#but how am i supposed to get casper tattooed on me

[elfboyeros]

Faithed Encounter

Here is the rewrite of how Indigo and Calvin met, and the start of rewriting Shelter. Enjoy!Art in this chapter  by @jj-pines/ @pinetreejam

Indigo and Calvin's first official meeting; 7 years before Rowan's Enrollment

Calvin either join Bridgehid College at the best time or the worst time. He may be an extrovert but being in a new place with those he has never met, makes him feel overwhelmed. He’s only supposed to be the blacksmith, making all the mages and alchemists associated with the college weapons and equipment, and maybe the resident healer. He didn’t think he would get invited to a grand social event, but here we are, Sir Calvin Bookstone being accosted by a sea of “possible suitors,” attempting to be the next person in his bed, which did not please the handsome healer/blacksmith. He’s not fond of hearing the same lines over and over again, along with the touching, he is happy for his cloak now.

“Thank Diancecht,” he huffed, holding on to the balcony railing, “maybe I should have married Diem, then I wouldn’t get hit on so much.”

“Merde, il y a trop de gens,” a silk France voice sighed.

“Right,” Calvin chuckled, “I don’t know so many people were a part of this university.”

He looked over to the opening of the balcony, which made his brain stop. The woman he was greeted with was tiny, pale, and inhuman. Pointed ears, pixie cut hair color light turquoise, with two long pieces in the front that framed her face, one of those pieces (the right one), was a lavender color. Her eyes are this beautiful dark blue color and held a soft glow in the dark of night. She wore a pink and white ombre, long, off-the-shoulder dress. She looked so elegant yet is in something so simple.

“I am surprised someone else knows French,” she chuckled with a smile.

“Mhm, I like learning new languages,” Calvin replied, as she approached him, he could see her many tattoos and scars that were on her shoulders and upper chest.

“You are the new magic and alchemy blacksmith, non?”

“Yeah, I am also that new healer it seems, Calvin Bookstone.”

“Surprised we have not seen each other yet; I am the new magical law and ethics professor, Indigo Corals.”

Calvin took her small hand and kissed her knuckles, “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she sighed with a smile.

She’s ethereal as if she is a goddess, he’s being drawn to her. He seems different than all the other women that he has encountered this evening, “What has you out here other than the people,” Indigo asked, beginning to approach the stairs of the balcony leading to the gardens below, he can see angel wing tattoo, on her back, poking out of the top of her dress.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed,” Calvin answered, having this feeling to follow her.

“Introverted?”

“I don’t believe so,” He replied, “I think it is the amount of people I don’t know.”

“Mhm,” Indigo hummed, walking along the dark cobblestone path with her hands behind her back, “so if you knew more people you would be in your element?”

“Yes.”

“Have you even introduced yourself to anyone,” she asked, turning to look at him as he walked behind her.

She smirked as his tan face became flushed, “one person.”

“One person,” Indigo laughed

“Well, two people,” Calvin replied, “I met one of the alchemy professors tonight and his husband, thank you very much!”

“Sloan and Casper,” Indigo chuckled, “I have known Sloan for ages, we were in classes together when we were scholars here.”

“He seems a bit older then I am,” he remarked.

“Calling me old,” she asked with a smirk.

“No, no, no,” Calvin gasped, “I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Calm down, big boy,” she chuckled, “I am just a young study. Sloan is 5 years older than I am.”

“Mhm,” Calvin hummed.

“And if I can remember what admiration said, you are 2 years older than I am.”

“So, you are a young professor, who has studied here, and you are close with the admiration,” Calvin observed, “you are a very interesting one, Ms. Corals.”

She approached the gazebo in the middle of the garden, she looked so goddess-like and made Calvin shiver, “I try,” she chuckled, as she walked to stand on the white wood of the gazebo, “your quiet interesting yourself.”

“How so?”

"Well," Indigo sighed, as she began to stroll around the gazebo, running her hands along the railing as Calvin seemed to follow her but on the outside of the gazebo, "you come from a nuclear family, mother, father, big sister, and little brother. You seemed to travel to Marquis island on a whim, all the way from Luxembourg -ha, that's why you know French. You were a nurse on the mainland and were on track to be a doctor. You seemed to have everything before relocating here, you even have a fiancé whose name is Die-"

"Had a fiancé," Calvin interrupted, "Diem and I are not together anymore, much to my mother's dismay."

"Can I ask why," Indigo prodded, "was it misunderstanding, falling out of love, or something worse?"

"She..." he paused for a moment, although Indigo seemed intrigued and concerned, "she cheated on me," he let out a laugh, "among other things."

"I'm so sorry..."“What makes it worse is that everyone around me knew, my mother, my sister, her parents, our friends, and no one told me,” he sighed.

“Will this Diem is very foolish,” Indigo remarked, crossing her arms atop the railing and resting her chin on them, “to let someone like you go. If I had you, I wouldn’t let you go.”

Now that has piqued Calvin’s interest, “if you had me?”

Indigo nodded and she stood straight, “Anyone would be lucky to have as a partner. You are the type of person that is kind, loving, gentleman-like, and a bit protective, just based on what I know,” she explained, descending the gazebo steps, “that’s not a partner I would like to let go.”

“You sound like the people inside,” Calvin remarked, becoming slightly annoyed.

“Well, I didn’t say all that just to bed you,” Indigo replied, standing in front of him, with her side to him, “I say all that because it’s true.”

Calvin raised an eyebrow, she looks like she is challenging him with her narrow eyes and crossed arms, which has a part of him intrigued, “If I wanted to have sex with you, I wouldn’t be only stroking your ego. I am not that type of woman.”

“What would you do if you were trying to bed me?”

Indigo smirked, stepping incredibly close to him, “I would make sure I had you consent and then possibly make it happen, or maybe tease you until you get the hint and make the move yourself.”

“And how would you make it happen,” he asked, she is continuing to intrigue him.

“Is that you giving consent, or you simply asking,” she questioned.

“Both.”

The young mage hummed, slipping under his cape, and running her soft hand slowly up his arm, “how much muscle does one need to be a blacksmith,” she asked innocently.

Her single touch is almost too much, “It’s not about muscle it is about skill,” he said, surprised that he didn’t struggle or stutter.

“So they are for show,” Indigo asked, her other hand running up his other arm.

“Mostly to pick up little ladies like you.”

She chuckled, and he’s falling apart, “mhm, I’ll allow you to call my little if I am allowed to kiss you.”

“Is this a part of making it happen?”

“It can be, or maybe I just want to kiss you.”

“Yes,” he sighed.

It was intended to be short, a simple small kiss. Something that would leave him wanting more, but Calvin isn’t about to let her go now. It’s shocking how a man that isn’t too keen on starting another relationship is now being enthralled by this tiny, inhuman, mage woman. She’s cold as he wraps his arms around her, simply from the winter air, but he pulls her in closer and holds her tighter as if he is trying to protect her from something.

When she pulls away from him, his internally disappointed, but ever the gentleman he lets go, still keeping his hands on her waist, “I…I’m,” Indigo chuckled, hands planted on his chest, “I’m sorry.”

“why are you apologizing,” Calvin laughed.

“Because I want to do this properly,” she sighed, “date and all.”

“Is that a part of making it happen?”

She laughed as his hands leave her waist and go for the strings on his cloak, “not always.”

“Oh, so I’m special,” he remarked with a smirk, draping the black and pink cloak over her shoulders.

“Most definitely.”

“I look forward to it.”

They smile at one another, before heading back up to the balcony, “when can I expect to be wooed properly,” Calvin asked.

“If I told you that then it wouldn’t be as fun would it now,” Indigo answered, “I know all the places you stay, I’ll be able to find you, and return your cloak.”

He grabbed her hand before intertwining their fingers “I am not worried about the cloak,” leaning down to be level with her ear, “but if that’s the reason I see you again,” he whispered, kissing her cheek, “until then.”

With that he left her, spotting Sloan and Casper and beginning to talk with them, while Indigo went back to her parents and aunt, “where did you get this,” her candy red-haired aunt asked, taking a break from watching her brother and sister-in-law dance together, “I didn’t make this.”

“Non, you didn’t, Antoinette,” Indigo replied, “the new healer gave to me.”

Indigo pointed slightly towards the mixed man, holding a bright smile and light pink eyes, talking to Sloan, talking with his hands and more so his body during the conversation, his long black curls moving ever so slightly as his body shifted. He’s dressed in all black with his chest exposed because of his shirt’s crisscross pattern in the front. He’s muscular and looks intimidating almost, looks nothing like the healers Indigo has known, “thought he had a fiancé,” Antoinette remarked.

“He doesn’t not anymore,” Indigo simply replied, “and she is not very intelligent to let him go.”

“Oh,” Antoinette looked over at her cherished niece was holding a smirk still staring at the blacksmith-healer, “you have the same look that your father had when he saw Amethea from the first time. You’ve already claimed him haven’t you.”

“Not necessarily, Cuchulainn is just being kind to me,” the mage replied.

Antoinette chuckled, “just like your father.”

“I guess we both just know what we want.”

“And what is that?”

“Will it’s more then a want it’s something that will happen.”

“Again, which is?”

“I will marry that man!”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 9: Now I Love Your Shadow And I Love Your Curls]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Til I Die” by Parsonsfield. 

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sex, violence, and drug use.

Word Count: 7.6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @maggieroseevans​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @escabell​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee​ @deacyblues​ @tensecondvacation​ @brianssixpence​ @some-major-ishues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @youngpastafanmug​ @simonedk​

Field Trip

“You want to go to Chicago with me?”                

I coughed, having almost inhaled a chunk of pineapple off my slice of GrubHubbed pizza. We were sitting on the grass outside Forks And Spoons under the shade of the maple trees, which were turning from jade to ruby to amber to fool’s gold, rejoining the earth they once rose from one fallen leaf at a time. It hadn’t rained in almost four days—was that some kind of record?!—and the leaves littering the ground crunched when I stepped on them, which I did purposefully and often. The breeze was soft and whispery and temperate. I could get used to this whole having actual seasons thing. “What, in like a hypothetical, at some point in my life kind of way?”

Joe smiled. His U Chicago hoodie of the day was black. “No, as in this weekend.”

“Really?”

“The Cubs have a game on Saturday, and it’s supposed to be rainy and overcast the whole time, and I just thought...” He shrugged, toying with a piece of pizza crust before tossing it to the squirrels. He’s nervous, I realized. How the hell do I have the ability to make the sexy undead Italian man nervous? “It might be nice for us to be able to get away for a few days. Away from my family. Away from Charlie. Not that I don’t appreciate the ambient noise of his snoring from the living room couch, it’s super endearing, I seriously consider dating him instead of you at least twice a week.”

“Go for it. Charlie could use a rich husband. His pension is pathetic.”

“You wouldn’t miss me?”

“I am not necessarily opposed to clandestinely seducing my sugar daddy stepdad should the occasion arise.”

Joe crossed himself like a nun passing tattooed, cursing, lip-pierced teenagers on the sidewalk. “Lord, protect me from this harlot.”

A weekend away. No Charlie, no constant and chaotic whirlwind of Lees, no Ben. I hadn’t spoken to Ben since our misadventure in the Lee kitchen; if he wasn’t avoiding me of his own volition, he was following orders to stay away. Joe claimed that they’d talked it out. I wasn’t sure if I believed him. “I accept your invitation. Although, truthfully, I’d rather get hit by a bus than watch an entire real-life, no-commercial-breaks baseball game.”

“I accept your acceptance. And I’ll throw in a visit to the Shedd Aquarium, just for you. They have baby sea otters.”

“Sweet.” I checked my iPhone. “I’m gonna be late for Chemistry.”

“Anything fun planned?”

“We’re doing a lab involving hydrochloric acid. I’m highly concerned that Ben will accidentally spill some on himself. The miraculous instantaneous healing thing might raise a few questions.”

“Hm,” Joe replied. But he wasn’t looking at me; he was looking at my bandaged hand. And he wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Joe, I’m fine.”

“Yeah.” He took a preoccupied swig of his Dr. Pepper. Solemnity never seemed right on him; it was like he was wearing somebody else’s skin. “You’ve mentioned that.”

“Hey. Mob guy.”

Now his eyes flicked to mine.                              

“No more sad spaghetti.”

“Okay.” He surrendered, took my face in his hands, gave me a kiss on each cheek and then one quick parting peck on the forehead. “You win. I’m not sad. I’m ecstatic, actually. I’m gonna be eating my weight in hotdogs and mustard-slathered pretzels on Saturday. What’s there not to be ecstatic about?”

“The fact that your license says you’re only twenty and consequently can’t get a beer?”

Joe blinked, remembering. “Fuck.”

I drained my Diet Coke, flung my pizza crust to the skittering grey squirrels—no eerie albino forest friends today—and pulled on my backpack. “See ya. Have an awesome time in Game Theory.”

