such a harrowing experience (and, later, the same sleeplessness that made him snap in Rose’s Room and Warp Tour). It makes sense that his martyr complex is intensified by his experience with Lars, that he falls back on helping others at the cost of his own well-being on instinct. But his flippant dismissal of Connie’s emotions still feels off, especially because it comes with a heretofore unseen swagger about his own heroism. She pours her heart out, making it clear that she wants to keep being Jam Buds but he’s making it really difficult, but every word goes right over his head. This is a version of Steven that somehow doesn’t get that “hurt” can refer to emotions instead of physical damage.

Throughout the episode, but particularly in this opening scene, Steven feels exaggerated for the sake of honing Connie’s argument. Perhaps it’s necessary, considering how easy it is in first viewing to see his sacrifice as noble rather than selfish; we need to see a more extreme version of his behavior to understand that going it alone was a bad move, or else Connie’s arguments seem small against the scale of the stakes. It’s further complicated by the fact that Steven’s sacrifice was noble, even if it was selfish at the same time. This isn’t a case where Steven is fully right or fully wrong, so it’s bound to be confusing to hear that his traditionally heroic move wasn’t as great as he (or we) first thought.

So yeah, I get why Steven is acting this way for the sake of the show. And, again, I can find reasons to explain his sudden emotional idiocy, making it leagues better than a true Annoying Steven episode. But it still comes across as clumsy to me; I can see the wheels turning to move the plot along in a way that’s normally hidden better on this show. His final monologue where he realizes that Connie felt the way he feels about Dewey abandoning the race feels like something from another show, a show that’s way more on-the-nose than Steven Universe is at its best. It was probably the right move, because as much as I can’t stand it when media is patronizing to young audiences, this lesson is complex enough that it’s worth a little clunkiness to ensure that the message gets through to smaller viewers. But compared to the elegance of our recent space adventure, Dewey Wins sacrifices polish for clarity when we usually get both.

But enough about what doesn’t work for me, because so much of this episode works for me. Even if his behavior feels forced, Steven provides seamless in-universe exposition recapping his space adventure. His follow-up conversation with Sadie has the same kind of douchey detachment that he shows Connie, but in a way that’s far more consistent with his character: dismissing Connie’s emotions is out of left field for him, but it makes plenty of sense that he’d see Lars as “okay” despite being trapped in space, considering the alternative was a very real death. And, of course, there’s the matter of the episode’s actual hero.

Nanefua Pizza has been my everything since Beach Party, and it’s thrilling to see her gain more prominence in the tail end of the series. Her beef with Mayor Dewey has been running since Political Power, the Dewey episode that established all the flaws that drive him out of office in Dewey Wins. Then, she responded by rallying rioters to tip over his truck, but now she takes a more civic-minded approach to effect real change. Still, she’s driven by the same anger at Dewey, and can only become a true force for good when she gains a new appreciation for his struggles.

While the correlation between Dewey and Steven is obvious well before Steven straight-up says there’s a correlation (a moment that’s made easier to swallow when Dewey points out he has no context for Steven’s friend troubles), the general conflict between Nanefua and Bill(iam) is a more fascinating study on blame. At first, both candidates believe in the power of blame, with Nanefua laying all the city’s troubles on Dewey’s inaction and Dewey arguing that taking the heat is his greatest strength: in his mind, there’s not much he can actually do about the cosmic misfortunes that befall Beach City, but giving its citizens somebody to blame gives them a sense of control that’s necessary in a chaotic world. And both of these viewpoints can be found in Steven’s self-image.

Steven, like Nanefua, is quick to lay blame when anything goes wrong. But Steven, like Dewey, sees the absorption of blame as a virtue. So he loops between those two positions, looking for someone to blame at the drop of a hat and only finding himself. The ensuing guilt make him want to fix the problems of others to atone, rather than focus on the underlying cause of his own issues, and if that sounds familiar it’s because Steven Universe Future is entirely about how important it is to break this loop.

But obsessing over fixing things is also how Pearl tries to solve her argument with Garnet in the Week of Sardonyx: she focuses on finding Peridot instead of doing anything about her own actions until she has no choice but to talk things out. And, as I said back in my Friend Ship post, it evokes something Pearl once said about humans (which it turns out applies to Gems): 

“They want to blame all the world's problems on some single enemy they can fight, instead of a complex network of interrelated forces beyond anyone's control.”

When was this said? In Keep Beach City Weird, in regards to Ronaldo. The same Ronaldo who poured gas on the fire in Full Disclosure by presenting the idea that heroes are aloof and keep their friends at a distance. So in a way, the Breakup Arc can be chalked up to ignoring the good Ronaldo lesson but taking the bad Ronaldo lesson to heart. But more on him in Gemcation.

Steven’s turmoil lends a somber edge to Nanefua’s powerful change of heart, where she rejects her past choice to blame Dewey. She apologizes for her own part in pointing fingers, because blame is a lousy substitute for getting things done, and forgives him for not being perfect. She pitches the act of helping as a community effort, rather than something that any one person must do alone; she remembers that the lyrics are “we can be strong in the real way.” She’s giving Steven all of the answers well before Steven Universe Future shows how much his guilt loop will continue to plague him, but he isn’t ready to listen yet, and leaves the debate dejected instead of empowered. (Considering Jenny’s appeal to taking breaks during trying times in Joy Ride, and an adventure with Kiki about not spreading yourself too thin on behalf of others in Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service, this is the third time a Pizza woman’s fantastic advice has gone ignored by our hero.)

Even Dewey seems better off than Steven, accepting defeat by acknowledging that Nanefua would make a better mayor. And he’s right! She sets up actual services to account for alien threats, services that end up changing the universe in a way Dewey’s brand of keeping the peace never could. He may need a new job (Sadie foreshadows both his fate and her own imminent career change in one fell swoop), but there’s a sense of calm as he passes the torch after a full episode of Joel Hodgson’s hammy anxiety.

I appreciate that Dewey is allowed some points in his favor even as he flubs his way out of office. Yes, he should be more thoughtful and attentive: his vow to find a new donut shop kid when presented with news that Lars is trapped in space is even broader than Steven’s reaction to Connie’s pain, but the mayor has always ridiculous so I don’t mind at all. Yes, he should try and do something to address the concerns of his citizens beyond saying everything will be fine. But it’s not lost on the show that it isn’t easy running a town that’s a lightning rod for alien encounters, so Dewey remains sympathetic even if his ineptitude must be addressed. After all, if he’s gonna stand in for Steven in a metaphor that’s clear enough to be monologued about, it’s important to point out that it’s okay when you fail against impossible odds. Neither Dewey nor Steven can do everything on their own, no matter how much power they wield.

Steven might skip a few crucial lessons of Dewey Wins, but he at least learns one. Perhaps in an earlier season, that would be enough to mend fences with Connie. But time makes you bolder, children get older, and she’s getting older too. She’s been more than patient with being treated like an afterthought, so the moment she’s had enough is bound to be a big one. Thus, we end with a cliffhanger, one that pulls Steven into the same landslide that’s surely consuming the rest of the town after his kidnapping. The Barrigas are missing a son, and Sadie’s missing a romantic friend. Bill Dewey is no longer Mayor Dewey, and Nanefua has a whole new set of obstacles to face. Greg and the Gems have their son back, but his kidnapping was traumatic for them as well, and Connie gets that trauma on top of her stated complaints. And Steven had learned two lessons instead of one: it’s important to take your friends seriously, and timing is everything.

It’s gonna be a rough week.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I do like it, really. But Steven’s behavior takes it down a few notches, regardless of my ability to find ways to explain it. Great episodes don’t require the audience to seek ways to justify a character’s weird behavior. There’s more good than bad here, but I’d be lying if I said I loved Dewey Wins.

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

The Good Lars

Lars’s Head

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Doug Out

Are You My Dad?

I Am My Mom

Stuck Together

The Trial

Off Colors

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Dewey Wins

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

(No official promo art for most of the Breakup Arc, given the way they were released, but I can’t be too mad when we get brilliance like this from ajora.)

[smilingformoney]

Platinum Diamond Scene: Shane’s Dorm Party

Shane: Damn, Cadence, you look great! Loving the hair. Is this your version of a Sasha Fierce alter ego? You: Thanks, Shane. Man, I haven’t been to a college house party since that dead week trip we did when we were seniors. You: Do grad students go hard? Shane: I guess we’ll have to see.

After a quick subway ride, you glide through the doors of Shane’s dorm and, wow, the party is already in full swing. Dozens of students fill the space, music blasts in the speakers, and red cups clutter the ping-pong table. Shane: So, what do you think? Is this as cool as Propaganda? You: Oh, much cooler. I feel like I’m right back in my element.

You: Come on, let’s… -Play a drinking game.

You and Shane grab a couple cups of some really potent punch and join a circle of students on the couches. Film Student: Oh hey, Shane! We’re playing ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Shane: Damn, what a high school throwback. Film Student: What can we say? We’re feeling nostalgic tonight. You: I can get behind that. Film Student: I’ll start. Never have I ever… been naked in public! You don’t take a sip… but you definitely see Shane take one. Shane: The band trip to Florida, sophomore year of high school. You: Wait, the one where we were staying in that motel with the gross shared bathrooms? Shane: That’s the one. I got out of the shower, and someone had taken my towel… Shane: So I just had to sprint all the way back to my room, covering myself up, praying no one would see. You double over laughing, along with half the circle. Film Student: All right, moving on. Never have I ever had a dream about someone in this room. You: (I mean, Shane and I have known each other since forever. I bet he’s popped into a few dreams over the years.) You take a drink, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Shane do the same. You: (Wait. Has he been dreaming about me… or some other person here?)

-Meet some of your new friends.

After grabbing drinks, you and Shane head into a far corner, where a group of film students are in a heated debate. Film Student: First all, Return is definitely a stronger film than Empire, and secondly… Film Student: Are you kidding? If it weren’t for the Kubrickian cinematography in Empire, we wouldn’t even talk about Star Wars! Film Student: Who watches Star Wars for the cinematography? If that’s what you care about, just watch 2001. Film Student: The final act of Return of the Jedi is so morally complex! It nods at Kurosawa, and-- Shane: Hey, guys! This is my beset friend from back home, um… Sam. Film Student: Wait, Sam? I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned a Sam before. Film Student: Yeah, but you’re always talking about someone named Cadence. You: Oh, is that right? Film Student: Yeah, he never shuts about her. It’s always, ‘This one time, me and my friend Cadence…’ Film Student: ‘My friend Cadence is always saying…’ Film Student: We’ve actually started calling him ‘Myfriend-Cadence’ as a nickname, because he says it so much. Shane: Wow, would you look at my suddenly empty glass! Time for a refill. Nice to see you guys. You and Shane turn away from his friends. You giggle and elbow him in the ribs. You: Aww, Shane! I didn’t know you missed me that bad. Shane: Good thing you’re here, and I don’t have to miss you anymore.

-Talk about what’s going on with you.

You find a quiet corner of the dorm and sip on your drinks as you watch the party. You: So do you guys host parties here often? Shane: Here and there. Shane: But I spend so much time in class, or trying to get work experience. Shane: And then when I do have free time, I want to use it for… you know. Sleeping. Eating. You: Aww, Shane. One month into grad school and already working yourself to the bone. Shane: I mean, I’m having the time of my life! The people are amazing. You: Isn’t it hard, though? Balancing everything? Shane: It’s hard, but it’s the good kind of hard. Shane: When you really care about someone-- Shane: I mean, something… Even when it’s hard, it still feels good. It still feels rewarding. You: Wait… someone? Shane, oh my god, have you met someone already? Tell me, tell me. Shane: Um, no, I just… I misspoke. Let’s get another drink!

You and Shane are making your way back to the fridge for another round of drinks, when suddenly… Speakers: Don’t know who you think you are, but I know what I’ve seen… Shane: Oh my god, Cadence, they’re playing your song from the Once In A Million finale! You: No way! You watch as the students around you sing along, arm-in-arm, raising their cups. Film Student: SO WHY DO I STILL TRY TO BE WITH YOUUU? +5 Film Student: WHEN I KNOW IN MY HEART WHAT YOU SAY ISN’T TRUE! A literal shiver runs down your spine. Film Student: This is my new favourite song! Film Student: Right? I think it was the best performance on One In A Mil, maybe ever. Shane: You hearing this, Cadence? You: Wow, I can’t believe it! You: It feels amazing to hear about it while being anonymous! Shane: I’m sure you needed the break. All around you, the party breaks out into people dancing to your song…

You: (I should…) -Slow dance with Shane.

You: May I have this dance? Putting on an overly formal accent, you place your hand out for Shane to take. Shane: Really? I mean, I know I’m not the best dancer, but… You: Come on, Shane. You tore up the floor at our senior prom. Shane: Then… Of course, m’lady. Shane gives you this shy, stupidly cute grin, and he puts his hands on your waist, and… Oh, god. You are feeling feelings. You are feeling all kinds of feelings. You: (Get a grip, Cadence! This is Shane! This is your best friend! You’ve seen him eat Play-Doh!) Shane leans forward, tilting his forehead against yours. Shane: I’m so glad you’re finally here, Cadence. I’ve missed you so much. You: Yeah? I’ve missed you too, Shane…

-Break out into our choreo from when we were kids!

You: Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our iconic choreography set to the Junior High Musical soundtrack. Shane: I’m offended you even insinuated that. Right in sync, even though you haven’t practiced in years, you do the moves, including lots of stomping and clapping. Shane: Hey, I feel like the moves translate over to the song really well! You: Yeah, it’s almost like we planned it this way.

As the song comes to a close… You: Man, who would’ve thought we’d be dancing to my song one day. Shane: I did. I’ve always believed you could do it, Cadence.

Later, you climb onto the fire escape together. You let out a low whistle, taking in the view. You: Okay, NoHo, you win. Shane: I bet the apartment the label put you up isn’t too shabby, right? You: It’s amazing. You: I just wish our neighbourhoods were a bit closer. This city’s so sprawling. Shane: Hey, where there’s a will, there’s a way. Shane: We’ve gotten into too much trouble to break the tradition now. You: Yeah, we got away with so much nonsense when we were kids.

You: Do you remember that time… -We got married in front of our teddy bears?

Shane: Oh my god, yes! Mr. Fuddlewuddle was the pastor! You: And Barbie was my maid of honour! So kind of her to be in our wedding party. You: Even though we beheaded her and amputated her plastic limbs. Shane: Poor Barbie. Suffering in the name of science. You: You know, I hate to break it to you, Shane, but I don’t think the ceremony was legally binding. You: I mean, unless Mr. Fuddlewuddle went out and got ordained without us knowing… Shane: Regardless, the reception was great. Orange Kool-Aid. Oreos. Mac and cheese with little cut-up hot dogs, courtesy of your dad. You: Oh, yeah. We were party planners extraordinaire.

-We had to raise an egg as our child?

Shane: Yes! Our little John Jacob Jingleheimer-Schmidt! You: Can’t believe we were advanced enough to give our egg a hyphenated last name. Shane: And we made it the whole week without putting one single crack in that little guy! You: He really reeked by the end of the assignment, though. You: And we rode our bikes out to the overpass just to drop him on some unsuspecting vehicle. Shane: Man, it was so hot out, too. We watched our son fry to death, right there on the car’s sunroof. You: Okay, but we were really good parents up until we threw him into traffic.

You: I had an awesome time tonight, Shane. We need to do this again sometime. Shane: Yeah, for sure. I know you’re super busy all the time, but… You: But I’ll make time for you. I’ll always make time for you.

You: (I should…) -Get closer.

Standing look out over the city, you rest your head on Shane’s shoulder. He puts a warm, comforting arm around you, and you watch the cars go by. You: Shane… You tilt your head up to look into his brown eyes, your face only inches apart. Shane: Cadence, I- Suddenly, you hear a resounding crash, and the music cuts short. Grad Student: Ooooowww! Shane: Oh, shoot! Looks like a keg stand gone bad. I better go handle that. You: I should head back anyway. I have an early studio session tomorrow. Shane goes back inside to handle the situation, and you begin to pack up your things. You: (What is happening? Today’s been so wild…)

-Keep watching the view together.

Standing looking out over the city, you watch the cars go by. You: I wonder where we’ll both go next… Shane: Wherever it is, I can’t wait to find out.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: I can't breathe; they are choking me.

One of the things heart patients and lung patients have is a particular qualiy of exhaustion that healthy people don't experience.  Some part essential part of one's body I working so hard to do an essential thing poorly that there is hardly anything else left to do actual things with.  It is nothing at all like the ired of running a distance race, or the tired of the third fourteen hour shift in a row or the insomnia exhaustion, though it is closer to that particularly quality of insomnia exhaustion one gets when one hasn't slept more than half an hour in every twenty four because one is dying.  (And yes, I've had that  one too, wand it really is different from grad school hardly any sleep because the thesis is due tired.  I's aoher, you have to seriously fucking projected three months to live if you can't raise surgury money sick to feel it, so yeah, not a healthy person kind of tired).