“Thanks, I probably won’t!” he chimed, waving, grinning compliantly; and yet did I still sense some lingering menace of disquiet, of fear? I suspected I did. Chicago would cure everything.

Ben tensed when I walked into Professor Belvin’s classroom, ran his fingers through his unruly blond hair, peered fixedly down at his notebook and feigned obliviousness. There was already a metal tray of Erlenmeyer flasks, labeled bottles of solutions, burettes, goggles, gloves, and an unassembled ring stand crowding our small table by the open window. Autumn air poured in like seawater through cracks in the hull of a ship.

“Guess who’s gonna see the Cubs play up close and personal this Saturday?” I announced.

He pretended to have just noticed me. “...You...? But that doesn’t sound like you.”

“It was Joe’s idea. I’m acting like I’m not totally thrilled and freaking out about it, but I am. Don’t tell him.”

Now Ben was the one staring at my bandaged hand. His green eyes were large and unfocused.

“I’m fine,” I insisted.  

“Sure,” Ben returned noncommittally.

I started skimming through the packet of lab instructions and setting up our titration experiment as Professor Belvin circulated through the classroom, observing, commenting, offering suggestions and critiques. My wounded hand—still sore in the lull between Advil doses and relatively useless—was quite the embarrassing hinderance; I fumbled with a large glass flask and almost dropped it.

Ben shook his head and reached out to stop me. “Here, oh my god, this is so pitiful, sit down. Please sit down. I’ll set it up. It’s the least I can do.”

“Thanks.” I peeked at his notebook. “Your handwriting is atrocious. Haven’t you had like a century to work on that?”

“Penmanship was never at the top of my to-do list, tragically.”

“What language is that, anyway?” The phrases scrawled in black ink in Ben’s notebook definitely weren’t English. Or Italian. “Elvish? Are you a lowkey Lord Of The Rings fan? Magic and self-sacrifice and nearly insurmountable evil, I could see that being your thing.”

He smirked, struggling with the ring stand. “It’s Welsh.”

“Welsh,” I repeated, perplexed. “Welsh...like how Gwil is Welsh?”

“Precisely.”

Professor Belvin checked in on us, nodded in approval, reminded me that I was always welcome to stop by at bowling league activities, and resumed his wandering.

“Gwil still speaks it,” Ben continued. “The rest of them speak it too. At least enough for basic communication.”

“I didn’t know,” I said, fascinated, examining the long, unfamiliar words riddled with Ls and Ws and Cs. “But that must be very useful.”

“It is. Welsh is nearly a dead language at this point. It’s like talking in code. I always refused to learn it on principle...or maybe I was just being difficult. I would study other languages, Arabic, Japanese...but not Welsh. That was always Gwil’s language. Their language. It was a Lee thing. But now...”

“Now you’re sort of a Lee too,” I finished for him, smiling.

“Whatever,” Ben said, hiding behind his bangs.

I watched him as he at last tamed the ring stand, secured the burette, placed the Erlenmeyer flask. Then he began reading the labels on the solution bottles. “Guess what else.”

“What, Baby Swan?”

I grinned, showing off my unremarkable, entirely benign human teeth. “I’ll bring you back your very own U Chicago hoodie.”

That night, after a pleasantly prosaic dinner with Charlie—burgers, one veggie and one of the conventional variety, and milkshakes at Danny’s Diner—I started packing a small, Arizona-sky-blue suitcase as sparse raindrops pattered against the roof and moonlight streamed in through the open window. Then I ticked off my mental inventory.

“Jeans, sweaters, pajamas, socks...”

I pawed through the top drawer of my old, scratched dresser—the same one that had once upon a time been Renee’s—and contemplated the bra and panty options. Would my theme be comfort and practicality, or feral impenitent seductress? Friday and Saturday in Chicago would be our first nights alone together. That had to be significant, right? After some deliberation, I gathered a handful of lacy, transparent, and/or exceptionally skimpy lingerie from Victoria’s Secret that Jessica had more or less forced upon me during a shopping trip in Port Angeles last month. As I dropped them into the open suitcase, I glanced up to see the albino owl outside my open bedroom window.

���You never know,” I told the owl, shrugging.

It leered judgmentally back at me with those gory red eyes.

“Oh shut up. How many eggs have you laid in your lifetime, Casper The Unfriendly Ghost? Probably like a bazillion. Freaking feathery trollop.”

The owl had nothing to offer in its own defense.

“Why don’t you ever come around when Joe’s here? I’m sure he’d love to meet you. He’s pale and weird too. Although I like his eyes a little better than yours. No offense, Snowflake.”

The owl blinked, tilted its gaze at me, ruffled its feathers and sent the raindrops that had gathered there flying in every direction.

I slid my iPhone out of my back pocket, spun around, and snapped a quick selfie with the owl in the background. “Say cheese, Marshmallow!”

The owl immediately unfurled its wings and flapped off into the trees, vanishing.

“Huh. I guess homegirl is camera shy.” I texted my selfie to Archer, typing out with my thumbs: I am the Steve Irwin of Forks. Behold, one of my many forest friends.

Archer replied a few minutes later: WOW! Pasty and mildly disturbing. Exactly your type. :)

“Yours too, apparently,” I murmured, smiling in my empty room.

I went to my full-length mirror with the plastic, teal-colored border, briefly appraised my reflection, felt a dull swell of approval for what I saw there. The version of myself that had once been so consumed by fears of inadequacy seemed impossibly far away, maybe even fictitious, a dream so vivid I could mistake it for truth. Three things were taped across the top of the mirror: Joe’s Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!! post-it, his Official Whatever You Want Pass, and a photo of us dressed up together and standing in front of the limo in the Lees’ driveway just before the Calawah University Homecoming dance. I peeled off the Official Whatever You Want Pass, carefully folded it into a neat little square, and tucked it into my wallet.

When the rain began to pour and thunder rolled in off the Pacific Ocean, I closed my bedroom window; but I remembered to leave it unlocked for Joe.

Departure

“Got your license?”

“Yes, Dad,” Joe sighed.

“Got your airport snacks?”

Joe held up the gallon-sized Ziploc bag filled with pumpkin and white chocolate chip cookies. “We’re ready to rock.”

“Call me when you get there safe,” Mercy fretted, hugging me and then Joe. “And Joseph, sweetheart, you make sure you keep an eye on her. She’s never been to Chicago before, it’s a big city, and O’Hare is an absolute nightmare, it’s so easy to get lost...”

“I don’t think he needs any reminders, love.” Dr. Lee laid a hand on her shoulder, stroked his neatly-trimmed beard with the other, watched us with a vague and wistful smile.

Mercy went back to trimming the flowers she had spread out across the kitchen countertop, white calla lilies that she threaded one by one into a translucent sapphire blue vase. “Now don’t forget to say goodbye to your brother. He’s out back feeding the new ducks. And I expect these ones to stick around for a while, thank you very much.”

“Mom, I don’t need to say goodbye to Rami. I’ll just think it. Really loudly.” Joe rubbed his temples with his fingertips and squeezed his eyes shut. “Peace out, you nosy bastard.”

“Joseph,” Mercy pleaded.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go say goodbye. Don’t get all aggressive. Don’t take it out on the flowers.” Aggressive...what a joke. I doubted that Mercy Eleanor Lee, formerly Martin, had a single aggressive bone in her immortal body; not even the infinitesimal stapes of her inner ears or the sesamoids of her feet.

“They’re calla lilies,” she replied dreamily, tending them like children. “And they symbolize love, and beauty, and fidelity...”

My nostrils itched and burned faintly in dissent. “I think I’m allergic to them.”

“You’re allergic to fidelity?” Joe asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s it, now you’re definitely not getting my reclaimed virginity. No ma’am. I am not hit-it-and-quit-it material.”

“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Mercy murmured.

“I’m going,” Joe said, showing his palms in capitulation and disappearing out the back door. I dragged my suitcase to the front one, politely declining Mercy and Gwil’s offers to help.

Lucy—her bleached hair in a high half-ponytail and wearing polka-dotted black tights, combat boots, a plaid miniskirt, and an extremely Octoberish orange sweater—was sitting cross-legged on the roof of Gwil’s Volvo. God, he’s such a dad. “Have a nice time,” she chirped artfully.

I opened the hatch of Joe’s Subaru and threw my suitcase inside. “Why do you sound like you already know I will?”

“I might have some relevant clairvoyant insight.”

“No way.” I stared up at her, stunned, my hands on my waist. “But you can’t see me, right...?”

“True. But this vision wasn’t of you. It was of Joe. You just happened to be there.”

Interesting. Very interesting. “And what transpired in this vision?” A night full of hot, steamy, blissful vampire sex? A girl could dream.

Lucy closed her eyes, recalling it fondly, maybe even cherishing it. “You were sitting in the stands of a professional baseball game. I could hear the crowd roaring, the umpire’s trumpeting interruptions. Blue and white...everyone was wearing blue and white. And you were there together—Joe a vampire, you human, side by side, almost entwined—shouting to each other over the thunderous noise and laughing and pushing nuggets of soft pretzels into each other’s mouths. So happy. I’d never seen Joe so happy.” Her striking pale eyes came open. “And he’s someone who’s already rather prone to happiness, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“I have,” I agreed.

“He’s never been serious about anybody else. I hope you know that.”

“I know that’s what he tells me.”

“It’s the truth,” Lucy insisted. “I would know if it wasn’t. Rami would know, Ben would know. Joe...he’s kind of the opposite of you. He’s always been the easiest to read. He’s the one Rami hears most loudly, the one who shows up most often in my visions. He’s clear, you know? Uncomplicated. Authentic. And what you mean to him...it’s something everybody sees. It’s a contagious sort of lightness, of joy. So thank you for that.”

And if whatever mysterious genetic switch that renders me immune to your talents wasn’t flipped, I’m pretty sure I’d look the same way. “I should definitely be thanking you,” I said. “You guys have a pretty cool existence going on here. And I’m so grateful to be invited into it.” For however long this lasts, anyway.

“None of us really invited you,” Lucy demurred. “We just let it happen.”

“So everyone knew I was coming? Because you saw it?”

“Everyone but Joe.”

“You never told him?”

“No. Not even now.” Lucy turned sharply towards the trees, as if she heard something in the soaring western hemlocks that swayed drunkenly in the wind. After a moment, she continued. “I’m not sure if I can even explain why. It wasn’t that I feared changing the timeline or something...my visions always come true regardless. Always. But I guess...” She tugged on her short half-ponytail, pondering. “I guess I didn’t want to cloud any of his decision-making, any of his emotions with the specter of the inevitable. I wanted whatever he felt for you to be completely organic. And it is.”

I considered her. “You are extremely thoughtful for someone who spends as much time shopping as you do.”

Lucy laughed in a high-pitched, almost juvenile trill, netting her fingers beneath her chin, her elbows resting on her bent knees. “I do like to shop. I didn’t always though.” She peered off into the trees again, this time pensively. “Did Joe tell you anything about my life before Gwil saved me?”

“Aside from the copious hippie jokes, not really.”

She nodded, her eyes far-away and still lost in the forest. “Gwil and Mercy are inordinately wonderful people. My biological father and mother, unfortunately, were not. And maybe they couldn’t help it, because from what I understand their parents were monsters too. I don’t think of them very often now, not even to resent them. But when I was alive I burned with it, with all that hatred, with all that bitterness. Every bruise was another log on the fire. Every screaming match or hurled plate was a splash of gasoline. So I ran away and found what I fancied to be a new family, and I lived on basement couches and out of vans and in abandoned buildings, and I explored increasingly inventive ways of putting that fire out.”

The October breeze cascaded through the trees, carrying echoes of birdsong and disembodied distant voices and the scent of pine. It reminded me of Joe.

“Chemically speaking,” Lucy said, “that first hit of heroin, that first high...it’s the best you’ll ever feel in your entire life. Nothing else will ever compare. Not skydiving, not backpacking through Southeast Asia on some Pulitzer-prize-winning journey of self-discovery, not winning the lottery, not the births of your children, not falling in love. And once you accept that, what’s the point in stopping? Everything you ever experience will live in the shadow of that needle. You’re twenty-five and you’ve already seen the endgame. You’re born, you suffer, you catch a glimpse of paradise, you pay bills and push shopping carts down the aisles of grocery stores and insipidly smile your way through your husband’s work parties until you die. What’s the fucking point? So I didn’t stop shooting heroin. And the whole time, I knew it was killing me. That’s what they don’t tell kids when they force them to make those idiotic classroom promises to never do drugs. You know it’s killing you, but you don’t care. Because it feels so goddamn good. Because it becomes the only sliver of your existence that doesn’t cut like glass beneath your skin. Sometimes you love things so much you let them kill you, isn’t that ridiculous?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer her; still, I heard my own voice: “Yes, it is.”

“It took dying for me to see that life is worth living. That there’s magic in the mundane and the frivolous. And that there’s beauty everywhere if you bother to look for it.” Lucy uncrossed her trim legs, leapt gracefully off the Volvo, and—with definite but not unkind scrutiny—pulled at the collar of my thrift shop sweater. “Even in your very, very, very misguided fashion preferences.”

The front door of the Lee house swung open, and Joe jogged out, carrying his suitcase. Gwil, Mercy, Scarlett, Rami, and Ben appeared on the porch to wave us off.

“What’d you do?!” Joe demanded, pointing at Lucy.

“Nothing,” she quipped.

“You guys gotta stop doing this!” Joe exclaimed. “You know what you’re doing, you know exactly what you’re doing, you gotta stop cornering people and forcing them to listen to your creepy tragic backstories! Nobody freaking asked!”

Lucy chuckled patiently and stood on her tiptoes to hug him goodbye. “Have fun.”

“You know it.” Joe tossed his suitcase into the Subaru and opened the driver’s door. “Ready, Baby Swan?”

“Almost.”

I walked to the wrap-around porch, climbed the steps, held my hand out to Ben. My stitches had almost completely dissolved over the past week, and the clunky impediment of bandages was no more. Joe crossed his arms and watched from beside the Subaru with an uneasy frown, but he didn’t try to stop me. He nodded to Rami, so subtly I almost didn’t notice. Rami nodded back.

“I will miss your melodramatic brooding immensely,” I told Ben. “Please do some fun family stuff while we’re gone. I’ll see you soon. Dan eich bendith.”

“Dan eich bendith,” he replied, taken aback. And then, after a moment’s hesitation, he ignored my outstretched hand and embraced me, his grasp so strong and yet so careful. His scent like crisp leaves and salted caramel and autumn sieved into a bottle unfolded in my lungs like an opened book.

“I Googled that especially for you,” I whispered. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m in awe.” His words were characteristically sardonic, but I heard warmth in them as well. When Ben pulled away, I saw that everyone else was smiling. Mercy had tears in her eyes.

I retreated back down the porch steps and met Joe by the Subaru. “Okay, mob guy. I’m good.”

He slid on his sunglasses, shook his head, flashed a proud and toothy grin. “You definitely are.”

All the way down Route 101 to the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, we listened to Joe’s classic rock mixtapes and my NOAA Ocean Podcast episodes, reviewed the weekend itinerary, ran through the bare essentials for me to understand an MLB game (“Which I am totally not excited about whatsoever,” I informed Joe, who knew enough not to believe me).

When the Boeing 747 ascended above the clouds and unimpeded sunlight poured in from the other passengers’ windows, Joe put on a black sleeping mask over his sunglasses and reclined his seat, tried to nap, passed the time until he would be safe beneath the curtains of the sky again.

Somewhere over the Dakotas, as I leafed through a book about the Great Barrier Reef for my Marine Botany class, Joe’s hand bumped mine. “Hey,” he said drowsily, seriously; and I braced myself for some emotional declaration, some dire warning, some grave realization of the futility of what we agreed—almost always wordlessly, and yet unfailingly—was love.

“Yeah?”

“It’s an emergency.”

“Uh oh,” I replied, smiling now.

“Flag down the flight attendant and get some more of those honey roasted peanut packets,” Joe said. “I’m starving myself back to death over here.”

The Windy City

The bat cracked deafeningly against the baseball pitched at nearly a hundred miles per hour. It was a home run. The crowd erupted into mindless, primal shrieks of conquest; and when Joe jumped to his feet, clapping and cheering and nearly spilling his blue-and-white bucket of popcorn, I found that I did as well. I screamed for the team of a city I’d never lived in, sank back into my seat beside Joe, nestled against his chest as his right arm closed around my waist and hauled me in closer, as his left hand teased me with a soft pretzel nugget hovering just out of reach. And in that moment, I felt like Lucy, snatching Polaroids out of the space-time continuum of the present and the future and the past. There was where Joe and I were right now, of course; the day we had met each other in the nonfiction section of the Calawah University library; the dance floor at Homecoming; the first night he snuck soundlessly into my bedroom window; all those years we still had left to spend together. Not forever, but perhaps long enough.

“I like this baseball thing,” I told him over the roar of the crowd, twirling my fingers around the curling locks of dark hair that stuck out from under his Cubs cap. Or maybe I just like you.

“Whew, thank god.” Joe wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in mock relief. “Now I don’t have to break up with you.”

After the game—a 5-3 Cubs victory, close enough to keep the spectators’ blood pumping throughout—we boarded the L, held onto the metal railings as the packed train car bumped and swerved along, and disembarked in Little Italy. Historic brownstones were interrupted by a freckling of pizzerias, Italian ice stands, and sports bars spilling out shouts of triumph and despair. We were staying in the Four Seasons with a view of Lake Michigan; but we had an hour of daylight—albeit chilled, dreary, and forever threatening rain—left in our Saturday. Tomorrow would be the aquarium, and then dinner before catching our flight back to Seattle, back to the greenery and fog and eternal dampness that I was beginning to think of as my home. Had I really only left Phoenix two months ago? Had I ever really lived there at all?

“So,” Joe said as we walked under shedding green ash and black cherry trees, his arm draped across my shoulders. “Guess what the University of Chicago has. In addition to a killer Economics PhD program, which yours truly will be graduating from in approximately 2027, astonishingly aged not a single day. Maybe he’s born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.”

“Hideous sweatshirts?” I guessed.

“One of the best Marine Biology departments in the world. And the affiliated Marine Biological Laboratory up in Massachusetts, where they send their PhDs to do research.”

“Wait, seriously?” I stopped abruptly, the heels of my boots squealing against the sidewalk. “You mean...for me?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, for my other girlfriend who is also inexplicably super obsessed with the ocean. I clearly have a type.”

“You want me...to come to Chicago...with you...after graduation? For like...a five to seven year commitment?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, that just sounds...serious.”

“Huh. What do you know. I guess we’re serious after all.” He took my hand and pulled me gently forward, leading me down West Taylor Street. He seemed to have a destination in mind.

“How is this going to work for you, anyway?” I asked, beaming uncontrollably now, trotting along beside him. “Living in a place that isn’t Washington or Scotland or Alaska?” Chicago was cold and cloudy for a lot of the year, true, but few cities were Forks-level wet and sunless. Forks-level tyrannically depressing, I would have said two months ago.  

He shrugged, unphased. “Night classes. Sunglasses. Faking a chronic illness so I don’t have to leave our house. I’m really good at that one. Plus I can get a doctor’s note any time I want one. I’ve got connections, you know.”

Our house. He said OUR house.

Joe came to halt in front of a stately yet plain brownstone which now operated as a trendy bookstore, the kind that sold six dollar lattes and hosted anarchist poetry slams on Friday nights.

“Is this where we’re going to crack hipsters’ kneecaps as a bonding activity?” I asked.

“This is where I grew up.”

I looked again, studying the earth-colored stone quarried over a century ago, the wrought iron railings that framed the front steps, the rectangular windows revealing the illumination and shadows of other families’ lives. “Joe,” I said softly, leaning into him, searching for my words.

“There were eight Mazzello kids: Joseph, Charles, Mimi, Salvador, Donna, Lucia, Bianca, and Giuliano.” He rattled them off like a jingle from a fast food commercial. “And I was the oldest. So when my dad dropped dead of a heart attack in the middle of his shift at the Zenith Radio factory, it was my job to step up and figure out how to keep everyone fed. I was seventeen and completely hopeless at school back then; Sal was always the smart one, the disciplined one, he ended up as a math professor at Loyola University. I was just some directionless, grieving kid who never shut up. But there was a place for boys like me in Chicago in the 1920s. The mob could get you money. The mob could turn that same incessant chatter that got you bruised at school into something useful. And the mob could give you a family.”

Joe watched the brownstone solemnly, meditatively, his hands in his pockets.

“My mom sobbed for an hour the first time I brought home an envelope full of bills with Hamilton’s face on them. She knew how I got it. But how could she say no, how could she tell me to stop? We’d never seen money like that. All my siblings could finish school. My sisters could have new dresses on days that weren’t Christmas and Easter, my brothers new shoes, Sal the glasses he needed so badly. My mother always had something to put in the offering plate at church. And once you were in the mob, it wasn’t exactly easy to leave. But they took care of their own. After I died, they sent my mother money for years, until her own children were established enough to support her. That’s when I learned that money wasn’t just something that put food on the dinner table or kept the lights on. It’s a way of showing loyalty, of giving people peace and comfort and meaningful choices in their lives. It’s how I’ve been taught to give back to the world. So I guess I shouldn’t have disparaged my fellow vampires back in Forks, because there’s a slice of my tragic backstory, Baby Swan. Now you know. And you should know everything, since we’re in this thing together. Or maybe I just want you to.”

I laid my palm against his cool and flawless face, ran my thumb lightly across his cheek. “You really are serious about me.”

“I am alarmingly serious about you.”

“Even though this thing of ours has an expiration date?” Since I can never become a vampire. Since I will never have the distinction of being a permanent fixture of the Lee coven.

“That’s not a problem for today. That’s a problem for ten or fifteen years from now, whenever you decide you want to settle down and have kids and do the whole Great American Dream bit. You’ll be sick of me by then anyway. You’ll be dying to get away from us. Hahaha, get it? It’s a pun. Dying to get away from the vampires.”

I couldn’t imagine ever being sick of Joseph Francis Mazzello. Still, ten or fifteen years felt almost as good as forever to me. Fifteen autumns, fifteen Christmases, fifteen journeys around the sun that he avoided so deftly. “Why me, Joe?” I asked, incredulous. “You could have anyone. Any human, any vampire. Why me?”

“Because you’re you,” he said simply. And his mystified dark eyes added: What kind of a question is that? “You’re smart and you’re hilarious and you actually care about the world, about where it came from, about where it’s going, about people and places and animals that you’ll never meet. You’re indomitable. You’re fearless almost to the point of recklessness. And yet you’re so kind. You’re even nice to Ben, and humans are never nice to him...they’re either horrified or confused, or they’re too busy fantasizing about him to remember that he’s a real fucking person. But you’ve always tried to see the good in him. Even when he didn’t deserve it.” Joe shook his head, marveling. “And yeah, I’ve...I’ve screwed around, full disclosure. I’ve done the hookup thing. And it was great for what it was. But I never wanted more. I never felt some gnawing, sentimental, Hallmark-channel need for connection, to understand who they were as people. And then I met you, and...I want to know every single goddamn thing about you. I want to know your favorite color, what books you read, what the hell is so appealing about pineapple pizza, what you dream of. I feel like I could never get tired of trying to understand you.”

A refrain circled through my mind like a whirlpool, dragging every other thought down into oblivion: I love him, I love him, I love him. “Blue,” I said at last.

“What?”

“Turquoise blue, like the sky in Arizona. That’s my favorite color.”

The smile, slow and wonderous, rippled across his face. He took my hand again. “Come on.”

Joe led me onwards, down a few blocks and around a corner, as the muted sun receded from the sky and the first stars took its place, pinpricks of celestial light in a blanket of violet, azure, amber, rust. He stopped in front of the Church of Saint Lawrence, established in 1902 according to the sign mounted on the brick wall that faced the street, perhaps the same church that he had once visited with his family as an impatient child, snickering with his brothers and sisters and kicking the back of the pew in front of him with shoes that never fit quite right. There was a fountain bubbling with transparent water, a statue of the Virgin Mary at the center, coins made of copper and nickel and zinc glinting through the water under corridors of silvery luminance cast by the streetlights.

“I lied about not having my own superpower,” Joe informed me mischievously, not at all serious.

“Oh, did you now?”

“Absolutely.” He opened his wallet, rooted around, pulled out a penny and handed it to me. “I can make wishes come true. So go ahead.” He nodded towards the fountain. “Make your wish.”

The penny was worn and nearly indecipherable, but I was just barely able to read that it had been minted in 1928. The same year Joe was turned. “Joe...I can’t just throw this away!”

“You’re not throwing it away. You’re exchanging it for a wish. Now wish.”

I closed my eyes, chose my wish, tossed the penny into the fountain. The plink it made when it hit the water was bright and yet mournful somehow, like windchimes, like flickering candlelight.

“Outstanding job,” Joe complimented.

He was so visibly proud, so content, so faultless. The streetlights threw shadows across the sidewalk, the fountain, the whole world it seemed. I laced my fingers behind his neck, gazing up at him. “What are we doing tonight, mob guy?”

“I’m so glad you asked. You see, we have options.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“Door Number One,” Joe began. “It’s been a long day, and you’re exhausted from the illustrious honor of witnessing a Cubs victory firsthand. So we go back to the hotel, find some shark documentary on tv, order room service, shower, and drift off into a peaceful slumber. Just like last night.”