This paricular exhaustion makes the act of sitting up a marathon level act of discipline and fortitude.  It  robs you of breath over a slow shuffle to the bathroom.  It leaves you weeping at the number of steps involved in doing dishes or the laundry.  It means that every little guesure or action has a spoon count cost.  The longer and worse it gets the more disconnected one feels. Talking is tiring.  It takes breath and effort at a time when the simple in and out is like lifting weights.  This isn't laziness, this is death creeping close.

My last lung treatment was the 17th, I think.  That was sunday before last right?  I call every day to leave yet more messages begging for my fucking copressor motor.  I have both numbeers by my bed.  Them having lost my paperwork since...  I think it was last fall has been catastrophic.  Oh, I'm in the computer so they've been happily billing Medicare, but they can't replace the equipment without the paper physician's order they apparently threw out at some point.  It took most of a week of them ignoring me to get that bit of information ou of them, so then everyday I called my provider to leave a message for them begging them to send the fucking fax to the assholes who lost the first one.  Which gets no response over and over.  Today was the forth day in this week and a half span when I woke up with my eyes filmed over and in sereing pain from the pollen which it also attacking my lungs.

I can't breathe; they are choking me.

This morning I sounded so bad the receptionists called every nurse in the practice trying to get a live human to respond. They were all busy.  She marked everything urgent and finally I got a human to actually look into WTF.  Eventually.  Apparently the compressor assholes where wanting two signatures, one of which my provider was having trouble getting, but also some statement that my motor was beyond repair, which the physicians ethically can't do becausse they are Doctors nott mecanics.  Fuckssake.  So I'm like, "Could you put in the fax something like, 'Patient reports that the compressor will not turn on at all and is copletely dead despite checking all connections, etc.."  The nurse said he'd see if that would work and would also try to track down second signature.  Compressor assholes called back to let me know they are holding my compressor hostage to force me to buy my lung meds froom them instead of cheap sliding scale pharmacy.  

I have no choice; I literally can't breathe.  I hate them.  I hate them so much.

I have given into their demands.  They are considering maybe letting me breath tomorrow afternoon.  Maybe.  I'm not holding my breath.

[zitavoros]

serotonin machine broke

Resources:

National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255

North Carolina Crisis Line: 1-919-231-4525

The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386

There are also text and chat options online, and I highly encourage anyone needing support to reach out to friends, family, or the hotlines if you’re in a bad place.

At the beginning of the semester, when our Branding of Me professor told us we were going to have to write 2 blogs a week, I thought barely anything of it. 2 posts a week? Writing about myself? Easy.

Turns out, it's not as easy as I thought. Like anyone else, I have stories to tell and opinions I like to share, but putting myself on blast for everyone on the web to see is so much harder than I originally anticipated. Despite my efforts to engage with people in person or online, I find that my day-to-day interactions are very surface-level, and never breach the personal, and for good reason. I'm actually a pretty closed-off person, and like to be left alone for the most part.

Although I say I seek comfort in isolation, it has been proven over and over to be a major cause of death across all ages. It is comparable to the mortality rate of smoking, and twice as deadly as obesity. If you thought this blog was gonna go in a different direction, you're wrong.

My personal serotonin machine is broken. Not sure if it came faulty, or it gradually wore down from overuse, but it ain't working right now, nor has it worked since high school.

Talking about mental health without making self-deprecating jokes about depression and suicide is difficult for me, but it has to be done. I've been struggling with a number of problems, and it's recently taken a toll for the worse, resulting in inpatient hospitalization this past week. It was a highly embarrassing low point for me, one that I had gone through before many years ago, but did not expect to happen again. One of the leading factors for it happening was loneliness.

I don't know if it's because of my brain, or because I'm shy, but the cycle of depression and self-isolation is a common one, and not just for me. It's an unfortunate pattern, where depression fuels isolation, and isolation in turn worsens depression, or the other way around, depending on where you begin- depressed, or lonely. It'll be both one way or another.

Eventually, this can lead to problems like self-harm, substance abuse, even going as far as suicide.

Logically, my brain understands that turning down offers of hanging out and cancelling plans is worse for me during these times, but I can't help it. It becomes difficult to flash my customer-service smile all day, much less be an active participant in conversations. It's a lot easier to lay in bed and contemplate the meaning of life alone, despite how it negatively impacts things in the long-term.

Vulnerability inspires connection and change, though, and that is something that is reaffirmed almost every time I open up to someone. For a couple of years, I took part in Carolina United, a program that fosters dialogue about diversity on campus. In a week's time, during which we share our personal stories and discuss avenues for bringing positive change to campus, I've heard countless personal stories and have shared my own. It's during these moments of vulnerability that connections are sparked, and you feel closer for knowing things that otherwise may never be shared.

Problem is, I seek isolation during my worst times, when my brain refuses to do its thing and keep me feeling alright. My friendships, connections and accompanying support systems go out the window, often for months when I withdraw purposefully. This leaves little room for other feel-good tricks. Sometimes, certain coping mechanisms can help, but during times of emotional distress, writing down happy thoughts or drawing for fun does nothing to keep me from falling into a cycle of self-destructive habits, which include browsing social media, cutting, and often combining prescription medication with alcohol to numb feelings. Funnily enough, it's the social media that makes things worse- the rest make me feel better.  

Suicide is the tenth most common cause of death in the US, and loneliness is a major contributing factor. Personally, if you told me I would be dealing with a sudden spike in suicidal thoughts due to loneliness (*among other things*) I would've probably laughed. I have a significant number of friends on Facebook and Instagram who I interact with relatively frequently: how can I be lonely? Turns out, with the increasing prevalence of social media comes the loneliness epidemic, with younger generations the primary target for depression to hit due to negative social media experiences. The direct correlation of depression linked to loneliness from social media use is not offset by any positive interactions over the web, making the problem a persistent and ugly one.

Forbes has an amazing article and infographic outlining this epidemic. There are countless articles out there that discuss this problem- I’m only linking a small percent of them. Negative social media interactions worsen mental health. 

By negative interactions, the studies don't mean active harassment or bullying. People find themselves lost in comparing themselves to others, even while fully knowing that social media only highlights the good and hides the ugly. Regardless, loneliness increases through social media use, and like the depression-isolation cycle, the use of social media increases the more lonely someone feels. 

I can't say for certain how much of a correlation social media use has to do with my suicidal feelings, but it's definitely not been helping. Even my art account on Instagram, where I follow a plethora of artists I'm inspired by, makes me feel worse to scroll through. Facebook, with the constant posts of starting jobs and grad school acceptances, is a place I try to avoid but keep getting sucked back into. LinkedIn is similar, and Twitter is mostly the news for me, which is just a whole different avenue of negativity altogether.

I don't want to sound like a stereotypical old person, as I am only 23, but there is so much more value in face-to-face interaction than any online one. It inspires connection, allows us to open up to others and get to know them (and ourselves) better, and it helps break the pattern of social isolation and depression, even if just for a little while. That's not to say texting is pointless, but a physical proximity to someone tears down the walls that phone screens build, and I am a firm believer that we should all make our best efforts to try to keep in contact by means other than just texting. It sounds hypocritical, of course, but I can't deny the fact that grabbing lunch or seeing someone in person makes me feel eons better than receiving a text from them.

If you know anyone close to you who may be struggling with depression and/or suicidal thoughts, I'd like to encourage you to reach out to them, and maybe make some lunch plans or grab coffee. Go bowling. Do an activity. Insist on it. They may not feel up to it, but social interaction does wonders to the isolated and depressed brain, and it may just end up saving a life. One interaction can make way to more, and give someone an avenue to reach out for help and take their life back into their hands.

I will personally start reaching out to my friends, and making attempts to re-connect after my long period of isolation. It may be slow and it definitely will not be easy, and I may fail, but I'd rather try to break out of this cycle and help my serotonin machine start working again than not be alive to give it that chance.

[charke105]

on tumblr again for the first time in a while. i’m slightly high and this is a lot of stream of consciousness, so you can stop reading here and just expect me to start posting here again.

i’ve been having a harder time than usual lately. the last week of september, i went on a vacation to china with some work friends and friends of friends. i was nervous beforehand not only because it was the first time i’d be taking an actual vacation (not a staycation or family visit back to nc) since i moved to madison and started at the company three years ago, but also because i was traveling with (1) some strangers and (2) white people to a place that is extremely personal and complicated for me. long story short, it was a really really really fun trip. i love the folks i traveled with, despite none of them using the correct pronouns and most of them being problematic in ways i would not have had the patience for in college. i’ve learned to love and care for people who i know don’t love and care for people like me in the way i need them to, but who i also trust to love and care about me as an individual. it’s hard. really fucking hard. i know that the past three years of my life have grown me as a person in some ways while also destroying parts of me that made me both sharper and softer than i am now. i still find joy in other peoples’ joy and love seeing people having a good time when it’s not at the expense of others. i still love being outside at night and listening to the world turn. i still love sunshine and good books and trying to help the people i love feel supported and beautiful and strong because they are. i still love thrifting and meditating and working out and tattoos and humanity. but i also do more drugs, spend more money without thinking, and have a much larger capacity for bullshit than ever before. and i hate those things. i’m more anxious when sober, have this strong underlying feeling of desperation that infects all that i say and do, and constantly feel like i’m on the verge of something. i don’t know if that something is good or bad, but considering how casually i think about dying it’s probably the latter. i started journalling again when i got back from china and the gist of what i’ve learned is that i have a lot of self hatred that i never even knew existed. i like a midwestern white guy who i know has an asian fetish. i’m staying at a job and in a city that destroys my soul. i’m trying to fill myself with anything to avoid falling back into the apathy of the past few years, but i’m not sure if apathy might actually be better. ghost or robot. i still think about that a lot. i don’t want to be either, but it’s like i’ll never be able to get away from feeling like both. i smile and laugh a lot more freely these days, but anyone who really knows me knows that most of the time it’s because the only other option would be to cry. maybe the best thing about the trip to china wasn’t meeting and hanging out with wonderful kind people but remembering what it is to actually feel. i’ve cried more freely since being back than i had since my first summer at the company when i finally hardened myself enough to stop feeling the pain and accepting that this is my life now. 

i put in my notice two weeks ago. my lease ends in april. the company is taking me off the project i hate most, so i said i’d try it out but make no promises. i plan on staying to the end of the calendar year and re-evaluating at that point. i’m applying to grad schools. i’m terrified that i won’t get in. or that i will and that i’ll go and realize i’m still unsatisfied and unhappy and that maybe it’s something in me that’s wrong. i burn bridges so easily - even more easily now than in college, i think. and so often it’s not because i don’t care for the people on the other side anymore, but because i’m selfish and often feel like i don’t even have enough love to keep myself alive let alone anything to give to anyone else in the world. going to china and then putting in my notice were the first really good things i’d done for myself in a really long time. if i stay past the end of this year, i’ll know how much i really hate myself. i’m terrified of looking for another job and of not having financial security and of not having community. i might not have a community in the way that i want in madison or at epic, but at least i have people who will feed me when i’m sad, get high with me when i need to get away (literally every waking minute of everyday for the past 2+ weeks), let me sleep over when i’m a hot mess, go to concerts on whims with me, and try to convince me that i’m not generally just a leech and waste of space. 

i’m trying to do things differently. i’m trying to love myself. i’m trying to care about whether i live past the given second. i’m trying to choose joy. i’m trying. i’m trying. i’m trying to be comfortable being alone. i mean, i’ve been fine for years alone. 

i’m remembering this year that fall was always my favorite time of year growing up. the leaves changing color and falling in the south. the cold air coming out of swim practice with my hair wet. school starting. my birthday. my mom’s birthday. halloween. thanksgiving. weekends biking with my parents. sunday morning nature trail and greenway walks/runs. chinese school. knitting season. boots and jackets and scarves. i loved this time of year.  

when i was younger, not even like a kid but like also into college, i thought i would be married by the time i was 25. i wanted kids. several of them. i wanted love and joy and to be able to wrap my kids in warmth and safety and love so they never knew what a broken place the world can be. i wanted two boys and a girl. i wanted to name them white christian names. i wanted so many normal middle class things. now even the thought of life partnership is scary, not because of the commitment to another human, but because i don’t want to subject anyone to my own brokenness. i know we all carry our own baggage and our own hurt and pain and i want to be able to help alleviate those things for other people, but i can’t help but feel that i would just be baggage myself. i remember when caitlin used to call me her “at least” person. like, i could always find something in every circumstance that would make it at least a little better. but. it’s been years since i could call myself an optimist or even just a happy person. i don’t know how to go back or even if i want to. i don’t want kids anymore because the world is more broken than ever and i can’t in good conscience bring pure souls into this world to be broken. i can’t do it. if i live long enough and get my shit together i want to foster and adopt. i won’t bring more children into the world, but i do want to protect the ones who are already here. 

sometimes i wish i had died before. not like a conscious wish, but just a thought in passing. like, what if my mom had had an abortion like my dad wanted? what if no one had been home when i fell out of a high chair and cracked my skull as a baby? what if i had been hit by a car when i ran into traffic as a toddler at disneyland? honestly i think about walking into traffic a lot in passing these days. but i wouldn’t want the folks in the cars to be hurt or to have to pay fines or go to trial or any of that shit. it just seems like a simple enough way to go without much thought. i wonder if in other universes there are versions of me who have died already and every almost death i live here hurts because a shard of our shared soul dies with them. 

but then i think of all the near-ish death experiences i know of that people i love have lived through. how different my life would be if i lost them forever. how to live without their smile or laugh or the potential for more. i miss my grandmother a lot these days even though i only saw her every other summer or so growing up. i miss the memories we could have had, had i grown up in china with her. i miss the memories we could have had, had i not been as much of a brat as a child. i miss playing cards and eating spicy peanuts and purple veggies with congee with her. i miss how she would always compare me to a cat. i think she was the first. i miss how slow walks around the complex and taking turns with my family supporting her when she stopped being able to breathe and walk alone. i miss watching trash chinese dramas with her. i miss sunday morning phone calls when my grandfather would forget i existed and only ask about my brother, but she never forgot me. i miss how supportive she was of everything i did. how she always believed in me, even when i set impossible goals. i miss her like i miss the china i never got to know growing up in north carolina. how much history, how much love, how much knowledge, how much experience died with her. it’s been a year now and i feel like i’m finally grieving. i honestly didn’t even know i loved her until she was gone.

my grandma didn’t want me to be a doctor like my parents did. she wanted me to be whatever i wanted to be as long as it was safe and i was happy. i wonder what she would think of me now. the face i put on for my parents is one that she could always see through. my parents like to call me happy girl. they’ve done it since i was small, like if they said it enough they could speak it into existence. they think that because i smile and laugh and sing and dance when i’m home then i must be happy. it’s easier to be a child around them again, but it’s not real and sometimes i wish they knew it. but as they’re getting older i want them to be happy. they’ve had such hard lives and i just want their last decades to be happy and peaceful and without conflict and without resentment and without worry. sometimes i think about the little they’ve been willing to share with me about their own childhoods growing up during the Cultural Revolution. they’ve always been adamant that i not compare my own circumstances to theirs. we grew up in different times and different places and with different values and different challenges. they did everything they could to make sure that my brother and i never ran the risk of living the hardest parts of their lives. sometimes i think it’s made me weak. they’ve passed down the ability to appreciate little insignificant things, but they haven’t passed down the ability to endure. 

i think a lot about how this is where my life is right now. i’m 25 and i thought i would be married by now but i’m just liking a guy for the first time in years and even if he feels right i can’t forget that he hits so many dealbreakers for me. i’m 25 and i thought i would be a social worker but instead i’m working in corporate america without the ability to directly intervene in the lives of the most vulnerable populations i want to work with. i’m 25 and i thought i would have my shit together at this point but i’m dropping hundreds on feeling alive but not too alive. i only have 25 more years, if that, to finish a bucket list i haven’t even finished creating. 

my horoscope this week reminded me that i’m dying everyday. honestly it was exactly what i needed to read. not only am i dying everyday, i could actually die any day. i think it’s time to get my life in order. the night before i put in my notice, i made a list of people who i would want to know i loved them at some point in my life and still care deeply about them even if we are no longer in any sort of communication. it’s a list of people who have helped me stay alive and who’ve brought me joy in knowing. i made it so that if i died, there’d be a list somewhere of people who i wanted to receive my life insurance. and that’s the actual moment when i realized i needed to quit.

if i am still here at this time next year, i don’t think i will live much longer after. i need to get out and it needs to be soon. at some point my fear of the unknown got eclipsed by my fear that i will actually kill myself. it’s a weird thing i think to have such casual thoughts of death. like in the shower last week when i wondered if it would be possible to drown myself, or if i’d pass out first and somehow come to still breathing. or when i decided to bleach my hair again this weekend and wondered if ingesting hair bleach would be painful. or when i picked up vicodin and prescription grade aleve for my upcoming surgery yesterday and wondered how my body would handle taking all of the pills at once (to be fair i was v high when that thought crossed my mind). i think about walking into an oncoming bus pretty often. idk. i wish i knew if other people had thoughts like this too.