“Not bad. How about Door Number Two?”

“Door Number Two. You’re tired, but not that tired. We go back to the hotel, find that same aforementioned shark documentary, but totally ignore it and make out instead. Maybe we even round second base, in the spirit of the Cubs. Whatever you’re up for. Then we shower and drift off into a peaceful slumber.”

“Even better,” I said, and I meant it. “And what’s Door Number Three?”

Now Joe became jittery; his eyes darted to the fountain, the church, the cars that rolled lazily by. He was so desperate to conceal his hope, to not impose any undue influence upon me. I felt infinitesimal, almost weightless drops of rain against my cheeks, my collarbones, the downy undersides of my arms. “Well, uh, Door Number Three is...it’s...well...uh...it’s...”

Door Number Three is a home fucking run. “I want Door Number Three.”

“Really? Because you don’t have to say that, you can say no, that’s completely fine, it’s more than fine actually, it’s awesome, it’s totally cool, I’m seriously fine either way, and you can obviously change your mind whenever—”

“Wait.” I broke away from him, yanked my own wallet out of my purse, found the Official Whatever You Want Pass, hastily unfolded it, and presented it to Joe. “I want Door Number Three.”

He barked out a shocked laugh, accepted the pass, studied it in disbelief. “You are full of surprises, ma’am. It took me a hundred years to find a woman like you. And I don’t think I ever will again. Makes one wonder if this whole eternity thing is all it’s cracked up to be.” He tucked the pass into his pocket and kissed me beneath the streetlights, beneath the stars. “So there’s one tiny caveat to my wish-granting superpower.”

“Yeah?”

He smiled impishly, nudging the tip of my nose with his. “You have to tell me what you wished for.” He was joking, as he almost always was; I didn’t have to tell him anything. He wouldn’t press the issue. I doubted that he was really expecting me to answer at all. And yet I wanted to tell Joe; I yearned, for once, to be as clear as Lucy had said he was.

“For you and me,” I replied in little more than a whisper. “And for forever.”

Home

The only thing that startled me was how profoundly unstartling it all was, how wholly uncomplicated, how effortless.

I didn’t feel like a different person afterwards. I didn’t feel that some latent spark of lust, of carnality had been ignited, had singed through me, had left me forever marked like the heights of children ticked off on a doorframe over decades; I felt neither ruined nor awakened, no wiser, no older, no more enlightened as to the incalculable eccentricities of the vast and enigmatic universe. I felt only happiness, and exhausted satisfaction, and a deep, dreamless peace that engulfed me like frothy fingertips of waves dragging pebbles and shells back into the sea. I felt only a homecoming that was measured not in miles but in soul.

We slept in as the morning sun rose over Lake Michigan, bought Ben a hoodie (black, of course, per his usual aesthetic) from the University of Chicago gift shop, strolled unhurriedly through the dimly-lit, relentlessly blue pathways of the Shedd Aquarium. As I stood in the glass tunnel and watched sawfish and blacktip reef sharks soar by overhead, Joe linked his arms around my waist, tucked his chin into the dip of my collarbone, kissed the slope of my jaw.

“What do you think?” he asked, perhaps a touch apprehensively. “Could you get used to the Chicago life for a few years?”

“I would be tempted to kidnap some of these guys and bring them home to live in our bathtub. But yes.”

And Joe murmured, smiling, his lips to my temple: “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

Our flight back to the West Coast took off after dusk, and there was no blinding sunlight for Joe to avoid; only immense glooms of clouds and gleaming distant stars and the unfathomable void of space, cursed with crushing pressure and darkness like the cervices of the ocean floor.

Fifteen years might not be enough, I thought, resting my forehead against the cold airplane window as the city lights died behind us, as Joe’s hand weaved through mine on the armrest. But forever sounds just about right.

Larkin

There once was a boy born in a stone cottage with a dirt floor in a vanishingly inconsequential village just west of Clifden, Ireland. It was February 9th, 1672, bitterly cold, miserably wet, and the sea was murderous with storms. His mother was illiterate, as her mother had been, and as her mother had been as well, all the way back to people who painted mammoths on cave walls with their fingers; she was thirty-three and already exhausted with living, her seven children forever underfoot, her full and ruddy cheeks perpetually smudged with dirt from the field and ashes from the fire. Her husband was a failure and a drunk, but half a day’s worth of work once or twice a week was better than none at all; and as much as she never would have admitted it, he was a tether for her in a world that was often, as she had learned, both lonely and cruel.

She gave the baby boy a name—a strong Irish name, none of that audacious English rubbish—that meant rough or fierce, just like the sea that rose and ruptured against the rocky cliffs outside. He would need to be rough to survive in this world. He would need to be fierce.

He began like all the other children had been: sweet and yet anonymous, yielding, needful, worryingly small. She rocked him absently with one arm as she stirred the stew pot with the other. She sang to him, told him stories long before he could comprehend them, tales of the Lord and the saints and all their malevolent adversaries: serpents, pestilence, demons, dragons. She tossed stray sticks to him so he could carve pictures into the dirt floor and keep out of the way as she labored with the laundry or the sewing. And he grew, and he grew; and there was nothing remarkable about him at all, that boy speckled with mud and soot and the perpetual bruises of children mostly left to their own devices, that boy with pallid skin like his mother’s and black hair like his father’s and eyes so light and vibrant a brown they were nearly gold.

The boy was a baby, and then a child, and then a young man. And his mother realized one day—all at once, as a mother does when their attention is divided among so many other lives, when the children’s analogous faces bleed into each other and even their names sometimes escape her, even those names that she had chosen herself from the stories her own mother once passed to her through threadbare whispers—that people had a habit of following him, of listening to him. That there was an ether of allure that hovered around him like the mists that clung to the precarious, crumbling cliffs that touched the sea; that there was something like what the heathens called magic. And when the war came, that boy who was no longer a boy left his mother’s stone cottage and enlisted in Clifden, lied about his age, signed his name with an X because that was all he knew how to spell. But he was sure to tell the man who handled the ledger that he did have a real name, a good Irish name, a name apt for a soldier, a name that his mother had told him meant rough or fierce: Larkin.

There are men who join wars out of loyalty, principle, love for their homes; and then there are men who join to escape their homes, perhaps to forget them entirely. If you were to consult that ledger signed in a pub in Clifden, Ireland in 1688, you would read that I fought for Ireland, for the Catholics, for Christ the Lord and all his saints. But what I really fought for was my own resurrection: to take that boy stained with dirt and ignorance, drown him in the blood of other mothers’ trivial sons, and dredge up some greater version of myself that I had always known existed, that was hidden somewhere in the netlike darkness of the marrow of my bones.

People follow me, and they always have. I couldn’t tell you why. When I called them to enlist, when I thrusted swords and pikes into their calloused farmers’ fists, when I told them they could fight and live to see their wretched homes again, they believed me. I climbed the ranks like a ladder, like a mountain made of bones. And all those other mothers’ sons laid down for me so I could walk across the bridge of their spines to what I mistakenly assumed was invincibility.

At the Battle Of The Boyne, my horse was shot out from under me. A Williamite caught me beneath the ribs with his dagger. And as I bled out, staring up at the sky and impatiently waiting for the pain to vanish as my consciousness withdrew like low tide, I became aware that someone was lifting me, holding me, spiriting me through the battlefield and then the wilderness; and that my pain, in a disconcerting turn of events, had swelled to a vicious and unrelenting inferno.  

Three days later, I woke to find that I was resurrected again, this time as something more than human. The man who turned me was blond-haired, light-eyed, agile and yet gentle, ancient and yet ever-changing.

“I thought you’d survive,” Nikolai said in a thick Slavic accent, standing over me with a kind smile. Then he helped me to my feet. “You have greatness in you. It sweats out of your pores, it’s in every word you speak. What a shame it would be for all of that to go to waste.”

He taught me everything: how to read and write, how to hunt, how to dodge the sunlight, how to survive an existence that was both theoretically endless and yet forever on the precipice of being cut short. He introduced me to the Draghi, to vampires who were remarkable for their ferocity, or their creativity, or their curiosity, or their cleverness, or all those things at once: Victorien, Honora, Elizabeth, Kestrel, Zhang, Sergei, Ana, Gwilym. And most crucially, Nikolai showed me that my human talents were magnified several times over, that his own followers were not immune to them, that there was power in collecting exceptional individuals like pieces of china stacked in a locked cabinet; and that if I could learn to climb immortal bones, the ladder never needed to end.  

You never quite get used to the power, to the invincibility, to the promise of eternity. You never take it for granted. It hits you, again and again, in ceaseless and victorious waves. Once I was a barefoot toddler who sketched dragons and Catholic saints from the stories my mother told me into the dirt floor of our drafty stone cottage. Now I live in palaces with marble floors, with spiral staircases and libraries and gold-dripping ballrooms, with unobstructed views of any sea I choose. Now I am the dragon.

My phone rang, and I checked the name on the screen. Then I answered. “Hello, beauty. How’s the other side of the Pacific treating you?”

And Liesl answered, in a soft and astonished voice: “I don’t think Lucy can read her. I don’t think any of them can.”

I could feel it again. Another wave, crashing through me like the ocean, like the unstoppable rolling of time: power and insatiability and exhilaration. I smiled in my twilight-lit study as long-dead stars rose outside and the wind howled like wolves over the East Sea. “You know what to do.”

[srsly-messed-up-fruitloop]

Tug of War (Ch 4)

ch 1 - prev - next

Word Count: 2,816

Final exam season had finally come. To say the seniors of Casper High were stressed was an understatement, college application deadlines were also quickly approaching.

Wes Weston however, was stressed for a whole other reason. His attempt before winter break to awaken the angry ghostliness in Fenton wasn’t enough. He only saw Fenton ripping out all the decorations, without glowing green eyes or anything else ghostly he could catch on camera. And to make manners worse, the school’s caretaker blamed him for leaving shattered ornaments in the halls so he winded up with detention. It wasn’t even his fault!

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Stealing another glance at the classroom’s wall clock, he scowled when he realized that he still had twenty minutes to burn until his computer science exam ended. 

Might as well not let this time go to waste. Pushing aside his completed exam, he grabbed a scrap piece of paper and began to brainstorm other ways to infuriate Fenton. He stole a glance at Fenton’s sidekick, Foley, hastily writing away. Frowning, he turned back to his page. 

Meanwhile, for Danny, he has never felt this anxious ever before in his life. 

Before, when he was barely scraping by in class, he was beginning to accept that his dreams would remain as that. Just dreams. Protecting the town would always come first. He became indifferent to his grades because 1) he’d convinced himself that he was a bad student, nothing could change that, and 2) it wasn’t that important anyways. He could deal with his parents’ disappointment. 

However, after dealing with his exhausting responsibilities for a few years now, he finally learned to properly manage his time. And it showed when he found out he ended last year with a B+ average.

He told himself it was just a fluke, there’s no way Danny Fenton could get those grades. At most, he was a C- student. Yet, a tiny spark of hope flared up and drove Danny to try harder this year. Perhaps it was just a fluke, but who knows? What if it happened again?

And when it kept happening, sometimes even getting back A’s on his tests, then it hit him. He was actually capable of doing well in school. 

Allowing himself to believe that meant that his childhood aspirations were possible. But, there was always that question in the back of his mind: What if this all was just a fluke? His luck could run out anytime. He could easily fail all his exams and lose his chances. And what then?

He could not come back after letting himself believe that he had a future to look forward to. Of all the times he had barely escaped being destroyed by his enemies, it didn’t compare to the mounting fear he had of not getting into college. 

That fear was only accentuated by his stressed classmates. Danny felt ill every time he heard Star talking about all the schools her brother was rejected from, Mikey and Nathan discussing admission cutoffs, and practically everyone going into a panic when their average lowered. Even Dash was worried about meeting his minimum requirement for his football scholarship.

Thing is, Danny couldn’t even look forward to college itself. Don’t get him wrong, he likes learning, especially about space. But he would have to endure four more years of school, plus another two for a masters. 

At first, he just told himself to suck it up. It was a necessary sacrifice.

Now though, he was conflicted. He had to do his undergrad in some science-related college program to be eligible for the space program. However, what if he ended up in an undergrad program he didn’t like? He’d be stuck with it. What if college is too hard for him? He could very well fail everything and get kicked out. Then he wouldn’t even be able to continue to get a masters. And of course, the biggest question of them all: would he able to handle juggling his ghostly responsibilities and college for the next six years? Heck, with how stressed out Jazz seems these days, how much worse would it be for him?

Danny was simultaneously afraid of both getting in and not getting into college.

“Hey Danny, you alright?” asked Sam.

Like always, he pushed these worries away into that overcrowded space in the back of his mind. “Yeah, ‘m fine,” he mumbled before rereading the same sentence in his textbook for the twentieth time.

“Are you sure? We could just take a bre—”

Suddenly, his ghost sense went off.

~

Danny gripped his bleeding forearm. He just needed it to clot, then his self-healing would eventually kick in. But it wasn’t clotting. He worriedly watched as his blood tinged with ectoplasm dripped onto the floor. This wasn’t good.

He looked up at Sam with desperate eyes, who bit her lip. “Hang on, I think have something that’ll help. Be right back,” she assured before scurrying from their secluded refuge under the staircase.

She returned not even a minute later, holding a flat square object wrapped in colourful plastic. Danny’s eyes widened and before he could even protest, she unpackaged and wrapped it around his wound.

Sam’s gaze hardened when he started squirming away. “Danny, it’s just a pad.”

“Bu—”

“It’s either this or one of your socks. Now relax, we need to get the bleeding to stop before next period.”

“What’s next period?”

“Bio exam, remember?”

“Dammit.” He thumped his head against the wall.

“It’s okay, we’ve still got a bit of time bef—”

The two teens tensed as they heard footsteps coming from the height of the staircase.

“Danny, quick, hide it!” she said in a panicked whisper.

“How am I supposed to hide a bleeding arm?!” he quietly exclaimed.

She huffed at his reply before swiftly releasing her pressure on his arm, rolling up his sweater sleeve over the pad, and using his other hand to press on the wound again through his sweater.

“Ah, hello Mr. Fenton, just the man I was looking for. And Ms. Manson,” Lancer greeted, suspiciously eyeing how close the two teens were sitting. He wasn’t naive, he was aware of what some of his students get up to in these secluded areas of the school. “I’m sorry to interrupt, can I have a word with you Daniel?”

“Mr. Lancer, I swear I-I...”

“Relax, you’re not in trouble. I’d just like a moment to speak with you.”

“Uh…” Danny hesitated.

“If this is not the best time, you can always speak to me later. Although, I implore you that you should see me sooner than later on this matter.”

“Oh…okay.” He glanced at Sam, who was frowning in worry. Forcing a reassuring smile on his face, he stood up from her and followed Lancer to his classroom.

As they walked through the halls, he tried to arrange his arms in a more casual position while placing a little more pressure on the wound.

“Mr. Fenton, I recall reading that you aspire to become an astronaut from one of your essays in 9th grade,” Lancer mentioned as he unlocked his classroom’s door.

Following him into the classroom, Danny replied warily, “Uh...yeah?” How the heck did Lancer remember something so miniscule from something he wrote ages ago?

His English teacher approached his desk and grabbed something from a drawer. “Have you heard of the Young Astronauts program?” he asked, presenting a pamphlet to him.

“No?” Danny momentarily released his hold on his injured arm to accept it, only to regret when he felt something warm drip down his arm. Shit! He held the pamphlet with his index and middle finger while quickly resuming his hold, praying for nothing to bleed through his sleeve. Why won’t it clot already??

Meanwhile, Lancer scrutinized his unusual movements for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been informed that this program fast tracks you to becoming an astronaut at NASA. Though it’s very competitive, once in, you only have to complete a four year practical program before you’re fully eligible for the space program.”

“Really?” He used his thumb to flip through the brochure, getting more excited as he read the outline of the program. However, once he reached the admission requirements section, his excitement suddenly deflated. “What makes you think I can get in?”

“Daniel, if you maintain what you have right now, your grades will be good enough for the requirements. Also, I’d be more than happy to write that letter of reference for you,” he smiled warmly.

His teacher’s sincerity caught him by surprise. “Oh, uh...thanks Mr. Lancer.”

“Anytime. Now, I think there’s an email at the back to contact if you have any questions. I won’t steal anymore of your precious studying time.”

Right when Danny’s foot was out the door, Lancer spoke up again, “Actually, there’s one more thing I mean to ask. Is your arm okay?”

His question stopped Danny right in his tracks. “What do you m-mean?” he nervously asked, voice cracking.

“Well, I can’t help but notice how you’re holding your arm there,” he commented.

“I…” Danny’s brain frantically searched for an excuse. 

Lancer frowned at his hesitation. 

“It’s...it’s a temporary tattoo,” he blurted.

“Pardon?”

“Y-you know those stick-on tattoos you have to press down for like a minute? I-yeah,” Danny improvised.

Lancer blinked. He did not expect that reply at all from the boy. Though, it did make sense. “Ah, very well. See you later Daniel. Good luck on your finals.”

Danny uttered out a goodbye before he all but ran to the bathroom to check his arm.

~

Danny jumped when he felt someone poking him. Turning around, he realized it was only Sam.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“About what happened yesterday, I think you need this.” She thrusted a big first-aid kit in his arms. “We really shouldn’t resort to using my pads anymore,” she chuckled.

“But, I already have one at home though?”

“Yeah, but I think we need one here. Just keep it in your locker, okay?”

“Uh…” He suddenly thought of Wes. Would he even stoop that low to use this as evidence? Probably. Danny sighed, he better not mess with it. This kit looked pretty expensive…

“Sam, you didn’t have to go and buy this.”

“It’s no big deal. I wanted to.”

“Bu—”

“Danny, I don’t have time for this. Stop being stubborn and just take it,” she insisted.

“Fine.” He unhappily grabbed the first-aid kit. “One day I’m paying you back for everything.”

“You honestly don’t have to. Anyways, gotta go!” she blurted before hurrying to her English exam. Two seconds later, the bell rang.

Shit, their English exam! He quickly dumped the kit at the bottom of his locker and ran after her. Hopefully Wes wouldn’t make too big of a deal out of the kit.

~~

Danny turned the corner of the hall and halted in his step when he saw Wes at their locker. Nope, he wasn’t dealing with him today. There was way too much on his mind with the start of the new semester. Calculus was already proving to be the bane of his existence.

He was about to turn around but had to do a double take when he noticed Paulina was there too. Talking to Wes. Weird.

He was too far to hear what they were saying, but Danny’s former crush seemed to be really excited for some reason. Wes then pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. Danny swore he saw Paulina discreetly slip a wad of cash into his other hand before accepting the envelope.

What the heck. What could Wes possibly have that Paulina would pay that kind of money for? You know what, he wasn’t even gonna ask. He needs to start heading to chemistry. Wes could be selling drugs for all he knows; he doesn’t care. 

~

Seeing Wes that morning almost completely slipped from Danny’s mind until he approached his locker after school, this time with a backpack full of textbooks from his new classes. 

He instantly spotted a yellow sticky note on the door which read “MEET ME @ BACK FIELD - DASH” in a hastily scrawled blocky script.

The two most popular kids at Casper High both reached out to Wes today. That doesn’t just happen to anyone, especially someone like Wes. Danny couldn’t help but feel a little curious. 

Selling drugs seems a little too out-of-character for him. He’s the type of person to expose the school’s drug dealers instead of being one himself. What else could he be selling then? Test answers? No, the semester just started. 

As Danny placed his books on the top shelf, he paused when he noticed a small envelope in the very back. Squinting a bit, he saw that it had “Dash” written on it in tiny letters. Upon grabbing it, it felt like it contained something like cardstock. 

Wait. After flipping it, he realized the envelope wasn’t sealed up. And he caught the slight shine of photos peeking from inside.

Last time he heard, neither Dash nor Paulina were interested in photography...

Before he could even act on his now burning curiosity, an all too familiar voice startled him, causing him to drop the envelope in his hands. Its contents spilled all over the floor.

“Fenton, what are you doing?!” screamed Wes before stomping over to him.

“I…” Danny’s reply was lost to him when he stared in bewilderment at the photos lying on the floor. They all...they were of him. Specifically, him during a fight with Ember last week. What shocked him even more was their quality. There was one where he was kneeling, smirking almost directly at the camera while both of his hands held bright green ectoenergy, casting his face in an eerie yet alluring glow.

“You’ve been selling pictures of me??”

“What the hell Fenton? These are supposed to be for Dash!” Wes yelled angrily before crouching, carefully putting back the photos in the envelope.

“Did you not hear me? Wh—how long have you been doing this?”

“None of your business. The photos are mine, I can do what I want with them,” Wes arrogantly asserted.

Danny couldn’t even fathom the audacity of this guy. He knew Wes sometimes stalked him while he was out as Phantom. Sometimes he annoyingly distracted him with the flash of his camera. However, over time he’d realized there was really no harm to it, as long as Wes stayed out of the way. He only seemed to use the footage for his so-called “evidence”. Rather than wasting his energy getting him to leave, Danny understood that there were bigger things he should be focusing on. 

This was just crossing a line though. Danny usually doesn’t mind people making money off of his ghost half. In fact, he himself is probably the one who buys most of the unlicensed Phantom merch at Amity’s souvenir shops. But something about seeing Wes doing it too infuriated him to no end.

Instantly, Danny lunged at him to grab the envelope. Unfortunately, Wes reflexively sidestepped out of the way, and held it behind his back like a basketball a defender was trying to steal. Danny fumed, “Wes, you didn’t even bother to ask to take them! Give them back!” 

Wes kept nothing more than an irritated expression on his face as he continued to hold back the envelope.

Just before Danny was about to take another leap at the red-haired creep, he suddenly heard Dash’s voice from behind.

“Hey Fenturd, get outta the way. I need to talk to Weasel for a sec.”

Danny snapped his head around to see the school’s quarterback standing there impatiently. Fortunately, because of his growth spurt a year or so back, Dash no longer towered over him. Also, around that time, the bully has gradually moved on to harassing the smaller newer kids at Casper. Dash really wasn’t a problem at all for Danny anymore, though he still couldn’t help feeling at edge around him after all this time. He unconsciously took a few steps away from him.

Meanwhile, Wes scowled at his nickname. “Hey, don’t call me that. Otherwise the deal’s off,” he stated in an annoyed tone.

Dash huffed, “Fine.” He pulled out a fifty from his letterman jacket and handed it to Wes, who freely gave the envelope in exchange.

“Those demos I showed you last week plus a few extras are all in there,” Wes said while he sifted through the envelope.

“Looks good,” Dash commented, unable to keep the giddy smile from appearing on his face. He genuinely thanked Wes before slipping the photos into his pocket and leaving.

After a moment, Wes sneered, “Fenton, I’ll stop when you reveal yourself to everyone. Besides, why the heck should Danny Fenton be concerned about me selling photos I took of Danny Phantom without his consent?”

Danny’s glare only hardened as he watched Wes walk off.

[thirsty-pixie]

Serendipity

Crowley X Reader

Part 2

Sam and Dean were put in charge of me by my mom as her dying wish, she made them swear to protect me with her dying breath. We met sam and Dean on a hunt that went south, my mom ended up getting stabbed by a wraith. But that was 6 years ago, and the boys came to think of me as a sister.... except the awkward kiss Sam and I shared. It was about a week after my mom died and we were drinking in the run down hotel room, we kissed for like a second then Sam immediately got up and left my room. We never have and never will speak of it again, I lived with them in the bunker but I wasn't allowed to hunt anymore. I stopped hunting after I was nearly killed by a shapeshifter, after that I was demoted to research girl.

I got out of the shower and threw on a tank top and my grey spandex shorts before sliding my feet into my slippers and heading down the hall. I ran my fingers through my wet (h/c) hair pulling it up into a messy but before opening the archive room doors. I was in the archive room looking for looking for a box when I heard a sigh, I got scared because I was supposed to be alone in the bunker. "Is someone there?" I asked my voice shaking "yes its casper" a sarcastic voice answered back from the other side of the shelves. "Who are you?" I felt around the shelf looking for a way to get to the other side. "Grab the shelf and pull." I did as the man said and opened up the wall revealing a man sitting cuffed to a chair in a demon circle.

I walked into the circle and sat across from the man, "so who are you?" I now realized why Sam and Dean never allowed me in here. "I'm Crowley the king of hell" he tried to sound intimidating but I just laughed, "you dont look like the king of anything" he looked at me annoyance in his eyes. "You're almost as vexing as moose and squirrel." His accent sent a shiver through my body, I leaned onto the desk resting my head on my hand and smiled. "Yeah I try but I'm a lot cuter than Sam and Dean" Crowley folded his hands on table and laughed "someone thinks highly of themselves."

He raised an eyebrow as he spoke a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I stood up from my chair and walked to the back of his chair examining the chain the was attached to the metal collar around his neck. "They really don't want you to escape" I ran a finger over the metal before walking back to the desk. I looped my finger around the chain attached to the cuffs pulling them up to look at the carvings "wow you must've really pissrd them off" I giggle and sat on the desk leaning back on my arms. He leaned towards me with a smirk, I watched as his eyes skimmed over my body and stopped on my thigh. He hooked his finger under the edge of my shorts pulling them up to expose the rest of my anti possession tattoo. "They made you get one of those hideous tattoos too?" I smacked his hand away and pulled my shorts back down to where they were.