[nedcanquen]

Chapter 9: Mr 7th Floor

In the past 8 months, I once again moved to a new country, applied to grad school, started and ended a relationship, and had to care for a family member. I’m sorry for the delay, but Matthew and Daan were never far from my mind.

Thank you to everyone who reads and has been patient with me!

Tags: Slow Burn (like…really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it, Audit firm AU, Office AU, some angst…

Pairings: NedCan (endgame), NorCan, implied NedDen, DenNor, implied Spamano, France/Jeanne d’Arc, GerIta

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Image from Pexels

It’s warm here. Matthew breathes in the salty sea air and takes in a view he hasn’t seen in many many years. He loves Cuba already, he’s nineteen and ready for his first adventure outside of Canada, and there’s a part of him that’s not so secretly satisfied that he’s set foot in a place that his brother cannot go…

There’s a part of him that scoffs at that now, but then? You can be forgiven for making sweeping conclusions at nineteen.

He had gone for a special language course at the University of Havana, at least, that was the excuse. It was the summer before he would start his year abroad in Houston (and the disaster that was his personal experience there even if he held the city no personal ill will). Everyone had been yelling at him for years to do something crazy. Well here he was, this was it for him.

Travelling to a new country wasn’t exactly most people’s definition of “crazy” but it was still significant for Matthew. Up to that point, he had played it safe, preferred the quiet, his own company, and the cold. He fell sick whenever the temperatures teased their way to thirty degrees, he swam in the snow just for fun. So yes, running off to Cuba was “crazy” enough. The beginning of Havana had been wonderful - stepping into a new world of warmth and experience. Why had he forgotten it? Maybe because he had set forth for adventure outside of his vast country twice, and both times had made him vulnerable in a way that Canada never forced him to endure. It was easier to choose to forget.

But right now, he’s dreaming of it - he’s dreaming some fantastical, magical version of his early days in Havana, and he can’t bring himself to wake up even though he knows it’s a dream - or maybe it’s a memory springing forth because there’s no resistance to it.

The warm buzz from the wine has taken him back to a different warmth - a warm night. The humidity had turned his hair almost frizzy with curls but he hadn’t cared. His glasses smudged often with grease, humidity, and sweat, but he just wiped them clean with the cotton on his shirt and continued smiling anyway. When someone pressed a cocktail into his hand, he drank from it happily. In that warm haze of happiness he allowed himself to sway to the music - badly probably. That’s when he saw him.

Everything Matthew had wanted to be when he was nineteen, still, actually - confident, charismatic. When Carlos Garcia laughed and danced, he owned the room. And somehow on that evening, Carlos Garcia had decided that he wanted to teach Matthew how to dance as opposed to sway like a dead man thrown into a river.

Somewhere buried in the back of a book that Matthew no longer opens, but can’t get rid of, is a picture of him and Carlos lying down on a beach in Gilbara. Matthew is sitting down, looking out at the water, and Carlos is lying on the sand with his head on Matthew’s lap. The funny thing about something ending is that sometimes your mind blocks out the happier stuff from before. But now that Matthew is allowing himself to remember Cuba again, he remembers Carlos. For Matthew, Carlos is Cuba, there’s no separating the two.

Physically, Carlos and Daan are as different as night and day. Daan is long and lean, while Carlos was a little shorter than Matthew, strong and heavyset. Daan’s hair is short and styled to clean and spiky perfection - not a strand out of place. Carlos’ hair was long and free, twisted into dreadlocks. Looks were shallow though, because both possesed a familiar solid charisma, old-world charm, and frightening honesty that partnered comfortably with an easy confidence that lent well to leadership. Qualities that Matthew desperately wished he had.

Now he wants to wake up. He knows what happens after he leaves Cuba.   

And when he does…

The light through the curtains tells Matthew that he’s overslept. Fuck.

Not overslept actually, it’s just that he tries to wake up before sunrise three times a week for a run. He needs to run to burn off his excess energy, to manage stress, to make sure he doesn’t fall too far behind Alfred physically or his brother will walk all over him by habit. Besides, Matthew isn’t naive enough to overlook the fact that he’s been treated better at work since he’s gotten fit so…Wait, where is he? It takes a moment to adjust, simply because it’s not what he’s used to seeing. Eventually his brain catches up with him and Matthew jumps out of bed with a yelp.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod...” He’s not exhausted and cranky anymore - just a moment ago he was warm, happy, worried, now he’s all over the place and out of sorts. Shit shit shit why did he think about Cuba? What on...forget that. He has to shower, he has to change, he doesn’t have his clothes he has to iron them and he’s late!

Matthew throws his bedroom door open, and sees Daan and Lukas look up at him curiously.

“Good morning.” They both greet in unison, and Matthew stands there frozen for a moment at the shocking domestic normalcy. Daan is sitting at the table, pouring chocolate sprinkles on a slice of bread and Lukas is ironing in the back of the kitchen near the washing and dryer machines. They’re both already dressed, though Lukas is wearing office attire and Daan has his bicycle-riding getup on with a fitting highlighter-orange shirt. Pretty darn fitting. Shit. It’s too early in the morning for this. Too late, but too early. He tries to step forward but instead walks into something.

“Ow! What the-” Hopping slightly and holding his pained toe, he looks down at a...a Roomba? It’s the slimmest Roomba he’s ever seen though, and Nijntje is sitting on it as it carries on, cleaning up the apartment.

“You okay?” Daan is half standing from the table and Matthew desperately waves him away.

“I’m fine! I’m fine! I just uh...ugh.” He limps a little to the breakfast table, while desperately trying to think of a way to distract them from his embarrassment. “Uh...where’s Mathias?” Why was that the first question out of his mouth?

Daan looks at him with concern and...that look again, that stupid Partner look like they’re reading your mind. Then it seems, as soon as the scrutiny starts, it stops. Daan instead sips coffee from a...a dick mug, of course. “He operates a food place.” He responds after he swallows. “He left hours ago to open up and catch the morning office crowd.” Breathe Matthew. Breathe.

“Oh...right. Uh...I’ll just change quickly and I’ll drive you guys to work? It’s the least I can do, you let me stay the night.”

Lukas and Daan look at each other with amused looks on their faces.

“It’s okay Matthew.” Daan smirks. “You didn’t exactly stay the night by choice.”

“So you’ve already done us a favor.” Lukas adds. “Here, I ironed your clothes.” He turns off the iron and walks up, holding a hanger with Matthew’s clothes, looking even more crisp than they did yesterday. How did he do that?! Matthew can only look at Lukas in astonishment and wonder for a moment again, how he ever ended up being able to date this guy. Or really...any guy he had ever dated, come think of it. At least with Lukas it ended before he could get truly hurt.

“Right, well, time for me to go.” He turns to see that Daan is leaving the table and heading to the door, carrying a light backpack.

“Wait Daan, you don’t want a ride?”

“Today’s a cycling day. I want to fit in as many of these in while the weather’s still good, which also means I need to leave now.”

As Daan takes down his selected bicycle from its place on the wall, Matthew remembers that sometimes, Daan cycles to work. Good thing there are showers in the office. “Oh, okay. Uh, be safe.”

Daan barely shrugs and opens the door.

“Wait!” Matthew calls out, it finally hits him, what’s wrong with this picture. “You don’t wear a helmet?!”

Daan looks back at him with a straight face. “I have a hard head.”

Matthew doesn’t answer because he can’t. That’s the dumbest thing he’s ever heard, and he’s tired and out-of-sorts enough that it must show on his face because Daan throws up his hands in annoyance and stalks to a nearby closet.

“Oh fine! Is the auditor happy?” He asks, holding up a helmet and strapping it on.

“I...don’t know why you’re annoyed, I’m clearly the one who’s right here…?” Matthew responds with genuine confusion.

Matthew can’t read the deadpan look on Daan’s face but he isn’t sure it’s all that great. “I bet that’s your response whenever you turn up every year for the scheduled audit. Bye.” He waves at both of them, then leaves.

Matthew waves too, but once the door is closed he turns to Lukas. “Is it just me or was that weird? That was kind of weird right? Wait...ugh priorities, I need to get dressed. Damnit, I really did wake up late.”

Lukas just looks at him, then at the door in concern. Finally he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Matthew, do me a favor. Breathe with me okay.”

What?

But that’s all Lukas does, stands in front of him quietly, with a little roomba working in the background, breathing deeply. Finally Matthew follows and after an initial period of feeling like an idiot he actually just focuses on breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out...breathe…

Eventually the world comes back into focus again. He still needs a shower, but it’s not life or death. Lukas seems to note the change too and nods. “Good. You have time, your clothes are ironed and you drive to work. Anyway, I’m not addicted to cycling, so I’ll take you up on that ride.”

He’s right. Matthew allows himself a smile “Where’d you learn that?”

Lukas scoffs a little. “From two different people - didn’t listen to the first one, then when I learned it from the second one I felt pretty dumb for ignoring it the first time. Simple but effective though. Why don’t you eat breakfast? It’s right there on the table, yoghurt, cheese and milk are in the fridge.”

Matthew looks at the table and notes that everything he would need for a cold breakfast is there. On weekdays he generally grabs something hot on the way into work leaving himself to cook his favorites on weekends. “Okay...cold it is.” He didn’t mind cereal, he just usually preferred something warm.

“You want...eggs? Something more filling?” Lukas guessed.

“No,” Matthew smiles, “I mean I’m used to warm things in the morning but the chocolate on bread thing looked good.”

Lukas nods, looking thoughtful about something before walking back to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some coffee, how do you like it?”

The coffee did wonders for Matthew’s mind. He remembered why he was here in this apartment in the first place instead of his own. Now that he’s more awake and there’s more light streaming into the apartment through open curtains, he notices more than he did yesterday - there’s a balcony with a healthy collection of lush green plants, and colorful flowers. Hitam is drinking water in her open cage, Nijntje is still riding around on the Roomba, and Maple appears to be asleep. It’s such a cheerful place, that clearly had a lot of thought put into it that Matthew feels sorry for Daan that he likely doesn’t spend much time in it.

“Your clothes.” Lukas says randomly, taking a seat across him at the table.

“My? Oh heh yeah. I’m amazed they don’t have anything inappropriate written on them. I suppose there was a limit to the gag gifts?” Matthew jokes.

Lukas smiles slightly. “No, because those are Mathias’ clothes. Makes sense I guess. Daan may be tall but he’s lean. Probably figured you wouldn’t be comfortable if he loaned you his clothes.”

Oh...that made sense actually. Speaking of Mathias, “You know it’s not my place to pry but…how are you doing? How is...I mean you seem tired but overall is it...good?” It’s a little awkward once it leaves his mouth, and Matthew doesn’t quite understand why he’s just asked his ex how it’s going with the first ex, but...well Lukas was the one who had brought him here. The two of them didn’t seem to interact much the previous night.

Matthew can see Lukas think of the answer. “It’s better.” He acknowledges. Lukas’ eyes flicker to his and stops.

“I can take it.” Matthew mutters, not quite sure if it’s true but he’s the one who asked, and somehow it’s less frightening than thinking of the fact that he’s in Daan’s home, dreaming of Carlos and his own mistakes. “Or I wouldn’t have asked. I’m...glad. I mean, is it still raw? Yeah, but it was nice to see the three of you last night, reminiscing and getting along. It was warm and...thanks for making sure I was never left out.”

Now Lukas looks surprised. He nods with a small smile and shrugs. “Thanks for coming here. I’m glad that you felt comfortable. I realize I must have put you in an awkward spot bringing you here.”

Matthew runs a thumb on the handle of his cup, and takes a deep breath. He looks at his mug while he does - a plain thing painted with a cheerful orange color - more orange, there’s a clear running theme here. There’s a lot of splashes of orange in this place. “Thanks for acknowledging that.” He eventually lets out. “But I’m the one who called you, so...I’m not entirely blameless. Did you two manage to talk about Arthur at all?” Matthew still doesn’t understand why a simple request to a friend of Arthur’s to check in on the man led to this but who knows? Maybe Lukas didn’t even know why he came here - maybe it was some unknown childhood dynamic thing - have a problem? Where do you go?

Lukas yawns and nods. “Daan will send me a message if he notes or hears that Arthur has been particularly bad, or is looking forward to a stressful time...which actually will be coming up soon. Daan gave me the heads up that has to hand over a large project to him today.” Lukas looks somewhat disappointed but doesn’t say much more. “He’s right though, a lot of what has to be done well...I’m Arthur’s friend. I have to do it, and I’ll start by taking him on a hike this weekend.”

Matthew smiles at that. It’s apt and appropriate. He’s also glad that even though they probably won’t be hiking together in the near future, that Lukas will still be able to give himself a reason to go.

“Speaking of, I’m helping to organize Arthur’s Partner party. I was planning on inviting you, and Belle, and well, Arthur’s friends basically in addition to my department and his current one. Could you do me a favor and think of anyone else who ought to be there while I finish up and get ready for work?”

“Sure.” Lukas shrugs, relieved and happy that they’re back to the topic of a common goal. “It’s basically one other guy, a friend of ours from the MBA. I think I can convince him to come on over. We can discuss the rest on the road.”

Matthew freezes a little standing up. “About that I...uh. Well I guess it’s a compliment that you trust me to drive so...thanks for that. But honestly it never occured to me until last night that being in a car is something that potentially uh, terrifies you so...if you’re ever in my car and uncomfortable you can-”

Lukas lets out a  sardonic laugh. “I’m terrified in very specific circumstances, otherwise it’s fine. But thanks.”

There’s an awkward beat where neither moves and they smile at each other, but it doesn’t last long. Matthew has a meeting to get to.

Before they get into the car though. “You’re sure you’re fine?” Matthew has to ask again.

Lukas just rolls his eyes with a smile. “Ask me anything else. Yes! I’m fine. It’s not like visibility will be terrible in rush hour traffic. At worst, someone may bump into you.”

Matthew laughs and pats his car with reassurance. “Well she may be old but she’s solid. Part of the fun about driving a pick-up in the city is that people generally avoid you. So no bumps.”

Of course, later he realizes that he’s now kind of stuck in a car in rush hour traffic with his ex and even though things were amiable in the morning, it’s a little awkward. He doesn’t know why he ends up asking about Daan, but it was natural to be curious right? He had just woken up in the man’s home. “Was it just me? Or did Daan seem annoyed with me this morning? Did you guys...talk about me last night? If it was an inconvenience having me over, I…”

Lukas snorts, which surprises Matthew, so he shuts up. “Oh God Matthew.” Lukas takes a breath. “Sorry I shouldn’t have laughed. I’m not laughing at you, and I shouldn’t be scoffing at Daan, there’s nothing funny about his situation, I’m just...anyway. Look, Daan isn’t annoyed with you, at all actually. He’s going through a transition right now, so there will be days he’s annoyed with everyone, but mostly himself. There will be days he’s not himself at all. That being said, if he gives you shit, don’t take it. What he’s going through isn’t your fault.”

A wave of worry and concern washes through Matthew for his newest friend, but if Daan has chosen not to share what’s happening with him, well, he’s not going to pry. Something occurs to him and since there’s an oddly open atmosphere between them right now, and he can’t really help but wonder, so he decides to ask.

“Back when I thought they were dating, it’s just hit me right now that you didn’t question me, you accepted it right away as if them together was really believable?” It is rather striking, now that Matthew thinks about it, that Lukas had accepted that scenario. If he had known those two for most his life and thought it was realistic that Daan and Mathias were together, well Matthew couldn’t really be blamed for having the wrong idea either.

Lukas nods slowly with a rueful smile. “Yeah, silly me. Mathias and I only became a thing when I moved back to Canada - after he had already done so much for Emil and my family, but that didn’t mean that I never...liked him before you know? Stupid teenage crushes. But back then I was just a weird neighbour that he knew and was nice to. But he and Daan? They’ve always been very close. Mathias could convince Daan to do all kinds of reckless or stupid things. Anyway, trust me, I know what it’s like when Daan actually is annoyed with someone. He really isn’t annoyed with you. Don’t let him scare you. Besides, you have it in you to be far scarier than he could hope to be.”

Matthew laughs. “Wait, what?! Where did that come from?” Lukas grins and shakes his head. “Matthew, green light.”