"Actually, I got this before I met the boys" I couldn't tell if I was irritated with him or turned on by him so I turned my head away glaring at the wall to avoid his stare. "I don't know why moose and squirrel have me here probably for information but they haven't really come back down here since they chained me up" I looked back over at Crowley who was looking down at his cuffed hands. My heart melted a little at how sad he look, "how about I come visit you every night" he looked up at me and smiled. He opened his mouth to say something but a slam came from upstairs, we both looked up then looked at each other.

"Y/N!" I heard Sam yelling from upstairs causing me to jump off the table, "I was never here". I pushed the chair back to where I found it and walked to the shelf, before pushing the shelf back I smiled at Crowley "I'll come back". I pushed the shelf back into place and ran to my bedroom closing the door behind me quietly. I threw myself on my bed and pretended I was asleep, I heard someone open my door amd walk kkup to my bed. "Wake up Y/N, we got fried chicken and beer" my pillow was ripped from beneath my head and smashed onto my face. "Oww fucker." I sat up and glared at Dean who was holding my pillow and laughing. I pushed him away from me and snatched my pillow from his hands, I tossed it onto my b7ed and left my room. Dean and I walked to the war room where Sam and Kevin were talking about the tablets, "what's up noobs". I grabbed a beer and a piece of chicken before sitting down, "What's new with the tablet?" Kevin looked up from the tablet with a look of annoyance "theres still a few parts I cant get". I looked over at the paper with the symbols... 'pshh as if I could even begin to translate' I thought to myself before leaning back in my chair.

~~~~~~~

Dean was walking out the door on a quick hunt that Castiel had called about, I ran up the stairs hugging Dean around the waist. "But you just got back" I looked up at him and pouted, he hugged me back with one arm before rustling my hair "I'll be back its probably not even a case.... I'll be back before you know it". And with that he left, I glared at Kevin who mumbled something about being clingy. Sam left walking towards the archive room, him and Dean talked about asking crowley about the symbols. A few moments later Sam returned to the war room with an annoyed look on his face, "Grab the paper Kevin and let's go" Kevin stood up grabbing the page of unreadable symbols and walked after Sam. I stood up following Kevin but a palm hit me in the forehead, "no I don't want you involved in this stuff" Sam had his arm extended stopping me from following. I slapped his hand and huffed "I'm coming weather you like it or not im not a child" I walked passed Sam following Kevin who was stomping down the hall.

We all stood in the room with Crowley Sam stood bent over the desk glaring at crowley with his hand on either side of the sheet of paper. Kevin stood with his arms crossed in the corner and I stood leaning against entrance of the shelves arms crossed watching them. I smiled and gave Crowley a small wave, he smiled back and winked at be causing my cheeks to grow warm. I looked away knowing my face was turning pink, I heart flopped with each word he spoke as him and Sam negotiated. They made a deal where Crowley would translate the symbols in return for a phone call, so sam and Kevin left the room to go get some supplies.

I walked up to the table and looked at the paper "What do they mean" I picked up the paper holding it close to my face before setting it back down. "It's about a ritual Metatron did with Castiels grace" he watched me as I examined the symbols "mmmh lame..." I leaned onto the table and smiled at Crowley "on a different note.. why does Kegin hate you so much" he shrugged looking at the cuffs like as if he was more interested in them than me. "I made him think I killed his mom when in fact shes quite alive" a devious smile dance across his lips as he spoke, "that's pretty messed up." I frowned before standing up to look st the door Sam and Kevin had returned with the supplies they needed. "What's messed up" Sam asked as he walked up to the table, Crowley and I made eye contact for a moment before i turned to walk out of the room "Dont worry about it Sammy" I left the boys to finish their business.

~~~~~~

I had been going down to visit Crowley every night for about a week and a half, I stayed a little longer each night till one night I stayed till 6 am. I had fallen asleep while talking to Crowley,I was woken up by him tucking my hair behind him ear and kissing my temple. "You might want to head to your room darling. I'm hate for squirrel and moose to catch you in here alone." I stretched forward groggily groaning loudly. "I dont wanna" I sat there with my forehead against the cool metal of the table trying to bring myself to leave the room. I stood up and walked to his side of the table "I guess I'll go..." I bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek then I left the room and heading to my bedroom.

"I'll be back Kev" he responded with a middle finger and a fake smile "bring me back some soda" I gave him a thumbs up and headed to the garage. I hopped in my truck and drove to town, I walked around the liquor store for about an hour before I finally found the bottle I was looking for. On the way home I took the long way enjoying the drive, it had been the first time I've been out of the bunker in weeks.

I pulled into the garage parking in my usual spot before heading to my room. I hid the bottle of Johnny Walker in my desk and went out to see Kevin. I expect to see him sitting in the war room hovering over the tablet as usual, but this time there was something different. Kevin had dried blood on his shirt and he seemed tense. "Kev? Whys there blood on you" I approach him cautiously setting the soda in front of him. "I paid a visit to Crowley to get some answers" I tried to act nonchalant as I walked away but as soon as I was out of sight I took off running.

I burst through the door seeing Crowley beaten and bloody and a sledgehammer laying on the ground in front of him. I knelt down in front of him placing my hand on his cheek pulling his face to look at me. "I shouldn't have left Kevin alone" he gently touched my forearm "it's not yours fault. I'm the one who pissed his off, to be honest I've been a huge ass to that kid" I sighed at his words before gently grabbing his hand. "Its still not right" I heard the door open behind me but before I had a chance to stand up Sam and Dean walked in

[squaredcircleconfess]

Talking Christ #4

𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗕𝗬 𝗦𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗜𝗥𝗖𝗟𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗙𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗔𝗟

𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗬 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗕𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗞𝗜𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗡 𝗙𝗥𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗧

Cassius Bates: Wow it feels like it’s been a minute but we’re back with a new episode of Talking Christ, and boy we have a ton to cover Kiersten.

Kiersten Fraust: Oh boy, do we ever.

Cassius Bates: We’re going to cover everything we missed, every detail, every storyline, every feud heading into the big return show ‘Second Coming’.  Wait, isn’t Gavin supposed to be here?

Kiersten Fraust: Something about his wife's french fry emergency.  He’s late, but he’s on his way right now. So, where shall we begin, Mr. Bates?

Cassius Bates: I suppose we recap some of the biggest feuds going in CCW.  So let’s start at the top.  The monumental reign of Angel McMaster has came to an end via the hand of Siberia Zombie, but the end of the reign isn’t without controversy.  Chellsea stacked the deck against her of everyone she’d dealt with on the way through her reign…

Kiersten Fraust: Angel McMaster has been a controversial CCW heavyweight champion for sure. She’s defended the championship against a lot of worthy contenders during her reign. It seems to follow her wherever she goes. When she lost back at Valentine’s Slay it was shocking to say the least.

Cassius Bates: Siberia had been a force in CCW since her debut, prominently appearing, winning the Television Championship and more.  So she deserved it, no question, but, is Angel right?  Was it unfair for Chellsea to stack the deck with people who were out to get her, essentially?  I think her grievance has some merit.

Kiersten Fraust: Chellsea did what she had to do. Those two women butted heads the moment Angel became the CCW heavyweight champion. Things got heated and she made the match. Was it fair? No. Was Angel always fair inside the ring? No. The whole situation blew up and no we’re left with a new champion.

Cassius Bates: That said, I suppose we’ll see what happens.  But as far as I know, the rumor is there’s a match between Chellsea and Angel McMaster at Second Coming.  Chellsea isn’t a wrestler.  How is that even going to work?

Kiersten Fraust: C’mon, everyone had to see this coming. Brennan was angry with Chellsea for making the match and he obviously thinks Angel hung the moon. If you wanna talk about unfair, putting an untrained person in the ring with a world class athlete like Angel and you get a major disaster on your hands. She is going to obliterate Chellsea.

Cassius Bates: I don’t know, I heard she’s been training with Daequan just in case for years.  Someone told me he walked in on them training in a back room here, she tackled Dae clean to the floor and was crushing him with her…  Okay maybe she’s in trouble…  huh.

Kiersten Fraust: The girl is big mad. But moving to the television championship that was held by Max Bennett, who ended up losing the championship to Taylor Lynn. Guess what happened after? Taylor stole it as Heather Haze tried to get the pinfall.

Cassius Bates: It was vile of Taylor Lynn to just take it from her.  Those Golden Ticket tactics should only be in that division.  Haze put it all on the line stepping out of that division, which she was about to break a record for.  And Lynn just takes it away from her, that’s one cold b.

Kiersten Fraust: Don’t hate the player, hate the game. Sometimes championships make people do things they wouldn’t normally do. 

Cassius Bates: Back to another one, the Couples Cup.  That thing was complicated for sure, and we saw lots of things happen in it.  The return of Matt and Skylar Knight into the CCW fold, we saw Neve Marx and Casper Cole put on a surprisingly big effort throughout, Skull Kid #1 and Arden Raine were stand outs, but it all came down to our final match.  The Andersons versus the Carlsons.  He made his dad Urn Anderson proud, Craig did.

Kiersten Fraust: If I had a dad named Urn Anderson I would be more proud of him. You’re right though. We did see a lot of things happen and a lot of couples. The whole tournament was dedicated to couples. It was exciting to watch. 

Cassius Bates: That is true, but your dad Killer Fraust trained a lot of people in his day, and your momma Dee Fraust makes some great pie.  Anyway, we had a who’s who of wrestling couples.  Like Riley and Gavin were there.  The Weavers.  Pace and McKinsey.  But in the end, Genie and Eli got the win and the new Couples Championships…  which rumor has it are on the line at the Second Coming.  Ominous.

Kiersten Fraust: Wait, how do you know about my moms pie? Nevermind, don’t answer that. Back to the topic, couples cup. Those are some great couples you named, Cassius, very high profile. Genie and Eli Carlson showed up and dominated the tournament like you said. The Anderson’s were no slouches either. Jessica a champion and Craig considered the best high flyer. The finals were bananas.

Nearby they hear a sound of a door opening and soon, a tattooed gentleman walked in and joined them.

Gavin Stephens: Sorry I’m late.  Wife needed something.  What’s up?  Where we at?

Kiersten Fraust: I guess we’re being joined by Gavin Stephens now. Welcome to the show. Cassius and I were just discussing the Valentine’s Slay and the couples cup. Was there a favorite moment of yours in any of the shows?

Gavin Stephens: I’m just proud of the young talent that showcased themselves.  Neve Marx and Casper Cole had a career high in my opinion, and showed they could hang.  Then you had Polly Shae McPherson and her man Mr. McPherson.  Good stuff all around.

Kiersten Fraust: I agree with that. There are so many young and super talented wrestlers signed with CCW and their futures look bright for them. 

Cassius Bates: Suppose we’ve given a good coverage of the events of the past few weeks of shows prior to Second Coming.  But, lets before we wrap it all up take a look at the Second Coming card.  Shall we?

Kiersten Fraust: We shall. The Second Coming cards just dropped a couple of days ago and it will be a two night event. Both cards are stacked and a lot of matches were announced. Since you’re the special guest of the night, what match are you looking forward to watching, Gavin.

Gavin Stephens: Okay so I’m gonna sound nuts but Dulce Desjardins vs. Saylor Stanhouse looks crazy to me.  Saylor’s been pushing and pushing on commentary, and Dulce has been firing back and now those two gorgeous women are gonna tear each others throats out.  Saylor might not /be/ a wrestler, but she looks like a scrapper.

Kiersten Fraust: It is certainly odd how that match came about but not unexpected. Saylor didn’t leave her comments at the commentary table but she took them to twitter as well. Anyway, the match I’m looking forward to seeing is the Chamber of God match. The very match that once determined the CCW heavyweight champion and NOW Siberia Zombie defends that very championship inside the same chamber. Her first title defence and it’s a huge one. 

Cassius Bates: Okay those are all great, all fantastic.  But I wanna see, and this is kind of cheating, the Battle Royal and whomever C.J. Sweet ends up facing.  Let's be honest, it could be anyone.  The wrestling world is freakin’ buzzing and I am hype for it.

Kiersten Fraust: Good choice. C.J. Sweet has been on one hellva roll as the christcore champion. Let’s make a prediction for the match since we know who will be competing in the battle royal. Who do you guys think will win it?

Gavin Stephens: I’m going to say Mykie Villanueva, she’s been on the roster for ages and has been a solid hand.  But it’s time for the woman to break out.

Kiersten Fraust: I’m going to say… Rachel Carpenter. Yeah she’s fairly new to the company but she’s been a champion outside of CCW, so she obviously has what it takes to win and head into night two for the championship match. She’s a very determined firecracker ever since she was paired with Essence.