“Oh, right! Thanks. You know that’s not going to spare you from that. How am I scary?! Especially compared to Daan, that guy has made people cry with just a glance! I would never do that!”

But Lukas only laughs. “Have you seen this crying thing? Or is it a rumour?”

“It’s! Well...it’s…hmmm.”

Lukas just smirks and shakes his head at some internal thought. “How long have you and Daan been friends by the way?”

Matthew feels a worm of nervousness squirm in his stomach and tries to ignore it. “Took me by surprise to be honest, but the day after we...had dinner, I nearly got run over by a car and Daan was the Partner who was around and made sure I went to see a doctor. We’ve been ...I guess you could say friends since, but it still feels...I dunno, making friends is different when you’re not in school.” He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or not that he never told Lukas about the stupid crush. Well it would be really stupid to bring it up now. What would be the point? “When he’s not being a Partner he’s not that hard to speak to.”

Lukas nods but Matthew can’t see his expression because he has to focus on driving. “That hasn’t been very long.”

“No. Which is why I felt kind of awkward last night, this morning, and all but…” He shrugs. “Everyone was so nice about it, so...thanks again. I mean it, I’m especially grateful, you made sure I was never too out of place for too long. Sometimes it can be kinda lonely when you’re sitting with a group of people who have known each other forever you know?”

Lukas shakes his head and simply says. “No. Thank you.”

It’s the worst meeting he has ever managed in a long time - remotely or in person. Michelle throws him a worried look from her desk and Matthew decides it’s better to hand the meeting over to her instead. She’s technically a manager now, even though she had started this project before that promotion. Anyway, isn’t this the benefit of having more than one manager? If one is having a no-good ‘I’m stupid’ day, there’s a backup? Michelle reads the look on his face and takes over seamlessly. Meanwhile, Matthew mutes his phone and lets out an exasperated sigh. He can’t leave the meeting, but he wishes he could.

Waking up in a different place, Arthur’s problems, his own weird life and weird morning...Daan seemed to be irritated with him, and when Lukas left the car he felt something a little off there too. Or maybe he was just tired, paranoid and anxious, or maybe Matthew just wasn’t good at having his routine messed with.

Michelle handles the meeting with aplomb, there’s not much that he has to do thank goodness, but he’s angry at himself because it’s basic and easy stuff! He spent years of effort into learning how to lead meetings! He had always known it was a potential weakness of his so he’d practice and practice and practice until the freezing nerves mostly became butterfly nerves, but today the freezing nerves had come back. He choked. No matter what sweet words Francis had for him, it appears that there was a good reason why he wasn’t promoted, and Francis could tell. Partners are their magic psychic voodoo when it came to assessing people, shit.

What good was Matthew? No wonder Daan was annoyed with him, no wonder he wasn’t promoted, no wonder Lukas-

“HEY!”

What the?? “Michelle you gave me heart attack!”

Michelle looks down at him in front of his cubicle with a knowing look. “No Matt.” She says softly. “You were doing that to yourself. Come on boss. Early lunch.”

“Wha?”

“Come on! We’ve barely caught up lately and I want to have lunch with you!”

Technically it wasn’t against the rules, if they ate lunch now that just meant packing food and eating it at their desks when they got hungry again since they were eating at an odd hour. Matthew just didn’t want to be irresponsible after this ridiculous two-hour long walkout the last week he was at work before almost getting hit by a car and getting sick. The time away was supposed to have reset everything, this week was supposed to be him returning to normal.

Michelle waves at Francis and points at the door, Matthew doesn’t look because he can’t bear to at that moment, he’s still too raw, and all too happy to let Michelle take the lead. Which she does. She whisks him out the doors into sunlight and fresh air. City people doing their things, even city birds were different from their non-urban cousins. Everyone and everything with a purpose. Except him.

Michelle asks him questions about what he prefers, but thinking is too much effort right now. Maybe he’s just too slow after the enforced holiday. That’s it. Thankfully, Michelle doesn’t point it out, and before long, he’s seated outdoors across from her at a cozy cafe. It’s nice he supposes, but he can’t wave away the guilt building within for making her worry in the first place, or making her take over his work.

“Matt.” Michelle sighs as she slides a cheerful looking rainbow colored cake towards him. “Remember last year when you rescued me?”

What? It must show on his face because Michelle gently reminds him. “Run of the mill, presentation to department heads, I knew all of them, I knew my work, I knew my own findings. Then I just couldn’t explain them. And the more I couldn’t explain, the more I talked, the more I talked, the less sense I made, the less sense I made, the worse it got. Then you stepped in. You have this power Matt, you calm everything and everyone down. You’ve always been able to do that, but it’s just gotten better over the years. Today was just my chance to repay you, at least once. I also remember you telling me afterwards that it happens to all of us.”

Matthew shakes his head and smiles at her kindness. Good ol’ Michelle. “Shell, you had just found out right before you were about to present that your father had been admitted to the hospital. Your family is an 18 hour flight away. We’re only human, of course under such pressure we all need a little help from time to time.”

“Exactly! So...Let me help you! Are you okay to share what happened to you this morning? You came in kinda...out of sorts.”

Matthew can’t help how hot is face is getting, he can only imagine how red he looks right now.

“Oh. My. God! You got laid!”

“What?! No! N-” Matthew whips his head around. Yes it’s not exactly peak hour but there’s still people around damnit! “No, I didn’t get laid!” He whispers urgently, but he doesn’t know if his whisper is actually soft. “How could you-No!”

“Oh Mattie, is that why you’re upset? You didn’t get laid?” Michelle laughs

“NO! What?? Why would I?? No I didn’t-”

“I’m teasing, I’m teasing! Still, that flush is the same flush you used to have over Mr. 7th Floor. I’ve kinda missed seeing it.”

Matthew throws his hands up in the air. Fucking Mr 7th Floor. This is never going away. “Okay I’m not in the mood to put up with the teasing that is the fucking 7th floor. But who I am ready to talk about is Arthur.”

“Arthur?!”

“Yeah.”

And that was how “Project: RESCUE KING LEAR” was born. Why? Because it was Arthur, and as long as they were dealing with him, they were going to use his ridiculous naming conventions.

Perhaps, sensing his raw mood, Michelle decided to stay by his side for the rest of the day. By the end of the day, she also did something else that was magnificent - she took a load off his shoulders.

From: michelle.velle@pkde.ca

To: <FRENCH_ASSUR@pkde.ca>

Subject: PARTY KING LEAR

Okay everyone here’s the deal - Arthur may have left us for greener and noisier pastures but he still started with us and he’s gotten the big promotion. So...just to be clear, I’M PLANNING THE PARTAY!

There will be kiddies, so no alcohol but that doesn’t mean we’re not gonna remind Arthur that we’re better than any of those 7th floor loudspeakers (we’re hotter too ;) ;) )!

Keep your evenings clear - you’re all getting instructions from me soon.

It’s quiet and dark out when Matthew finishes up for the day. He only found his focus and stride halfway through the afternoon so he decided to stay to get caught up on everything. It was easier after everyone left - as much as he liked them, it was peaceful. He didn’t want to bring work home anymore.

Matthew isn’t the last person out of the building. There are other stragglers on his floor, but his team is tucked in a corner, so Matthew feels comfortable and left alone with himself. He stretches and yawns without care because no one is looking, making sure that he feels and hears the pops and little cracks in his back as he does so.

“Ugh...that feels good.” He’s been too fucking stiff lately. Matthew places his feet up on his desk and stares at the ceiling unseeing for a while. It doesn’t hurt to breathe a little and close his mind off from work before driving home. Of course, it’s at the very point that he feels the most comfortable that his stomach growls. Of course.

Matthew lets out a sigh. He doesn’t feel like cooking, and he’s a little too hungry to wait for takeout. He would prefer to just go home. Looked like it was going to be a vending machine dinner once he actually got the energy to -

“You’re not actually supposed to sleep here you know.”

What? Matthew reluctantly turns his head away from the white ceiling and - oh fuck. “What are you doing -” He knocks some books off his desk as he tries to get his feet off it - shit “here?” Smooth Matt. Real smooth. He sighs and doesn’t bother picking them up, he’ll do that after. Instead he looks up.

Daan looks tired. “You look tired.” Well it’s 9pm and the man is still in the office as well, so of course he is. “Well, it’s-uh...nevermind.”

“Yeah. So do you.”

Matthew really can’t be surprised by the awkward silence that followed. He’s awake enough to be grateful that the second time Daan turns up at his desk is when none of his colleagues are around. That puts a smile on his face.

Somehow, Daan is smiling now too. Objectively speaking, tired Daan smiling is a good look. It’s not like he’s grinning like a fiend or anything, it’s just that with his eyes a little bleary and the corners of his lips have moved up, it’s enough to just soften him a little.

“Anyway, what brings you down here? Well, up here?” Matthew finally lets out.

Daan shrugs. “I saw your status online, still logged into work. Realized you didn’t sleep well this morning, so if you were in, I thought I’d deliver some goods.” He says as he lifts both hands.  

It’s just two plain paper bags but damn, Matthew can smell the goodness from where he is. “How? Where?”

“Ordered delivery. For a couple of months now, I’ve made sure I order extra to make sure that Emil eats dinner too. Well he’s not working late today, so I figure. my mattress sucks or I need to tell my brother to shower more often. You did not look like a guy who slept well this morning.”

That makes Matthew laugh too much, he doesn’t know why. “Oh my God, don’t. The bed smelled fine, the sheets were nice. The mattress was firm, there was nothing wrong with your hospitality. Hell you even fed me, I haven’t been so pampered, ever! Stop being so nice, I’m alive, I’m thriving. But thanks.”

“So you don’t want-”

“Fuck yes, give me the food! ...please. I was just about to go home anyway. You  need a ride? Or are you going to cycle back? If not, I drive a pickup, your bike will fit in the back.”

Daan seems to chuckle as he rolls over a chair, picks up Matthew’s books, and settles down. “I shouldn’t cycle back when I’m this tired. Anyway, I’m not done yet, I actually have to get more shit down after this, need input from Japan, but I’ll call an Uber home. My bike is safely standing in my allocated parking spot. Everyone knows it’s my bike. No one fucks with it even when I leave it overnight. If they fuck with it-”

“Okay I get it. So your bicycle gets its own parking spot. My pickup is jealous.” Figures - Matthew can just imagine that orange bicycle proudly standing between Porsches and BMWs.

Daan looks up with mock disappointment. “Matthew really. You’re not going to let me boast about what happens to anyone who fucks with my bike?”

“Dude I’m hungry.” He was about to say ‘and I’m tired’ but it wasn’t quite as true now as it was just a few moments ago.

Daan shoves the bag over, shaking his head. “Eat up then. Even the young’uns aren’t here. So it’s just us old fogies.” He says, as he tears open his own paper bag.

“You’re eating at my desk?!”

Daan is trying his hardest not to grin now and barely manages to shrug. “What, did you think I was going to mess up my desk?”

“I can’t believe you.” Matthew rolls his chair over to hit Daan’s in revenge - what good are wheels for if you can’t use them for a little bumper chairs once in a while?

“Hey! Do you want a clean desk or not?!”

Matthew has to turn away because he’s grinning too hard. “You’re cleaning up my desk if it gets messed up-”

“What?”

“I swear, because you’re the one who-”

“That’s a great ‘thank you’ for bringing you food. Holy fuck Matthew Williams, after everyone said you’re the ‘epitome of what a gentleman is.’ I’m surprised.”

He shouldn’t be laughing this hard. “Excuse me you’re giving me Emil’s leftovers! Fine, I’ll go easy on you. But you need to tell me what people say about me in return. And that...was so totally Arthur omg. What else do they say?”

Matthew is pretty sure that Daan is making the rest of it up, but it doesn’t matter. It’s one of the best work dinners he’s had - ever.

[princessdevy03]

Tumblr Exclusive!!!!

Author’s Note: Because I can.

Nat belongs to @c2ndy2c1d

Chances Are…

“Hey, there.”

“H-Hey.”

Edd’s eyes darted down from the sparkling green ones in front of him and blinked a few times before looking back up to see Kevin still grinning at him.

“Wanna come in?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Edd said softly as Kevin stepped to the side and let him into the small dorm room.

“How was your trip?” Kevin asked as he closed the door, a small pout crossing his face as Edd flinched at hearing the heavy door close even though they were both expecting it.

“It was alright,” he shrugged as he toed off his shoes and placed them at the end of the bed before sitting down on the edge of it. “We got to meet a few of the writers on the panels, which was nice. Might have some connections for grad school, but that’s a ways away so we’ll see.”

“Only you would be thinking about grad school now, Dork,” Kevin snorted as he walked across the room and collapsed into his bed.

“And you’re not?!” Edd exclaimed.

Kevin smirked as he leaned back against the wall and shrugged, which just made Edd tug on his beanie as he sighed and shook his head.

“I mean I could,” Kevin said as Edd put his beanie back in place. “But I’m kinda just done with it all, ya know?”

“Can’t say that I do,” Edd told him. “I’m still a sophomore so I’ve got a ways til I reach burn out.”

“Knowing you, you’ll get a like three doctor degrees before you burn out.”

“They’re called doctorate degrees and I only really need two,” Edd retorted and Kevin laughed.

“What the hell are you gonna do with two doctorates?!” Kevin snorted as Edd gave him an unamused stare.

“Teach,” Edd said incredulously.

“Oh,” Kevin replied as he cocked his head to the side. “That actually kinda makes sense.”

“Thank you,” Edd snarked and Kevin snatched the beanie off his head and ruffled his curly hat hair.

“You’re welcome,” Kevin grinned as he waggled his eyebrows and then snickered as Edd slowly started to turn red and had no hat to hide under.

“So…so what did you do while I was gone?” Edd asked as he picked at the stray strings of Kevin’s comforter.

“Jack shit,” the redhead snorted and he laughed as Edd gave him a disbelieving look.

“So you just sat up in here all weekend doing nothing?”

“Did my homework,” Kevin answered as he pointed to his desk and Edd turned to see a neat pile of books, notebooks, and folders on top of Kevin’s closed laptop. “Went to the movies with Nat and Ang yesterday and took Nazz lunch at work. I mean, it’s the same shit I do every weekend, just did it without ya.”

Edd caught the downturn in his tone and he had to bite back a smile.

They had met last semester at a movie event the Student Government Association put on at the beginning of the school year.

It was a drive in theater experience where students were encouraged to bring lawn blankets, portable chairs, snacks and drinks, even though the SGA provided some, and a movie would be projected on the side of administration building.

As athletes, it was Kevin and Nat’s responsibility to mingle with their classmates and encourage them to come to games instead of running home every weekend as their small state school was known for being one of the easiest for students to commute to and from as the closest metro area was only an hour away.

So the two hotshots would go to as many SGA events as they could, talk to people, participate in whatever was happening and then head back to their dorm by curfew, pretty pleased with themselves as they knew people would come out to watch them play.

But Edd wasn’t any other student.

He was the science department’s biggest coup from the Ivy League campus across the state, the Tiny Ivy in Edd’s hometown, and the big state school in the middle of the state that his parents graduated from.

But this all meant he was very busy.

He couldn’t run home on the weekends to be with his parents or friends who had stayed in town because he was in the labs conducting experiments for class and extra credit.

He was also in a few honor societies so his weekends would be filled with events with them as well.

Very few of which included football games.

Kevin only really saw him on campus, running back and forth between the math and science building and the science department’s lab annex.

He caught sight of him at the homecoming game because everybody went to homecoming and Edd even stopped to congratulate him on their win at his buddy Rolf’s fraternity party later that night.

Kevin didn’t see him again until midterms and the university’s Gay-Straight Alliance club put on their Snowflake Destresser.

Nazz told him to go unless he wanted to end up in the hospital from the stress of having to deal with midterms and a conference game that would put the team in bowl game bid contention.

Hospitals meant needles.

Needles meant assured death.

Hating that idea, he went and found himself melting.

Rolf was coloring with his new girlfriend, Angela, and Nat and Edd were in a corner cuddling kittens.

The adorable grin on the smart young man’s face as he head butted a grey calico kitten twisted Kevin’s stomach up and he quickly found his lap full of kittens as Nat took pictures to post to his Instagram page and Kevin finally got to talk to the genius who’s blue eyes had been filling up way too many lonely daydreams.

That conversation led to numbers being exchanged and Kevin found him on Facebook, while Edd silently stalked his Snapchat.

The texts were friendly at first, plans made to hang out were made and met, but as the texts got more personal, their face to face interactions faltered.

Kevin wouldn’t say Edd was shy, just reserved. But there was always a guarded glint in his eyes whenever they parted ways and Kevin would hear a remorseful sigh that just hurt because he couldn’t understand why Edd would go from an open book to closed off and seemingly pained by it.

Figuring that their texts are how he found out so much about his new crush, Kevin broached the subject as best he could and was met with a very basic, “it’s not you, it’s me,” response.

Knowing that that meant Edd had dealt with some sort of heartbreak before, Kevin dug deeper because he knew that he couldn’t let Edd go, but he knew that they couldn’t move forward with Edd still being stuck behind some pain from his past.

After talking to Ang, who was from the same city as Edd and went to his rival high school, Kevin found out that being out in the city was just as hard as being out in the small town he was from.

Edd would start each school year bright eyed and bushy tailed about his classes and making new friends and in a fast romance by Halloween. But it was always over before Easter and for Edd, the spring rains would be a great place to hide his tears.

Seeing as they were in the spring semester, Kevin could see the smart ravenette was bracing himself for something to happen between them, but Kevin was going to make sure that it wasn’t the tornado of disaster that Edd was used to.

He kept things casual for the most part, inviting Edd to hang out whenever he got the chance, calling him for no reason, silly texts to go along with their more serious ones.

If they went out in a group, Kevin would make sure Edd was always by his side.

All of his friends knew that he had some sort of nice feelings for their younger classmate, but what shocked most everyone that knew the redhead was that despite his growing feelings, he was taking things slow.

Nazz and Rolf, who had grown up with Kevin, had plenty of stories of the redhead who would pounce into relationships at the first hello. The goodbyes were rarely mutual on the redhead’s part, but he always bounced back.

His flirting ways preceded him everywhere he went, so he knew that Edd would have to have felt some kind of way about the attention he was giving him, but he was always sincere.

Edd figured that Kevin would find something to get into with someone while he was gone to a science conference that their school’s biology and physical science clubs were hosting with other science and biology clubs from schools in their conference.

Except, apparently he didn’t.

He knew that Kevin was trying to gain his trust, but he didn’t trust to what ends the redhead was after.

Kevin was just his type; tall, athletic, killer smile, charming as all get out, and happily out.

But, relationships with this type always ended up with Edd being burned because they would always find someone more fun to hang out with.

Not that he’s boring, but his studious, plan for every contention ways would limit his fun sometimes.

His best friends all but begged him to chill and go with the flow when he got to college and Edd tried, but he knew that time wasn’t on his side.

The biotech field was always changing and he wanted to get into it as soon as he could and teach for as long as possible. That meant no time to be wasted unless he had it to waste.

He was only a sophomore, so he knew he had about a year and a half to play around before he had to buckle down, but Kevin was a junior and by the time Edd would need to get to work, Kevin would be gone.

And it scared him.

Kevin seemed like he was genuinely interested in what Edd wanted to do with his life’s work and would support his plans to do it no matter how long it took, but this was now and Edd couldn’t bear to think of later.

And yet, Kevin had spent the long bank holiday weekend just hanging out with his own friends and their mutual friends living life, but still waiting on him.

He told Edd to come by as soon as he got back if he was up for it after he got back into town, and Edd was more than up for it.

He wanted to see Kevin for himself and see if the pictures posted to Nat’s Instagram feed were true.

And they were.

There was a smile or smirk on his face in every one, but there was a glint in his eyes that Edd couldn’t quite get a read on, but he knew he didn’t like it.

He didn’t like it one bit.

As soon as Kevin had opened the door, the glint disappeared and his eyes happily sparkled like they always did when they saw each other.

And he’s scared again.

He’s scared of falling and then losing his safe place to land because Kevin couldn’t or wouldn’t or because of life.

It would just be easier, simpler, safer to keep his head down, go to class, get his degreeS, then maybe create a life with someone who understood his need to help us live just a bit better.

But despite his fear, his apprehension and reservations, to know that a hotshot like Kevin was there for him was a bit of an ego boost.

“Well, I’m here now, so if everyone is up for it, we can grab dinner or something later,” he said as he looked around the bed for his hat.

“What about now?”

Edd looked up to see his hat on Kevin’s hat, which was on the redhead’s head.

“I’m free as a bird,” Edd shrugged as he reached for his hat and Kevin leaned away which made him fall right on top of him.

“Tweet, tweet, mother fucker,” Kevin snickered as he tossed both hats on his desk and pulled Edd into a cuddle.

Cuddling wasn’t new for them, but they typically kept it loose and light.

This time, Kevin was holding him and Edd didn’t want him to let go.

Still…

In an effort to put some distance between them but still stay in his space, Edd moved a bit, but that just made Kevin pull him closer.

“Kevin, you’re squishing me,” Edd whined and Kevin huffed as he loosened his grip and Edd rolled onto his side so his back was to the wall.

Kevin pouted a bit before rolling on his side to face him and kiss his nose.

“Miss me?” Edd smirked and Kevin rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re in my bed so who’s missing who?”

Edd pulled his phone out of his pocket and started counting aloud. When he got to forty, Kevin asked him what he was counting for.

“That’s how many texts I got from you last night while we were at the awards banquet,” Edd replied as he showed him the string of texts from Kevin basically live texting his playing some video games and watching a movie the night before.

“I was bored.”

“Uh huh.”

“You texted me goodnight!”

“Just so you wouldn’t drain my phone with this nonsense!” Edd screamed as he waved his phone in Kevin’s face. Kevin rolled over in a huff and turned about six shades of red when Edd went on, “And then I wake up to twenty more because why now?”

“I just wanted to know if bees really have knees,” Kevin pouted and Edd snickered.

“They do. And penguins do, too.”

“Nerd.”

“Jock.”

“Dork.”

“But I’m cute sooo…,” Edd shrugged and Kevin just stared at him, which made him giggle, which made him cuter and Kevin’s just done.

“You’re cute, but you’re not that cute,” he lied and Edd saw right through it.

“You’re cute, too,” Edd grinned. “But you’re like a five, but not that cute like Jacob Oriole. He’s an eight.”

“My dick’s an eight so…”

“Uhuh,” Edd blinked and Kevin nearly fell off the small bed laughing at him. “That’s not funny, Kevin!”

“Yes, it is!” Kevin chortled. “Oh, my God, if you could see the look on your face right now.”

Edd’s mouth settled into a hard frown and it took everything in Kevin not to kiss him.

They hadn’t gotten past a kiss on the forehead, cheek, or nose, but when Edd frowned, Kevin had to kiss it better. He just couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Edd still seemed so guarded and he didn’t want to scare him away so he held back.

But knowing a hug would ease a smile back on his face he pulled him into his arms as he said, “You started it.”

“How?!”

“You showed up and you just won’t leave,” he grinned as he squeezed him tight because Edd was trying to wiggle away. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing!” he laughed as he let go because if he held on any longer, he’d give Edd something to wiggle about.

“Meanie,” Edd huffed as he wiggled himself back to the safety of the wall.

“Doodyhead.”

“Imbecile.”

“Smart ass.”

“Jackass.”

“Says the guy staring at my ass,” Kevin tossed over his shoulder as he went to his closet. “I’m getting hungry. You want a snack?”

Watching him walk away made Edd sink in the bed a bit and he pulled the pillow close to take in more of the scent that had been taking up too much space in his head lately and to hide a problem that always started whenever they were thisclose.

“N-No, I’m fine,” Edd stuttered as he held the pillow close and picked at his nails.

“It’s like 3, Edd,” Kevin said worriedly before looking from Edd to the clock on his desk. “313, actually. No one is gonna be free til after 6, sooo…”

Edd just shook his head as his appetite left him and anxiousness took its place.

“You ok?”

Edd was startled by Kevin’s sudden appearance in front of him and yelped as he threw his pillow at him. Kevin caught it with a smirk and tossed it back on the bed before falling back on the bed again and pulling Edd into another cuddle.

“What’s wrong, Dee?”

Not many called him Double Dee anymore as the nickname seemed childish to most of their college peers, but Kevin had no problems calling him every other variation of his name for kicks.

“Nothing,” Edd sighed.

Kevin ran a hand through his hair and took in what he could see of Edd’s face that wasn’t hidden by his hair or the pillow.

There was a bit of a worried look in his eyes, but he seemed to be in deep thought so Kevin played in his hair because he knew Edd would talk when he was ready.

Edd leaned into his touch as he wrapped his arms around Kevin’s waist and held himself there. It all felt so good, but a piece of himself wouldn’t let go.

Let go of David, his first real kiss.

Of Adam, who told him he loved him before leaving him for a girl because, “at least she puts out.”

Of Jordan, who did everything right that the others did not and then stole his access to the school’s student records and changed his grades so he could graduate, and Edd’s so he wouldn’t.

If the sudden change hadn’t been so stark, Edd would have never known.

But the scholarship he lost would be memory enough. It wasn’t much, but seeing Ang use it every day to make her ends meet was a regular reminder that trust had to be well earned before given away.

Kevin had shown himself trustworthy, but Edd wondered.

Wondered who else had Kevin courted.

Wondered who else he had caught as they fell.

Who else he had had in his bed.

But rumor had it that Kevin had deleted his dating apps off his phone, changed his Facebook profile so that the Interested In tab was no longer visible, and in general let any and everyone know that he may have been single, but his eyes were only for one person.

Edd

Their phones rang, chirped, and buzzed, but they didn’t move except to put them on Kevin’s desk and just lay on the bed in thoughtful silence.

Kevin playing in his hair made him doze off for a bit and when he woke up, Kevin kissed his forehead and asked if everything was okay.

He had felt concern from his family and friends before, but Kevin’s seem more directed at how he was truly feeling and not how Edd’s feelings were making him feel.

“I’m fine, Kevin,” he replied with a small, but soft smile. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

Kevin would sometimes wonder if Edd was picking up what he was putting down and now that he knew he was and knew that Edd knew that he knew was and that Kevin knew that his past did sometimes make him a bit slow on the uptake, Kevin felt that there was hope for them yet.

“No prob, Double Dork.”

“Really?!”

“What?!”

“Noth-Nevermind,” Edd muttered as he rolled over and Kevin instantly became the Big Spoon.

As his hands eased around Edd’s waist, the ravenette squeaked.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Edd whispered as he placed Kevin’s hands higher on his torso, but as Kevin squeezed him close, long, wide fingers tickled Edd’s sides and the ravenette jumped away with a squeal and rolled himself into a ball with his back against the wall.

“You’re ticklish!”

“Please, Kevin,” Edd begged and Kevin sat up as he clinched his fists.

“I’m not gonna tickle you,” Kevin said slowly and Edd’s sigh of relief was cut off as the redhead went on. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t happen sometimes.”

Slightly scared, slightly pissed blue eyes met his teasing own and the redhead shrugged.

“You’re the one that’s ticklish, Edd.”

“And you’re not?!” Edd exclaimed as he pulled himself out of his defensive ball and his hands lunged for the jock’s sides.

The sound that came out of Kevin was certainly not one of one being tickled and Edd quickly found himself pinned to the wall.

“I’m not ticklish,” Kevin grinned as he held Edd’s hands over his head.

“Then what the hell just happened?!”

“Heh, you swore.”

“Kevin.”

“Eddward.”

The sudden change in Edd’s eyes should have scared him but Kevin was too busy being drawn into the shocked and awed twinkle in Edd’s ocean blue irises that Kevin didn’t really realize what he had done.

Edd tugged his hands away with a strength Kevin was turned and slightly frightened by. He closed his eyes as his hands settled on Kevin’s sides, just above his hips and he took a deep breath before saying, “Say it again.”

“Say what?!”

Bright, needy blue eyes flashed up into his own as Edd said, “My name.”

But Kevin couldn’t resist a bit more teasing, if only to get this fast moving situation under control.

“Double Dork.”

“That’s not my name, Kevin,” Edd pouted as he pulled his hands away.

“I can call you so many things, Edd,” Kevin whispered as he pulled him close.

“Like what?” Edd deadpanned as his arms hung limply at his sides and he gave Kevin an incredulous look.

“Baby.”

And Edd just looked stunned.

“I like you, Edd.”

“I-I…I know,” Edd said softly as he started to curl his arms around himself. “It’s just that…”

“What?” Kevin asked as he pulled him down into his lap and held him close, but kept his grip loose so Edd would feel comfortable. “What is it?”

Edd looked down at his hands as he said, “I…I don’t know.”

“C’mon, Edd,” Kevin snorted. “A genius like you not know?”

“No one can predict the future, Kevin, so yes, I don’t know.”

“I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to, but I have a feeling that you won’t, especially since I’m not going down without a damn fight.”

“There’s no need to resort to violence, Kevin,” Edd snickered as he brought Kevin’s slightly trembling hands into his own.

“Good, because I’m a lover not a fighter,” Kevin whispered as he pressed their foreheads together and held Edd’s wide eyed gaze with his own smoldering one.

Edd was faltering, but he held on.

Literally.

A soft hand wrapped around the collar of Kevin’s tshirt and shakingly drew the redhead in for a kiss he had been waiting for for months.

It was eager, but soft.

As Edd moaned into his mouth, Kevin’s hands shot into his hair and Edd let himself go.

He fell back limply into strong arms when Kevin broke the kiss apart so they could breathe again and Kevin pressed his forehead into Edd’s heaving chest.

“Whoa,” Edd whispered as the kiss he initiated took his breath away.

“Yeah.”

“Kev?”

Bright green eyes full of devotion shot up and sparkled as he answered, “Yeah?”

“You can call me Baby if you want to.”

And Edd let out a small scream as he found himself suddenly pinned to the mattress.

“Oh, Baby.”

A large calloused hand was up his shirt, rubbing small circles in the small of his back, and Edd couldn’t stop himself as he undid his cuffs while Kevin nommed small kisses on the side of his neck.

“What’re you doin’?” Kevin asked as he pulled away only to sit back on his knees as he watched Edd undo four buttons on the front of his button up and then pull the button and his undershirt with it over his head and toss them away.

“Edd.”

Pouting blue eyes met his own and he said it again as he kissed him.

“Oh, Baby.”

While Edd wanted to argue with himself that they were moving entirely too fast, Kevin’s sweet kisses were bit more distracting.

And he needed them.

It had been so long since he had been in such an intimate position with anyone and he was dying. Physical touch was nice, but kisses were better.

Combined?

Fill his cup up!

But this wasn’t like any make outs he had in high school or the quick hookups he had last year.

There was no rushing outside of chucking their shirts away and the kisses ran the gambit from soft and slow to deep and intense; the touches were electrifying.

Kevin may not have been ticklish but to make him squirm was an absolute delight!

When the redheaded squirmer wiggled away from Edd’s soft fingertips and bit kisses down Edd’s belly, they both froze when he got to the top of Edd’s pants.

“You don’t have to,” Edd whispered and then he whined when his phone rang again.

But the next thing Kevin did made him forget about his communicative device for the next forty-five minutes.

A white hot wet heat enveloped his cock and he screamed as his back arched completely off the bed.

“Please, yes! Dear GOD Almighty!”

A hum begat a moan that had them both melting back in the bed as one of Edd’s hands found its way into Kevin’s hair and the other held on to the underside of the headboard as he guided the redhead through one of the most intimate acts no one had ever done for him.

Nat’s closed fist hovers over Kevin’s dorm room door as a moan fills the room and ekes out into the hallway.

Rolf grabs his hand as Ang and Nazz both slap their hands over their mouths before taking off down the hall and into the common area that separates the large building’s various wings.

Throwing themselves onto the bean bags on the floor, they shake with laughter as Rolf and Nat look at them before hearing a familiar, but muffled voice moan Kevin’s name.

A shocked look crosses Rolf’s face as Nazz hisses at them to get their asses back down the hall.

Before Nat can do something shitty, Rolf grabs his arm and tugs him down the hall as Ang holds her sides and tears stream down her face.

“Wait a min,” Nat huffs once Rolf let him go. “Was that Edd?!”

“It better be,” Nazz said as she tried to catch her breath. “I’m a kill him if it’s not.”

“Yeah, that was Edd,” Ang snickered as she sat up and wiped her eyes. “I’ve known that kid for ages. Our clubs played 7 Minutes In Heaven at a district National Honor Society retreat. I know that moan.”

“Good,” Nazz grinned. “About time they figured it out.”

“Are you sure?” Rolf asked.

“Dude,” Nat said incredulously. “I know you heard him say Big Red’s name in there.”

“But what if it’s just a hook up?”

“I’ll kill him,” Ang and Nazz said together.

“Me, too,” Nat sighed.

“WHAT?!” His friends exclaimed and the peacock rolled his eyes.

“Kevin’s been after that sweet ass for months now. He fucks this up and I’ll kick his ass. Who wants pizza?”

Nazz glanced at Ang who shrugged and they both got off the floor before grabbing hands and walking out, gabbing about how cute their two friends were, Nat and Rolf following behind them as Nat explained to his foreign friend that Kevin and Edd were legit.