Cassius Bates: Hmm, okay, it’s on me then huh?  I’m going to throw a curve ball and say Alexis Ortega.  Ortega has been building up a resume as part of the Killer Baes and been knocking them down left and right.  I wouldn’t be shocked to see her get the chance after that Battle Royal.  Now that leaves the Golden Ticket, we know the match as it is on the card, but, anyone could win it between that and night two.  Whoever has it and gets to the cage gets the spot in the Chamber.  At Wrestling With Christ #1, it was Winter Drell.  Who will it be on this night?

Kiersten Fraust: From the looks of the match on the card, I’ll go with Duke Andrews. He seems to be a little out there and that’s what you have to be to get where you want to be. I have faith in my pick.

Gavin Stephens: Oh wow, pressures on me, huh?  Okay, another wildcard for me, Rika.  Rika has been a force in CCW, she’s underrated in my opinion.  And well, I think she’s gonna shock the world.

Kiersten Fraust: That’s a great pick.  

Cassius Bates: Okay, one last one then, who do you think will win the Chamber of God?!  Come on guys, predict!

Kiersten Fraust: I don’t see anyone dethroning Siberia anytime soon. So, Siberia is who I’ll go with. She’s the champ.

Gavin Stephens: I’m going to call the wildcard, again, in either member of Brew Collar.  Danielson or Deadeye.  Both of these guys are desperate to prove they’re more than just tag team guys, they can go in singles too.

Cassius Bates: I’m saying Kuntz.  He’s gross, vile, disgusting on all accounts.  But this man has busted his ass in CCW and now he has a chance to get the big prize.

Kiersten Fraust: Well, feels like we covered a lot tonight on the show. Thanks for stopping by the studio and talking with us, Gavin.

Gavin Stephens: It was good to be here, sorry I was late.  When the lady needs me, I have to go help, you know?

Cassius Bates: White women need their french fries for sure man.

Kiersten Fraust: That’s it for us here on Talking Christ. See you guys again!

[ace-take-the-prndl]

@emeracco

you asked for it

1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? 

I’m not suprised

2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed?

Nothing because I haven’t kissed anybody  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care?

If it was weed I probably wouldn’t care but any other kind yeah..

4. Is your last name longer than six letters?

Nope

5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober?

Still never kissed anybody

6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up?

No?

7. What does your last received text say?

lol

8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed?

09. Where was your last kiss at?

nowhere

10. When is the last time you saw your sister?

I saw my oldest sister like 2 days ago, I can’t remember the last time I saw my other sister. She doesn’t hang out with us anymore

11. What do you drink in the morning?

Some nice cool and refreshing H2O. Stay healthy kids.

12. Where did you sleep last night?

My bed?

13. Do you think relationships are hard?

I answered this one already

14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you?

Nah that’s too much work. and I wouldn’t fuck with the past

15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems?

Yeah that I’m alone

16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy?

Answered this already too

17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?

omfg a lot of people. My middle name is unoriginal for a middle name

18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants?

like pajama shorts

19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now?

God I hope so

20. Does anyone like you?

idk if they do they better tell me because I’m clueless af

21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S?

No

22. Is the last person you kissed gay?

Still haven’t kisses anyone

23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand?

there’s a lot of people I CANNOT stand tbh

24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?

Yes! I want a bunch tbh

25. In the past week have you cried?

Probably I don’t even pay attention to when I cry. I’m an emotional person okay.

26. What breed was the last dog you saw?

Mixed breed

27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower?

Both?

28. Have you ever kissed a football player?

Nope

29. Do you think you’re old?

Hell no I’m still young

30. Do you like text messaging? 

Yeah its quicker and easier sometimes

31. What type of day are you having?

A chill one

32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?

I actually just got my nose pierced a few weeks ago! I’ve wanted it for the longest time, both my sisters and mom have theirs done.

33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather?

COLD. I hate the heat so much, I get hot easily and then I get sick. Warm weather, gross.

34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you?

eh not really

35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling?

A relationship. I’ve never been in one and I want something meaning full in my life and not just a fling

36. Are you a simple or complicated person?

I can be both

37. What song are you listening to?

Also answered this already

38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it?

Of course 39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you?

Yeah I’m sure my friends do, I don’t keep things from them even about myself if I did it’s because I forgot to tell them or something 40. What made you start liking the person you like now?

???? 41. When did you last receive a text message?

Today 42. What is wrong with you right now?

You got me buddy 43. How well do you know the last female you texted?

I’d say pretty well 44. Does anyone disgust you?

Yes. 45. Would you date someone right now if they asked?

Depends I guess 46. Are you in a good mood right now?

Yee 47. Who was the last person you talked to in person?

idk my dad?  48. What color shirt are you wearing?

Like a really dark blue 49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear?

No I’m an opened person and I’m always ready to listen to someone even if they’re telling me I’m a shit person I’m like thank you and now I’ll go change myself so I’ll be less of a shit person and don’t cause people trouble or pain 50. Anyone you’re giving up on?

None that I care for 51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for?

No, I’ve never fell hard for someone

52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t?

Nope. I know when I need to walk away to better my health I won’t let someone hold me back. 53. Do you like rain?

answered already 54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks?

Nah. Just as long as they’re not an alcoholic I’m cool with it 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them?

Yeah. Story of my life tbh. 56. Do you like to cuddle?

YES 57. Are you shy?

eh not it depends on the situation like around adults I can be meh… But grouping outings and stuff I’m pretty out and about 58. Do you get along with girls?

yeah 59. Have you dated the person you texted last?

no 60. What do you carry with you at all times?

Money. Hand sanitizer. Chapstick. Basic shit. 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you?

For 1 million dollars yeah, I’d fight a ghost for 1 million dollars 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months?

yeah 63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship?

sadly no 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute?

YES 65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week?

I left my sister’s house and my sister texted me a minute later saying how my nephew asked were I was at and she told him I left and he goes “but i didn’t get to say bye..” I thought it was cute. Usually they hate me lmao

66. How old are the last three people you kissed?

never been kissed

67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself?  

My nails are shit I’d rather pay. I only ever got them done twice in my lifetime so far.    68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print?

Leopard print     69. Do you have any stickers on your car? 

I don’t have car…    70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne?  

LUKE BRYAN. I actually really love Luke Bryan don’t hate me   71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone?   

Well my first smart phone was and Anroid so I’m going with that 72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut?

God I can’t even remember I hope it’s soon I could go for some PIzza Hut     73. Do you like diet soda?    

Ehh.. Yeah I don’t drink a lot of pop to begin with though. Like I hate pop. But I LOVE root beer 74. What color are the walls in your room?  

White   75. Are you 16 or older? 

I am 76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars?    

No but I’ve heard of it 77. Do you have a job?    

No… I need to get one. I gotta worry about school so putting a job on top of that would suck. and I have no way of transportation so..   78. What are your initials?   

JH  79. Did you ever have braces?    

I actually got denied braces a couple days ago which pisses me off because I need braces, my teeth are shit 80. Are you from the south?  

I don’t think? I’m horrible with stuff don’t ask me this. 

81. What does your last status on facebook say?

It’s just a video I reblogged, I don’t post much on facebook     82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed? 

there’s a lot of kissing questions isn’t there?    83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad?

I don’t like to choose though I feel more comfortable joking with my mom on some stuff. It can be a little awkward with my dad because I’m like his little girl and idk.. Sometimes it’s like or this is fine and sometimes I’m like why. It’s nothing ever addressed towards me or anything no, it’s just things you’d like tell a friend and have a laugh about you know? But also my dad does do a lot for me. So I’m close to both of them.

84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics?    

Hell no 85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters?   

Kong: Skull Island  86. Do you smoke?    

No I’d literally die. Asthma my guy, I ain’t taking any chances. 87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops? 

Heels. I can’t walk in heels which I REALLY WISH I COULD. But I hate feet and flip flops is basically just showing you people’s feet and I just want to gag   88. Is your phone touch screen?    

Yep 89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly?    

Straight 90. Have you ever snuck out of your house?    

No, I’m a good noodle 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool?

 I’ve only ever swam in a pool it’d be fun to swim in a river or lake. But then large body water phobia might kick in

92. Have you ever made out in a car?  

No :/   93. …Had sex in a car?    

….. No 94. Are you single or in a relationship?    

Single 95. What were you doing last night at midnight?

Probably watching videos on youtube     96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks?

July 4th :P     97. Do you like the camera on your phone?    

Fuck no it’s a piece of shit 98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits?  

No.   99. Have you ever passed out from drinking? 

Lmao no    100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate?

No I ain’t no fake bitch if I hate you why would I add you on facebook 101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare?    

No 102. Name your favorite Kesha song:    

Probably Cannibal I don’t know why but I listened to that one a lot back in 2010 103. Do you have any tan lines right now?    

No I can’t tan for the life of me. I got 2 shades Larry the Lobster and Casper the Friendly Ghost 104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts? 

I don’t think I’d ever wear cowboy boots lmao. I’ve worn boots with shorts before they just weren’t cowboy boots 

[maumeetsworld]

Welcome to your tape, bitch

Oh. My. God. This show is the perfect example of how I am actively ruining my life with the conscious decisions I make. I spent one week hate-watching it mainly because I wanted to understand the whole controversy around it contribute to all the shitposting happening on Tumblr. So there I was, sitting on my couch, ready for some Netflix & Chill - the real kind, not the Grindr-enabled one - and then I heard Hannah Baker's voice, which led me to the following point:

1. How conceited is this girl?

I knew this was shit the moment I heard her saying she wasn't going to send her victimizers a podcast because she wouldn't make it that easy for them, so instead she sent them plain old cassettes. Bitch, seriously? You're dead, whatever makes you think that people who dgaf about you when you were alive, will do it now just because you took the easy way out? Next time you want to guilt-trip your classmates from the grave, at least wait till after they've contacted you through a Ouija board.

And don't even get me started on her self-proclaimed moral superiority. She blames Jessica for her death because she slapped her, but then Hannah witnessed her being raped and that didn't ring a bell on how shitty a person she was too? Like, please, you would have gotten a million tapes yourself had anyone else come up with the same stupid idea.

This brings me to the second point.

2. She was not alone

This show would have been remotely less annoying if Hannah had actually been isolated. In fact, they tried to go there by having her say how lonely, unpopular, and disliked she was, and how everyone was just trying to get her. Except they were not. In fact she made a fuckload of friends throughout the series. She was dating the jocks, experimenting with the Queen Bee, being all deep and intellectual with the gay guy, going to parties at the cheerleader's house, friendzoning the hot geek, and even having her own little version of The Breakfast Club with an Eminem wannabe.

And yet you're telling me that she was unpopular and nobody liked her? Yeah, OK, next.

3. Her reasons to kill herself are ridiculous

Somebody stole the drawing that some anon left in your compliment box? Heartbreaking. Was that a reason to kill yourself? Of course not! Well, on a second thought, maybe the fact that she went to a school where they had compliment boxes was.

Seriously, what were the writers thinking when they were working on this script? Did nobody think that this was stupid af? Suicide is never justifiable, but fuck, if you're going to do it, at least come up with a decent reason. Don't slit your wrists open over someone reading your anonymous poem in class, which, by the way, nobody even knew was you. There's a fine line between crying for help and stirring up drama just for the sake of it. Hannah Baker mostly dwelt in the latter.

4. None of this would have happened if she had not been actively looking for drama

Hannah was upset because the high school jock shared a pic of her undies. He then told the whole school that she was an easy lay. Outrageous. Then one of his friends tried to pull a Donald Trump on her (and grab her by the pussy) because, you know, the high school jock said she was easy, remember? All of that I get.

What I don't get is why over the course of the series she continued interacting with him and everyone else who was mean to her - according to her delusional ass, anyway - and even getting in a hot tub with them. I'm sorry, but that's not the behavior of someone who's deeply hurt and desperate for things to improve. That's the behavior of someone asking for it. No, I don't mean rape. Rape is never justifiable. I mean drama. She was asking for drama and if she didn't t get  it, she would create it.

5. The rape aftermath

OK, fine, the whole rape situation was not cool. Yet her blaming the counselor is what really pissed me off. Hannah, being the dumb ass teen that she is was, wanted justice - which I totally get. What I don't get is why the fuck would she even bother to go and make a scene at the counselor's office and then throw a bitch fit at him when he told her that she needed to move on? Yes, that is a shitty answer, but what was she expecting? He was a fucking counselor for fuck's sake, not Professor Xavier. He couldn't read your mind, girl. If you she truly wanted him to help, then she should have spoken up and spilled the tea on Bryce. Oh, no. instead she went crazy and stormed out of the room ready to do the job, but not before standing outside of the counselor's office hoping he would run after her.

The hell you think you are, Hannah? Cinderella? Who'd want to run behind a crazy, borderline psychotic teen with an attitude problem?