The chances of Edd in Kevin’s bed with the redhead between his legs and sucking him off like he was a thick ass milkshake had to be one in a million.

But Edd couldn’t do the math because he was too busy fucking Kevin’s face and moaning Kevin’s name over and over again.

It was what he said as he came that had Kevin’s head spinning as Edd writhed on the bed.

“Kev.”

It was moaned out like a prayer and the blissed out glow on Edd’s face made him look so damn peaceful Kevin didn’t mind doing whatever it took for however long it took to keep that look on his face.

“Lis-Listen,” Kevin stuttered once he pulled off of him and Edd rolled his eyes because at the moment he was completely incapable of doing much of anything. “Look…just hear me out,” he continued as he came to lay next to Edd, who was pulling up his pants as best as his limp limbs and dizzy head would let him. “I really like you, Edd, and –“

“Then do something about it.”

Intense blue eyes locked with his own an as he pulled back a bit in shock, he saw that Edd had a tight grip on his pants that were mid-thigh.

Kevin knew that this could go either way and the way he wanted it to go seemed like the way Edd wanted it to go, too, but he had to be sure.

“I’m calling you Baby til you tell me not to.”

Edd closed his eyes for a moment and when he blinked them open, he couldn’t hide the need that his soul was sending to the surface in waves not unlike the ones Kevin’s mouth had just pulled out of him.

“I won’t.”

Suddenly, it was as if everything was in slow motion but also at super speed.

The kisses were quick but the hand in his hair seemed to move at a snail’s pace. His pants were clawed away, but with his shaking legs it was like it was taking forever to get them out of the way.

When Kevin settled between his legs again, he was still in a bit of shock, as if he couldn’t believe that this was happening.

“Kev.”              

If there was one thing Edd had come to know about Kevin it was that names were a thing with him.

Through names he could build a rapport with people and it made it easy to charm them.

He had names for all of his friends and used them often.

Nat was Nat because that was he asked everyone to call him, but only Kevin could call him Peacock.

Nazz was Nazzerino on most days, Nazz when he was feeling more serious. He would occasionally call her Natasha in a bad Russian accent, but it made her smile so he would never stop.

Angela was Ang, or Princess when he needed something. Rolf hated it because she was his Princess, but if Kevin needed something, and Ang could help, she could be his Princess, too.

Rolf was Rolf. Unless he was being weird and then he was a damn son of a shepherd to Kevin’s stale end piece of white bread.

But Edd was Double Dee, Double Dork, Double Dude, or his favorite, which was simply, Dee.

Til today and he called him Eddward.

Sure, it was his damn name, but to hear the King Of Nicknames use it had Edd feeling so damn special that he was about to give everything in himself away.

But to make sure Kevin knew how he felt, he had to get his attention and he did it the only way he knew how.

Everyone called him Kev. It took a few weeks for Kevin to get used to Edd calling him Kevin, which was harder to deal with than Mr Barr because at their age, Mister was slowly but surely becoming a thing.

But for Edd to call him Kev meant something because Edd very rarely used nicknames outside of those who he considered friends.

Gentleman were to be called by their proper names and you always let the lady take the lead. His only exception to the rule was his very best friends but that was only because they all had the same name.

Kevin had been nothing but a gentleman since they met,  but the nickname habit was a hard one to break. Especially since Nat’s forward behavior towards him made him want to keep the habit because it was the only thing keeping the peacock at bay.

To call him Kev would lead to a new familiarity that Edd needed in his life because it was just for them. And the easy way that the name came out of his mouth made it even easier to get closer to the one who loved the way Edd said his name.

“Y-Yeah?”

“It’s ok. I…I want this, too.”

“Me or this?”

“Yes.”

A hard kiss.

A guiding hand.

Back and neck support to hold him through the searing shock, pressure, and pleasure of it all.

When Kevin bottomed out, he nearly fainted, but held on.

The pressure on his cock felt mind numbingly good, the pounding in his chest was far more from how Edd made him feel than from exercising all his strength in moving as slow as possible so he wouldn’t hurt him.

He was grateful that they weren’t doing this under the covers because he was hot as hell and sweating like a shamed whore in church.

“Dear Lord.”

“You ok?!” He asked worriedly, scared that Edd wasn’t feeling as good as he was and starting to regret this.

“Move.”

When he pressed his face into the side of Edd’s neck and did as he was told, the moan the other groaned out as he did so made his head shoot up and the look on Edd’s face had a pressure building in his gut that felt like nothing else he had ever felt before.

Relief was dancing in his blue eyes, but so was something like appreciation.

As his eyes fluttered closed and long, dark eye lashes danced across high, flushed cheekbones, the gap between his two front teeth flashed in a small, wistful smile.

Ok, so Edd is feeling good, but Kevin wanted him to feel even better.

But instead of showing off, he followed Edd’s lead.

Soft hands eased from Kevin’s shoulders to his hips and started to guide the way he rocked Edd into the bed.

“Yeesss,” Edd hissed breathlessly. “Just like that.”

Kevin kept his eyes on his face, even when Edd shifted and took him in deeper.

His head fell, but Edd kept their foreheads together with one hand on the back of Kevin’s  head.

The other was squeezing his ass and Kevin was flying.

The kisses to his face and lips were so sweet and the longing look in Kevin’s green eyes let Edd know that this wasn’t going to be a one time, two time, even handful of times thing.

Kevin hadn’t been saying that he liked him because he was cute or smart. He had said he was funny once or twice, but then Ang said he was witty and Kevin had been giggling about it since Christmas.

In close spaces, a hand would graze his arm as they or their group shifted from one thing to the next, an arm would be around his shoulders or waist to guide him or hold him still.

His interests in what he did was genuine for sure and when you put it together with his friendly concern, his flirting, his just trying to get to know him, Edd knows that this is more than like, or even like like.

This is a crush.

A mutual one.

From the first time they met, there was something about the jock that Edd liked.

The way he carried himself, the way he was always so open, respecting, and cool with nearly everyone on campus.

It was hard to get on Kevin’s bad side and even harder to stay there, so to be in his good graces and for Kevin to do everything he could just to get Edd to stay was way more than Edd could hope for in their interactions.

Didn’t hurt that he was hawt, too.

And if Kevin wanted to make all of this a thing, Edd was here for it.

Because his dreams, his wistful fantasies, his lustful thoughts was nothing compared to actually feeling those strong hands in his hair, holding his body close, in his own.

To feeling that mouth on his cheeks, nose, lips; to feeling it bite his neck in a desperate need to leave his mark, to taste him, to draw out of him intelligible words that only Kevin’s grunts and growls understood.

He was here for it all.                          

Every movement of the redhead’s hips brought Edd closer to the edge of orgasmic bliss, but the intimacy of everything about this was going to bring them into something that would glow for as long as they let it.

Edd couldn’t wait to take the journey.

“Kev…”

“Yeah, Baby?”

Needy blue eyes meet his own and Edd’s hand starts to graze down his torso to his cock and Kevin’s torn.

The entire time he’s been so focused on the sweet, beautiful expressions crossing Edd’s face that he forgot that Edd would need to put a seal on this whole deal and either Edd would do it himself or Kevin could bring his Baby the ecstasy he needed.

“Kev.”

Once again, his name is moaned out like a prayer and the look in Edd’s eyes makes Kevin wonder if Edd’s done this before.

“Edd.”

A whine is kissed away but Edd doesn’t stop stroking himself, the near disbelieving look in his eyes growing weaker with every touch.

It evaporates and is replaced with a yearning that only Kevin will ever meet when the redhead knocks Edd’s hand away and takes over.

“My Baby.”

A hard grip is around his shoulders and a sob is in his ears as Edd’s body tenses up and then shakes them both.

A sloppy kiss and a soft cuddle.

When Edd could finally pull his head together, a panicked look crossed his face and Kevin damn near stopped breathing again as he pushed the redhead away and did his best to run to the bathroom.

When he heard the shower come on, he snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Want some company?” He called to him from the other side of the closed door.

When Edd burst into the most obnoxious chorus of Celine Dion’s All By Myself he had ever heard, Kevin yanked the door open and nearly tore the shower curtain off the bar as he stormed in and said, “REALLY!?”

“I mean…” Edd shrugged as he handed him the shampoo.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kevin sighed as his hands got tangled up in Edd’s hair again.

Naturally.

When they settled on the couch after their shower, Kevin went to call Nat to see if everyone was up for dinner only to see pictures of their friends having a pizza party at Rolf’s on the peacock’s Instagram feed.

“They ditched us,” he sighed as he showed Edd the pictures Nat had taken of the impromptu party.

“Meh. I’m thinking Asian, though,” the ravenette shrugged as he stretched his legs across Kevin’s lap.

And over fried rice, Rangoon, Kung Pao beef and Moo Shu chicken, they had their first real date, thus making them official.

Nat would swear his pictures of his date with their friends were better than the sweet photos Edd would post on Facebook later, but chances are everyone else, even the peacock himself, knows better.

Because love just looked good on them like that.

[killing-me-with-a-sigh-blog]

Be Like A Sponge, Part 1

There will be 10 parts to this series.  They are all reflections and insights I gain as I struggle with many new challenges I have just begun to face and how I mentally overcome them.  

The phrase “be like a sponge” has often been used to describe how one should take up the world around them.  Much like sink sponges sop up an incredible amount of water and grime from a dirty counter-top, a sponge-like mind will presumably and indiscriminately soak up all of the knowledge it can possibly hold from experiencing the world around it.  It is not uncommon to use this phrase with other phrases like “never lose your sense of wonder/adventure.” However, I recently learned that this phrase has another meaning that has actually helped ground me in a very tough time.  Before I get to this meaning, I should first detail how I came to it.  

As of June, 2017, my life was amazing.  I was killing it in grad school, I had an amazing family life, and (for the first time) a boyfriend that seemingly cared very much about me.  Looking back on this moment in my short life thus far, I can’t help but  think of an old phrase I learned in church used to describe how there will be both good times and bad times in life: “This too shall pass.”  Whether you are flying high like I was, or stuck in rut like I am now, it very well may come to pass.  As of this post, my family is on the brink of splitting up, I am having a hard time focusing on grad school, and my now ex-boyfriend’s last words to me, possibly forever, involved the phrase “fuck you.”   

To preface a bit, growing up I knew my father was (and is) an alcoholic.  A functional one, to be sure, but an alcoholic nonetheless.  This did not play a large part in my life when I was young-- as far as I was concerned, he was sober for 13 years or so and had only started to slip up as my siblings and I grew old enough to take care of ourselves.  After the passing of his father and my mother’s diagnosis of breast cancer within 2 years, the excuse to drink more was given and, come April, we were all very concerned.  My mother became especially concerned when she noticed her oxycodone pills she was prescribed for the pain of recovery from a double mastectomy had gone missing.  An intervention was needed in my father’s life and he got one.  It went great!  He agreed to go to rehab to get back on the wagon and followed through within days.  To make a long story short, a couple weeks in it had come out that he had been drinking and taking pills much longer than we anticipated--about 20 years, on-and-off, all behind our backs.  As one can imagine, this has put a serious strain on my family life.  No longer is my father a “recovering alcoholic” in my head.  He is an addict working on recovery, which may involve losing his relationship with my mother.

For the first time in my life, I had an anxiety attack.  I woke up from a dead of sleep gasping for air, my mind full of morbid thoughts--death is imminent and certain for both your loved ones and you; the niche group of evangelicals are right in that not only is Hell real, but LGBT people are going straight there; you are going to fail in graduate school because you’re not good enough to hack it.  On and on and on they tore through my mind--I began to get crazy: those noises in the house aren’t just house noises, they are spirits coming to kill you, etc.  Even after I calmed down, the feeling of general anxiety lingered on.  For the next two months, I battled with these newfound thoughts and sudden fear of the unknown.

Then in July, I took a trip to go see my boyfriend’s horrid family (except for his nanny).  Things had been going well with that part of my life--he had had a troubled life growing up to be sure, but we were connecting enough that the red flags I saw were chalked up to just overthinking in my mind.  A month after we returned, something went south and went there quickly.  There was hardly any discussion of it--he decided we were through.  Being the overly caring person I am, I tried to stay friends with him because I knew this would be hard for him.  I was so worried about being another one of those people in his life that hurt or abandoned him for doing and being what he wanted.  Besides, he had convinced me it wasn’t me that broke us up-it just wasn’t a good time for him in his life.  I had come to realize over the couple of weeks post-dump that he never really cared about me--rather, he cared about how I made him feel.  The red flags I saw were valid: he didn’t like it so much when I talked about my research in the lab and, even though he loved to sing and listen to music, he never wanted to do that with me.  In fact, on the many occasions I offered to play some of the instruments I can play for him, he sheepishly declined.  I realized that I didn’t need to be around him for his recovery, despite his wishes for me to be.  The real kick, however, was when I recently saw his profile on a dating site, detailing how he is looking for something more long-term with someone who likes to listen to him geek out over his work and shares his interest in music.  I didn’t register what I was seeing--I reacted to it.  How dare he tell me to my face that it wasn’t a good time for him to date and then turn around and start looking for the next me-but-not-really-me?  I lashed out and I said some nasty things to him--I didn’t want him in my life and I didn’t care how he went out.  I struck a nerve and he lashed back.  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” “I don’t want to talk to you ever again.”  He was right in a way; I was being an ass to him and, if the situation was reversed, I probably would have reacted similarly.  I still found myself hurt.  It wasn’t his words that cut deep.  It was the finality of it all.  I wanted this to happen.  I wanted him to be gone.  I lit the fire that burned the bridge.  And yet, I still felt awful when the dust settled and I was left looking at the pile of ashes that was an important connection in my life. 

To summarize, I have felt this awfulness for the past three months and it does not look to be going away anytime soon.  Even when I am feeling good, I am burdened by a sense of melancholy and a tendency to act out on emotions I used to have control over.   I have started to see a counselor, and it has helped.  But progress is slow.  It is difficult to ground myself back in the present and not think about how messed up things became.  

In the lab, people noticed that I was not doing OK.  It was obvious.  I was having trouble focusing and was disconnected to what was going on.  A coworker of mine asked me about it.  He had a very understanding demeanor, so I confided that things were not fine.  He soon began to tell me stories of his experiences growing up.  He is from Iran and has had many tumultuous times in his young adult life.  I do not wish to recount his story, as it is only his to tell.  But I will share his wisdom he obtained while overcoming his unique hardships.  I asked him how he made it through it all and he said that one’s goal should be to “become like a sponge.”  Not speaking English natively, he did not know of the phrase’s use in our language and culture.  Rather, he meant something more along the lines of be like a sea sponge.  A sea sponge has no feelings towards what goes on around it--they are out of its control.  They simply let water in and let water out.  It does not matter the contents of the water.  The sea sponge remains unstirred. 

This phrase struck a chord with me.  Suddenly, I had some clarity to the things around me.  Most of what is going to happen is out of my control.  The decisions that I have made previously and have come to regret have created circumstances that are also now out of my control.  To be like a sponge, that would mean accepting that these things are beyond this control.  I should not be stirred by them.  They are going to happen as they are to happen regardless of what I try to do to stop or change it.  Obtaining this clarity in such a way that it begins to help me is much easier said than done.  

Because I’ve always gotten another sense of clarity from writing, I have decided to document the next couple of months of my using this phrase to ground myself.  I hope that if you choose to read it, it may help you find some clarity in your life as well.  

[aion-rsa]

Cemetery Boys: A Conversation with YA Author Aiden Thomas

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Aiden Thomas’ upcoming YA debut, Cemetery Boys, is not only breaking new ground when it comes to explorations of trans identity and Latinx culture, it’s also a riveting, romantic read filled with paranormal wonder. The #OwnVoices novel follows Yadriel, a trans boy determined to prove his gender to his traditional Latinx family, who all happen to be brujx, with the ability to see spirits. When Yadriel’s cousin is murdered, Yadriel decides to solve the mystery of what happened as a way to convince his family to accept his identity as a brujo. But when, instead of summoning the ghost of his cousin, Yadriel accidentally summons the ghost of (very cute) school “bad boy” Julian, who refuses to leave, Yadriel’s mission becomes much more complicated… especially once he realizes he might not want Julian to go.

We had the chance to talk with Thomas to find out what it was like to build the world of Cemetery Boys and its characters, the novel’s ambitions as “empowering escapism for marginalized readers,” and what it’s like writing during 2020.

Note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Den of Geek: This is a very broad, generic question, but do you remember where the idea for this story first started? Was it a character? Was it a scene? Was it a feeling? Can you think back to that moment of inspiration?

Aiden Thomas: I know the exact moment of inspiration for the book itself. On Tumblr I follow a lot of writing prompt blogs, and one of the blogs posted just a sentence prompt, and the prompt was, “What would you do if you summoned a ghost and you couldn’t get rid of it?” And you see people commenting and stuff and they’re like, “Oh, this super spooky, scary thing.” And I was like, “Okay, but what if he was cute?” And so that’s where the idea came from.

And then I was like, “OK, well, if we’re talking about death and magic, what does that mean to me?” And, as a Latinx person, death and magic is Día de Muertos, right? Day of the Dead. So from there I was like, “Okay, yeah. This could totally work.”

The real inspiration for how the magic system works and the rules and everything that’s laid out is intrinsically related to Día de Muertos. All of the magic stuff that happens in Cemetery Boys revolves around our actual beliefs about how the afterlife works and what Día de Muertos means and bringing our ancestors back. So it was kind of just taking all of this magic around Día de Muertos and just making it literal magic.

So you have this initial idea. (Thank you, Tumblr.) How long ago was that, and what did the process, the evolution of that idea look like? Was it fast? Was it slow?

Oh my gosh. Yeah. Technically Cemetery Boys was actually my option book. The first book that I wrote and sold is Lost in the Never Woods, which is coming out in 2021. So I got all the way through two copy edits for Lost in the Never Woods and then I started bugging my editor. I was like, “Option books, what do you think about that? When do we start talking about that?” And she was like, “Okay, Aiden. There’s no rush. If you want to kick me some ideas, go ahead.” And I was like, “Okay!” And so it was really funny because I believe I sent her five ideas. One of them was like, here’s a full outline, I have 50 pages written, and here’s a synopsis. And then as the ideas went they just kind of got smaller and less detailed. And Cemetery Boys was the last one. And it was, I think, a paragraph, maybe a paragraph and a half. And most of them ended in question marks, the sentences. Because I was like, “Well, maybe it could be this.” And the other thing is that I was really nervous about pitching a book with a trans character and that was entirely Latinx.

The whole book is an entirely Latinx cast. So I always find that kind of funny looking back on it that I was asking permission, to like, “Can I write this? Is this okay? Am I allowed to do this? Seriously, not a big deal. Just maybe.” And then so when she replied, she was like, “Yeah, that’s the one that we want!” And I was like, “Really! Okay.” And then so they needed it fast-drafted. So this is kind of a crazy story. Not last November, but the November before that is when I pitched the idea, and then we got the contract signed. And so it was January where I actually started writing it. It was sold on, what is it called? It was sold with just the synopsis and I think 25 pages or whatever. So I had to actually write the book. I had to write it in six weeks.

Wow.

Yeah. I wrote the rough draft in six weeks. And pretty quickly after my editor got that first draft she was like, “We think that this should be your debut instead.” And I was like, “Ugh, God!” I was like, “Okay.” Even though I went through all this work with the other book. So it was super fast tracked. And, gosh, when did I send it off to copy edits? Everything was done super quickly in like six months or something, which was a crazy turnaround time compared to Lost in the Never Woods, which I wrote during grad school, so it was like three years and then a year of doing edits with my editor. So it was super crazy. It was a very quick turnaround.

Well, you did it!

You mentioned when you were sending those initial pitches that you were already kind of not even totally allowing yourself permission to lead with this even. For a variety of reasons. And I’m curious, during the process of writing it, did you feel yourself having to push back against that? I don’t know, feeling like you have to reel it back in from the story you truly want to tell because you’re afraid it won’t ever make it to readers? Did that continue as you were writing?

Not so much in the terms of like, “How queer could I make this? How brown can I make this?” I kind of just went full into it as soon as they gave me permission. Then I was like, “Okay, well you already paid me, so here I go!” You know? I think where I got the most anxiety around it was I was really concerned about writing a depiction of whether it’s of someone who’s gay, of someone who’s trans, and/or someone who’s Latinx was that some kind of my internalized “isms” and phobias would come out onto the page and be harmful to young readers. That is what held me up the most and caused me a lot of anxiety. So that was really difficult, and when it came time to start going to copy edits, I emailed my editor and I was like, “I really feel like I need authenticity readers.” I was like, “I know that I’m literally every part of this character’s identity, but I’m really worried about me writing something that’s accidentally problematic. And they were super receptive, and I think I got three sensitivity readers for the main parts that I wanted to hit.

And they did catch a couple of things. Nothing major, but small things that you just don’t realize. And I think sometimes marginalized creators, they’re like, “Well, this is my truth, so I can write it. I don’t need anyone else to double check me,” or whatever. But for me, that was really important, because I was really, really worried about it.

I was going to ask you about authenticity readers. What was the process like for finding people?

The people I found were on Twitter. So, Twitter’s been a huge resource. I didn’t join Twitter until I sold my first book. And then all of a sudden I was like, “Oh, there’s an entire writing community here. Go figure.” So what I did was that I was basically scrolling through Twitter and people that I follow. I found one person, and I was like, “Great, that fills this one section.” But I still had these other two, so I actually put out a call on my Twitter, and I was like, “Hey, I’m looking for some authenticity readers in these sections, and this is the experience that I’m looking at.” Instead of just having random people being like, “Oh, well I’m brown, so I can read it.” And then I found people super quick, and I sent them to my editor, and then my editor reached out to them. So it was actually pretty easy, especially on Twitter. The community is so responsive and those LinkedIn type connections almost really, really helped find those authenticity readers. It was awesome.

Your characters and your community that you’re mostly featuring here are bilingual. But you’re also writing this book in part for people who don’t speak Spanish. I’m curious what it was like balancing that. And again, making sure it maybe is marketable to a certain extent versus staying true to the experience of these characters and for those readers who also live in a bilingual, in their community. Making sure they see some sort of authenticity on that as well.

Yeah, it’s almost about accessibility, is what we’re talking about. Having those experiences and those words even being accessible to people who speak Spanish and people who speak English and people who do both. And for me, I pretty unapologetically use a lot of Spanish in a way that I thought was realistic to when I was growing up and living around families and how the younger generations tend to use more English and then use more Spanish around their families. And so for me, it was more of a challenge in craft. What I did is that I very unapologetically used Spanish, but when I do that I am hopefully careful to give enough context clues so that even if you have no idea what those words mean, you understand the meaning and the thought behind it. So even if you don’t know explicitly what a sentence means, judging by the character’s reactions or internal monologue, that point gets across either way. So you can absolutely go ahead and Google it if you want to, but it’s also there. That was something very conscious I did going through the process being like, “Okay, I need to make sure that I’m writing this in a way that it’s accessible from all kinds of readers.”

I’m curious about the decision to set the book in east L.A. Was it always set there?

Yes, it was always in east L.A. I was born and raised in Oakland, California, so I spent pretty much my whole life in California. I moved up here three and a half years ago. And what I love so much about east L.A. is that it reminds me a lot of Oakland in terms of socioeconomic status and definitely in community. It’s super diverse, and east L.A. is kind of like a central hub that a lot of Latinx communities gravitate towards to. And it’s not necessarily just one Latinx community. And for me, it was really important that the brujx were this conglomeration of multiple different Latinx identities. I didn’t want it to be just one, because I wanted this whole myth and this magic to supersede the creation of countries. It’s very much just Mesoamerican.

So east L.A. is really the perfect place for that, and I wanted to touch base on things like kids who are living on the poverty line and kids who are living on the streets. And for me all of those things, it just screamed east L.A. and I love east L.A. is the other thing, is that it’s a very dear place to me in my heart. So I was like, “Yeah, let me write this little love letter to east L.A. and show others.” That city can be so stereotyped by people and I really wanted to break down some of those barriers and show how really beautiful it is. And the community there is just so incredible.

I’m curious if your experiences as an EMT informed this story at all.

Yeah, that’s really funny. Being an EMT in Oakland, it was a crash course in a lot of things. And a big part of it was what it means to serve your community and what your community looks like. Especially in times of dire stress. So, yeah that definitely informed it. I feel like anytime I tell EMT stories I just traumatize my family. So I’m trying to think, “Well, how can I?” But I had a lot of experiences as an EMT, when you show up on scene, especially when there’s kids involved, that you really see the bad things. Like the panic and stuff like that, but also the coming together of a community. I’m a pretty literal, logical person, but there’s some things that I saw that happened when I was an EMT when there was just like a miracle, but I know that those aren’t a thing. But it’s like, well some kind of magic happened there, because that’s crazy! One time I had a child who was going, basically, and the grandmother pushed through and put her hand on him and started praying and then he came back. And I was like, “What the heck is happening!”

So it’s like that kind of magic, you know what I mean? So stuff like that definitely inspired it. And I’ve always been very community focused. That’s why I liked being an EMT so much. And so again, it kind of comes back to that love of the community, which is what Cemetery Boys is for me.

Yeah, it’s nice to get these stories that, I don’t know, there’s so many “chosen one” stories in our mainstream culture. And that’s not normally how positive change seems to happen in the world.

Cemetery Boys features a Latinx, gay, trans boy protagonist. A first in the YA space. And I think a lot of people have already noted or assumed that this is going to be a story that for a lot of different people, they see parts of their identity reflected back for the first time maybe in a mainstream cultural space. And I’m curious if you can remember the first time you felt that in any way, one of your identities reflected back in a mainstream story for maybe the first time in either a big or small way.

Yeah. It’s funny because I get that question a lot. And when I first started answering, it was kind of like, “When was the first time you saw yourself represented in media?” And for a very long time I was like, “Ugh, I just got to come up with something.” Like, “I’ll just pull this one, I don’t know!” And then I was like, “Well, Aiden, you know what? That’s actually a valid thing to discuss.” So I have never seen myself reflected in media. My whole self, rather. And so when I wrote Cemetery Boys, I was like, “Yeah, let’s have it be all of me.” For me, I was like, “I’m writing this because I haven’t seen myself. So now I’m going to see myself.” And then other people can see themselves who are like me. I didn’t really think of it as, “Oh, this is going to be the first of that.” Until ARCs started going out, and then people were like, “Oh, the first one.” And I was like, “Oh no, I didn’t want that!” I was like, “Wait, no! It’s far too much stress. Too much pressure.” So that was challenging and terrifying.

But as far as parts of my identity goes, Anna-Marie McLemore, their books have absolutely spoken to me. I actually have a stack of them right next to me with all my other books. When the Moon Was Ours in particular, that one was the first time, was definitely the first time I’d ever seen a trans boy in a book, and that was really cool, and it was by a Latinx author, so that was the closest I’ve gotten to and it was life changing, of course. And that’s a pretty recent book. So it’s not like I was a teenager being like, “Oh, finally. Here I am.” I was like, “No, I’m a grown ass adult looking at this teenager in a book.” And I’m like, “Oh my God, finally!” It does feel important to have that answer, create that space for being like, “I haven’t seen myself fully.”

Did you always know this was a love story?

Oh, yeah. I guessed that as soon as I saw that prompt. And I was like, “But then what if you fell in love with the ghost and he was really cute?” So, yeah, it was definitely always a love story. That maybe even came before I figured out what the plot was. And Julian’s character has been a character that I’ve played with in short stories and stuff for 15 years. So that was very easy, coming up with the love interest. I was like, “I already know who he is.” I need to meet Yadriel, though.

Yeah, so that’s always interesting. Especially when it’s your main character. I feel like they’re the hardest to get into their heads and really understand who they are, because you’re not just thinking about what they’re projecting as in a love interest or secondary characters. You’re in their head. So it’s a lot more complicated.

Okay, well I want to talk about the book cover, because it’s amazing. Can you talk about the process of having it happen?

Yeah, totally. When it came time for figuring out the book covers, at that point, sorry I just did something weird. It was like shaking at me. For the cover, I think it was around where we started going to copy edits. They were like, “Oh, we’re going to kick you some artists.” And I was like, “Okay.” I was kind of stressed out about the cover, because I’ve heard so many horror stories from people being like, “Oh my God, it went so wrong. And I hate my cover.” And for Swoon Reads, typically the public gets to vote on the cover, so you really don’t have any say. But for Cemetery Boys, they decided that they weren’t going to do the cover voting, that they just wanted to create a cover and they were really cool about letting me be part of that process. And so the first thing that they did that surprised me was that they emailed me and they were like, “Hey Aiden, we’re moving towards working on the cover. Here’s some cover artists, can you tell us who you’d most like to work with?” And I was like, “Okay, cool.”

So even before I opened it, when I very first started drafting Cemetery Boys, I found Mars Lauderbaugh on Tumblr, and I followed them because I was obsessed with their fan art of Haikyuu and Voltron. And so I had actually commissioned them to do character art back when Cemetery Boys wasn’t even a thing. So I was emailing Mars, I was like, “Hello, I’m a writer, and can you draw my [original characters] for me?” And Mars was like, “Sure, yeah. Here you go.” And then it kind of progressed and I was like, “Hey, it’s getting turned into a book, could you do my character art for me?” And they were like, “Oh, yeah.” And then when I got this list of artists, the first thing that I noticed, which was so cool, was that Macmillan/Swoon had only picked artists who were artists of color and/or trans. And that was amazing and blew my mind. And then I saw that they had included Mars on the list because they had seen the character art, and so I was like, “Yes, yes! Please, Mars, Mars, Mars!” And then so they reached out to Mars, and Mars became my cover artist, and now all of my swag and stuff matches and it just blew my mind. There was three original versions of the cover, so I got to see what those looked like. And they picked my favorite one. Yeah, it was so cool.

And I was nerding out so bad. And being in publishing, I’m very much of the mind of as I’m entering this space, I’m trying to wedge open the door and sneak in as many other people as I can. So being able to take Mars, who is doing commissions for fan art, and being able to get them a book cover deal was really important to me. And that was definitely a highlight. I have the best cover ever. It could not be better.

So had they never done a book cover before?

No, they hadn’t.

Wow.

And they recently got an agent. It’s all very exciting.

Do you think there are other stories you’d like to tell in this world?

Definitely, yeah. When I come up with ideas and stuff, my brain just explodes and splinters out. So there’s definitely other stories that I would like to tell in this world. There’s a couple of side characters that I’m particularly attached to that I would like to explore more. I can’t say any spoilers, but I would definitely like to do a book focused on Julian even. Because, at the end of Cemetery Boys, he goes through some stuff, and it’d be really interesting to see what happens after that. So yeah, there’s always ideas. Definitely. For sure.

I think most of us are aware that a lot of things are hitting differently right now because the world’s different than it was six months ago. Do you think Cemetery Boys is going to hit differently in the world it’s coming into than the one that maybe you imagined it would be released into?

Yeah, that’s a really good question. Yeah, it’s been kind of strange. In terms of hitting different and what the market is being for, or even what readers would like, I think Cemetery Boys is definitely… It’s funny, because it deals with death and murder and stuff like that, but it’s also very lighthearted. And I would hope funny. So I’m hoping that even with all of this going on, I wrote Cemetery Boys to begin with to be a bit of empowering escapism for marginalized readers. Because even before all this, those readers have it so rough and deal with so much hate on a near constant basis. Now multiply, what, times 10, times 100. So what I am hoping is that now Cemetery Boys is even more important in terms of providing some escapism, some release. But also giving those marginalized readers a story where they see themselves as being incredibly powerful, supported, but very importantly, being loved. Even if isn’t necessarily by people who are supposed to be there for them all the time. So even if it’s not their family, found family is important, your friends are still important. So I really hope that Cemetery Boys will be able to provide some comfort, honestly. And I think now more than ever that’s especially important for young readers, for sure.

I’m curious how your writing is going right now during this strange and often upsetting time. Has that made you want to write more? Has it led to you writing less? Has it changed the kind of things you’re writing, or how you write?

Yeah, that’s a great question. I think when I’m on Tumblr, not Tumblr, oh now I’m just talking about Tumblr all the time! When I’m on Twitter I get a weird sense of guilt or like I’m not responding the way that everyone else is, because I feel like on Twitter a lot of authors like, “I can’t write anything. How could you possibly write anything right now?” And for me, I drafted a whole other book during quarantine, or finished drafting it anyways. And so I felt weird while I was doing that, because I was like, “Oh, am I not doing this correctly? Am I being an asshole or something?” Because I’m not being super impacted by everything that’s going on. That was kind of stressful, but I finished that draft and to preface, I work in tech. My company shut down, or switched to working from home in mid March, and we’re not opening up for several months as of yesterday. So I’ve been kind of sequestered. This is my entire apartment. I live in a studio. It’s 500 square feet.

Yeah, I’ve just been here. And once I finished drafting that book, I was like “Okay!” And then off it goes to my CPs. And it was like the next day where I realized that writing that book and having that focus had my energies. A lot of other stuff wasn’t getting through, because I was hyper focused. And then as soon as I sent it off and I didn’t have that project to work on, I had three days of just really bad anxiety. And I was like, “Why do I feel so terrible? Why do I feel like I’m stuck in my fight or flight response?” And then I realized, it’s because being so focused on that book was protecting me and distracting me. And then once that was gone, then I was being hit by all these feels that everyone else has been hit by. So that’s been wild. And then so I was like, “Okay, I can recognize that this is what’s happening.” So I started picking up other projects. So I was like, “Okay! Time to distract myself.” Yeah, totally. Right. So it’s definitely had an impact, but as far as impacting my writing, my writing has actually been helping me get through it.

And I’m a really intense outliner. For my project I just finished the rough draft of, the outline was over 100 pages. So having that really strict structure of being like, “This is what’s happening next.” It’s not turning my brain off, but it’s like I don’t have to get lost. I can follow this path, I can stay on track and be focused. So that’s actually helped me during all of this.

And what are you a fan of right now? Or what are you escaping into, if anything? Other than your work.

Animal Crossing has been a big one!

Popular one.

Yeah. Animal Crossing‘s been great. I’ve got a couple of ARCs that I need to read. So those are on the docket. Those are next to my bed right now. And I have been binging a lot of Netflix. I am on the third season of Hannibal and I just started it maybe a month ago and I’m obsessed.

So good.

So good!

Have you watched Killing Eve?

I have! Yeah, I’ve watched, I think maybe the first season. And I need to pick it back up. I just randomly fell off.

I’m also obsessed with Hill House on Netflix. I love it so much. But how my friend talked me into watching Hannibal is they were like, “It’s very similar to Hill House. They’re both really stunning and really creepy.” And I was like, “Oh, okay. Well, when you put it that way, I’ll try it.” And now I’m super obsessed with Hannibal.

Thank you so much for talking with me. This has been a lot of fun.

Yeah, this was super awesome!

I’m excited to finish the book. It’s already brought joy into my life, so thank you for writing it.

Oh, I’m so glad. Thank you!

Cemetery Boys will be out on September 1st, but is now available for pre-order (which are super important). You can find out more about the book here. And find out more about Aiden Thomas’ work here. If you’d like to hear more from Aiden Thomas’ about Cemetery Boys, I recommend this expansive, insightful interview with Adriana on YouTube channel Perpetual Pages.

The post Cemetery Boys: A Conversation with YA Author Aiden Thomas appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2DDIPlK

[notesfromaprovince]

My Afternoon With Beezer

In 1971 I am a recent college graduate with an impractical BA in anthropology. Reluctantly I realize it is time for me to stride out into the real world and seize the day, to be of use, fulfill my destiny and all the other clichés commencement speakers past and present roll out for the inattentive. I say reluctantly because I had just gotten the hang of surviving at the place and now I had to leave. After nearly starving to death as an undergraduate the thought of grad school was less than a distant option. I’d worked on the student newspaper, so newspaper work might hold some promise. One of my reporters, who amusingly referred to me as chief, though I’m not sure if he meant it in a Perry White/Jimmy Olsen jest or real affection, had family ties to the NY Daily News. I was sure I could tag along with him for a job. But I had gotten very tired of New York City where I had attended college. I had gone there mostly to escape my small hometown. Now I was thinking it might be better to return there, enjoy a Lake George summer, then seize the day and fulfill my destiny etc. In uncertain times my post-collegiate self stuck to the collegiate self’s belief that frolicking first always served to clear the mind prior to more important endeavors.

When I returned home, my old friend Jeff Van Wert, approached me with a marvelous proposition; would I join him tending bar at Charlie Burgie’s Cave in Hague? This was too good to be true. While every resort town in the northeast was fertile ground for the recently graduated and directionless, I was going to spend my summer at, to my knowledge, one of the best summer long parties in the Northeast. Not only that, but I would be officiating the festivities from behind the bar of party central. The Cave. There were other institutions like the Dock n’ Dine, the Indian Kettles, Spearman’s and the Burleigh House in Ticonderoga, but the party always started and began to wind down at the Cave. There was a status to this job.  I would follow in the footsteps of some of the local greats like Butch Gunning. You couldn’t make up a name like that for a champion high school football quarterback cum bartender, and his side kick Jimmy Frazier. These were legendary, rough and ready purveyors of the great Northern Lake George Party and I was asked and honored to be one of them. So this is where my post-graduate work would be done. I couldn’t start too soon. A true frolic first.

For the most part, it was as wonderful as I had imagined, from behind that bar old friendships where rekindled and new friendships were cultivated. Business was so good that after 9PM we were instructed to leave the till open so our sale of alcohol wouldn’t be slowed down by the actual ringing up of each sale. Charlie Burgie had a figure in mind on what constituted a good night and we never disappointed him. We were Charlie’s Boys and he trusted us. We ran a great party. For the most part we could spot fights well before they happened and move them out before they erupted. Each evening’s till was evidence of our proficiency. No fights meant more business and more money. While Butch and Jimmy had enjoyed the occasional scuffle, diving into the fray fists flying, most of our crew realized it was dangerous and costly. Charlie noticed and there wasn’t much we could do wrong.

We boys worked the evenings and some afternoons. Topsy, was the dayside bartender. How did she get her name? Well, she was tops. She was an older woman who had some mileage on her and there seemed to be little that surprised her about events in the bar. She ran a tight ship on the dayside and didn’t put up with much from her patrons. They knew if they got on her wrong side she could shut them off or worse, tell Charlie. Charlie was a big man with a reputation to match his size. By the time I worked for him he was an older man yet still feared.  At the shift change Charlie would join her for a scotch and soda. It was all part of the shift change ritual for the early evening crew. Topsy would remind us of what needed restocking and what we had missed the evening before. Charlie would listen quietly yet keeping an eye on us. We always apologized and vowed it wouldn’t happen again and Charlie would be pleased that his boys were attentive and polite. She took one day and an afternoon off each week. The afternoon off was to get her hair done. We all took turns covering for her and we met and learned about a completely different clientele on those days that she was absent.

Many of the names of those I served in the early afternoons and mornings when I opened up for Topsy I’ve forgotten.  Most of them were hard workingmen with a taste for alcohol and companionship. Others were vacationers looking for a respite from bickering and bored families on rainy days or urban dwellers hiding from the endless onslaught of rural scenery. You might say they suffered from bucolic colic. Hard to imagine but true. Having a smart-assed college kid behind the bar was a test of what those people could tolerate, but for both of us it was just for a day or an afternoon a week and we learned not to get in each other’s way, most of the time.

There were some who were pleasant and friendly like Billy May who had a slight speech impediment that became worse as he drank. I realized I had worked at the Cave too long when I was able to interpret to others Billy’s utterances when he was completely intoxicated. “What did he say?” He said if you couldn’t walk; drive and God help us all.

Then there where those who were interesting and witty like Petey Waters, the poet laureate of Hague. One evening he stayed past the afternoon/evening changeover of grizzled old timers to the young crowd. He was holding the pool table and though well past any point of sobriety, he continued to hold the table well into the evening. A young man challenged him; Peter retired to the bathroom and upon his return, picked up his pool queue and surveyed the table. His challenger’s girlfriend shouted to him, “Petey, your fly is down.” Peter slowly and carefully looked down at himself, looked up at the young lady with kindly eyes and said, “Don’t worry dear, what can’t get up, can’t get out.”

Finally there was Beezer Hall, a born half-wit schemer. What made Beezer tolerable was that he was witless. If he had any brains at all, he would have been almost dangerous and extremely unlikable. But being who he was, he could be just irritating at his worst. And if you didn’t have to do business with him, he could be down right amusing. Take for example his selling of raffle tickets in the bar for a pony. None of the people he approached with the ticket offer had any means to care for a pony, but if they won he would gladly keep it for them for a price. He didn’t have any takers and anyway it really wasn’t his pony. He had been caring for the animal for someone else and if it had worked out right, no one would have been the wiser.

Beezer had an old dump truck and picked up garbage mostly for the summer residents who had the means to pay him and didn’t particularly enjoy the weekly trip to the dump. While they missed the social and hunting opportunities that could arise from a weekly visit like that, they were able to avoid rubbing shoulders with whoever or whatever.  He made enough to get by and went on unemployment over the winter months because most year round residents’ their only contact with their neighbors and friends was at the dump. Who needed Beezer? One rainy afternoon Beezer complained to any one in the bar who would listen, that he might lose his sole source of income. Because of the nonexistence of any tread on his truck tires, legally he would not be able to operate it on public roads and therefore not be able to pick-up any one’s garbage. Beezer made his presentation with all the tragedy and foreboding he could muster. If you didn’t know Beezer for the schemer that he was, and you where facing the imminent conclusion of your trash removal service, you might be concerned. Especially if going to the dump was not a highlight of your vacation experience. One concerned summer resident, partially in the spirit of noblesse oblige but mostly out of self-interest, gave Beezer the money for a new set of tires. It was given on the condition that the donor receive free garbage pick-up for the rest of the year. Beezer gladly took the money with much gratitude. He left and went up to the dump and surprisingly found a passable free set of tires that afternoon. He had them mounted on his truck, passed inspection and to his credit had enough time to come back to the bar and buy a round of drinks before dinnertime. Unfortunately, Beezer didn’t notice that his benefactor was still in the bar. The man rolled his eyes, looked down the bar at Beezer and said, “That’s free pick up for life, right Beezer?”

The instance of Beezer picking up the tab for a round of drinks was notable because Beezer was a man who longed for and diligently sought out the free drink. For me he was at his most irritating when trying to get a free drink out of me. In most cases I would have bought back by the third or fourth drink anyway, but he needed to cheat me out of it. He needed to get the best of me. So he would put his money on the bar and order a small draft, then a shot of Imperial whiskey, then a bottle of Genesee beer, then maybe a draft mug, then a shot of Wilson’s whiskey a shelf down from the Imperial. Then I would watch him start counting his change. He’d look up and accuse me of short changing him. At first, assuming I had miscounted; I would buy back whatever he had last ordered. And at first he accepted that. But then he got bolder and would be looking for something better than just a draft or a well whisky on the premise that had I knowingly tried to cheat him. That’s when I started to pay attention because he never left a tip anyway. And when he’d challenge me, I’d go through all the transactions, one by one counting out all his change and he would nod his head, purse his witless lips and say, “guess you’re right. You gonna buy me back a drink anyway?”

“No!”

All this time Beezer sat at the bar with his hands spread out revealing letters crudely tattooed on his fingers. On a slow rainy afternoon with nothing better to do than to keep track of Beezer’s random and convoluted drink transactions, a young college educated bartender might become curious about what those letters signified. But if he was as tired as I was about Beezer’s shenanigans he might be too proud to ask and think he was smart enough to figure it out for himself. And so I spent most of a summer doing just that. At first I thought it must be RIGHT and LEFT because the man could be so witless. Or may be LOVE and HATE like the tattoos on Robert Mitchum’s fingers in The Night of the Hunter. But on close examination neither was the case. For the life of me, I could not figure out what those letters meant and the other bartenders either didn’t care or were like me and wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking.

Finally one cool afternoon in September when I realized that Beezer’s and my time together was growing shorter, I broke down and asked him. It was painful. Beezer looked up at me with what could almost be called a beatific smile as if to say, “What took you so long?” Thinking back I began to believe that he had been taunting me all along with those indecipherable digits. Sitting at the bar with both of his hands, heel down, the fingers slightly curled and placed on either side of his drink like pieces on a chess table. I took a deep breath and realized that this was not going to be pleasant and he began.

“Well, you know I was in WW two?”

“Yes, many times you’ve regaled me with your exploits as the great liberator of France.”

“Yup, and them Frenchys loved us. We where the great Lib-er-a-tors. Those Frenchy girls could not get enough of us.”  I looked at the old fool and tried to imagine how desperate or joyful a young French woman would have been to find him desirable. He continued, “You would go to them little cafes and sit real close at the little tables on the sidewalk playing kneesy kneesy under the table. You’d look into her eyes and then you join your hands together like this.”

I looked down at his hands, with his fingers intertwined, the letters spelled out LETSFUCK. It took a moment to digest the solution of this summer long mystery, I looked up at him and said, “But Beezer, it’s in English.”

“Goddamned college kid, think your so fuckin’ smart.” And he left the bar.

My summer was over and it was time to find something useful to do. I found a job as an apprentice proofreader in Worchester Massachusetts. I was a college graduate and I could read. I was qualified and at first I didn’t think it involved alcohol. See any typos?

[survevs]

28. questions you’re not used to

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? I sometimes wonder if I’m real, if this isn’t all a dream or something.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? 2.5

3. The person you would never want to meet? A serial killer.

4. What is your favorite word? Meraki.

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? I don’t know much about trees, but I guess a cedar, maybe?

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? I’m not sure, but I think I was glad it improved a lot if compared to last week.

7. What shirt are you wearing? A black tank top.

8. What do you label yourself as? Reserved, I guess?

9. Bright room or dark room? Bright.

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? Sleeping.

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? 18.

12. Who told you they loved you last? Mom :)

13. Your worst enemy? No enemies.

14. What is your current desktop picture? It’s a quote by Arthur Ashe: “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” I love it, it’s very inspiring and motivating.

15. Do you like someone? Not really. Not now.

16. The last song you listened to? I’m listening to Slow Down, by Mac Ayres right now.

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? I don’t think I’d like to explode anyone lol

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? I wouldn’t punch anyone either lmao

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? My brother. He’d have to make me food, and then wash the dishes.

20. What is your best physical attribute? I’m not sure. I guess I’m very coordinated.

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? I would like to be very tall (so I could see the world from a different perspective), and have short hair. I'd test my new body part... like, I’d go to the bathroom, and I’d run to see if it wiggles as much as I believe it does lmao

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? I sing (not saying I’m great at it, I’m just fine I guess).

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? Regret.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. Nutella.

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? I’ll save it to live abroad in the future.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? South Korea. I was going to say England, but the plane tickets to SK are way more expensive.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? Caipirinha. It’s a Brazilian drink, but I prefer to make it myself, so I guess I’d like to have limitless Absolut vodkas so I could make caipirinhas whenever I wanted without spending money on the alcohol, only on the other ingredients (lemons, strawberries, ice, sugar, etc.).

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? People should treat others with respect, and no one is better than anyone.

29. What is your favorite expletive? The f word.

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? I’ve thought about this a lot actually lol I think I’d save my laptop. My entire life is in it basically, both professional and personal related stuff.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? I don’t think I would erase anything. I mean, things happen for a reason, and they always help you grow as a person. If I were to delete something from my past, I would be erasing a part of me. I would probably become a different person. And I don’t want that.

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! That’s the dream, man, that’s the dream lol there’s so much stuff I’d like to do... but I don’t think I would ever travel in time, that would drive me crazy.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? Thank God, I’ve never lost anyone in my family, so I guess I would bring back my dog, Boogie.

34. What was your last dream about? I can’t really remember it, but I know it wasn’t very pleasant.

35. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? Not really.

36. Have you ever built a snowman? No :( I’ve never seen snow in my life. Only fake snow at a park.

37. What is the color of your socks? Not wearing socks.

38. What type of music do you like? I’ve been really into lofi hip hop these days, but I love indie, r&b, jazz and rock in general. And of course I have my pop jams.

39. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? Sunsets.

40. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Chocolate or Ovomaltine.

41. What soccer team do you support? Grêmio :)

42. Do you have any scars? Yes, one on my chin, and another one on my knee.

43. What do you want to be when you graduate? I wanna go to Grad School abroad after I finish Undergrad.

44. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? I’d have thinner legs lol

45. Are you reliable? Yes.

46. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? Are you happy?

47. Do you hold grudges? Not really. I’m a very forgiving person, to be honest.

48. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? I’d mix an elephant with a dog, so we’d have a tiny elephant who acts like a puppy.

49. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? I went to this club a while ago with some friends, and I really wasn’t in the mood, so I was like in the corner with my drink watching people and hoping we were going home soon. And then my drunk friend started talking to a group of people, and in this group there was this girl in the same situation as me so out of nowhere we were talking and laughing at our life problems. But we never saw each other again after that night, which is a shame, because I think we could’ve been really good friends.

50. Are you a good liar? No lol

51. How long could you go without talking? Not too long I think.

52. What has been you worst haircut/style? I decided to cut my own hair at home last year, and damn. I looked like a frizzy version of Chucky the doll.

53. Have you ever baked your own cake? Yes. I used to bake chocolate cakes all the time, but now I’m trying to control myself.

54. Can you do any accents other than your own? Lol so many. Both in English and in Portuguese.

55. What do you like on your toast? Cheese and ham.

56. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? I can’t remember, to be honest.

57. What would be you dream car? I don’t really think much about cars.

58. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. I make a whole tour in the shower, including singing, dancing, rapping and talking to my fans.

59. Do you believe in aliens? Why not?

60. Do you often read your horoscope? Not really.

61. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? K :)

62. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? Dinosaurs.

63. What do you think about babies? They give me hope on humanity.