6. The Latin classmate

I'm not done hating on Hannah, but this guy got me raging almost as much as she did. Everything from his crappy personality to his outfit was just terrible, but the real mystery is what he even had to do with Hannah, and why the fuck does he pretend to be all wise and mighty? First of all, if he was that wise, he would have stopped dressing like Danny Zuko.

Also, let me get this straight: Hannah kills herself because in the end she has no friends, yet she entrusted this guy to see her tapes through till they reached the 13th person? Ahem, is this a plothole or just plain stupid writing? I wanted to vomit every time Pedro - whatever, I'm Mexican - would show up just to act all shady and remind pretty much everyone around - mainly Clay, Clay, Clay, and Clay - that they had all killed Hannah.

Hoe, no. Someone friendly enough to give her a ride home when she was pissed drunk didn't kill her, she killed herself. Well, rather the razor blades that she stole from her bankrupt parents' pharmacy did, but those are just details. Also, if Carlos - whatever, I'm Mexican - was such a good friend and concerned about everything that had happened to her, he wouldn't be dropping cryptic af messages, he would have taken the tapes to the police and let them deal with the jock. But no, of course he didn't do that because that would have required a writer to stop mixing vodka and Xanax and realize the show they were producing. No, instead he took the least sporty-looking character rock climbing because that's just how he rolls.

7. Clay

So the guy went from being the wallflower to taking justice into his own hands? What's his name again? Batman? I still don't understand how he's supposed to be all smart and yet not once, not even for a single second, does he stop and think that maybe, just maybe it's better to tell his parents, or any other grown up in fact, about what's happening and about how every other person wants to axe him. Like, I get it, you're angry, you're hurting, but you know what hurts more? That gap on your forehead, you know, the one you got after a car hit you?

Like, didn't anyone notice it? Am I the only one who can see it? Cos, girl, it's so big it makes the gender gap in the workplace look narrower in comparison. Go get stitches, like, now.

8. Where the hell are all the parents?

Underage drinking, tattoos, drugs, reckless driving, guns, teens with huge af scars all over their faces, like, where the fuck are all the grown ups? Are you trying to tell me that not even one adult noticed any of this? For fuck's sake, Clay's scar is putrid and so is half his face now, he's dying of an untreated infection!

9. The fandom

I cannot even begin to explain how annoyed I am at the people who think this is an accurate reflection of the suffering that many of them have gone through. You're wrong, and I don't feel bad saying it. Hannah had multiple opportunities to save herself if she had not acted stupid, dared to speak, and or seek help. She had loving parents, a hot geek ready to jump her, and apparently she was the best of friends with Jorge - whatever, I'm Mexican. No, if she killed herself was because she was starving for attention. She wanted to guilt-trip everyone and make them feel as shitty as they had made her felt except, guess what? She's not there to witness it.

10. The message

That's my issue with this whole fucking series. It plays with the idea of suicide in an almost hedonistic way, it's almost as if they wanted us to picture Hannah Baker laughing in Heaven - or rather in Hell cos she killed herself, obvi - at the sight of all these people suffering over her death and feeling remorseful the actions that led to it. Let me tell you something: Unless you become Casper, you will not get to see this.

To everyone thinking that suicide is as glamorous as 13 Reasons Why made it seen, it's not. You die and that's it. Sure, there will be people devastated by it - your parents - but that's it. There will be no Juan - whatever, I'm Mexican - sending tapes on your behalf or Clay growing a vagina in the middle of his forehead during his quest to uncover the truth. You'll be gone and that will be it.

In conclusion, 13 Reasons Why is a steamy pile of trash from start to finish and was clearly targeting all the dumb af teens who also thought that The Fault in our Stars is the epitome of modern literature. It's pretentious, it's boring, it's full of plotholes, and it will make you rage from start to finish. Needless to say, this is my opinion and that's about it. If you don't like it, well... Welcome to your tape, bitch.

[pandatookmycookies]

sorry in advance for the work but all of them :)

Sorry about the delay, couldn’t get on a computer and me phone is stubborn and wouldn’t let me copy the questions o.o 1. You woke up naked next to the last person you texted, what would you say? -That would be awkward as fuck considering last person I text was my mum xD

2. What’s going on between you and the last person you kissed?-Nothing o:

3. If your boyfriend or girlfriend was into drugs, would you care?-If I had a boyfriend or girlfriend that would be a miracle. All jokes aside, I mean as long as they were being careful and not taking some weird really dodgy shiz from Big G with no teeth or something I mean I guess it would be okay, as long as they knew what they were doing and it didn’t affect their everyday lives. If it did, then bitches gon be going to rehab to help them and make sure they don’t do the dying. Plus everything is technically a drug.

4. Is your last name longer than six letters?-M8... it’s like 13 or something xD

5. Was your last kiss drunk or sober?-I don’t remember what I did yesterday, never mind what I was like that long ago xD

6. Have you ever wanted to have someone but you messed it up?-Shit happens for a reason, usually its due to not actually telling the other person my feels and them having no idea x3

7. What does your last received text say?-”Kada busas?”

8. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed?-Once? I think.

9. Where was your last kiss at?-I don’t even remember yo o.o

10. When is the last time you saw your sister?-Right now, she’s sat here, playing her drums x3

11. What do you drink in the morning?-Coffee. All of the coffee. Maybe some water, then some more coffee.

12. Where did you sleep last night?-In me bed, in a blanket burrito.

13. Do you think relationships are hard?-I don’t think so, as long as the other person is like all up for not having a difficult time.

14. If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you?-Nah c: I’ve actually not done much other than quit noodles and get a permanent place at Lush over the past 5 months x3

15. You’re locked in a room with the last person you kissed, any problems?-Nah.

16. Would you rather it be sunny or rainy?-Can it be neutral? My eyes are sensitive so they water when it’s too sunny which means that my eyeliner does a smudge Q-Q And rain just makes me sleepy...

17. Do you know anyone with the same middle name as you?-I don’t have a middle name o:

18. Are you wearing jeans,sweatpants,or pajama pants?-Tights and thigh-high socks.

19. Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 years from now?-Probably not.

20. Does anyone like you?-I don’t read minds D: very unlikely tho.

21. Have you ever kissed someone with a name that starts with an S?-Idk?!?! Q-Q

22. Is the last person you kissed gay?-I don’t think so o: I mean you never know could be a surprise, but not as far as I am aware.

23. Is there a person you CANNOT stand?-Eh, Trump.

24. Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?-I gots one, and need many more!!

25. In the past week have you cried?-Oh yes. I had to run into the uni toilets to have a breakdown during lesson... that was fun.

26. What breed was the last dog you saw? -Golden retriever... (it was Goldi, he’s cuddling my feets :’3 )

27. Do you dry off in the shower or out of the shower?-Both, yolo.

28. Have you ever kissed a football player?-Nuh.

29. Do you think you’re old?-Nah. I’m actually a 2 year old badger in a human costume.

30. Do you like text messaging?-Better than speaking on the phone o.o

31. What type of day are you having?-I’m not dead! :D AND I’m covered in glitter!! so all is well.

32. Have you ever thought about getting your nose pierced?-I gots me nose pierced.

33. Do you prefer warm or cold weather?-Cold, cause there’s only so many clothes that you can take off before it becomes indecent exposure. Although I do like summer cause I can wear my skirts and shiz without 500 layers on top.

34. Is there a person of the opposite sex who means a lot to you?-I have a lot of people like that that mean a lot to me.

35. Would you prefer a relationship or a fling?-Relationship.

36. Are you a simple or complicated person?-I don’t even think I’d class myself a person xD

37. What song are you listening to?-None o: Goldi is snoring, so I guess you could class that as singing?

38. When you say you’re sorry do you mean it?-Always!!39. Is there a girl that knows everything or almost everything about you?-Aye. 40. What made you start liking the person you like now?-Idk o:41. When did you last receive a text message?-An hour or so ago.42. What is wrong with you right now?-What ISN’T wrong with me? XD 43. How well do you know the last female you texted?-I mean I’d say I know her pretty well o: She ma momma. 44. Does anyone disgust you?-Some people. 45. Would you date someone right now if they asked?-Depends o: Let’s get married. yolo.46. Are you in a good mood right now?-I have Raffaello, so yeah x3 47. Who was the last person you talked to in person?-Other than famallama, people at work c: 48. What color shirt are you wearing?-Its a black and white dress cause I cba to change from it after coming from work...49. Has someone recently told you something you didn’t want to hear?-Not as far as I am aware. 50. Anyone you’re giving up on?-Not at the mo o: 51. Do you hate the person you fell hardest for?-I wouldn’t say I hate him, people make mistakes and shit happens.

52. Have you ever thought about giving up on someone but couldn’t?-Yes.53. Do you like rain?-If I’m inside, or if it’s really warm summer and I need a dance in the rain. 54. Do you care if your boyfriend/girlfriend drinks?-As long as it’s not excessive and they don’t start being aggressive and stuff. 55. Have you ever liked somebody and never told them?-Yes. 56. Do you like to cuddle?-Yas Q-Q plz. Cuddles.57. Are you shy?-Yes, but I have a fake confidence that I can activate. 58. Do you get along with girls?-Depends if they get along with me x3 I get along with anyone that wants to get along with me c: 59. Have you dated the person you texted last?-Considering it was my momma... that would’ve been weird XD 60. What do you carry with you at all times?-My bag. 61. If you were paid 1 million dollars to spend the night in a supposed haunted house, would you?-Idk man o: I read some sixpence stories and don’t know if I could get myself in that predicament xD 62. Do you think you can last in a relationship for five months?-Yeah as long as the other person is willing to make it work too c: 63. Think back to October, were you in a relationship?-October of which year? xD 3 years ago, yeah, this October, nah. 64. The person you like kisses you on the forehead, do you find this cute?-Yas Q-Q 65. Did anything “cute” happen in the last week?-Sav bought me a new purse cause my pikachu wallet was falling apart Q-Q

66. How old are the last three people you kissed?-M8... I don’t even know how old they’ll be now D:

67. Would you rather pay to get your nails done or do them yourself?   -If I had nails that would be fab, but even if I did, I can’t have my nails did cause of my uni course Q-Q 68. Which do you like better- Zebra print or leopard print?-I prefer all the prints!! c: all da animal!!   69. Do you have any stickers on your car?    -Yas, it says ‘No problem’, and I gots a bulbasaur in a pokeball that I still need to put on c: 70. Would you rather listen to Luke Bryan or Lil Wayne?   -None o.o 71. Blackberry, Anroid, or iPhone?    -Android.72. When’s the last time you had pizza from Pizza Hut?    -Oml, ages ago Q-Q 73. Do you like diet soda?    -Yeah sure why not.74. What color are the walls in your room?    -Black and ivory c:75. Are you 16 or older?    -I am a 21. 76. Do you watch Pretty Little Liars?    -Nah.77. Do you have a job?    -Yas, I left noodles yesterday (very sad time), but now work at Lush c:  78. What are your initials?    -AD.79. Did you ever have braces?    -Yas, I kinda miss them.80. Are you from the south?-I’m from Lithuania... Thats more idk...??? you tell me where that is? XD   

81. What does your last status on facebook say?    -A post about me leaving noodles and how sad I am, and how imma miss them and thanking the team for my present and card Q-Q it was cute. 82. Do you still talk to the first person you ever kissed?    -Nah.83. Are you closer to your mom or your dad?    -Bit of both? Depends on what topic.84. Have you ever done cheerleading or gymnastics?    -Lol no XD Have you seen me??? XD I couldn’t possibly do those xD85. What’s the last movie you saw in theaters?    -Oh gosh... I don’t even remember o: 86. Do you smoke?    -Yas. Sorry.87. Would you rather wear heels or flip flops?    -Boots or trainers.88. Is your phone touch screen?    -Yas.89. Do you normally wear your hair straight or curly?    -Straight if I can, otherwise curly unless I cba to straighten it, then I hide it.90. Have you ever snuck out of your house?   -Yeah. 91. Would you rather swim in a river, lake, or pool?   -I can’t swim... So like... I’ll just dip my feet in x3  92. Have you ever made out in a car?    -Nah.93. …Had sex in a car?  -Nah.  94. Are you single or in a relationship?  -I am a one human.   95. What were you doing last night at midnight? -Sleeping. Luv sleep.    96. When’s the last time you saw fireworks?    -Whenever they were last did on the holidays or something. 97. Do you like the camera on your phone?    -Well it does a job o:98. Have you ever had a friend with benefits?    -Nah.99. Have you ever passed out from drinking? -Nope.   100. Are you friends with people on facebook that you actually hate?  -I don’t think so?   101. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare? -Every female has a pregnancy scare even if they’ve never had sex xD  102. Name your favorite Kesha song:    -Cannibal, but the nightcore version cause I am trash.103. Do you have any tan lines right now?  -m8 I’m pale as Casper the ghost.   104. Would you ever wear cowboy boots with shorts?  -Sure why not. Yolo.  P.s. sorry it took so long D: